After our concept was decided, practice proceeded without any major issues.
The choreography team seemed energized after hearing the final concept and dove into creating it, and since the overall concept was now aligned, we could revise the lyrics accordingly without changing the core structure of the song.
During that process, I ended up making two unexpected discoveries.
"Nice!"
The first thing I discovered was Joo Danwoo's surprising skill.
"...."
At Aiden Lee's praise, Joo Danwoo lowered the lyric sheet in his hands with a slightly startled expression—like he never imagined he'd get complimented for something he himself had written.
"The lyrics are good, and the flow is good too."
"…I don't think there's anything more to fix here either."
"Same for me."
I also didn't add anything extra and said as much. Danwoo paused with the lyric sheet in hand before slowly nodding, as if unsure whether we were being honest or just offering polite words.
'…He really is good.'
But I, Aiden Lee, and Hwang Yeongoh were all genuinely impressed. We'd suspected it when choosing the main rapper, but his skills were far more solid than we'd expected.
'Well, he wouldn't have survived six years at Seize Label if he didn't have real skill....'
Seize Label was a rapper-focused company, so their standards for rap evaluation had to be even stricter. The fact that he survived six years as a long-term trainee there meant he had the skills to back it up.
'But it's odd that he doesn't show this kind of energy on stage.'
He had rhythm, a good sense of flow, and he could write rap lyrics that matched the concept. Overall, his skill set was firm, with no weak points.
So why had none of these strengths been visible on stage?
'…Stage fright?'
Thinking about it, the gap between his practice performance and his actual performance was significant.
In the first grade evaluation, he came out with a concept that didn't suit him, but even then, his skills didn't seem to come through. And in the second evaluation, he did well at first—until one mistake midway caused him to completely botch the entire latter half.
'If it's not a skill issue or a talent issue… it's classic confidence.'
Because of his lack of confidence, he couldn't show even 100% of the ability he already had.
So for this mission, I would have to keep an eye on how Joo Danwoo performed. Whether he could overcome that hurdle ultimately depended on him.
And the second discovery—after Joo Danwoo—was this:
"Yuha, are you tired?"
It was Aiden Lee's strangely loaded attitude.
"…No, I'm fine."
"Really? It's just that..."
Aiden Lee frowned slightly and muttered:
"It feels like something's off… No, well, we can just try it again!"
The way he brightly concluded his own thought made him look like the perfect example of passive aggression.
"Mm~ I think if we try it one more time, it'll come out better!"
Even after the next round of practice, Aiden Lee's attitude didn't change. He kept giving me signals that something was wrong.
"I think… you're doing fine though...."
At first, I wondered if I was imagining things, but by that point even the other teammates seemed to realize that Aiden Lee was continually nitpicking me.
Zixuan, who was practicing vocals with me, quietly murmured the comment like she couldn't stand it anymore. But Aiden Lee simply brushed it aside and carried on, unfazed.
"Oh, right. You are doing well… but it's just a bit disappointing."
"…What part?"
"Expression? Or maybe… focus?"
Aiden Lee hummed thoughtfully, then grinned and said:
"Just overall?"
…This bastard.
I tightened my grip around the lyric sheet without saying anything. A sigh threatened to burst from deep inside me, but remembering the cameras filming us, I barely managed to hold it in.
"…I don't think you should do that part like that."
And with Hwang Yeongoh jumping in as if waiting for his turn to interfere, my nerves felt like they were being plucked in real time.
'…Ha.'
Ever since he lost to me in the main vocal selection, Hwang Yeongoh seemed to hold some resentment. He never directly confronted me on camera, but whenever the chance arose, he tried to undermine me somehow.
'…If you want to vent, vent at Aiden Lee.'
It was Aiden Lee who nominated me as main vocal—so why was he taking it out on the wrong person? And yet the two of them teamed up perfectly when it came to getting under my skin.
But I couldn't say that to them. So I swallowed the words threatening to leap out of my throat and answered:
"…I'll try again."
"Yeah! Let's focus!"
After landing one final jab, Aiden Lee picked up his lyric sheet.
'…Ha.'
As I sang the lyrics we'd written to match the accompaniment, I glared at Aiden Lee out of the corner of my eye. I had no clue why he was acting like this.
From the moment lyric-writing ended and our vocal practice began, Aiden Lee had openly been provoking me—hitting me with comments balanced right between joking and serious.
But he wasn't pushing it fully into a fight. His tone, expression, and attitude were all friendly enough to mask his intentions, letting him dance along that fine line.
'Maybe because he knows I won't react.'
For Aiden Lee's poking to escalate into a real conflict, I would have to react. A conflict requires an attacker and a responder; someone has to strike the match after all the tension builds.
Only then could a real "drama" explode—and whichever way that drama aired, viewers would sympathize with one side and attack the other. Meaning: controversy.
That was why I tried to avoid responding, deflecting his remarks while still acknowledging them enough not to look hostile.
Aiden Lee knew I was conscious of the cameras, which only seemed to make him bolder.
If no one bites back, and he isn't blatantly attacking me, he wouldn't be edited as the villain.
And since I was avoiding becoming the villain, he knew he could avoid the blame too.
'Cunning bastard.'
I updated my evaluation of Aiden Lee again. I had thought he was clueless, but he was sharper than he looked. More than that, he knew how to use it however he pleased.
Whatever he was thinking, there was only one countermeasure.
'Ignore.'
Total silence.
I tried not to look in his direction and brushed off the burning gaze he sent me.
"Oh, Team 2~."
"You're the team that picked 'BINGO' instead of the other songs? Bold."
"For creation… huh, wait, all three? That's seriously gutsy."
