"During today's short-form shoot, the one who captures the mood best and highlights the key points should be the core, you know? Can you really trust Hyun-jin with that right now?"
"..."
"I don't know what happened, but Hyun-jin doesn't look like someone who should be standing center at the moment. The decision is yours, but think wisely."
With that, Rio returned to his seat. The atmosphere, already sunken, continued to sink as the mid-evaluation went on.
We received praise for vocals and lyrics, but none of our faces brightened.
"Good work, everyone."
"…Thank you!!"
And just like that, without the mood ever lifting, the mid-evaluation for the third round ended.
***
Even at the short-form filming site, the members kept glancing at each other, reading the room.
Sitting with a dark expression as he got his makeup done, Kang Hyun-jin clearly knew the atmosphere — and was desperately pretending not to.
'Everyone looks like they have something to say.'
And no wonder. No one had watched Hyun-jin's deteriorating condition more closely over the past few days of practice than us.
Aside from the first two days where we focused on creating and memorizing choreography and vocals, we hadn't had a single "satisfying" practice since we started fine-tuning the details.
The reason was simple.
'Because Hyun-jin is shaking.'
Rio hadn't been wrong about anything. As he said, our team was unstable because our center — Kang Hyun-jin — had lost his footing.
Uh… I think we should try that part again…
The timing felt a bit fast this time. I think our angles were off too…
The steps… I think they're all different right now…
Formations kept collapsing, beats didn't line up. When the timing was already off from the very beginning of the song, the next person always stumbled as well.
When a performance starts messy, there's no way the flow will magically fix itself by the end. Practice kept starting awkwardly and ending even more uncomfortably. And that had gone on for days.
'And hearing the mentor say it out loud… of course the others would want to follow that advice.'
But the reason no one was saying anything was also simple.
I quietly glanced at the cameras surrounding us. From the mid-evaluation room all the way to the filming site, the little red lights had never turned off, following us relentlessly.
Cameras that wouldn't miss a single action, a single word.
The reason our team couldn't bring anything up to Hyun-jin was obvious.
'They'd be edited into villains.'
Up until now, Hyun-jin had no real storyline. His raw skill was top-tier, and he had no dramatic backstory to draw attention. Because he had name recognition, trainees tended to give him some leeway, and he hadn't gone through any on-screen conflicts.
The closest thing he had to one was me — the one he oddly avoids — after I caught up to second place in the last ranking announcement. But even that had never become open conflict.
A flawless, and thus somewhat boring, trainee.
That had been Kang Hyun-jin — until now.
'But now he's more desperate than anyone.'
After smooth sailing all season, he was suddenly floundering, clearly hitting the biggest crisis of his
And that was exactly why the cameras were even more relentless.
It was the perfect drama arc.
And Rio had just thrown in the perfect bait to ignite a conflict narrative.
If anyone spoke up now — if anyone suggested changing the center first?
'They'd be branded as the "villain sacrificed for Hyun-jin's comeback storyline."'
Having spent months on
"Team 3, we're starting the shoot!"
"Yes!"
In the awkward silence, everyone finished getting ready, and without any real discussion, we moved straight into filming.
As planned, we lined up with Kang Hyun-jin in front. We watched him walk over, press the phone's record button on the stand, and return to his spot. The staff cued the chorus of our song.
— all eyes on you
you're dazzle, dazzle
For our short-form point choreography, we chose the formation where, led by Hyun-jin, we slowly stepped forward as our line expanded outward like an afterimage.
Precision was everything — the steps, timing, speed — everything had to align for the short-form and for the actual stage.
But—
"…Let's redo that!"
"Ha…"
"…Okay."
There was no universe in which something that hadn't worked during the mid-evaluation would suddenly work now.
"…Hold on, let's check, then go again."
Even after five attempts, the move still didn't connect. Hyun-jin stopped dancing and stepped forward. The members gathered to check the recording, and sighed when they saw the results.
"Mm… our expressions…"
"I think we need to focus more on expression…"
"It feels off from the song."
Aiden Lee spoke anxiously. As the one who created the track, he could see more clearly than anyone how badly we were failing to express it.
None of us were smiling properly. Our eyes weren't on the camera — they were drifting to just below it, or to each other. It made everything look even more disjointed.
