By the end of the week, the change in Damien was becoming hard to ignore. During training sessions, he had pushed with a quiet intensity that caught the eye of more than one instructor. Each day piled on more fatigue, but also more improvement—and others were noticing.
In next week's vocal class, Damien stood in front of the microphone for a solo. Just a few days ago, he had stumbled over the bridge of the song, his breath control faltering as he tried to sustain a long note. Today, he took a steady breath as the piano cue led him in. The note flowed out strong and unwavering. He could hear the difference, and apparently so could the vocal coach. Damien didn't stop and carried through to the end of the solo.
The vocal coach nodded, a smile smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Much better, Damien," he said, making a note on his clipboard. "You've improved so much."
Thanks to my system... He inwardly commented.
"Thank you, sir." He bowed before sitting down.
He could feel the curious stares of some fellow trainees. A few looked impressed, others looked skeptical, as if they couldn't believe the guy who'd been average last week was now singing with noticeable improvement. Afterall, it had only been two weeks at most since Damien had arrived at the company. Such a noticeable improvement at such a short amount of time made others wary.
One of those wary gazes came from Choi Hajoon. Damien could sense his gaze on him like a physical weight. When he risked a sideways glance, Hajoon's expression was unreadable, lips pressed into a thin line.
Well look at that. I guess he decided to shed all pretenses.
The vocal instructor moved on to the next trainee, and Hajoon stepped up to sing. He delivered his lines with ease. Hajoon had always been good, and he knew it. His third spot on the monthly evaluation proved it. His voice was stable, and his high notes soared, earning a clap from a few of his friends.
Yet, as Hajoon returned to the line, passing by Damien, he hesitated ever so slightly, meeting Damien's eyes. There it was—a flicker of emotion. Perhaps it was acknowledgement, perhaps unwilling respect, or just irritation—it was hard to tell. Damien offered a cordial nod and smile which seemed to set off Hajoon. The older trainee just clicked his tongue softly and turned away.
It wasn't only in vocal class. During dance practice, the trainees were split into two groups to learn a challenging group choreography. Damien was placed in Hajoon's group, along with Yejun and several others of varying skill levels. The choreography was fast-paced and required synchronization as well as sharp movements. Last week, Damien had struggled to keep up. But now—with his upgrades, new skills, and repetition—he moved with precision.
"Five, six, seven, eight!" The dance instructor clapped the counts at the front.
Damien mirrored the instructor's movements, sweat flying from his hair as he executed move after move. His feet slid into the correct positions without stumbling—the endless nights of footwork drills finally paying off. He caught the sight of the dance instructor watching him and nodding along to the beat, her earlier sternness replaced by a hint of approval in her eyes.
They finished the first run-through, and everyone panted for breath. The dance instructor rarely praised openly, but she gave a general nod. "Better. That was much better from all of you. Especially those who had trouble earlier... I see improvement." Though she didn't name names, her gaze landed on Damien briefly, and he knew it was directed at him. Warmth bloomed in his chest, and he hid it by bowing his head to catch his breath.
"Take a ten minute break. We'll start from the top again afterwards!"
Once the dance trainer left the room for a brief break, the trainees scattered and the chatter grew louder.
"Wow, he really did get better," someone whispered behind him. not quite as quietly as they thought.
Another trainee responded, "He's one of the new trainees right? When he went to the advanced class, I thought he'd be good but was just less then average in the end."
"You can't say that." Another one whispered. "His improvement is crazy fast. Thought he was gonna drag the group down, but he's keeping up."
Damien pretended not to hear, focusing on his breathing. He wasn't doing this for their validation, but it was satisfying to know his hard work was visible.
"Ah, dance class—the great equalizer..." A voice popped up from behind him. Turning around he saw Li Xingyuan, side-eyeing him with playful exaggeration. "But wait a minute, why do you look less dead than usual?"
Damien lifted his gaze, quirking an eyebrow. "Less dead?"
Li Xingyuan flashed him a teasing grin, taking a sip from his water bottle before answering. "You know exactly what I mean. You've always had that classy-but-clumsy vibe going for you here—no offense—but today you're actually nailing the rhythm. Did you secretly replace yourself with an upgraded version?"
Damien tensed up.
What the hell? Does this dude have some kind of sixth sense?
"Maybe I've been practicing?"
