As trainees flooded the stage—laughing, crying, dogpiling Bobby like it was the finale of a sports anime—Foca calmly observed the chaos… and saw his opening.
"Excuse me," he said smoothly, voice gentle but firm, "may I ask for your undivided attention, please."
And just like that—silence.
It didn't matter who you were. Trainee. Staff. Cameraman mid-zoom. Audience member mid-scream. Viewers at home mid-tweet. When Foca spoke, everyone listened. It wasn't written anywhere, but it was universally understood: Foca talks, the world shuts up.
"Thank you," he said, offering his signature soft smile as the noise settled—some people calming down willingly, others clearly forcing themselves to behave.
"Since all the trainees are already on stage," Foca continued, "I'd like to take this opportunity to say how proud I am of every single one of you."
The trainees straightened immediately.
"All of you poured countless hours into rehearsals, lessons, and growth over these past three months. You listened. You learned. You pushed yourselves. And tonight, the culmination of all that hard work inspired not only the world—but me as well."
His voice warmed.
"You have all proven yourselves. Every one of you should be proud."
Then—unexpectedly—Foca began clapping.
A full standing ovation.
The audience followed instantly, cheers erupting again as the trainees formed three neat lines on stage, hands linked tightly together. They raised them high into the air, then bowed deeply in unison.
The cheers got even louder.
"I wanna say somethin' too."
Tuesday's voice cut through the noise like a blade wrapped in glitter.
"If he sayin' somethin', then I wanna say my piece too." She looked around, eyebrow cocked. "Y'all cool with that?"
The trainees, audience, and half the internet screamed YES.
"Auf cwours it's fine," Tuesday said smugly, waving her hand. "Y'all love me."
Laughter exploded.
She turned to face the trainees, cracking her neck once, professional filter officially tossed into the void.
"Alright. I'ma be REAL with y'all," she began. "No cap. NONE."
The audience leaned in.
"Y'all ate that stage up… and licked it CLEAN."
The theatre LOST IT.
"Like damn!" Tuesday continued. "The whole time I was sittin' there like—'DAYUM!' My wigs was gettin' snatched left and right. I almost had to pull out my emergency super glue from my purse 'cause the way y'all blew me away?? CRIMINAL."
She fanned herself dramatically.
"For real, whew! I ain't tryna throw shade—"
The audience collectively said liar.
"—but from what I saw tonight?" Tuesday smirked. "All them other survival shows out there could NEVERRRR."
She dragged the word like rent was due.
"I'ma just keep it cute and honest."
The internet IMMEDIATELY imploded.
@mothblade: SHADE HAS BEEN THROWN!!! TAKE COVER!!! (she not wrong tho)
@CaliforniaMaki: No lies detected. Not a single syllable.
@Yoyo: THIS is the Kween I aspire to be 😭 zero fucks, all facts
@Oppa-ya: Miss ma'am woke up and chose VIOLENCE today
→ @Rumi: Violence is never the answer.
→→ @Rumi: It's the QUESTION.
→→→ @Rumi: And the answer is ALWAYS YES 😮💨😤
@MileyCircus: I can't breathe 😭 she's so SAVAGE I love her sm
And then… the thinkpieces arrived.
@Malory: How disrespectful. Someone in such a high position should show professionalism.
→ @Conservatism: This kind of vulgar conduct should be frowned upon. The internet is filled with mindless fools who enable this behavior. Shameful.
→→ @Edward Cullen: "People on the internet"? So… you? Because last I checked, YOU are also on the internet 😭😭
→→ @Edward Cullen: Imagine calling yourself a fool with your whole chest 🤣🤣 I cannotttt
The likes piled up faster than anyone could scroll.
On stage, Tuesday smiled sweetly—completely unbothered, absolutely moisturized, thriving.
And somewhere in the chaos, Bobby stood surrounded by his fellow trainees, heart full, eyes shining, realizing that this—this mess, this love, this madness—was only the beginning.
"Y'all really bust yo asses and performed like there's no tomorrow!" Tuesday continued, pacing the mini stage of the evaluators, like she owned the lease—which, spiritually, she did. "I was sittin' there like… whatever y'all be smokin' backstage? I wanna hit that too."
The theatre exploded in laughter.
Tuesday waved her hand quickly. "RELAX—I'm jokin'! HR, unclench!"
More laughter.
"But for real though," she said, tone shifting just enough to make everyone lean in. "Kiddin' aside. I want y'all to remember this exact moment. Burn it into your brains. Tattoo it on your souls."
She tapped her temple with a long acrylic.
"'Cause one day, when doubt creeps in—and trust me, that bitch ALWAYS creeps in—you gon' look back at tonight and say, 'Nah. I DID that.'"
The trainees listened like their lives depended on it.
"Y'all don't gotta prove yourselves to nobody. What y'all did tonight?" Tuesday snapped her fingers. "That's history. The world saw you. The world heard you."
She lifted her hand high and clicked her acrylics loud and proud.
"Good job. Congratulations."
CLICK CLICK CLICK.
The audience followed.
CLICK CLICK CLICK.
The trainees followed—some awkward, some enthusiastic, some absolutely slaying it like they'd been born with acrylics on.
"Das RIGHT!" Tuesday said with a beaming grin. "See? Period."
After a few minutes, Luca cleared his throat.
"…Okay. I guess it's my turn."
The crowd immediately laughed. Luca had that look—the one that said, I am about to be a problem.
"I'm so sorry in advance," Luca said earnestly, hands together. "To anyone watching at home with children… please cover their ears for a second."
Somewhere across the world, parents instinctively reached for their TVs.
Luca leaned toward the camera, dead serious. "Okay. Are their ears covered?"
He paused, nodding slowly as if receiving confirmation through the lens.
"…Alright. Cool."
Then Luca stood up.
"You guys did such a damn well FUCKING good job!"
The theatre froze for exactly half a second.
Then—absolute chaos.
Cheers. Screams. Laughter. Tuesday slapped the table. Someone in the audience yelled, "SAY IT LOUDER!"
"That's it," Luca added calmly, sitting back down with a satisfied smirk. "That's all I wanted to say."
"Very well said," Foca remarked gently, a fond smile tugging at his lips.
"Thanks," Luca replied, clearly proud of himself. Like a cat that knocked something off the table on purpose.
Foca stood once more.
"Now," he said, voice steady, commanding without ever raising it, "we have said our pieces."
The noise slowly died down.
"It is time to proceed to what everyone came here for."
The air shifted.
"Hearts, please remain inside your chests," Tuesday muttered under her breath.
"Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between," Foca continued, "please witness the rise of these young talents."
The trainees held hands instinctively.
"Some of you will take your journey to the next step."
A sharp inhale rippled through the stage.
"And some of you," Foca said carefully, "will be given the chance to debut."
The lights dimmed further.
The screen behind them flickered to life.
And just like that—
The moment had come.
Who would rise.
Who would leap.
And who would officially be LEAVEN.