"Can't dance."
She went straight for the kill.
I was a little taken aback but nodded right away. Jane, the dance mentor, was a hot choreographer who'd created the routines for dozens of hit songs. Since she also worked as a dancer herself, she maintained a sharp, professional image.
"Your song choice looked like an attempt to hide your dancing skills somehow. And what you showed… well, you didn't get beyond basics. You must've done those tens, hundreds of times, so I won't count that toward skill. Fair?"
"…Yes."
Jane, staring like she could bore a hole through me, fired off razor-sharp lines.
"First off, you've got no control of dynamics at all, and it really feels like you don't know how to move your joints. It's less dancing and more copying poses. That's because you're not feeling the rhythm overall."
"Yes."
"So the moves keep looking clumsy. You weren't trying to match the song—you just reproduced what you memorized, right?"
"..."
I kept my mouth shut and looked at Jane. Even nodding here would've been weird.
It didn't seem like she wanted an answer; without waiting, she continued, like she still had more to say.
"That happens when you move blindly without any intention to understand the rhythm. So it's no fun to watch and just gives off, 'I practiced' vibes."
"Yes."
"But the funny thing is—"
Right then, on Jane's face—which had been cutting into me with a sharp look—an unexpected smile appeared.
"You're incredibly at ease, huh?"
"Oh, yeah, I felt that too."
"Strangely relaxed."
At Jane's words, the other mentors beside her nodded in agreement. Picking up on the chorus, Jane spoke again, this time sounding a little intrigued.
"Your body doesn't follow, but you look like you know how you should be dancing. Same when you sang… You know where to press and where to let go, but your body can't keep up? That gives you this very odd composure. You used the stage well, too."
"..."
"You don't get that easily. That kind of thing is technique and adaptability you understand only after spending time on stage. Practice alone won't do it. It's more like habit, or atmosphere."
Jane tilted her head.
"That's why I thought you were interesting, Trainee Won Yuha. I'm curious, too. How can you be like that?"
Well, of course. Even if I was mocked as a flop idol, I'd still spent a fair amount of time grinding it out on stage.
If anything, I might even have had more varied stage experience than some top-tier idols. I'd run to any place that wanted to book idols on the cheap—from small local events on up—and performed.
Because of my low stats I couldn't pour all that experience in my head into my dancing, but the knowledge remained, and I guess trying to mimic it, however clumsily, showed through in my dance.
As for the composure… you could chalk that up to the seasoning of a fifth-year.
'…If you think about it that way, I kind of used a cheat here, too.'
While I was thinking that to myself, the other male dance mentor, Rio, nodded as well.
"Right. So I want to watch how you'll learn to dance from here."
"He's really bad at it, but he's fun. I'm excited to see how his dancing grows, too."
"Thank you."
"But."
So we're not done yet. I looked back at Jane. Face sharp again, she stressed her point.
"Don't forget that if you've trained for five years and the only thing you can show is basics, that's something you need to reflect on."
"…Yes. Thank you."
"Good work, Trainee Won Yuha. Then shall we start the grade evaluation?"
I stayed on stage, and soon all the mentors gathered to discuss my grade.
Some frowned, some smiled—very camera-conscious behavior—and then they each returned to their seats.
The mic went back to Jane.
"For KRM's Trainee Won Yuha, the grade is…"
For the sake of broadcast fun, Jane let it hang.
A deliberately tense silence, and after a few seconds of looking at me, Jane slowly opened her mouth to let it drop.
"…D."
"Thank you!"
I bowed after receiving my grade. Soon the trainees' applause rang out, and I exited as directed by the staff.
I could hear the mentors murmuring behind me, but I didn't bother to listen.
'I'm gonna die.'
Because thanks to my trash stamina, I felt like I was about to drop dead right now.
"Fun, right?"
"Fun."
Dancer Jane was a little hyped. It had been a while since she'd found an interesting trainee.
"In its own way, he's a catch. Good face, good voice, dance… well, he can't dance, but he's got composure."
Rio laughed as he spoke. KRM's Won Yuha didn't look to have good stamina, and he didn't seem to dance well either, but he had a rare ease for a trainee.
'I don't know why that's all he can do after five years, but he seems like the type who dances with his head. Looks like he knows how the body should move, too…'
Talking "types" at that level of skill was a stretch, but if he started learning, Won Yuha seemed like the type who'd calculate everything when he danced.
That type was always boom or bust. Either they overcalculate and become a performer who's neither here nor there, or they meet expectations consistently and sometimes show perfection.
'Hmm, I'd like to put him through the wringer.'
Jane glanced at the door Won Yuha had exited through and thought.
Truthfully, considering his singing and star quality, she could've given him a B.
'He's going to blow up.'
Having spent a long time in broadcasting, Jane could more or less see that a trainee like Won Yuha would climb fast.
And that growth would shine even more if Won Yuha rose from a low rung to a higher place.
'Say thanks later, Trainee Won Yuha.'
Feeling a little pleased that she'd set up one pillar of that "growth arc," Jane nodded to herself.
Never dreaming that the trainee in question was planning to do things half-heartedly and then bail.
