The next morning arrived without mercy. There was no celebration, no rest. Just a sharp knock at Mirae's door and a voice announcing, "Final cut announcement in fifteen minutes. Report to the main hall." Mirae sat up slowly. Her limbs screamed in protest, and her ankle was swollen beneath the bandage. She winced but didn't flinch. She had survived Yoo Sera. She had done the impossible. And yet—something in her chest felt cold. Empty. The dorm was quiet. Team C was gone. Their beds stripped. Their voices missing. All that remained was the echo of their last message: Debut for us. She washed her face quickly, dressed in the cleanest performance outfit she had, and tied her hair into a low ponytail. No glitter. No dramatics. Just her.
The hall was buzzing when she arrived. The Top 20 stood in formation—ten on each side, ranked. Sera was absent, still under review after her loss. That left nineteen, and Mirae, the wild card. She stood alone at the bottom of the stage. A reminder that she hadn't earned her place in the rankings. Only stolen a moment. Murmurs fluttered from the others. Some curious. Some skeptical. Some openly hostile. "She just got lucky." "It was rigged for drama." "She won't last the next round." Mirae heard it all. She didn't react. Her gaze stayed forward as the stage lights dimmed and the producers walked out with the head judge at the center.
"Today," the judge announced, "you will learn the criteria for the Final Cut—the decision that will determine who makes it to the Debut Team, and who goes home permanently." A heavy silence fell. Mirae's hands curled into fists. She remembered the first day, when she signed the contract. When the stakes were still just numbers on a page. Now they were carved into her bones. "The final mission will not be scored by fans," the judge continued. "Nor will it be decided by the panel alone." The screen behind them lit up, revealing three words: Peer Evaluation Performance. Confusion erupted. Someone in the top row whispered, "What?" Another said louder, "You mean… we judge each other?" The judge nodded. "That's right. You will perform in randomly assigned teams. But this time, it's the trainees who vote. You will score your own competitors. And the lowest-scoring contestants… will be eliminated."
Mirae felt a wave of nausea. Not because of the challenge. But because she knew exactly what this meant. Popularity would become a weapon. Friendships could turn fatal. And for someone like her—ranked last, feared by the favorites—this was a death sentence. Names began flashing on the screen. Randomized groupings. Mirae watched the names shuffle. Then stop. Her group appeared: Group 3: Han Mirae, Ryu Minchae, Lee Kyungho, Seo Haeun, Park Yejoon. She blinked. Minchae. The same girl from Team C. Her heart fluttered for a second—until she remembered. Team C was no longer a team. These were competitors now. Survival had rules. No one could carry the weak anymore.
The other names were a mix of mid-tier trainees and one fan-favorite vocalist, Park Yejoon. Mirae's group was clearly designed to test chemistry. A blend of misfits. The kind of group no one bet on. "You will be given three days to rehearse," the judge said. "Then the final performance will be held live. Votes will be anonymous. No redo. No resets. This is your last chance." The lights faded. The announcement was over. But the real battle had just begun.
Rehearsals started that afternoon. Their assigned practice room was smaller than the others. No assistant trainer. No vocal coach. They were on their own. Mirae sat across from Minchae on the floor, stretching silently. The awkward tension between them was a chasm. "Hey," Mirae said softly. Minchae didn't look up. "You're the reason the others are gone." The words hit like a slap. Mirae flinched but didn't argue. "I know." "Do you?" Minchae met her eyes for the first time. "We all worked just as hard. But because you got a second chance, the rest of us got nothing." Mirae swallowed. "I didn't ask to be chosen." "But you didn't refuse it either."
Kyungho cleared his throat. "We don't have time for drama. If we mess this up, we're all out. Period." The others nodded reluctantly. Mirae stood and said, "Then let's not waste any more time." They began rehearsing the assigned track: a high-tempo dance song with layered harmonies and quick raps. Not Mirae's strength. But she pushed through. Her ankle screamed every time she spun. Sweat soaked her shirt. She stumbled once—twice—but kept going. Yejoon, the fan-favorite, watched her like a hawk. "You're gonna drag us down," he said bluntly. "Can't you sit out the dance break?" "No," Mirae said. "I'll be ready." He scoffed. "I've heard that before."
The first night ended with tension so thick, it hurt to breathe. Mirae stayed behind after everyone left, practicing the same sequence over and over. Her ankle buckled once, sending her crashing to the floor. But she didn't cry. She just stood up and did it again. The next day, things got worse. During group harmonies, Yejoon snapped, "You're flat. Again." Mirae tried to correct her pitch, but the stress was eating her alive. Minchae refused to harmonize with her. Kyungho and Haeun kept to themselves. Mirae was an island—and the group was crumbling.
On the third day, just hours before their final rehearsal, Mirae arrived early. The room was empty. She stood at the mirror and stared at herself. Pale. Bruised. Tired. But not broken. She took a deep breath. And sang. No music. No mic. Just her voice. Soft at first, then rising like a flame. The door opened behind her. Minchae stood there, watching. "Why are you still here?" Mirae asked. "Because…" Minchae hesitated. "You're still fighting." Mirae looked back at her. "So are you." Minchae stepped forward. "Let's finish this right. Together." They rehearsed the entire number again—just the two of them. This time, their harmony clicked.
Later, the full group assembled for one final run-through. Mirae's energy was steady. Her voice was clean. Her steps were sharp. Even Yejoon paused, then gave a quiet nod. "Don't mess up tomorrow," he muttered. Mirae didn't smile. But in her chest, a spark lit.
The next night, the final cut stage was a spectacle. Fans filled the arena. Judges sat with blank expressions. The lights dimmed. Group after group performed—some flawlessly, others desperately. Mirae's group was last. When their name was called, her heart was pounding. They stepped into position. The music began. Mirae sang her lines perfectly. Hit every mark. Her voice soared during the high note—and the crowd erupted. The final pose froze them in place. Silence. Then applause.
Backstage, the tension was unbearable. All votes were cast by trainees on their tablets. Anonymous. Silent. Ruthless. After thirty minutes, the results were announced. The host stepped forward. "The following trainees have made it into the final Debut Team—" Mirae held her breath. The screen flashed.
> #7 – Park Yejoon
#8 – Seo Haeun
#9 – Ryu Minchae
#10 – Lee Kyungho
Mirae's heart dropped. Her name wasn't there. The host paused. "And the final wild card… chosen by unanimous judge override…" A beat passed. Then—"Han Mirae."
Gasps. Screams. Disbelief.
Mirae stood frozen.
"Congratulations. You've been selected as the final debut member of the group."
The cameras zoomed in. Her hands trembled. Her mouth opened but no words came.
But inside her heart—something cracked open.
It wasn't joy.
It was fire.
She had made it. Despite every fall. Every scar. Every whispered doubt.
But as the applause echoed, a voice crackled in her earpiece.
"Get ready. The real test begins now."