And so, the evaluations officially commenced—and just as promised, the performances blew everyone away.
Not a single stage lagged behind. Every trainee brought something distinct, something personal, something unforgettable. It wasn't just a competition anymore—it felt like a concert tour preview.
Foca sat back in his seat, quietly proud.
"Dude," Luca muttered under his breath, careful only Tuesday and Foca could hear him, "how the hell are we supposed to choose now? Everyone's delivering concert-level performances."
"I know," Tuesday replied, shaking her head in disbelief. "I thought we already had a pretty solid idea of who would stand out… but wow. Everyone's performing like their lives depend on it."
"They're making this incredibly difficult," Foca said, though there was no frustration in his tone—only admiration.
A dilemma like this? This was the good kind.
As the evaluations continued, only a few groups and solos remained.
Up next was the trio consisting of Yone, Corsair, and Ryu.
Luca leaned closer. "Why did you group Yone with Corsair and Ryu?" he asked. "Aside from the fact that they're all Japanese."
Foca smiled slightly. "Yone is an exceptional dancer and choreographer, but compared to the others, his vocals are slightly behind," he explained. "I wanted him paired with two of the most technically skilled singers here—hoping he'd pick up their techniques."
He paused, then continued.
"But it works both ways. Ryu and Corsair are phenomenal vocalists—some of the best I've ever met. Their harmonies are seamless. What holds them back is dance. They can dance, yes—but not at the level of the others."
"So you wanted them to learn from each other," Luca said, nodding.
"Exactly."
As the preparation montage rolled, it was clear that Foca's plan had paid off—and then some.
Ryu and Corsair patiently worked with Yone on breath control, pitch stability, and resonance. In return, Yone drilled the duo relentlessly on dance precision, sharpness, and cleanliness.
The footage also revealed the origin of Ryu and Corsair's near-telepathic harmonies.
They had trained under the same vocal teacher.
Ryu had studied with her from a young age. When she was forced to move prefectures due to personal reasons, they continued lessons through video calls.
Corsair, on the other hand, discovered her by chance.
After a severe track injury in high school left him unable to run competitively again, Corsair fell into a deep depression. That changed when his class was assigned to perform a play for a school festival. A relative of his classmate happened to be directing—and that person was Ryu's vocal teacher.
Through theatre, Corsair fell in love with singing. After the play ended, he asked her to keep teaching him.
It wasn't until the second evaluations—when Ryu and Corsair were grouped together with Kang Ian and Mika—that they realized their connection.
Their habits were identical. Their techniques eerily similar.
The reason?
Their teacher loved harmonies—to an almost unsettling degree.
Whenever a song she liked came on the radio, she never sang the melody. She harmonized. Always.
That habit rubbed off on both of them.
So for Ryu and Corsair, harmonizing wasn't something they tried to do.
It was something that just happened.
From that moment on, they formed a bond—half-jokingly calling themselves siblings, sharing the same "vocal mom."
The montage revealed something else.
The two schools that suspended classes for the evaluations?
They were Ryu and Corsair's alma maters.
Their vocal teacher—unable to attend or go watch live due to her teaching commitments—was watching from home with her family, screaming like a banshee every time her boys appeared on screen. Pride radiated from her.
Back in rehearsals, something miraculous began to happen.
Yone started harmonizing with them.
His baritone—hovering close to alto—was perfect for grounding their harmonies. He handled the lower tones beautifully while maintaining control over the melody.
To strengthen his vocals, Ryu and Corsair put Yone through absolute hell.
He sang while running.
While planking.
While lying flat on the floor.
It was brutal—but effective.
As for dance training?
Yone was merciless.
Every angle. Every line. Every transition was drilled until it became pure muscle memory. The duo ached—but never complained.
Corsair's athletic background helped, and he took it upon himself to train Ryu physically from early on. Over time, Corsair's workout routine became Ryu's as well—slowly building his stamina and strength.
By the end of each day, they were exhausted.
But better.
Stronger.
Closer.
The montage ended on softer moments—Yone becoming a big brother figure, scolding the duo when they messed around, then rewarding them with snacks when they did well. It was strict, affectionate, and deeply wholesome.
And finally, the reveal.
Their professional support?
The award-winning hip-hop dance company Yone was part of.
They would be performing with the trio on stage.
The audience gasped.
With that final detail, it was clear—
This wasn't just another performance.
It was one everyone would remember.