Three Months Later
By now, Jiho knew the schedules of everyone who mattered.
He knew that the main vocal trainer left early on Tuesdays to visit her daughter. That the producer with final say over showcase tracks took lunch exactly three minutes after 1 p.m. and hated being disturbed while eating. That the trainee manager, Mr. Choi, had a gambling habit and was easy to manipulate if flattered properly.
He didn't write any of it down. He didn't need to.
He remembered everything.
The First Cut That Drew Blood
"Jiho, what the hell is this?"
Seungmin burst into the practice room, waving a printed email like it was a weapon.
Jiho looked up from where he was adjusting the song key in the corner.
"What?"
"They reassigned your solo to Hyunwoo. Again. After final approval. He didn't even audition for it this time."
Jiho blinked slowly.
"I know," he said.
Seungmin froze. "What do you mean you know?"
Jiho stood and walked past him, towel slung over his shoulder.
"I gave it to him."
"You—" Seungmin choked. "Why?"
"Because," Jiho said without turning around, "the executive producer's assistant is Hyunwoo's cousin. And if he thinks Hyunwoo's the lead, he won't look too closely at who's carrying the chorus."
Seungmin stared after him, mouth open.
Jiho didn't explain further.
He didn't have to.
Lies That Sound Like Strategy
That was the beginning.
Jiho started trading his best performances for visibility in the parts that mattered — camera placement, center spots, moments that could go viral in clips.
The coaches thought he was humble.
The trainees thought he was weak.
Hyunwoo thought he was losing.
No one realized Jiho was studying them like predators study prey.
The First Deal
Mr. Choi had a weakness for flattery. And whiskey.
Jiho waited until one late night when most of the building was dark, and Mr. Choi was alone in the staff lounge.
He walked in with a bottle of top-shelf whiskey — a gift, he claimed, from his older cousin who worked in duty-free.
"I just wanted to thank you," Jiho said quietly. "I know I'm not the most memorable trainee. But I want to be useful."
Mr. Choi raised a brow.
"Useful how?"
Jiho looked him dead in the eye.
"I want to know what to fix. Whose attention I should get. What parts matter. Who decides what."
Mr. Choi took a long drink, then leaned back, smiling like a wolf.
"Smart kid."
Seungmin's Doubts
"You've changed," Seungmin said one night after a group evaluation.
Jiho didn't look up from the sheet music he was annotating. "Everyone changes."
"You didn't used to lie."
Jiho smiled without warmth. "I didn't used to be good at surviving."
"Hyunwoo's getting credit for your work."
"That's fine," Jiho said. "Let him."
Seungmin grabbed his arm. "It's not fine. He's using you."
Jiho finally looked up. "No," he said quietly. "I'm using him."
The First Betrayal
The company held an internal vote on who would open the seasonal showcase. Every trainee could submit a name anonymously.
Seungmin was a front-runner — talented, clean image, good reputation.
The night before the vote, rumors spread that Seungmin had violated curfew, skipped diet logs, and mouthed off to a trainer.
None of it was true.
But Jiho knew exactly who would believe it.
And who would spread it.
When Seungmin came to him, hurt and confused, Jiho only said:
"Someone's scared of you. That's a compliment."
But he didn't meet Seungmin's eyes.
Not until Seungmin whispered, "Was it you?"
Jiho didn't answer.
He just walked away.
The System Teaches Cruelty
After the vote, Hyunwoo won the opening solo. Jiho was placed second.
Seungmin didn't make the lineup at all.
He stopped talking to Jiho after that.
Not in anger — just disappointment.
That hurt more than Jiho expected.
Night Practice, Alone Again
Jiho was back in the mirrors, like always.
But now, his movements were sharper. His eyes didn't search the glass for affirmation.
They demanded it.
He was no longer practicing to prove himself.
He was practicing because the stage was a battlefield, and he didn't intend to die next time.
A New Kind of Smile
The next morning, Hyunwoo clapped Jiho on the back and said, "Don't worry, Jiho. You'll get your moment one day."
Jiho smiled brightly.
He didn't say:
It won't be a moment. It'll be an empire.