Chapter 9: Level Test (4)

　　"Next trainees, please come forward."

　　With a whopping ninety-six performances left, it was going to be a true battle against drowsiness from here on out.

　　If my stage had at least been somewhere in the middle, I might have been able to maintain some level of tension. But knowing it was entirely over left me feeling drained and hollow.

　　"I will show you my special talent."

　　Hilarious stages, boring stages, stages that were still amazing on a second watch, stages that were better than I remembered, and horrendously awful stages. Countless people walked in and out. As I mulled over my individual memories with each of them, the filming reached its midpoint before I knew it.

　　I spent all that time feeling eternally grateful that Sung Yijun was sitting right next to me. Whenever I focused closely on the sound of his soft laughter or quiet applause, time seemed to fly by twice as fast.

　　Even though I didn’t have a single opening to strike up a conversation since he hated me, it was still nice. Just being able to sneak an occasional glance at him was an absolute luxury.

　　"We’ll take a twenty-minute break and then resume filming."

　　Sensing that the participants’ stamina was finally hitting its limit, the production team called for a break.

　　The moment those words left their lips, the seated trainees began rising to their feet one by one. Some went to chat with their peers, some went to touch up their makeup, and others headed to the restroom.

　　Sung Yijun similarly rose quietly and disappeared, as if he had somewhere to be. I stared somewhat wistfully at his retreating back before smacking my lips in slight disappointment.

　　"Hey! Do you wanna go check the mirror real quick?"

　　Seemingly misinterpreting my expression, Kim Hayoung walked over hand-in-hand with Moon Jaejun and asked me affectionately. Instead of answering, I pushed myself to my feet.

　　"Ugh, isn’t this filming way too long? It’d be so much better if they split it in half."

　　"If they did that, it would just start a bunch of pointless drama over who gets an unfair advantage," Jaejun replied.

　　"I suppose so."

　　Trailing behind the two as they chatted happily, I headed to the makeup room.

　　It was clearly a space set up for product placement; various cosmetics were stacked in neat rows on the mirrored vanities.

　　"Oh, this is a high-end brand."

　　You guys are practically shooting a commercial without even being asked. You definitely won’t have to worry about screen time.

　　While they marveled at the products, I sneaked a glance at my reflection. Fortunately, because the makeup had been applied at a pricey salon, it still looked flawless. I’d been worried that staying up all night would leave me with heavy dark circles, but my skin looked perfectly fine.

　　"Looks like you don’t even need a touch-up, Kanghyun," Hayoung pointed out.

　　"I mean, you already look perfect," Jaejun added.

　　I felt my ears heat up under their sudden, teasing whispers. I self-consciously fiddled with my hair before finally shooting them a glare. That only made them giggle like it was the funniest thing in the world.

　　"If we hit the restroom before heading back to the set, the timing should be perfect."

　　"Do you think there’ll be a line? With this many people around?"

　　The closest restroom was always packed, after all.

　　"There are a bunch of restrooms in this building. We just need to go to one a bit farther out," I said.

　　"Huh? How do you know that?"

　　"Just overheard someone mention it."

　　I couldn’t exactly confess that I’d been here before, so I played it off. Luckily, they didn’t suspect a thing.

　　After locating a secluded restroom and shooing Hayoung and Jaejun inside, I leaned against the wall outside. I checked the time on my phone, idly rubbing a fingerprint off the screen, when unfamiliar voices drifted from around the corner of the L-shaped hallway.

　　"Is he out of his fucking mind? I heard Sung Yijun wants to drop out."

　　"What? Are you kidding me?"

　　"I don’t know. He just went straight to the producer and told him."

　　Wait, what? What the hell kind of crazy talk is this?

　　"Did you see the group text? The head writer wants us in the conference room right now."

　　"Ugh, fuck. Can’t even smoke a single cigarette in peace. Let’s go."

　　As their footsteps faded down the hall, my jaw went slack. Maybe the real lunatic here was someone else entirely.

　　The sheer impossibility of what I’d just heard rooted me to the spot. My mind spun so fast I felt dizzy, blurring the line between dream and reality. I stood there, blinking in absolute bewilderment, playing the conversation over and over in my head.

　　Dropping out? Sung Yijun? Of all people?

　　I couldn’t believe it. The guy who had been universally adored by the entire nation, the one who had effortlessly claimed first place week after week, had secretly been considering dropping out.

　　Of course, knowing Yijun, he probably had a perfectly valid reason. So even if he’d suddenly announced his departure, I shouldn’t jump to calling him a crazy bastard. But still…

　　"Kanghyun, are you gonna go too?"

　　"Uh, what?"

　　"What’s wrong? You’re totally spacing out."

