After the unfortunate incident, thankfully, the trainees remained completely unaware of what had transpired. They were far too consumed by rehearsals, formations, notes, and nerves to notice anything beyond their own performances.
The staff and production crew made a collective decision to keep the situation from them. The last thing anyone wanted was to distract the trainees this close to evaluations. Fear, worry, or anger—none of those emotions belonged here.
So the trainees stayed in blissful ignorance, spared from the reminder that some people were simply… stupid, and would inevitably do stupid things.
The rest of the day passed peacefully.
And then—
It was finally here.
The day of the fifth evaluations.
The day that promised dreams would finally be realized for some.
And for others, the day that would quietly—but permanently—change the trajectory of their lives.
The trainees woke up filled with a calm, nervous energy. No one was loud. No one wasted words. It felt as if everyone had mentally locked in.
They moved with purpose.
Wake up.
Freshen up.
Prep.
Breakfast.
Straight to on-stage rehearsals.
No one was allowed to see anyone else's performance. While a group or solo was on stage, the remaining trainees were confined to their practice rooms until further notice. Once final run-throughs were completed, it was immediately off to wardrobe—then hair and makeup.
Everyone moved like a well-oiled machine, following the flow without question. Light lunches were eaten during fittings, touch-ups, and styling sessions.
Behind the scenes, the production crew worked relentlessly. Props were positioned, lights tested, sound levels adjusted. Hair, makeup, wardrobe, stage design—every department could feel it.
They had outdone themselves.
And they were proud.
Finally, the time came.
Families and live audiences were ushered into the theater. The livestream countdown began.
Viewers around the world tuned in.
Friends yelled at each other to hurry up.
Families gathered in living rooms.
Students lay in dorm beds, headphones on, watching from phones and tablets.
Two schools in Japan even suspended classes for the day—both the president and principal announcing it in support of their alumni currently competing on the show.
As the countdown ticked closer to zero, backstage was thick with anticipation.
Some trainees whispered quiet prayers.
Some sat in corners with their eyes closed, meditating.
Others hyped themselves up with controlled breaths and subtle movements.
Then—
0.
The production crew turned to Cat backstage.
"You're on, Cat. Break a leg."
She nodded once, took a breath, and strutted out onto the stage.
The audience erupted.
Cheers thundered through the theater, mirrored instantly by the livestream chat exploding at record speed.
"Good morning, good afternoon, and good evening!" Cat announced brightly.
"Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between—WELCOME TO LEAVEN!"
More cheers.
"I am your host, Cat Dealey."
The energy was electric.
"Today is the day that some of our beloved trainees' journeys will come to an end—so they may begin a brand new one as members of the debut group, joining Ahn Jae, Silas, and August." She paused. "Who do you think it will be?"
The theater lost its mind.
Names were screamed.
Banners waved wildly.
The livestream chat moved so fast the system briefly lagged under the sheer volume of viewers.
"Only time will tell who those fortunate trainees will be," Cat said with a knowing smile.
"But before we go any further, it's only right we welcome the people who hold the trainees' fates in their hands."
She turned toward the wings.
"Please give an earth-shattering welcome to our esteemed evaluators—Tuesday, Luca, and the owner of Bread Music Entertainment and creator of LEAVEN himself… Focaccia!"
Earth-shattering didn't even begin to cover it.
The trio entered like they'd stepped straight out of La Fleur Magazine.
Tuesday wore a flowing, draped ivory gown that contrasted stunningly against her glowing ebony skin—regal, powerful, effortless.
Luca followed in a crisp blood-red three-piece suit, tailored to perfection. It fit him like a glove, paired with that signature smile that made women, gays, and bisexuals everywhere collectively lose composure.
And then—Foca.
He wore a champagne-colored luxury turtleneck, beige trousers, and brown leather dress shoes. His gilded glasses caught the spotlight, and his hair sat in its usual organized chaos of a messy man bun—effortless, stylish, unmistakably him.
The cheers were deafening.
Foca stepped forward first, smiling softly.
"To everyone here with us tonight—both in this theater and watching from around the world—we thank you for your unwavering support," he said. "Your presence brings us immense joy and gratitude."
He paused, letting the moment settle.
"Tonight will be filled with excitement, emotion, and incredible performances. From the three of us—thank you."
Simple. Sincere. Effective.
Tuesday followed with a warm laugh.
"I've always loved survival shows, but witnessing one up close makes me both nervous and incredibly excited," she said. "Please continue supporting the trainees. They've worked harder than you can imagine."
Luca grinned, leaning into the mic.
"I only have one thing to say," he said.
"Break a leg, everyone."
The applause roared once more as the trio headed to their seats.
The fifth evaluations had officially begun.
And nothing—
absolutely nothing—
would ever be the same again.