I didn't see the reactions right away.
That was another choice—intentional, calculated. They never let trainees read comments immediately after rankings. Not officially. The producers called it "emotional management."
In reality, it was pacing.
You let the realization sink in first.
Then you let the world speak.
Morning in the dorm felt different.
No one said congratulations out loud. Not because they were rude—but because the cameras were close, and words had weight now. Praise could be clipped. Resentment could be amplified.
Instead, people watched me.
Not openly.
In reflections.
In pauses between sentences.
In the way conversations subtly shifted direction when I entered the room.
Rank 1 wasn't a crown.
It was a spotlight bolted to my skull.
Breakfast trays slid along the counter.
I ate normally.
Same pace. Same posture. Same amount.
Across from me, a trainee laughed too loudly at something Kang Jae-hyun said. The sound rang hollow. Jae-hyun himself was quieter than usual, eyes lowered, focus inward.
He was adjusting.
So was I.
The system observed without interruption.
[PUBLIC PERCEPTION: STABILIZING]
NOTE: Deviation after peak visibility causes distrust.
After breakfast, we were ushered into a lounge area—bright couches, soft colors, designed comfort. This was where they eased us into exposure.
A large screen on the wall flickered to life.
"Today," a producer said lightly, "we'll be reviewing some viewer feedback. Not all of it. Just enough."
Just enough to change us.
The screen filled with scrolling text.
Comments.
"Who is Min-joon? Never noticed him before."
"Wait… why is he kind of calming?"
"Rank 1 feels fake. Editing?"
"He doesn't try too hard. I like that."
"Am I the only one suspicious?"
The words didn't hurt.
That was worse.
They measured.
Each sentence felt like a finger tapping my forehead, testing for cracks.
The camera cut to my face.
I kept it neutral.
Not blank.
Listening.
"He helped that grandma. That was real, right?"
"If he messes up once, it's over."
"He feels… steady."
Steady.
That word again.
I felt the system respond—not with a notification, but with something deeper. A quiet alignment.
[EMPATHY TRAIT — AUDIENCE MIRRORING ACTIVE]
We were dismissed soon after.
Not before the producers got what they wanted.
Proof.
Proof that Rank 1 could sit still under pressure.
The hallway afterward buzzed like a disturbed hive.
One trainee brushed past me too quickly. Another hesitated, then offered a stiff nod. Someone whispered my name like it was a statistic.
Jae-hyun caught up to me near the stairwell.
"You're handling it well," he said.
"Handling what?"
He exhaled softly through his nose. "Being… that."
I considered his words.
"They'll get bored," I said. "Or they'll get angry. Either way, it won't stay quiet."
He studied me, then laughed once—short, genuine.
"Yeah," he said. "You're dangerous."
Not as an insult.
As a fact.
That evening, during a short outdoor segment, the system reminded me gently.
[DAILY QUEST — DAY 7]
• Maintain Routine
• Emotional Stability (Heightened Scrutiny)
• Assist an Elderly Person (1)
I helped an elderly woman fold up her street stall after filming ended. No dramatic angles. No music. Just hands and time.
She asked my name.
I told her.
She wished me luck like she meant it.
The system acknowledged it quietly.
[CONSISTENCY CONFIRMED]
NOTE: Repetition builds trust faster than brilliance.
That night, alone in the dorm, I lay awake longer than usual.
Not because I was anxious.
Because I understood.
Rankings weren't about who was best.
They were about who could remain themselves the longest while being rewritten by millions of eyes.
Tomorrow, they'd expect more from me.
More emotion.
More reaction.
More explanation.
I stared at the ceiling camera and breathed evenly.
"