Li Xingyuan clicked his tongue, mock suspicion narrowing his eyes. "Impossible. That would imply you have a secret diligent side you've hidden from your fans—of which I count myself one."
"Careful," Damien shot back calmly, slightly smiling in amusement. "You're dangerously close to admitting you're impressed. Thought I was your rival?"
Li Xingyuan laughed, nudging Damien lightly with his elbow. "Oh, I freely admit it. I'm very impressed, disturbed even. You're supposed to stay safely mediocre so I look good by comparison, my rival."
Damien tilted his head, voice casual yet gently challenging. "Sounds like someone's worried about competition."
At that, Li Xingyuan smirked. "Me, worried? Please. I welcome a little competition." He leaned closer, voice dropping in a whisper. "Keeps life interesting, doesn't it?"
Damien suppressed a smile, shaking his head slightly. "Only you would describe getting your spot challenged as 'interesting.'"
Seongwon grinned, eyes bright with cheerful mischief. "Exactly why we're friends. You get me."
Damien's eyes widened slightly. Then, he smiled. "Yeah, yeah."
Placing a hand firmly on Damien's shoulder, he said, "Alright, upgraded Damien, I'm going to go. Show me those moves again. I'll be watching closely."
Damien rolled his eyes lightly. "He comes in and goes out like a whirlwind." He muttered.
Not everyone was pleased by Damien's progress, of course. As Damien walked to get his water bottle, Hajoon approached him.
"You've improved," Hajoon said smoothly. His tone was neutral but it carried an almost imperceptible coldness.
Meeting Hajoon's gaze, he responded. "Thank you."
Hajoon's smile didn't reach his eyes, lingering for just a beat longer than necessary before he spoke again. "But don't get ahead of yourself. A single good week isn't going to change much. Some of us have been at this for years, after all." His voice is soft but somehow even sharper.
Damien didn't let the jab show. "I know. I'm just working to catch up," he replied evenly.
The brief silence between them seemed to make Hajoon's next words feel more impactful, his posture straightening as he clicked his water bottle shut. He turned to face Damien fully, the smile still in place. "Just make sure you stay out of my way during the evaluation. We're all judged on our own, you know. And I have every intention of holding onto my top spot."
Ah, there it was—the hint of rivalry, just barely hidden. Damien nodded once, his expression cool and composed. "May the best trainee win, then."
Hajoon's eyes narrowed, but his smile remained polite. Maybe even a little too polite. "Of course," he said. It was as if he was humoring Damien's remark, not letting it bother him—but then again, maybe that was the point.
He took a small step closer, just enough to close the distance between them without crossing a line. The subtle move made it clear who was in control, though his demeanor stayed light, almost amused. "I always do."
This bastard...
The air between them shifted, and for a moment, the tension was palpable. Damien didn't flinch. He simply held Hajoon's gaze, the mask of indifference firmly in place.
He wasn't going to let this moment rattle him—not now. Not when he knew he had the power to compete on his own terms.
Hajoon's gaze lingered for just a fraction too long before he straightened, a barely audible exhale escaping his nose—half amusement, half something else. "Don't make it too easy," he added. A flicker of something, almost like mockery, tainted his voice. But it was fleeting, as if the moment was dismissed entirely.
A shout from one of Hajoon's friends broke the tension. "Yo, Hajoon, we're starting again!"
Without another word, Hajoon spun on his heel, the friendly smirk still in place as he jogged back to his spot.
"I guess my intuition was right after all..." Out of nowhere, Song Yejun appeared by his side. His timing was impeccable, as always. He gave quick sidelong glance at Hajoon before turning back to Damien. "That guy... what a prick. You'd better be careful."
Damien nodded. "I will..."
Damien rolled his shoulders, releasing the tension he'd held. He didn't miss the glance Hajoon threw over as the music restarted, a look sharpened by wariness.
For the first time, Hajoon actually saw him. Not as someone inferior to brush off, but as a potential rival.
As they danced through the routine again, Damien's mind stayed clear. He focused on each beat, each step, determined not to give anyone a reason to doubt him. Still, he couldn't shake the subtle chill of that exchange with Hajoon. It hadn't been overt, but he felt an undercurrent of hostility that hadn't been there before—or rather, it had been casual scorn before, and now it was turning into something more pointed.
...