『Achievement Complete!』
You finished the brutal level test and obtained a "D" grade.
Reward: Luck +10
'Still, the system's not just handing it to me for free.'
The moment I sat down and looked at the status window floating before my eyes, that's what I thought. It was a low grade, but I'd safely completed the level test, so the system seemed to be granting a reward.
It looked like I'd be able to earn various achievements and rewards, big and small, each time I followed along with and cleared the program's missions.
'Ten points, huh…'
Staring at my Luck, now totaling 40, I mulled it over. Like it or not, I was stuck appearing on for a while, so it wasn't as if I could avoid spending points forever.
The reason I intended to keep appearing on despite having no thought of becoming an idol again was simple:
was the "Main Quest" the system had assigned me.
The moment I almost lost my right to appear on had been forced as a tutorial, and afterward a Main Quest popped up that practically compelled me to participate in .
Whatever the one who sent me back was plotting, it meant they wanted me to take part in and accomplish something.
'If so, following the Main Quest is the right move to figure out what on earth happened to me.'
So I planned to play along with to a reasonable extent. At the same time, I hadn't given up on making an early exit; I'd clear the upcoming quests and stockpile Luck points to pay off any penalties, just in case.
Which meant it would be troublesome to stand out more than necessary. My goal was still to return to normal life, and to do that, I had to bow out with just the right amount of recognition.
'If I don't quit voluntarily, the quest-failure penalty isn't that bad.'
Right now, the penalty for failing a quest was 30—the entirety of my current Luck.
But now I had 40 points, so even if I got eliminated here, I wouldn't die.
Of course, for the moment the only way out of was a voluntary withdrawal, but since the show cuts trainees based on their rankings after each mission, I'd just have to wait a little.
'The problem is how this "Main Quest" continues…'
The Main Quest I had now was to appear in Episode 1 of . And there was a high chance it would chain into a series rather than be one-off.
I had no intention of continuing a quest without knowing what penalties it might bring. In other words, I'd just blend in and play along until I'd saved up enough points—then drop out.
If the one who sent me back wanted to keep me on and debut me, then the moment I stepped off the path they'd laid out, maybe they'd finally reveal themselves.
Still, even staying in the middle of the pack takes competence, so my lousy stats needed some patching.
I stared at the button in the Luck stat section. Details for Luck dropped open beneath.
『Luck Roulette — Random Ticket: 10 points』
『Luck Roulette — Guaranteed Ticket: last 10 points』
Each Luck Roulette ticket cost 10 points. And the Guaranteed Ticket I'd used on the day I swapped accident locations with Kim Min-gi didn't seem to be something you could just buy outright.
'…last 10 points.'
It seemed to mean you couldn't draw it now; you could only pull it when you were down to your final 10 Luck points, after everything else had been shaved away.
'So you can only pull the Guaranteed Ticket with the very last 10 points.'
But if I spent my last 10 points for a Guaranteed Ticket, my Luck would hit zero, and once I used that ticket and drew… I'd die.
I wasn't going to use something like that knowing it'd kill me, so day-to-day I'd stick to the Random Ticket. Always keep at least 10 Luck in reserve—remember that.
'But from the Random Ticket… what even comes out?'
According to the system, spinning the Random Ticket could yield items tied to my "Luck," including things that affected the stat window. So to find out, I had to actually spin it.
'And I really do need to raise this garbage Stamina…'
Soon a flood of missions would hit, and with a D in physical stamina, I might collapse mid-shoot and get hauled to the ER. If the Random Ticket could raise my Stamina stat, it'd help me survive even after I bailed on .
I was thinking along those lines as I stared at the system window when—
"Great performance."
"Sorry? Ah—thank you."
A trainee in the seat next to me suddenly struck up a conversation. I closed the system window and turned to him.
We'd traded a brief greeting earlier and then gone quiet, but now there was a smile on his face. The sudden sociability threw me a little, but I gave a basic reply.
"Your voice was really good."
"Ah, thank you."
When I offered the perfunctory thanks, a light sparked in the trainee's eyes. He looked intrigued.
It was sudden, but based on his earlier attitude I figured he'd toss a few polite lines and stop.
"How many years have you studied singing?"
"Five… years."
"How did you study? Do you have a favorite song?"
He launched into a barrage of questions like he was just getting started.
I answered one by one—ignoring him felt like perfect fodder for a nasty edit—but it all felt pretty random.
'What is this.'
He clearly wasn't interested earlier, was he? So why the sudden switch?
And even though I was keeping my responses short, he only grew more bright-eyed with each answer.
"NaineHit trainees, time to move."
Just as I was starting to wear down under the unending questions, a staff call saved me. The trainee, who'd been about to ask me something else, creased one eye with a hint of regret and stood up.
"I'll be back."
"…See you."
"Oh, and—"
As he started off with his agency's trainees, he looked back. With a slight smile, he pointed to the name tag on his stomach.
"I'm Aiden Lee."
And with that, he simply introduced himself out of the blue and went off with his teammates.
Left with no time to respond to the abrupt self-introduction, I could only think—
'…What am I supposed to do with that?'
All I felt was a lingering awkwardness.
Like I'd just had something declared at me.