Becoming Han Sang-yun's roommate and cleaning partner had given me another teacher. I couldn't cling to I-yul throughout the entire survival show, so this was an unexpected piece of good news.
“Is it because I-yul taught you?”
Sang-yun watched my movements for a while, then tilted his head.
“There's something…… similar about the way you move.”
‘He's sharp.’
I was pleased that there was something of I-yul in my dancing, but I also felt a little guilty.
“I don't really have dance lines of my own yet.”
I laughed it off.
“Still, it's impressive that you've memorized the whole routine.”
“Thank you.”
“Dance lines can come later.”
Sang-yun gave a light clap.
“First, you need to get through it without making mistakes.”
“Yes.”
He really was different. Practical and precise.
‘That's why he debuted.’
“Was this…… the part you wanted to ask about?”
“Yes. The highlight is so fast-”
“It is fast.”
The highlight of the signal song. A devilish stretch where your hands and feet never stopped moving against the rushing beat.
“C-could you show me once, Mr. Han?”
“…….”
For a moment, Sang-yun stared at me.
‘What?’
I was wondering if I'd said something wrong when—
“Pfft.”
Sang-yun burst out laughing.
No, ‘burst’ didn't begin to cover it. He laughed so hard his uvula was visible. His distinctive, breathless laughter made me laugh awkwardly along with him.
“Wait…… Did you just call me Mr. Han?”
“Ah.”
Only then did I realize.
“What do you mean, ‘Mister’……?”
“I'm sorry.”
“No, you don't need to apologize.”
Sang-yun waved his hand, barely holding back his laughter.
“Call me whatever you're comfortable with.”
That was even more uncomfortable. Regressing had made me nineteen again. Choi Un-jo was now my age, and Han Sang-yun had become older than me.
‘You little punk, I used to be the older one!’
By a lot, too.
“Okay. Sang-yun……”
I couldn't do it.
“Sir.”
I'd added the honorific again.
Sang-yun burst out laughing once more.
“Sorry, I laughed too loudly. We're only two years apart, and you're calling me Mr. Han-”
It took him a long while to stop laughing and get into position.
“Hold on. I'll show you properly.”
He loosened up briefly, then started moving to the music.
“Wow…….”
They were the same moves, but they felt completely different. Sang-yun's dancing had shifts in strength and softness.
“Want to try it?”
“……Yes.”
The result, of course, was dreadful.
If Sang-yun was an elegant swan gliding serenely across the water, I was a swan whose frantic paddling beneath the surface was plain for everyone to see.
“Hmm.”
Just one syllable. Somehow that was scarier.
“Right now…… you look really busy.”
“Ah…….”
“You're too focused on showing every single move.”
He'd seen right through me.
“This is dancing, not exercise.”
He marked the beat with his finger.
“With exercise, you use strength from start to finish.”
Tap.
“Dancing is different.”
Tap.
“Put strength into this part-”
Swish.
“And let this part flow.”
It was as if someone had struck me on the head with a hammer.
‘That was the difference.’
Until now, I'd been dancing every move with all my strength. No wonder I kept moving so stiffly.
‘Fifty times won't be enough, will it?’
“Let me try it once more.”
It couldn't be helped. I'd try a hundred times, a hundred and fifty if I had to.
“Sure.”
Sang-yun smiled.
“This time, don't try to do so much.”
I quietly gripped the hourglass.
SHHK.
Thirty seconds earlier.
Another SHHK.
Thirty seconds earlier.
The same moves. The same beat. The same explanation.
The same thirty seconds repeated endlessly.
Fifty times, a hundred, then the hundred and forty-seventh.
‘I've got it.’
At last, I began to feel it.
The timing of tensing and relaxing, the space between movements.
‘This is enough.’
I put away the hourglass and moved to the music again.
This time, I deliberately got a few moves wrong. It would be suspicious if I suddenly danced well.
After about five more repetitions—
“Oh.”
Sang-yun gave a small smile.
“Much better. To get this far in five tries, you're quick.”
‘Five? This is my hundred and fifty-second time.’
“Thank you! Sang-yun……”
My lips moved.
“Sir.”
I'd failed again.
My legs felt ready to burst, but harder than repeating the dance 152 times was that one little word: ‘brother.’
***
The day of the interim evaluation.
Twenty trainees entered the practice room together.
“I'm so nervous I feel sick.”
“Hey, keep it down. The microphones pick up everything.”
The air was so dry with tension that even the smallest whisper sounded sharp.
Beside me, I-yul was gently holding his arm in the cast as he steadied his breathing.
The sight kept troubling me.
‘……If only I'd found out a little sooner.’
I couldn't help resenting the Risk Level, stuck stubbornly at 90%.
The fact that I-yul himself knew nothing weighed on me even more.
That was why I absolutely had to succeed today.
“Let's go in too.”
The practice room felt distinctly different from usual.
On the left were two company trainers; on the right, two outside judges. And in the center sat CEO Song In-hyeok.
Tension hung in the heavy air.
I felt a little differently, though.
‘I've seen this on TV so many times.’
I almost felt as if I knew them personally.
Once preparations for filming were complete, MC Kang Se-jun stepped forward.
“Hello, everyone. Have you been practicing hard?”
“Yes!”
“Before we film the signal song tomorrow, we'll hold an interim evaluation.”
At the word ‘evaluation,’ some trainees' hands shook, while others squeezed their eyes shut.
“At present, you've each been assigned a code number from 1 to 20 based on the order in which you joined the company.”
The number on my chest suddenly felt unusually heavy.
“Of course.”
Kang Se-jun smiled.
