Special Mission! Shine Bright (5)

The one who never showed up right to the end was that same trainee who'd unloaded all that 'don't show off' garbage on me.

'Name was Shin… something.'

Once I don't care about something, I really don't care. Face I recognized, but what he actually did — couldn't dredge it up.

"Uh, Hajin-ah. The writer's asking if we're going to start practice…. What do we do? Should I go find Kyungho?"

"No, let's just start."

Ah, Shin Kyungho. So Kyungho it was.

As Seok inched over hesitantly, I waved him off — it's fine — and got up. Then I walked over to the production staff, deep in filming prep off to one side.

"Writer-nim, Kyungho's not feeling great, would it be okay if the rest of us started practicing without him for now?"

"Ah, of course, of course. Just run practice naturally, like the cameras aren't there."

"Yes, understood."

While the writer was over with the PD, running through today's shoot and getting set, I walked over to the other seven, awkwardly warming up. Mics were on, but the slate hadn't clapped yet.

'If I've got something to say, now's the moment.'

I pulled out the words I'd been turning over and lining up in my head the whole way here this morning.

"Guys."

"……?"

"So, I'm an ENFP. You know how ENFPs really hang onto hurt feelings and grudges. Honestly, yesterday hurt like hell."

A few of them slid their eyes to check my face, then away. I made a point of catching each of those guys, one by one, and holding the eye contact as I went on.

"But I'll just lay it out. I want to debut. I mean it."

'More precisely, I have to, but.'

The guys were staring at me, wondering what on earth this hyung was leading up to — and in that moment, I asked, straight from the gut:

"Don't you?"

Tension bled into the awkward air. Down the way, I heard the assistant director run in and clap the slate loudly in the middle of the practice room. From this point on, everything I said was on the record.

"Let's beat them. The Team A bastards."

Perfect line for a preview clip, isn't it, assistant director noona? Please, please dig this audio out and use it.

I clapped and grinned, tacking on a wish she'd never hear. The starting gun on our first practice.

---

Turns out trainees aren't all that.

Three months into the job, having landed her on-air debut on Miro's upcoming survival, that was exactly what assistant director Ms. Park was thinking.

She'd come in with high hopes for some eye candy (idol trainees! Miro's next batch, no less!), but the trainees she actually met just looked like the sort of teenage boys you'd see on any street corner.

Aside from being a little taller and a little easier on the eyes than most, maybe?

When she mentioned as much to the senior running the main today, the senior laughed a good long while, then said:

—Well, obviously. These are kids barely into their teens standing in front of a camera for the first time. For them to really look the part, they've got to debut first and then log a few more years on top of that~.

Fair point. Seo Taeil, back at yesterday's opening shoot — now that guy looked like an actual celebrity!

'Ah. Am I just underwhelmed because I saw Seo Taeil? Different tier?'

Ms. Park nodded, figuring that might be it, and resolved that before this program wrapped she would absolutely be taking a photo with Seo Taeil. And in that very moment, cutting straight through the song blasting through the practice room, someone's bark landed.

"That part's wrong again! Focus, properly!"

"Whoa, jeez."

The heck, that intensity.

Even from Ms. Park's spot in the corner of the room, it came through crystal clear. The source was the trainee at the center of the room running practice — Team B's leader trainee. Name was Kang… something with a puppy vibe.

"Lines! Watch your lines!"

"Angles, sharpen up! You're all off!"

"Who still hasn't memorized the lyrics?"

Not once did he ease up, driving them without letting his expression soften — kind of like our main PD-nim, Ms. Park thought, sticking her lip out. Then—

Another sun will rise, shining down on you and me

Let's take each other's hands so we don't lose the way

I'll walk with you so the night doesn't come

This had to be his part — the trainee kept the live vocal going at full volume, even while nailing the group choreo. Ms. Park was instinctively drawn to that raw, unmic'd voice. Fair volume on it, too — his voice came through crisply even over the AR already laid down.

'…He's good, huh?'

Ms. Park — who'd just been thinking trainees weren't all that — found her eyes settling, more and more, on the trainee under that pulled-down ball cap. As the song raced toward the end, she caught herself doing something she never expected — waiting for that trainee's parts.

And his appeal (already!) didn't stop there!

"Slow it down, one-two."

"Yeah, but you've got to give it more of a softer feel than that."

"You've all got the moves down fast, huh. Halfway there, halfway."

"No, ease up on the force there. Hit it too hard and it looks corny."

The practice Cap Leader (a nickname in her head already) was running was, unmistakably, efficient. He'd bark to snap them to attention when it was time to bark, and switch to warm, patient explanations for the parts that needed detailed direction. Just like—

'Just like he knows exactly what the person who wrote this song wanted to express.'

If there was one thing to lament, it was that the other trainees couldn't quite keep up with what Cap Leader was directing.

Curious now about Cap Leader's stats, Ms. Park turned to the youngest writer beside her, furiously scribbling preview notes, and asked:

"Writer-nim, how old is that leader again?"

"Who, Hajin-ssi? Nineteen, maybe? Or twenty?"

'Nineteen? Not twenty-nine?'

No matter how you looked at it, that was a maturity and a life-worn quality you did not get out of a Korean high-school senior! That the truth hidden inside that ball-cap leader was, in fact, a max-level group-project veteran of a young man who'd already lived through about twenty-nine years — that was a fact she would never know for the rest of her life.