Hours later, the building was quiet, long past the time most trainees had gone home.
In the dimly lit practice studio, Damien practiced his routine for the evaluation one more time. The music was off now; he danced in silence aside from the squeak of his sneakers on the polished floor and the ragged sound of his breathing. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, but he pushed on.
One more time. Just one more time, Damien.
He finished the final move and collapsed to his knees, chest heaving. Damien closed his eyes, feeling his pulse hammering in his ears. His limbs were heavy, and a tremor ran through his thighs as he tried to stand. Slowly, he got back on his feet, wobbling for a second before he steadied himself. He caught sight of his reflection again. His brown hair was plastered to his forehead, skin flushed and dewy with perspiration. He looked half-exhilarated, half-resolved—eyes shining with a fire that he'd rarely seen in himself in his previous life.
This was the face of someone who had given everything and was still ready to give more.
Damien stared at himself, and a faint smirk curled his lips upward. He almost didn't recognize that glint in his own eyes. Was it confidence? Madness? Maybe a bit of both. Either way, he felt alive.
He trudged to the corner of the room where his phone lay on a bench and checked the time. 10:50 PM. It was almost time for curfew. People would be checking the practice rooms soon.
Before calling it a night, he summoned his stat panel. It blinked into view:
[Accessing Status...]
[Name: Damien Hertz (Alias: Yeong Myeongho/Damien Yeong)]
[Age: 16]
[Gender: Male-Alpha]
[Physical Condition: Excellent]
[Group: TBA]
[Agency: Starlite Media]
[Mission Progress: 0.8%]
[Base Attributes (Ratings)]
Vocal: A- (↑2)
Dance: B+ (↑1)
Rap: C+ (↑1)
Charm: A+
Visual: S
Artistry: A+
Fame: D- (Notable in a tight social circle only)
Current Balance: 0 Points
[Special Skills]
...
He let out a breathy chuckle of satisfaction. His efforts had nudged his ratings up. Incremental, but significant given the time frame.
Damien dismissed the panel and slumped onto the wall. Grabbing his water bottle, he took a big gulp. The cool water soothed his parched throat. He rotated his shoulders, trying to stave off the stiffness settling in.
He'd be sore tomorrow, no doubt. Perhaps he should pick up a cold pack from the convenience store to avoid swelling in his knees.
Damien stood and approached the mirror one last time, toweling off the sweat from his face and neck. His legs protested each step, and he knew that if he continued, he'd only injure himself. Resting is a part of training too.
Time to rest and come back stronger tomorrow.
He flipped off the lights on the way out, plunging the practice room into darkness save for the streetlight glow pooling through the high windows. The hallway was lit only by a few night-lights. The entire floor was eerily quiet. Damien's sneakers echoed softly as he made his way to the elevator, digging in his bag some pain relief patches.
Rounding a corner, he thought he heard a sound—a creak of a door or a shuffle—but when he looked, there was nothing but an empty corridor. He shrugged it off as the building settling or perhaps another late-working trainee who'd already left.
Unbeknownst to Damien, a pair of eyes watched him from the darkness. Choi Hajoon stood partially hidden in a doorway, arms crossed tight over his chest. His jaw was clenched as he observed the lone figure of Damien stepping into the elevator.
In the dim light, Hajoon's expression was a storm of conflict—part disbelief, part anger. He had doubled back to the building out of restless curiosity, not expecting to find anyone, only to see him still practicing like a man possessed.
As the elevator doors slid shut behind Damien with a distant ding, Hajoon remained in the hall. A seed of something dark had planted itself in his chest earlier that day, and now it took root. He could no longer dismiss Damien as just a pretty face, nor as a novice who would fade away; the evidence of that showed itself in the polished moves Hajoon had glimpsed through the door crack.
Hajoon's hands curled into fists. He had worked too hard for too long to be upstaged now. Not to mention, the company was gathering up the pre-debut group soon. If Damien—that upstart with not even a month in the company—was going to threaten his position, then… Hajoon's eyes narrowed, a resolute, dangerous light in them.
Then I'll just have to make sure he doesn't.
He let out a low, eerie chuckle—frenzied and disconnected, a laugh far beyond the line of sanity.
Just like I've done with all the others.
With his unspoken vow hanging in the stale air, Choi Hajoon turned and disappeared down the stairwell, leaving the corridor empty once more.