The screen's glow faded slowly, but its message burned behind Mirae's eyes:
> Twelve will debut. Two will be cut. One will be crowned Final Center.
> Voting resumes tomorrow.
Mirae stood frozen in the middle of the glass-panel room, surrounded by silence more suffocating than any stadium full of spectators. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as the weight of the words sank in. They hadn't won yet. The final ten hadn't "made it." They'd only entered a new game. The real one. The deadly one.
The man in the black suit beside her watched her reaction with calm detachment. "The public believes you've debuted. But your group is still provisional. Management will finalize the team after the next broadcast."
Her voice came out flat. "So… this was never the end?"
He shook his head. "It never is. The real stage is just beginning."
Mirae swallowed hard. "And the system? It's still active?"
The red bracelet on her wrist pulsed once, almost in answer.
"Yes," the man said. "The Debut or Die system remains in effect until contract fulfillment. Survival isn't just about singing or dancing anymore. It's about being chosen, remembered… adored. This is where idols are truly made. And destroyed."
Mirae's chest felt tight. She didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream. Instead, she asked quietly, "And if I'm not one of the final ten?"
He met her eyes. "You know what happens."
She nodded.
Death.
The elevator ride back up was silent. Mirae leaned her forehead against the wall, the cold metal grounding her. Her reflection in the door looked gaunt, eyes rimmed with shadows. The exhaustion had sunk into her bones. But there was no time to rest. No time to recover.
As the elevator opened, the hallway ahead was different—dim, quiet, almost hollow. The studio lights were down, and the hallways had been cleared. Everyone else had been dismissed for the night. She was alone.
No. Not quite.
A familiar voice called softly down the hall. "Mirae?"
She turned.
It was Jiyeon.
Mirae's knees nearly buckled at the sight of her. Jiyeon, dressed in the trainee sweats they'd all been given. Her long hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, face flushed with relief. She rushed forward and pulled Mirae into a hug without warning.
"I was waiting for you," she said. "No one knew where you were taken."
Mirae blinked back the sting in her eyes. "They called me in for… something."
Jiyeon stepped back, scanning her. "You look pale."
"I'm okay," Mirae lied.
They walked back toward the dorms together. Every corridor felt heavier, like it knew the truth now—the façade of debut shattered. Twelve girls stood on the edge of glory, but only ten would remain. And none of them knew who would be next to fall.
That night, the dorms were quieter than ever.
Inside Team C's room, the atmosphere was tense. Everyone had returned after the announcement and tried to act normal. But Mirae could see the shift. The once tight-knit unit now teetered on uncertainty.
Soomin sat on her bed, headphones in, watching old practice videos on mute. Bora was scrolling through online forums, her jaw tight. Nari looked like she wanted to say something but didn't know how.
Mirae moved quietly to her mattress and sat. The silence stretched. Jiyeon finally broke it.
"They're cutting two of us."
Everyone froze.
"Tomorrow, they'll post the new voting metrics," Jiyeon said softly. "It's not just about points anymore. It's about public image. Likeability. Fan growth. Social buzz."
Bora looked up, tension snapping in her voice. "That's insane. What happened to talent?"
Jiyeon shook her head. "It never mattered most. We knew that."
Soomin took off her headphones. "We shouldn't turn on each other."
Mirae looked around. The four of them had survived everything—from the brutal physical evaluations to the public rankings, the ankle injuries, the group disbandment threats. They'd sacrificed sleep, cried through practice, supported one another when everyone else had turned their backs.
But now…
This wasn't just survival anymore.
It was war.
And they were all suspects.
Nari's voice cracked through the silence. "Do you think I'm one of the two?"
Everyone looked at her.
She was the quietest of them. The softest. But Mirae knew how hard she'd worked. How she'd pushed through stage fright and vocal insecurities. She'd come far.
But was it far enough?
Bora groaned. "Don't talk like that."
"I'm serious," Nari whispered. "What if I am?"
Soomin exhaled. "We don't know. None of us do."
Mirae finally spoke. "Then let's promise something."
They turned to her.