“Those numbers will keep changing.”
I heard someone swallow quietly.
The number on each trainee's chest wasn't just a number. It was the clearest measure of their position here and now. It was both what made Boys Code compelling and one of its cruelest features.
“The results of today's interim evaluation will determine your positions in the signal song.”
The atmosphere, already like thin ice, grew even more taut.
“And the center for the signal song, which I'm sure you're all interested in, will also be decided today.”
The trainees' expressions changed at once.
An unwritten rule of idol survival shows:
[The signal song's center always debuts.]
The positions determined how much time each trainee would get on camera. That was why trainees on every idol survival show fought with their lives for the center position.
No matter how talented or good-looking you were, if the camera never caught you, it was all for nothing.
“Your positions for the signal song will be divided into Codes A through C. Naturally, A is the highest level.”
He paused and swept his gaze over the trainees.
“And one person, the most outstanding trainee, will take the center position as the sole Code S.”
The air in the practice room stirred again.
“Well, then.”
Kang Se-jun turned his cue card.
“Let's begin the interim evaluation.”
After looking around at the trainees for a moment, he asked,
“Would anyone like to be evaluated first?”
No one moved.
Of course not. Going first meant bearing the tremendous pressure of being the first person evaluated on the whole survival show.
That was why no one had volunteered before my regression, either.
Amid that silence, I raised my hand without hesitation.
“If there's no one……”
Kang Se-jun spotted my hand and smiled.
“Ah, we have a trainee with his hand up over there.”
No sooner had he spoken than several cameras turned toward me at once.
The judges, who had been going through their score sheets, all looked up. Half looked down again after seeing me; the other half looked intrigued.
Of course, the person most surprised was I-yul, right beside me.
“Did you just…… raise your hand?”
“Yeah. Better to get the beating over with, right?”
“…….”
“I'll do it the way you taught me.”
I held out my fist. I-yul hesitated, then lightly brought his hand up to meet it.
Tap- Somehow, that brief contact eased my nerves a little.
“Code Number 20, please come forward.”
Phew. I drew a quiet, deep breath and stepped forward.
“Your training period is……”
A judge turned a page of my profile.
“Two weeks?”
One eyebrow rose.
“And you're going first?”
The judge took their hand away from their chin.
“You're a fearless one.”
I'd never been particularly fearful, but after dying once, there wasn't much left to be afraid of.
“Yes. I hear that a lot.”
“We'll see whether your confidence has a reason behind it or you're just fearless-”
The judge set their pen down with a sharp tap.
“Once we've seen you.”
I stood on the center mark taped to the floor and took a quick breath.
The signal song's intro began to play.
For the opening ‘Boom,’ I had to count to ten in my head and come in precisely then. Everyone waited for the intro to end, but-
‘That would be too late.’
Even on the show before my regression, more than half the trainees had missed the timing because of nerves. I'd discovered the perfect timing myself while running that challenge account.
‘Nine, ten!’
[Boom!]
I extended my hand on the beat.
“Huh?”
Someone reacted quietly. That was how precise my timing was.
‘Good.’
I felt a little embarrassed by how spirited my opening had been, but Yu Seong-a had taught me one rule of life well: throw yourself into it with enough momentum, and there's nothing you can't do.
I steadied my breathing and focused on my vocals.
[Who can solve this secret
The only boy]
Back when I worked as a producer, I'd found it hard to explain in words the feeling I wanted from the songs I wrote, so I'd recorded the guide vocals for every one myself. The singers I knew had teased me endlessly when I played those guides for them.
‘Who knew that would help me like this?’
I hadn't worried about getting the lyrics wrong to begin with. I'd probably listened to this song more than anyone else here. Maybe even more than Lowkey, the producer who had made it.
[Because that's me
Focus on me]
The judges' gazes sharpened.
I got through the first verse without trouble and moved into the second. I hadn't made a mistake yet. I just had to take it one step at a time. No rushing.
Thanks to my younger body, I was less short of breath, too. All in all, it wasn't bad.
[Out of this place
To where you are
I'm almost there]
This wasn't just a performance.
Hundreds of times, thousands. Rewinding, dancing it again, watching it again. All those hours I'd held on through, even while people mocked me.
I was starting to run out of breath. But as if my brain had lost its ability to register pain, my movements didn't slow at all.
It was the power of repetition. My body remembered the movements I-yul had taught me before my mind did, and moved on its own.
“Oh-”
The judges' expressions gradually changed. Some smiled faintly; others whispered to the person beside them.
Hoping it was a positive signal, I pushed toward the highlight.
[Make a new history
Beyond this door
Brilliantly shining
New world-]
I kept dancing even as I belted out the high notes. My breath wavered a little, but I pushed through to the end. What mattered was finishing, no matter what.
Sang-yun's advice helped a great deal, too. I wasn't throwing away moves; I made them small but precise. Using those moves as transitions gave me a little room to steady my breathing.
[That will open this door
The only code
Boy's code!]
The final line. I stamped my foot hard and stretched my right hand toward the sky.
“Huff, huff…….”
My breath burst out raggedly.
It had been a long time since I'd tasted blood in my mouth. My heart pounded harder than it had when I used to run like a madman to get into the front row at events.
‘It's over…….’
Judged objectively, it hadn't been a perfect performance.
I'd flipped the hourglass hundreds of times to get used to singing while dancing. But I still lacked the skill itself.
Still, I had no regrets. I hadn't missed a single move or stumbled over the lyrics. At the very least, I could say this much with certainty: that performance was everything I could do right now.
Because this time, I hadn't turned the hourglass back again.