Changes within the team came not long after that.
"Yeong-oh, should we try going a bit faster?"
On the afternoon of the third day of practice, while we were checking our formation according to the revised pathing, everyone turned toward the voice. It was Do Ji-hyuk, frowning as if troubled.
"…What about it?"
"I think your timing is a little late during the part where the formation crosses at the chorus. Do you think you could match it just a bit faster?"
"…I understand."
Hwang Yeong-oh exhaled roughly and replied in a low voice. Do Ji-hyuk watched him silently for a moment, then restarted the music with a brief announcement to begin.
"Mm, Yeong-oh. It'd be good if you could lower your body a little more for that move. Think you can do that?"
But when the song ended, Do Ji-hyuk spoke again, as though Yeong-oh's movements still felt lacking.
"I did what I could."
"...."
His tone sounded halfway like a scolding and halfway like a sigh. Yeong-oh only responded curtly and wiped his sweat with a towel. Seeing his exhausted face and strangely lethargic attitude, I couldn't help thinking:
'…This is bad.'
It seemed Do Ji-hyuk's filtering wasn't as perfect as he thought.
***
Hwang Yeong-oh's sluggish attitude continued the entire day.
'Honestly, the last few days were the strange ones.'
A team practice with no noticeable issues? In a survival program? Impossible.
Other than a few disagreements during position selection, Team 1 had been smooth from beginning to end.
And that was because Do Ji-hyuk's team was essentially the Dream Team of Dear Doll.
Team 1 consisted entirely of top-ranked trainees. And each of those trainees had the skill level and ambition to aim for a main position.
Most had already experienced their desired roles in previous rounds, so their ability far surpassed that of Team 2.
Their passion was exceptional as well. Being close to debut rank, everyone was charged with motivation, and even the slightly lower-ranked trainees got swept up in the positive atmosphere and pushed hard for the final performance.
But passion doesn't last the same for everyone.
"No, not like that—like this."
"I thought that was right…"
"It's not. Your rebuttal's slow. Let's try again."
Do Ji-hyuk's face remained calm. But his voice was strangely flat.
Following his correction, Hwang Yeong-oh examined himself in the mirror and repeated the move. Do Ji-hyuk watched closely, then shook his head.
"No, that's not it. The arm angle is off. Your timing is still slow."
"…We've done this so many times already. Can't we take a short break?"
"…Fine. Let's rest for five minutes."
As soon as he got permission, Hwang Yeong-oh hurried to sit in a corner of the practice room. Do Ji-hyuk observed him blankly for a moment, then turned away and walked toward the other trainees.
Assigned to Sub Vocal 4, Hwang Yeong-oh had been dragging since the very start of practice today. Sitting off in the corner, staring blankly at lyric sheets—his attitude made things clear:
'He's given up.'
He lost main vocal, then even Sub Vocal 1 was taken by Gyeong Ji-won, and now he had no motivation left even to practice. His whole demeanor screamed that he just wanted to get things over with.
It wasn't surprising. It was expected. Working hard in this team gave Hwang Yeong-oh no advantage.
Do Ji-hyuk's team was indeed Dear Doll's strongest dream team, but that also made it the worst team to perform in for the final round.
The reason was simple:
'Every trainee stands out too much.'
No one falls behind. Everyone is main-position material, overflowing with passion.
That's not bad in itself. With strong members, performance quality goes up, and there's plenty for the audience to enjoy.
But that only applies when it's not a survival show.
'This team is terrible for competition.'
If everyone shines, it naturally reduces the amount of attention each member can receive. In a survival show where one vote is precious, that's disastrous.
That's why Hwang Yeong-oh had desperately tried to secure a main position—to survive. But he lost main vocal, lost center, and even got pushed down to Sub 4.
Hwang Yeong-oh isn't stupid. He's someone who reads the situation well and adjusts accordingly.
'Which is exactly why his motivation tanked.'
He must've realized his limits through the current lineup and positions.
He was ranked 11th—right next to debut line. But raising his rank any further in the final round would be extremely difficult. Because he had no remaining opportunities to "stand out."
'If he were in Team 2—where it's easier to catch the camera and claim a noticeable role—it would've been different.'
But in this team, no one could give him the spotlight.
So naturally, he was becoming more and more disengaged.
"Haa..."
And that was the complete opposite of what Do Ji-hyuk wanted.
Back at the dorm, I stretched my stiff neck and glanced at Do Ji-hyuk as he entered. Gone was the blank, professional expression he'd maintained during practice—his face now looked slightly irritated.
"Where's Yeong-oh hyung?"
"No idea. He left the practice room earlier and didn't come back."
Cheon Se-rim, roughly wiping water off his hair after showering, shook his head knowingly. There was no way he hadn't noticed Yeong-oh's halfhearted attitude today.
"He said he'd practice again tonight."
"We already got the footage we need."
Do Ji-hyuk said that casually and stepped into the bathroom Se-rim had just left.