　　Hayoung had stepped out of the restroom and was staring at me with a baffled expression. Jaejun followed right behind him, looking equally confused.

　　"It’s nothing. Let’s head back."

　　Even as we made our way back to the set, my thoughts were a tangled mess.

　　Since my movements were different from my past life, I had only stumbled upon this news by pure chance. But this exact event must have happened before my regression, too. That meant Yijun had tried to drop out during the very first recording in my past life as well.

　　The producers and writers must have scrambled to talk him out of it. In the end, they managed to sweep the whole thing under the rug like it never happened.

　　He was an undeniable ace, a talent far too valuable to lose. Considering he never lost the number-one spot from the premiere to the finale, it made total sense that the production team would coddle him and do whatever it took to make him stay.

　　But why would Yijun consider something as drastic as dropping out? Debuting had to be a desperate dream for him, too. What on earth had made him so uncomfortable that he wanted to throw it all away?

　　"It couldn’t possibly be because of me… right?"

　　"Huh?"

　　"Oh, no, it’s nothing. Just thinking out loud."

　　I hadn’t realized I’d spoken aloud.

　　"What’s been up with you since earlier?" Hayoung asked. "Did you see a ghost or something?"

　　"Hey. Don’t say scary stuff like that," Jaejun shivered. "They say broadcasting stations are crawling with ghosts."

　　It was a ridiculous assumption, but what if it really was because of me?

　　Even as Hayoung and Jaejun chattered mindlessly beside me, I couldn’t tune in. My head was utterly consumed by thoughts of Sung Yijun.

　　"Hasn’t it been twenty minutes? They aren’t starting."

　　Why on earth? For what reason? Because of what?

　　"Maybe they still have things to set up?" Jaejun guessed. "If you look over there, the trainers haven’t arrived yet either."

　　As I sat back in my chair and waited for the shoot to resume, the ninety-eighth place seat remained conspicuously empty. Yijun was clearly still tied up with the production team. Whether it was the producer, the head writer, or both of them.

　　Twenty-five minutes passed. Then thirty. Unable to endure the suspense any longer, I impulsively stood up. It didn’t seem like filming would resume immediately anyway.

　　"Could I use the restroom for a second?"

　　"Break time is already over. Why didn’t you go earlier—"

　　I gave a sheepish look to the staff member guarding the set entrance. He clicked his tongue but finally nodded.

　　"Fine, just make it quick."

　　With permission granted, I hurried out into the hallway. I knew there was nothing I could actually do even if I found Yijun, but I needed to at least see his face. Wait… huh?

　　"I’ll head back by myself from here."

　　As if by fate, Yijun was walking down from the far end of the corridor. A staff member was sticking close to his side.

　　"Thank you for walking me back," Yijun said, flashing a beautiful smile.

　　The staff member scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly flustered by the boy’s charm. He muttered a quick reply before turning around and disappearing the way they’d come.

　　Was he already persuaded? Seeing him head back to the set, that was probably the case. But why had he threatened to drop out in the first place? The Sung Yijun I knew wasn’t the type to whine just to crave attention. Which meant he had been entirely serious.

　　I stood there blankly, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. Yijun finally reached me. He abruptly halted his steps, raked his eyes up and down my body, and spoke in a soft, gentle tone.

　　"What are you looking at?"

　　…Huh?

　　"Aren’t you embarrassed after getting an F? Strutting around so shamelessly."

　　Uh, what?

　　Before I could fully process the venom in his words, Yijun let out a soft laugh. Despite his face being as beautiful as a blooming peony, an inexplicable chill ran down my spine. This wasn’t his usual kind, angelic smile. It was a sneer dripping with pure contempt.

　　"Don’t go causing trouble for innocent people."

　　Wiping the amusement from his face, he slowly blinked and looked straight into my eyes. His features were infinitely lovely, completely angelic. If this were a silent film, the audience would have been utterly captivated, entirely ignorant of the poison spilling from his lips.

　　"Why don’t you just go drop dead?"

　　His softly spoken venom registered a beat late. But unlike my ears, my brain had completely short-circuited. I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. I couldn’t even process what the hell was happening.

　　As if he’d said his piece, Yijun walked right past me, his expression turning to stone.

　　"Hey."

　　I reflexively reached out to grab his wrist and stop him. Before my fingers could even brush his skin, Yijun violently jerked his arm away, his brow furrowing in deep disgust.

　　"Don’t touch me with your filthy hands."

　　His voice dripped with frost.

　　Staring at his slowly retreating back, I couldn’t bring myself to say a single word. Even though I had absolutely no idea what was going on, one glaring fact was made crystal clear: Sung Yijun didn’t just dislike me. He despised me.