After an evening of enjoying and relieving themselves, the four returned to the hotel a little past nine that night—tired but lighter. The outing had done its job. Everyone laughed, teased, and forgot about the competition for a few hours. It almost felt normal again.

In the hallway before they went to their rooms, Dayo stopped them.

"Alright, everyone. We've done what we can. Tomorrow isn't just about performing; it's about doing what we all love and trained for. So rest well, okay? We go again in the morning."

Tyrell stretched his arms, pretending to yawn, then saluted. "Yes boss, we have heard you."

Maya and Emily both giggled, enjoying the show between them.

Dayo just looked at the unserious Tyrell and the ladies before shaking his head. "You all have a nice rest."

Almost as planned, the trio shouted, "Yes boss!"

"...."

Speechless, Dayo just walked to his room, not minding them as they laughed at him. Then he heard their voices.

"Good night, Dayo! Don't overthink it. We're going to do our best!"

"Haha, yeah sure," he laughed without looking back at them but made sure to wave at them.

They all went to their respective rooms with ease in their minds.

***

Morning came fast.

The tension was different this time. Heavier. The whole area was cold with little noise, as the majority had a lot on their minds.

Today, another ten people would be leaving them—just like thirty people left last week.

The hotel cafeteria was quieter than usual. A few contestants picked at their food; most just stared into their plates not having appetite.

Dayo smiled at everything happening. The nerves were getting to everyone, and he was happy with his decision to take his teammates out to release their stress—well, all his team except Frank.

The effect was clear. Unlike the rest, their expressions were better.

"So, guys, how were your nights?"

The trio started saying a whole lot, making the whole cafeteria look toward their table, wondering how they could be so carefree when everyone else was on edge.

Just then, a voice came from the speaker.

"Contestants, you have thirty minutes to round up and assemble. We are all moving to the venue soon."

After about thirty minutes, they had finished their meals and were now inside the bus heading toward the arena.

Most contestants sat with headphones on, eyes shut, mouthing lyrics to themselves. Tyrell leaned against the window, his sticks tapping lightly against his knee—a sign of nerves. Maya flipped through her lyric notes for the hundredth time. Emily sat quietly, her lips moving to the chorus under her breath.

As for Frank... he just did what he did.

Dayo watched them all and smiled faintly. He could feel their nerves getting to them.

"You all good?" he asked.

"Yeah," Emily whispered. "Just nervous."

"Same," Maya admitted.

Tyrell cracked a small grin. "Nervous means you care. That's what my music teacher used to say."

Dayo laughed lightly. "I can't help but agree with Tyrell, so keep those nerves. We'll need them."

Outside, the view shifted from the quiet streets near the hotel to the glowing cityscape ahead. Within minutes, the bus turned into a wide avenue, and there it was—Jamsil Arena, standing tall with its grand arches and glass panels reflecting the morning light.

Even from the bus, they could see groups of fans and media gathered outside, waving banners and snapping photos. The venue wasn't open to the public for this stage, but the hype around the competition was too big to ignore.

Inside, it was chaos in the best way—lights being tested, mics being adjusted, crew members rushing with clipboards. The entire backstage pulsed with nervous energy.

A coordinator led them to their room.

"Team 1, this will be your holding area. We'll call you before your stage. Please be ready and stay in costume."

They all nodded.

The room wasn't fancy—just a few chairs, mirrors, and bottles of water—but they cared less about that now As their mind was occupied with their performance.

Maya sat by the mirror, applying light makeup. Emily stretched her neck and shoulders while humming scales. Tyrell tapped his drumsticks softly against the table. Frank wiped his trumpet mouthpiece, eyes sharp and silent.

Then someone came in and announced, "Team leader, your attention is needed."

Dayo smiled at his team. "I'll be back."

Upon arriving outside, they summoned all the team leaders to the stage, and the MC said, "Now, you all can pick numbers from the basket. Your number tells you when you perform."

The tension increased again. It was an open secret that the first group to perform always had the most pressure, so they all held their breath, looking at each other and wondering who would go first.

Then the MC broke the silence. "Okay, to be fair, let's start from Team 1. After all, you got to pick contestants first, so do the honors."

Dayo looked at the MC, already cursing him inside his mind.

'This motherf... ugh. I guess this is it. Please, goddess of luck, shine on me.'

"And oh, don't look at your paper until you've all picked numbers," the MC added.

Dayo nodded and went forward slowly before saying a last prayer and picking a paper. He held it tight.

Then the remaining five leaders did the same, their expressions tense.

The MC looked at each contestant with a sly smile.

"Now, from Team 6, reveal your number."

Matteo showed his paper—No. 5—and breathed a sigh of relief.

Next was Amara Diop, who showed her paper. She picked No. 4.

Then came Sophia Zhang. She showed her paper—No. 6.

Min-Jae revealed his almost immediately—No. 2.

The whole area felt cold. Dayo could feel beads of sweat form on his forehead. He looked at Lucas Rivera, the Brazilian, who was trying to keep his cool but whose breathing gave him away.

There was only No. 1 and No. 3 left.

The MC grinned, clearly enjoying the tension. "Alright, gentlemen. You may both open your cards in three… two… one…"

Dayo looked at the number he picked—and his mind blacked out.

"No..."

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