Today, he'd spent even the evening acting like Yeong-oh's personal coach, trying to fix his inaccurate choreography.
But apparently, after saying he wanted a short break, Yeong-oh had left and simply never returned.
On camera, it would look like he accepted Do Ji-hyuk's guidance and practiced diligently. So he wouldn't be edited as someone who slacked off—unless Do Ji-hyuk himself told the staff he walked out midway.
"Should we go look for him? He's probably in Team 2's room or in an empty practice room."
"It's fine. Even if we look for him, he's not going to practice more."
For this final-round training camp, I was assigned to the same room as Cheon Se-rim, Do Ji-hyuk, and Hwang Yeong-oh. So since Yeong-oh had ditched Ji-hyuk to slip away, he'd surely return late.
Freshly showered, Do Ji-hyuk let out a light sigh and sat on his bed. Then he muttered quietly:
"…Should I just lock in the timing?"
"You're going to?"
"Well, there's no other way."
Cheon Se-rim asked, and Do Ji-hyuk answered. From that brief exchange, I could tell exactly what he was thinking.
'He's planning to give up on Hwang Yeong-oh.'
All day long, Ji-hyuk had practically been glued to Yeong-oh, trying to keep him in line out of sheer necessity. But as the day went on, the sighs were getting harder for him to suppress. Even his normally flawless expression management had begun to crack.
Despite all that effort, Yeong-oh didn't improve—and now he was literally running away from practice. So, in true quick-to-assess fashion, Do Ji-hyuk seemed to have made his decision about how to handle him going forward.
In the 3rd round, Ji-hyuk had succeeded in aligning formations and pathing even with unmotivated teammates.
The details of each member had been lacking, but he managed to avoid making the team look like a complete mess on stage. He was probably planning to use the same method here.
I shifted my gaze to the floating status window above Do Ji-hyuk's head.
『Status: Resigned (Verifiable)』
More precisely, his changed status.
'These past few days, it always said "Stable."'
After quickly accepting the situation and deciding to give up on Yeong-oh, Ji-hyuk's status had shifted. Since Yeong-oh clearly had no intention of following his lead, the decision was, in a way, efficient.
Still, considering the risks Ji-hyuk willingly took to form this dream team, the resignation felt a bit premature.
"You're okay with doing that?"
"Hm?"
"It'll probably leave a bitter taste, hyung."
At my words, Ji-hyuk stared at me blankly. After watching me for a moment—as if assessing something—he gave a small, quiet smile and admitted it easily.
"…Yeah, it's a bit disappointing. But what can I do? I got nine of them on board. Having everything go the way I want would practically be a miracle."
"..."
"If someone else drops off at this point, then yeah, that'll piss me off."
Even so, he seemed ready to accept it when the time came, speaking casually as always.
As he asked Se-rim to turn off the lights and lay down in bed, I quietly reconsidered what I thought about Do Ji-hyuk.
'Thinking about it… Ji-hyuk didn't exactly have an easy road either.'
Maybe that's why. Ji-hyuk was strangely quick to give up. More precisely, he seemed unable to insist on things that didn't involve himself.
He would try to adjust the situation, but the moment something felt off, instead of trying to push further, he'd immediately compromise and close the matter.
I understood why.
Do Ji-hyuk was a 6-year idol—and a "failed idol" at that. Despite having this level of skill, he had never once been in the spotlight. Their group activities had even ended in disgrace due to repeated member departures and scandals.
—During all that mess, Ji-hyuk hyung was the only one who held things together. I heard they managed to keep promoting for three years only because of him.
That's what Cheon Se-rim told me during the very early days of Dear Doll, when we were practicing "Look" for MusicA.
When situations deteriorate, people's responses fall into three categories.
The first is to fight through it—to never let go of one's passion no matter what. Very few people fall into this category.
The second is the majority: people who give up completely, cleanly folding the entire situation.
And the last direction is resignation and compromise. Like Do Ji-hyuk.
'Judging what you have, what you can discard, and what you can't… then adjusting accordingly.'
Let go of what you need to let go of, cling only to what you still have. That way, even if you don't progress, you can at least avoid ending everything altogether.
Just like I once did.
'Back then, I gave up on communicating with my members.'
We had nothing in common, and I couldn't get through to them. For about a year, I tried to work things out, but after every attempt failed, I naturally shifted into that third mode.
I couldn't overturn the whole board—giving up entirely meant quitting as an idol. So I tried my best to make do with what I had.
I stopped trying to communicate. Instead of preventing problems, I focused on smoothing things over after they happened.
But that path is never the best one.
'Which is probably why Ji-hyuk wanted to try something different this time—since, as he said, this is his "last" stage.'
To try doing everything the way he wanted, without giving up on anything.
That was likely the reason he built this dream team.
Which was also why Team 1 became such a precarious team—one where even a single person giving up could destroy the entire atmosphere.
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