The day rolled on, and interviews continued. Contestants went in one after the other, each one taking their turn in front of the cameras. Some came out smiling, others came out frowning like they had said the wrong thing and they were no do overs.

When the assistant producer finally called, "Number fifty-seven," the raffle draw contestant stood up nervously. He smoothed his shirt, adjusted his posture, and walked toward the room where the cameras were waiting.

Inside, Producer Alisha sat as sharp as ever, tablet in hand. The lights were bright, the atmosphere serious.

"State your name and number for the record," she said.

"My name is Miguel Alvarez. Contestant number fifty-seven," he answered, his voice trembling at first, but growing steadier as he spoke.

Alisha gave a nod. "How does it feel, standing here in this competition, knowing you're one of the rare raffle selections?"

He exhaled slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Honestly? Overwhelming. I still can't believe I'm here. I know there are thousands of people who wanted this shot, and I was chosen. I feel grateful, nervous, and happy, all at the same time."

"And what about your opponent?" Alisha asked, her eyes locking on him. "What do you think of him?"

Miguel Alvarez hesitated. For a moment, he just stared at the table, choosing his words carefully. Then he said, "I think he's the best opponent I could have gotten."

Alisha leaned forward slightly. "Why?"

"Because… he treated me differently than I expected. I thought he'd look down on me. I thought he'd be distant, maybe even arrogant. But he wasn't. He was calm, respectful… and he actually encouraged me. That meant a lot. Even though I know the chances are slim, even though deep down I feel like I'll probably lose, he still made me feel like I belonged here."

The room went quiet for a moment. Alisha tilted her head, studying him, then simply nodded. "Alright. Thank you."

Miguel gave a small bow and walked out. His face looked lighter than when he went in, like a weight had been lifted just from speaking his truth.

Alisha looked at her assistant who smiled "it seems we really are in for it"

They both laughed.

Later that day, the contestants were given their time slots to access the rehearsal studios. Each one had a chance to sit with a music producer, talk about their song choice, and get some direction. Dayo's slot was scheduled in the evening.

When his time came, he entered the studio, the faint smell of polished wood and cables filling the room. The space was soundproof, clean, with glowing panels and equipment lined up neatly. A middle-aged producer in glasses greeted him warmly.

"So, Dayo, what's the vision?"

Dayo explained his choice, how he wanted his performance to highlight strength—not just flashy notes, but the deeper message that no contestant here was weak. The producer listened carefully, nodding, and then began working with him on arrangement ideas. They spent hours refining harmonies, adjusting transitions, tightening the structure.

It felt kinda weird when he was back at home in the U.S he was the one asking the questions now he been asked but he didn't correct them as what he wanted was simple and clean nothing too complicated.

By the time Dayo left the studio, it was close to midnight. His body was tired, but his mind was alive with ideas. Still, something still was bordering him. Like there was a missing piece he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He went back to his room, and took a night sleep so he could wake up later to visit the studio and redo what he felt was needed.

But upon waking up he look towards his roommate bed and found it empty.

Frowning, Dayo slipped out into the hallway. The corridors were quiet, most contestants already asleep. He walked toward the studio wing, and sure enough, through the glass panel of one of the rehearsal rooms, he spotted Min Jae inside.

The Korean trainee was hunched over the piano, headphones on, repeating the same sequence again and again. His brows were furrowed, his lips pressed tight. He looked like he was chasing something, but not quite catching it.

Dayo pushed the door open slightly. "Yo. You're still here?"

Min Jae looked up, startled for a moment, then gave a half-smile. "Yeah. Trying to crack something."

"At this hour?" Dayo stepped inside aksing like he didnt plan to do the same thing.

Min Jae shrugged. "I don't really sleep much before something this big. And this round's tough. My opponent… he's not easy."

Dayo raised a brow he couldn't imagine the opponent that would stress Min Jae like this. "You serious?"

"Of course," Min Jae replied, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah I have learnt not to underestimate people. Even the ones who look simple can turn around and surprise you."

Dayo studied him for a moment, then chuckled. "Fair enough. But what's the problem? You look stuck."

Min Jae sighed, tapping a few notes on the piano. "The chorus. It feels flat. I've been turning it around in my head, but something's missing."

Dayo moved closer, listening. After a few minutes, he snapped his fingers. "Why don't you flip the rhythm here? Cut it sharper, then let the vocals breathe on the drop. It'll make the chorus hit harder."

Dayo pointed at a place after listening to the track twice.

Min Jae tried it immediately, adjusting the keys, and his eyes widened. "Wait… that actually works."

"Of course it does," Dayo smirked. "I'm not just a singer, I'm a producer too."

Min Jae gave him a long look, then shook his head in disbelief. "You're for real."

"Dead serious not to bragg i actually recorded an album that would be released soon."

The Korean laughed softly, a sound mixed with relief and surprise. "Man… you're actually good at this."

Dayo waved it off. "That's the least I could do. We're all here chasing the same thing, right? No harm in helping each others up."

The tension in the room eased. For a moment, it didn't feel like rivals—it felt like two musicians, sharing the same ideas.

They stayed up till early the next day working together.

Outside, the building was silent, Tokyo's city lights glowing faintly in the distance. Inside that studio, though, ideas were flowing, beats and chords filling the late night.

Unaware that they were been recorded the whole time during their studio session.

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