[Status Viewer Activated]

Name: Min Jae Park

Age: 22

Singing Level: A+

Dancing Level: S

Visuals: A

Writing: B

Instruments:

– Piano: B+

– Guitar: B

Potential: SS

---

Dayo's eyes widened. He blinked twice, rubbed his face, and checked again. Same results.

What the hell…?

S for dance. SS potential. At just twenty-two. That wasn't just "good"—that was a foundation strong enough to shake stages for years. Dayo had seen some scary stats before, but this… this was on another level.

His mouth went a little dry. This guy… is no joke. The thought of having Min Jae as an opponent already felt heavy.

Min Jae must have caught his expression. He tilted his head, curious.

"You okay?"

Dayo snapped back quickly. "Yeah, yeah. Just… tired from the flight."

But his tone gave him away. Min Jae's eyes narrowed slightly, like he sensed more behind the answer. Still, he didn't press. Instead, he stretched out on his bed, calm as ever, scrolling through his phone.

"So, how long have you been in the industry?" Dayo asked, trying to sound casual, though inside he was still unsettled.

Min Jae thought for a moment before answering evenly. "Since I was ten."

Dayo blinked. "Ten? As in… you've been at this for a decade?"

Min Jae nodded, his tone almost casual. "Yeah. My parents put me in training academies early. Singing, dancing, acting—the whole package. That's normal in Korea if you're aiming for the idol track. I debuted in a group at thirteen. Went solo two years ago."

Dayo let out a low whistle. Ten years in the industry… no wonder.

Stats that high weren't just talent—they came from relentless training, endless rehearsals, constant stage exposure. Min Jae wasn't just gifted; he was built for this.

Dayo muttered without realizing, "No wonder."

Min Jae tilted his head, smiling faintly. "No wonder what?"

"Nothing. Just talking to myself." Dayo smirked.

Min Jae chuckled softly, letting it go. "Alright. Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be hectic."

The tension in the room eased, but Dayo's chest was still tight. If my roommate is already this strong, what about the rest?

How far could Min Jae push him once the stage lights came on?

The real game was about to begin.

***

Morning came quickly. Like clockwork, Dayo woke before sunrise. He laced his sneakers and slipped outside, starting a jog around the block. The streets were quiet, the cool morning air brushing against his face. He opened his stream as he ran, the comments lighting up his phone.

> "Yo JD in Japan already?!"

"Look at this guy grinding first thing in the morning 😂"

"Run faster bro!"

He laughed between breaths, giving them a quick update about the first day. What started as a habit had grown into a rhythm. He hadn't expected streaming to be fun, but it kept him connected, gave him energy, made him feel less alone.

By the time he returned, sweat clung to his shirt. Min Jae was awake, tying his shoelaces. "You're really disciplined," he said, a little impressed.

"Something like that," Dayo replied with a shrug, heading for a quick shower.

***

The dining hall buzzed with sound when they arrived. The smell of miso soup and grilled fish filled the air. Breakfast was a standard Japanese spread: rice, soup, salmon, and pickled vegetables. Contestants sat in clusters—some chatting loudly in their own languages, others quiet with headphones in, faces already tense.

Dayo carried his tray, scanning the room. That's when he spotted her—Misha. The aloof, sharp-eyed girl who once sold him a piano. She sat alone, eating slowly, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular. She didn't seem interested in anyone around her.

Elsewhere, laughter rose from a table full of South Americans, while two contestants argued lightly in French over something on a phone screen. The mix of languages and accents made the hall feel alive, like a mini-world gathering.

Dayo sat with Min Jae, quietly eating, but his eyes kept wandering. Everyone here had a story, a style, a background. Soon, all of it would be tested.

---

The man from yesterday appeared again at the front of the hall. This time, another figure walked beside him. Conversations dropped as they made their way up.

The man raised his hand, waiting for quiet. "Good morning, contestants. Yesterday, I welcomed you. Today, allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Kenji Sato, Director of the Global Competition Japan."

He stepped aside, gesturing to the man next to him. "And this is our head producer, who will guide and oversee every stage for this first show."

The producer adjusted the mic. His tone was calm, but sharp enough to cut through the air.

"Now that you've had your first night here, it's time you understood what this competition really means. Sixty of you walked through those doors yesterday—but only half will remain after the first stage."

The room shifted with uneasy murmurs. Contestants glanced at each other, some biting their lips, others stiffening in their seats.

The producer raised a hand, silencing them. "This stage is about finding the weak links. And make no mistake—there will be no hiding. Those who can't hold their own when it matters will be the first to go."

He swept his eyes across the room deliberately. "This competition doesn't care about excuses. Weakness is exposed under lights. Once it's seen, it cannot be undone. You either rise above it, or you're gone."

Dayo sat still, his hands clasped under the table. Behind him, someone muttered nervously, "So it's cutthroat from the start?"

The producer smirked. "If you think this is harsh, then you're already not ready. This is the biggest stage in the world. Weak links will be eliminated immediately. The ones who can adapt and shine under pressure will be the ones left standing."

The silence was heavy now. The air itself felt tighter.

The man continued firmly. "Each of you will step forward and draw a number. Numbers one through sixty. That number will decide your placement, your matchups, and the order of your stage performance."

The room tensed. Contestants shifted uneasily, trying to calculate possibilities in their heads.

"And remember—half of you will not survive this round."

Not a single whisper followed. Even breathing felt louder in the silence.

Then, stepping aside, Kenji gestured to a tall woman with a headset and tablet. "This is Producer Alisha. She will be working closely with you throughout this stage."

Alisha gave a small nod, her face unreadable but sharp.

"After you pick your number," Kenji said, "you'll meet with her and the production team. Slot by slot. You'll be asked about your song choice—why you picked it, what story you want to tell, and how you feel about the opponent you're facing."

Alisha added, her voice cutting cleanly through the hall, "These interviews will be broadcasted. The world will hear your answers before they see you perform. Choose carefully—sometimes your words leave a bigger mark than your music."

Gasps, whispers, even nervous chuckles rippled through the room.

Kenji raised a hand. "That's all for now. Prepare yourselves. The draw begins shortly."

Dayo exhaled slowly, flexing his fingers. The Global Competition had officially begun—this time, there was no hiding.

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