"Let's see… the main vocal is… oh? Yuha? I'm looking forward to it."
"Have you all practiced a lot?"
"Yes!"
The day of the mid-evaluation approached before we knew it, and we stood before the judges, visibly nervous. The team challenging us with "BINGO" was Team 14, but because of the order, we were the first to perform.
"All right, let's see it."
At Domin's cue, the intro of Aiden Lee's rearranged "BINGO" began. As planned, we formed our positions and performed the vocals and choreography together.
When the performance ended, we were met with the judges' bright—but slightly worried—expressions.
"Good job. Practicing while creating must've been tough, but it looks like you worked hard."
"The formations are still shaky… but your sense isn't bad. Still, you'll need more practice."
"By the way, who changed the point choreography…?"
"M–Me!"
Zixuan shot his hand up. Dance mentor Jane looked impressed.
"You transformed the point choreography of 'BINGO' really well. Nice job. What about the group formations?"
"Me and Won-hyo!"
"Taeyoung and Won-hyo? You planned them well. But the formations feel a bit too complicated, which makes it harder to make them stand out, and it feels like they're difficult for you to express clearly too. Try thinking about which details to focus on and which parts to let go of."
"Yes! Thank you!"
Since the overall feedback wasn't bad, the choreography team brightened. Next to speak was rapper mentor Brady.
"The lyrics—Trainee Joo Danwoo wrote them, right?"
"Y-Yes...!"
"You matched the concept well. The flow is good."
Brady nodded. Just when Joo Danwoo's expression began to ease—
"But Danwoo, why is your confidence so low?"
Brady lifted his gaze and shot him a sharp look. Seeing Danwoo freeze up, Brady spoke mercilessly.
"You wrote lyrics overflowing with confidence, but if you stare at the floor while delivering them, do you think the audience will look at you?"
"...."
"You should practice your eye contact. Your expression is too stiff, and you don't look like a main rapper at all. It's like you're constantly trying to hide in the back."
"…Thank you."
Danwoo bowed his head. His expression dimmed, and the rest of the team looked at him with concern.
Next to give feedback were vocal mentors Chamina and Domin.
"The lyrics are well adapted, and the concept is good. Who handled this?"
"The overall concept was done by Yuha, and the lyrics were written by me, Danwoo-hyung, and Yuha together! The arrangement was done by Aiden."
"It's clean. The arrangement is great too. I don't think Team 2 needs to change anything about the song itself. The lyrics are well-modified without completely replacing the foundation. However—"
The magic word of survival shows—However—fell from Chamina's lips, and all of us froze in tension. After all the praise, we were ready for the storm of criticism.
And our instincts were right.
"I'm not convinced this is the best you can do vocally."
"...."
"For starters—Yeongoh, you stand out too much by yourself. I get that you're passionate, but that shouldn't hurt the others. I'm not even sure you matched the concept properly. Aiden does well, but he doesn't blend with the others. Taeyoung and Won-hyo—your pitch is unstable. Maybe because you're nervous, but your pitch keeps drifting up and your notes shake. As for Zixuan—your diction still needs a lot of work."
As the criticism flowed, the expressions of my teammates grew progressively gloomier. After Domin's words, Chamina spoke as well.
"And most importantly—there's nothing surprising about your vocals."
Then she casually called my name.
"Yuha."
"…Yes."
"You are good. Your pitch is accurate, and your expressiveness has improved a lot since the beginning. But why are you the only one who feels completely stable?"
At her comment, Domin added:
"You don't step forward, but you don't step back either. You do exactly your part—no more, no less. But you should think carefully about whether that's really what makes a main vocal."
"And try thinking less."
I hesitated, not understanding what she meant. Noticing my confusion, Chamina explained:
"Right now you're overthinking in the wrong direction, which makes it hard for listeners to stay focused. What are you so preoccupied with?"
"You need practice clearing out thoughts unrelated to singing, too, Yuha."
With that mixture of praise and criticism, the mid-evaluation ended with Domin's final comment.
"...."
"...."
After the mid-evaluation, the team's atmosphere completely sank. Every one of us had been given areas to improve.
To make matters worse, Team 14—who performed after us—received praise, which only deepened everyone's gloom.
Team 14 had been a so-called "unpopular" team during team selection, made up mostly of low-rank trainees.
Because of that, our teammates hadn't viewed them as strong competition—but their unexpectedly strong performance and the mentors' compliments finally gave everyone a rude awakening. And the self-blame from our own criticisms didn't help either.
"…Let's practice again!"
It was Zixuan who broke the heavy mood first.
Holding the black lyric sheet written in Chinese spelling, he tried hard to lift the team's spirits.
"We still got compliments! And we barely had time to practice because we were creating everything ourselves. Of course we got some bad feedback. But we still have time—so we can work hard again!"
"…Yeah. We still have time! We can do better!"
Motivated by Zixuan's words, Park Won-hyo spoke up firmly. Slowly, the others' frozen expressions softened.
"...."
But even as the atmosphere began to recover, I couldn't bring myself to join in.
'Too many thoughts in the wrong direction....'
All because of what Chamina had said to me.
'…Was I really thinking about something else while singing?'
I thought back on how I had been practicing.
I focused on refining everything so it wasn't rough, and on fulfilling my role properly. On not burdening my teammates.
Because I believed that was the best thing to do.
'…Not stepping forward or stepping back, she said.'
But what else was I supposed to do?
—Hyung, why do you keep trying to stand out? Stop it.
—Could you stop showing off? Do you really want to be the only one shining?
—Why do useless things? What's going to change?
In Lightning, that had been the right answer.