The hall still trembled with the echoes of applause. Section D's final pose lingered in the minds of everyone present, their silhouettes burned into the stage lights. For a moment, even the air seemed to hesitate, unwilling to move past what had just unfolded. Then the MC stepped forward, microphone raised, his voice cutting through the lingering cheers.
"Thank you, Section D. That concludes the performances for Round 1. Now, the moment you've all been waiting for—the results."
The words sent a ripple through the hall. Trainees shifted in their seats, some whispering nervously, others clutching their hands together. Section A stood tall, their polished smiles betraying confidence. Section B leaned back with smug certainty, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with superiority. Section D… held their breath.
The judges bent toward one another, exchanging quiet words. Their pens tapped against clipboards, their eyes flicking across notes. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Haneul's ribs ached with each shallow breath, but he kept his face unreadable. Eunjae's leg bounced uncontrollably, his fingers drumming against his thigh. Chanho whispered, "Stay ready," though his own voice trembled.
Finally, Park Ji-Beom leaned toward his microphone. His tone was calm, deliberate, carrying the weight of authority.
"The first two advancing to the finals… Section A and Section B."
Cheers erupted instantly from the left side of the hall. Section A bowed deeply, their smiles wide and confident. Their supporters clapped loudly, voices rising in celebration. Section B clapped politely, though their smirks remained sharp, as if they had expected nothing less. Section D exchanged glances, hearts pounding faster.
The MC raised his hand for silence. "And the last team advancing to the finals…"
The pause stretched unbearably long. The hall seemed to hold its breath. Haneul's fingers curled into fists. Jiho's jaw tightened. It was just them and Section C left. Seojun muttered under his breath, "Say it already…"
"…Section D."
For a heartbeat, the hall was silent. Then Eunjae let out a yell so loud it startled the front row. Daehyun clapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide in disbelief. Hyun's quiet smile spread slowly, like sunlight breaking through clouds. Even Seojun's eyes widened before he muttered, "Finally." Jiho exhaled sharply, his shoulders dropping as if he had been holding the weight of the world.
Section B's expressions stiffened. Their smirks faltered, replaced by sharp glares. The rivalry was no longer implied—it was official. Section D had clawed their way into the finals, and Section B would be their opponent.
The MC's voice carried over the noise. "Section D, Section B and Section A will face off in the semi-finals. You have one month and two weeks to prepare your next performance."
The words landed heavy. The hall buzzed with murmurs, trainees whispering about the unexpected twist. Section D had been underestimated, dismissed as chaotic and unrefined. Now, they stood shoulder to shoulder with the favorites.
Mr. Park stepped forward, his gaze steady on Section D. "This is your chance to rise up. Don't waste it. Every second counts."
Back in the dorm, the mood was electric but fragile. The boys spilled inside, voices overlapping, laughter mixing with disbelief. Eunjae bounced on the couch, chanting "Fresh! Fresh!" until Seojun threw a pillow at him. Jiho sat cross-legged on the floor, already scribbling notes in his notebook. Daehyun stared at his reflection in the window, whispering, "We actually did it…"
Chanho gathered them in a circle, ramen bowls steaming between them. The scent of broth filled the room, grounding them in something familiar. "One month and two weeks," he said firmly. "That's our window. We're not just surviving anymore. We're proving we belong."
Hyun leaned back against the wall, eyes half-closed. "It feels… different now. Like we're finally being seen."
Seojun snorted, though his lips curved into a reluctant smile. "About time. I was tired of being the joke section."
Eunjae grinned, slurping his noodles noisily. "We're not the joke anymore. We're the punchline. The good kind."
Daehyun rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his grin. "You're ridiculous."
Jiho tapped his pen against the notebook. "We need to plan. Section A and Section B aren't going to hold back. They'll come at us with everything—dark, polished, perfect. We can't just match them. We have to outshine them."
Chanho nodded. "We'll use this time wisely. Training, refining. Every detail matters."
Meanwhile, in the evaluation room, the judges continued their discussion. Park Ji-Beom leaned back, arms crossed. "Section D surprised me. Their timing was sharp, their energy cohesive. I didn't expect that level of polish."
Lee Hana smiled faintly. "They brought something this evaluation needed: freshness. Youth. Identity. It wasn't just performance—it was personality. That's rare."
Kim Do-Hyun tapped his pen thoughtfully. "And that hook—'FRESH!'—it stuck immediately. Marketable, memorable. I saw details I don't usually see in rookies. Their breathing, their synchronization… it was like they moved as one organism."
The panel exchanged glances. Section D had shifted the narrative. They were no longer the underdogs—they were contenders.
In their own dorm, Section B's mood was tense. Their leader scowled, tossing his jacket onto the bed. "They think they can beat us? With comic prints and neon hair?"
Another member muttered, "The judges liked it. Too much."
Silence hung heavy. Section B had always been the favorites, the polished champions. Now, Section D had stolen the spotlight. The rivalry had sharpened into something dangerous.
Back in Section D's dorm, the boys finished their ramen, laughter fading into quiet determination. Jiho closed his notebook, eyes gleaming. "One month and two weeks. That's our countdown."
Chanho raised his bowl slightly, like a toast. "To Section D. To Fresh. To proving we belong."
They clinked chopsticks together, a messy, imperfect gesture—but it was theirs.
The night stretched on, filled with quiet planning, stray jokes, and the hum of possibility.