---

Break time after the first practice round. Hajin polished off an entire bottle of water in one go and thought:

'Those laps around the parade ground in the army are paying off here.'

The military-days stamina he'd hastily grabbed with a skill yesterday was proving even more useful than he'd expected. His lung capacity — built up from running and running and belting out military songs every single day — had been absorbed right along with the physique, and dancing while singing live wasn't a problem in the slightest!

Ahem (proud)

'Yeah. Thanks.'

To the System, milking the credit for all it was worth, Hajin passed along genuine thanks this time — and, tossing the empty bottle into the recycling bin, took the temperature of the practice room.

'Filming's done for now. And the kids… not bad.'

The awkward mood that had lasted right up till this morning had been battered flat long ago under Hajin's brutal practice. Bowing to the production crew as they filed out one after another, calling see you tonight, Hajin thought:

'So all that's left now is… that one kid.'

"Grab lunch, rest a bit, and let's run it once more at 2. Good work, everyone—."

At the word 'rest,' the guys rolled around on the practice-room floor half-groaning, half-cheering. Watching them, Hajin grabbed another bottle of water and quietly slipped out of the room.

Shin Youngho. (Wrong.) Time to reel back a lost lamb.

---

Down in the basement, at the company cafeteria, Shin Kyungho (18; Kang Hajin's Lost Lamb No. 1, not Shin Youngho), sitting down for lunch, could feel that something had gone seriously off the rails.

"Backstabbing bastards. Cutting me out…"

Was ignoring Seok's message last night, saying he had something to say, and getting sucked into the game console his roommate Seongwoo-hyung had brought over — was that the mistake? The second he heard that every single guy on his team except him was practicing with Hajin (and filming, no less!), Kyungho started to panic.

"I never should've listened to Seongwoo-hyung!"

The problem had been falling for Seongwoo's line — that as leader, Hajin would obviously try to hog all the spotlight, so if Kyungho showed leadership stronger than that guy's, he'd stand out on air too.

On top of Hajin — who'd joined way later — getting close with the very people Kyungho had envied, he'd also come in with a higher ranking than him, and Kyungho's jealousy and inferiority had detonated together — triggering the whole yesterday's-scene incident.

—Hyung! What am I supposed to do, they're saying they're filming right now without me!

—…Kyungho-ya. What I meant was for you to show that you were working harder and doing better than Hajin. I heard about yesterday, and honestly, I'm a little disappointed. I hear you dragged my name into it too?

This morning, when Kyungho had gone to Seongwoo demanding answers and asking what to do now, watching Seongwoo pivot straight into disappointment-this-disappointment-that and pull his foot out clean, Kyungho realized it.

'I'm done for.'

As a future flashed through his head — getting hated on by the entire country, hate comments piling up, forget debuting, not even dreaming of ever being an idol — Kyungho clutched his head and despaired.

And in front of that Kyungho, someone set down a sports drink with a sharp thock.

"……?"

"Hi, Youngho-ya."

"……!"

Without waiting for a reply, Hajin pulled out the chair across from Kyungho and sat, deploying the 'benevolent, warm-hyung smile' he used when he wanted to look nice.

"Let's talk."

"……"

Clinging to the last shred of his pride, Kyungho refused to answer to the end, but Hajin, unbothered either way, kept going.

"Heard from Seok-hyung. He said you've never once made it up to the special class since you joined Miro."

"Th-that's—"

"You've been a trainee a long time, but you kept getting outranked by kids like Haru and Eunchan, who joined after you, huh. I heard that and thought about it. I get it. Then me coming in with a better score than you on top of everything else — sure, that could piss anyone off."

"…Yeah."

'Huh? This hyung isn't mad?'

At the warmer-than-expected tone, Kyungho felt the wall of caution he'd put up soften a little.

'This hyung, softer touch than I thought? If I play this right, I might even coast right into a clean reconciliation route?'

At the escape route slowly coming into view, the corners of Kyungho's mouth twitched up. Hajin, eyes and voice turning heavy with sentiment, even patted Kyungho's arm.

"You might not like me. Like you said, honestly, we're all still young. Whole lot of fighting, whole lot of raw nerves. Emotions running away from you — I get that, that happens."

At the wistful flow of it, right as Kyungho let his guard all the way down—

Tak.

"But even little punks know how to tell the difference. Between what you can say and what you can't. Manners and rudeness. Common sense and no clue at all."

Huh?

Hajin, tightening his grip on the arm he'd been patting, pulled Kyungho toward him. With a loud clatter, Kyungho went pitching forward, and Hajin, smiling, pulled up a photo on his phone.

"Th-this is—"

"Life is the real deal, Youngho-ya. Why would you leave behind evidence like that."

Onscreen were screenshots of the messages in the group chat Kyungho had set up excluding Hajin. The main content, unsurprisingly, was trash talk about Hajin, digs at the other trainees, and Kyungho's own messages leading the charge on not attending practice.

And the recipient of those photos was—

〈Miro_Team Lead Ji Suho〉

"Choose. End your trainee life, or come crawling back nicely."

Lost lamb?

777 cash credited as a bonus! (Reason: Satisfaction)

I never said I was reeling him back in nicely.