Baekya came straight down to the practice room and looked around the empty space.
“...Did they give me the wrong information?”
He didn’t even know who had called him. Wandering around, Baekya approached a wall and sat down, leaning his back against it.
He stared blankly at his reflection in the mirror for a moment. The silence was broken by the rumbling of his stomach, and Baekya clutched it.
“I’m hungry…”
Come to think of it, all he’d eaten that morning was a single banana. From the monthly evaluation to the sudden debut offer and profile photoshoot—there hadn’t been time to eat.
‘I was thinking of jumping ship to another agency because I thought I wouldn’t debut here.’
A hollow chuckle escaped him unintentionally. The situation still felt absurd and unreal.
‘Me, debuting…’
Even if it was to survive, he had a strange premonition that the real game would only start after his debut.
What he had seen so far was just a review covering part of this game.
‘It probably won’t compare to now.’
Trying to shake off the endless distracting thoughts, Baekya ruffled his hair and then took a small packet from his pocket.
“First, let’s eat and then move.”
It was a chocolate snack Jiho had given him before the evaluation started.
Baekya tore the wrapper and shoved the bread into his mouth. The sticker above the practice room door pricked his conscience.
But before he could chew more than a few times, the door suddenly swung open.
“!!!!!!”
Startled, Baekya froze with wide eyes. The other party was just as surprised, though for different reasons.
“...Huh?”
“Cough! koff!”
Baekya, with powder stuck in his throat, clutched his chest and coughed.
‘Gotta swallow quickly…!’
He quickly turned away and chewed desperately. He couldn’t ruin his first impression like this.
But it was all visible.
Though he thought he was hiding, the nature of the space made hiding impossible. It was the largest and most spacious practice room at ID.
Though Baekya faced the wall, the puffed-up movement of his cheeks was visible live in the mirror.
“Cheongcheong, why aren’t you coming in?”
“Shh! There’s a hamster. Eating.”
The youngest members arrived first, followed by the others.
“What’s in there?”
“Wasn’t this our practice room?”
A lonely tomato standing like a lighthouse on a deserted island. No, the red hoodie’s presence couldn’t be ignored.
The desperate posture from behind was pitiful.
The voices of the late-arriving members lowered naturally at the youngest’s signal to be quiet.
“Guys, the manager hyung is here asking about our schedule…”
Minseong, the oldest member of the team, appeared last.
“Why are you standing outside?”
He instinctively lowered his voice as he approached. His eyes quickly scanned inside. Someone was there.
“Who is it?”
“Don’t know.”
“But poor thing. Hiding and eating something.”
They say “Don’t bother a dog when it’s eating.” Taking a little more time, five burly guys huddled at the entrance, unable to go in.
‘The number of people increased.’
Baekya sensed the commotion behind him. He didn’t want to turn around.
Meanwhile, despite finishing his meal, a presence approached from behind. Baekya hesitated and turned slowly, eyes fixed on the floor.
“Um, hello.”
“…Hello.”
“Sorry, but from 7 o’clock we’re scheduled to use this practice room.”
A polite eviction order.
Baekya lifted his head slightly and met Minseong’s eyes. He didn’t seem to recognize him yet.
‘What should I do?’
Baekya briefly debated whether to introduce himself, but Minseong’s eyes were swollen. In fact, everyone there looked that way.
‘Has the debut team been together for a year now?’
Including trainee time, these friends had spent much more time together, but one was suddenly out of the team overnight.
Of course, the cause was his own doing, but leaving aside facts, the emptiness felt unavoidable.
And on the day the original member was kicked out, a new member was promptly chosen? It was a picture ripe for misunderstanding.
Why did this thought only occur now? Baekya was thankful he said nothing and quickly bowed in apology.
“S-sorry! I’ll leave right now.”
Introducing himself as the new member in this moment felt strange.
‘I look like I’m the only one excited…!’
Though true, it was bitter.
And just now he realized—he had no confidence to enter that group. They seemed to have a strong, solid fence of their own. Baekya tried to escape the practice room as if running away.
But he was blocked at the door.
“Huh?! There you are! I didn’t know and went to the studio and development team.”
A burly man suddenly grabbed Baekya’s body and turned him around.
“Guys!”
“W-wait a minute!”
Panicked, Baekya struggled. Five pairs of eyes fixed on him.
“I went to the development team and got a direct confirmation! They said your debut won’t be canceled and will proceed as planned!”
“...Is that true?”
Jihan grimaced and asked again.
“Yeah, man! Baekya saved your asses!”
At that moment, the system window appeared after a long time, fixing on him.
[New quest (hidden) arrived!]
[Q. First impressions matter: Suppress your opponent’s energy with a dance initiation~]
‘Suppress? What suppress!’
Feeling alive again from the many blood pressure spikes today, Baekya shouted without realizing it.
“No way! I’m not doing that!”
The misunderstanding deepened smoothly.
[Kim Dongman, rookie development team manager]
He became manager just two years after joining thanks to Baekya’s lightning-fast debut. Within the rookie development team, Dongman was a ‘hero.’
Whenever Dongman passed by, everyone would stop their work and break into applause and double thumbs-ups.
“Who’s that? Isn’t that our Manager Dong?”
“Ha ha, Deputy Manager, you’re making me shy.”
“No, no. Without Manager Dong, I would’ve cried for sure!”
After years of hard work building their tower, a sudden lightning strike hit. It wasn’t only the rookie development team; planning, PR, and A&R teams were all shocked.
We’ve worked so many overtime hours!
The time, manpower, and cost invested before debuting a rookie were beyond imagination.
But this rookie wasn’t just any rookie. He was the flagship star of ID Entertainment. The first boy group in eight years following AIM.
The planning team researched every book with words like ‘legend,’ ‘myth,’ and ‘world’ due to the group’s concept and worldbuilding.
For a time, the planning office was called the zombie den.
Those were the days. Haha.
But those were old stories.
Everyone sighed in relief after the CEO declared, “Except for adding a new trainee, the schedule remains unchanged.”
“I saw his profile—it’s good.”
“Right? At first, I didn’t recognize Baekya because he wore glasses, but once he took them off—ding~ ding~”
Like bells ringing over his head. Dongman was quick to praise Baekya to everyone he met.
The deputy manager thought it might be an exaggeration but said nothing.
“Anyway, the kids will have a hard time. This is basically a full rework. Is it possible in just three months?”
Everyone would struggle, but especially Baekya. No time to sleep—recordings, choreography practice, jacket shooting, and music video.
“The schedule’s been pushed since last year. Investors won’t let the CEO delay anymore. But the planning team will try to stretch it as much as possible, so the kid has to adapt fast.”
“Baekya will do well. He’s very determined right now.”
“Good to hear. I heard the team was crying, thinking the whole thing would be scrapped.”
Dongman acted as if it were his own loss. Then, glancing around, he whispered quietly,
“I heard Harang was being territorial because he thought he was good at singing. He had the longest trainee period, too.”
Everyone who knew knew. The deputy manager nodded bitterly.
“Vocals are important for the team. I thought they were getting along well, but this makes me feel bad.”
He glanced briefly at Baekya’s profile on the monitor.
‘I wonder what kind of impact this kid will have on the team.’
These kids had been through a lot. He hoped things would go well, but the process was rougher than expected.
At that moment, our new face who was already exerting immense influence since arrival was
“It's a misunderstanding! Really, a misunderstanding, ah….”
lost in a sea of tears.
Flailing about desperately.