And the most rigid presence of all was the center, Kang Hyun-jin.
'He's stiff.'
He was so focused on not messing up the steps that he couldn't spare any attention for facial expression. And that was cutting out his biggest weapon.
Because if there was one thing no one in
But with all of that gone, the current Kang Hyun-jin only looked unstable.
"We've got the next team's shoot coming up, so you have only two more tries. If neither works, we'll pick the best clip from what we've already filmed and release that."
A staff member, looking just as exhausted as we were, checked the time and announced it. A heavy silence fell among the team members.
Among everything we had filmed so far, not a single take was usable. The timing was off, the steps were wrong, the expressions were stiff — and some clips had all of those problems at once.
So I couldn't help but think:
'If we continue the short-form shoot like this, there's no way we'll get the benefit.'
But we'd be able to scrape by and at least finish the shoot.
'The only other option is…'
Accepting the villain edit and speaking up.
Choosing the latter meant taking on an even bigger risk than simply losing the benefit — it meant risking direct, indirect damage to my votes.
The deliberation was short.
"Hyung, I think we should change the center."
In the end, that was the choice I made.
If we didn't fix this now, it would become irreversible.
'The point choreography for the short-form is the on-stage choreography. If we don't fix this…'
The performance itself would collapse.
"What?"
"At this rate, we won't be able to finish the short-form shoot properly. I think it'd be best to switch centers. I don't know what everyone else thinks, but… I don't think this is our best."
"..."
The ones who knew Kang Hyun-jin's condition best were, of course, the members of Team 3 who practiced with him.
But there was one more person.
Kang Hyun-jin himself.
He would know better than anyone — with his own body — that his condition had been deteriorating, and that the team's performance quality was plummeting because of it.
Even so, he couldn't bring himself to suggest changing the center.
Because of his fragile position — the fear tied to it.
"For the last two tries, I think we should try putting someone else in the center."
But considering his fear wasn't something any of us could afford.
"…I—I'll try again. I can do it."
"..."
"Just once more. I won't make a mistake this time…"
Of course, Kang Hyun-jin was desperate too.
In that stiff, heavy atmosphere, Hyun-jin spoke in a pleading tone for the first time. I could see the team wavering. It was a side of him he had never shown on
"I can really do it this time."
"No."
But my answer couldn't change.
There would be no miracle where he suddenly got his groove back, and with limited time, we didn't have many attempts left.
I said firmly:
"Hyung, you don't have any room left right now."
"...!"
Hyun-jin looked at me with a startled expression. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but after a moment of silence, he closed them and nodded, frustration written across his face.
He couldn't deny it — he knew he wouldn't recover in the remaining attempts. And he knew the situation left no choice but to switch centers.
With his reluctant approval, I bowed slightly toward the staff to apologize.
"Sorry — if you could give us just a moment, we'll vote among ourselves about the center and run it once before continuing."
"We can't give you much time."
"…Yes. Ten minutes, please."
After that, I led the team to the back of the set. We stood in front of a mirror where we could check formation, and I started the vote.
"Let's vote on who should take center for the short-form. On three, point to the person you think should take it."
"…Okay."
"Sure."
"One, two… three."
The result was exactly what I expected — for better or worse.
'…Ha.'
Aside from me pointing to Aiden Lee and Kang Hyun-jin pointing at no one — unable to choose — every single member pointed at me.
"…Then for this short-form, I'll take the center. Before that, let's quickly match the formation and steps. Please manage your expressions too — think of it as the real thing."
Suppressing the dull ache in my head, I played the track from the tablet the staff handed me. We stood in front of the mirror and matched the formation, then practiced the point moves for ten minutes.
"…Thank you for your hard work!"
In the end, we managed to film a take that everyone found acceptable enough.
"You smiled so well, Yu-ha~!"
"Great job."
"Good work, everyone!"
Hearing the members call out cheerfully after the shoot, I glanced to the side.
Kang Hyun-jin, with a dark expression, was silently adjusting his clothes. Slightly apart from the rest of us, he was being filmed relentlessly by the cameras.
And as I watched him, I became certain.
'…I'm the villain of this round.'
This time, I was the one who was meant to get screwed.
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