"No matter what happens tomorrow… we don't let it change us," she said. "We don't stab each other in the back. We don't lie. We don't fight dirty. If we're going to fall, let it be with dignity."
The room was quiet.
Then Jiyeon nodded. "Deal."
"Deal," Nari whispered.
Bora hesitated. "Fine. Deal."
Soomin raised her pinky. "Pinky swear or it's fake."
They all laughed—a little bitter, a little sad—but it broke the tension just enough to let them breathe.
Later that night, Mirae lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Her ankle throbbed, but she didn't reach for the painkillers. She welcomed the ache. It was proof she was still alive.
She reached for her phone, pulling up the latest post on the show's official channel.
> "Top 10 Rankings – Final Stage Teaser Drops Tomorrow at Noon."
She scrolled down.
Comments flooded the post.
> "I can't believe Han Mirae made it."
"She's so bland. Who voted for her?"
"Wild card? More like dead weight."
She closed the app and rolled onto her side. The words stung, but not as deeply as they once had. She was used to being underestimated. Dismissed. But she hadn't come this far to break now.
As she drifted toward sleep, the bracelet on her wrist glowed faintly—just for a moment.
A quiet hum. Like a warning.
Or a countdown.
--------
The next morning, the dorms buzzed with a different energy.
Cameras returned. Makeup artists moved quickly. The trainees were told to wear their debut uniforms again for a surprise stage reveal. Everyone pretended to smile, but the tension behind the scenes was razor-sharp.
In the makeup chair, Mirae watched the others in the mirror.
Whispers. Glances. Calculations.
Even friends looked like competitors now.
She made her way to the main studio, where the floor had been transformed overnight into a dramatic new stage. LED lights cast swirling gold and crimson across the ceiling. A massive screen hovered above them, and the host stood in front, microphone in hand, all smiles.
But Mirae saw it in her eyes.
Something big was coming.
"Good morning, Top 12!" she said brightly. "Today, you'll finally see how the public responded to your debut showcase. Based on those responses, two of you will be at risk of elimination. One will be crowned Final Center."
A soft gasp rippled through the group.
Final Center?
Already?
The host gestured upward. "And here are the current rankings."
One by one, names appeared.
Mirae held her breath.
10th… 9th…
Her name still didn't appear.
8th… 7th…
Still nothing.
6th…
Then—
> 5th – Han Mirae
Her knees almost buckled. She blinked, unsure if she'd read it right.
5th?
Above Jiyeon, who landed 6th. Above Soomin. Above Bora. Above Nari.
She looked around in disbelief. Some trainees looked shocked. Others looked… annoyed.
But she didn't have time to process it before the host continued.
"And now, the Final Center…"
A drumroll began. The screen flashed with a name.
> #1 – Yoo Sera
Of course.
The girl with the perfect visuals, the trending fancams, the rich agency backing.
The girl who once told Mirae to quit before she embarrassed herself.
Sera stepped forward, smug and flawless, as the host handed her a temporary center badge. "You'll lead the next performance," she said. "But remember—center is temporary. Only one stays."
"And now…" The host's smile dropped. "The two trainees in the red zone."
Mirae's heart stopped.
Please not Jiyeon.
Please not Nari.
Please—
> #11 – Bora
#12 – Nari
Gasps echoed.
Mirae's throat went dry.
The room shifted. Eyes darted. Bora looked furious. Nari looked like she might faint.
Mirae's heart ached.
But it wasn't over.
The host lifted a card.
"One more twist."
Everyone tensed.
"We're introducing one final contestant. A wild card re-entering from a previous elimination round."
The screen flickered.
> Reinstating: Kang Minji
The crowd erupted.
Mirae's stomach dropped.
Minji. The most dangerous ex-trainee. The one who'd ranked 3rd before being eliminated in a scandal. The one who once sabotaged another girl's mic before a live performance.
The cameras zoomed in on Minji as she walked onto the stage with a slow, mocking smile.
"Miss me?" she said.
Mirae's blood ran cold.
The game had changed.
And the night before judgment was over.
Now came the war.