“Most of the seats are filled now. I’m really curious who’s going to sit in the number 1 seat.”
At Hajun’s comment, Roy glanced toward the chair marked with the number 10, curiosity written on his face.
Even Han Jihoo, who was thick-skinned enough to be called shameless, hadn’t dared sit in a single-digit seat.
No one else seemed willing to sit in the highest-ranking chairs either.
But as more and more people entered, the lower-numbered seats filled up first, and eventually, only the top-ranking seats remained empty.
Those who gave up on trying to sit gathered at the very back, standing in a group.
There were 100 contestants, but only 70 chairs—meaning 30 people would have to remain standing.
“Are we really going all the way to the top now?”
“No way.”
Hajun made a conscious effort to think happy thoughts—like the feeling of taking a sip of iced Americano filled with rich chocolate aroma.
“Lee Chulhun just sat down,” Hajun whispered under his breath.
He was visibly nervous, probably worried about how his expression might come off on camera.
It was both fascinating and somewhat off-putting to see Lee Chulhun climb up to the number 1 seat with such confidence, especially knowing what he was really like.
“Steel looks like a cow being dragged to slaughter.”
Kangchul, who always stuck close to Chulhun, had no choice but to take the number 2 seat.
He looked visibly uncomfortable, shifting in his seat like someone forced to wear clothes that didn’t fit.
Once the first and second seats were taken, the rest of the top 10—including the one in front of Han Jihoo—quickly filled up.
And just then, the final contestant entered the set.
Even as the seated contestants turned to look at him, the newcomer’s face was lit up with a bright smile.
“Looks like I’m a step too late.”
The contestant, who Roy recognized, looked at the number 1 seat with a hint of regret.
Hajun also stared at him with a curious look.
“All the familiar faces ended up over here, huh?”
The contestant soon spotted Roy and waved both hands in greeting.
Roy raised his right hand in a casual wave in return.
“Looks like the only seat left is number 3. Well, can’t be helped.”
The last to sit was Song Doyoon.
No sooner had he taken his seat than Lee Jian appeared on stage.
Unlike her last appearance, where she wore ghost makeup, today she had on a bright, colorful mini dress.
“Did everyone get a good rest after the mission?”
“Yes!”
The set echoed with everyone’s unified response, surprising Jian for a moment.
She smiled and stepped up onto the prepared platform.
“Today is finally the day of our first ranking announcement ceremony. I’m not even one of the contestants, but I’m so nervous for some reason!”
She tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but the contestants’ faces were all tight with tension.
No matter how hard they had worked, everyone knew effort didn’t always equal results.
“You’ve probably all been wondering how many people will be eliminated today. Some of you might’ve already figured it out.”
There were 100 contestants, but only 70 chairs.
Anyone with half a brain could have guessed what that meant.
“Just as many of you expected, only 70 contestants will survive today’s ranking ceremony.”
Lee Jian’s words confirmed what had only been speculation until now.
As the number 70 appeared on the display screen above, the contestants swallowed hard.
The ones standing without seats looked especially grim.
Most of them had avoided sitting down because they feared they wouldn’t make it.
“I don’t see any empty seats,” Jian said as she swept her gaze over the filled rows.
Some contestants fidgeted in their chairs like they were sitting on pins and needles.
“The scores this time have been tallied based on four categories.”
A new screen appeared above with the score criteria.
“The first category is viewer votes for each individual contestant. For each ranking ceremony, one vote is allowed per ID, and each vote counts as 1 point.”
Contestants who already had individual fans brightened up at the news.
“The second category is the scores from the live audience and the judges who evaluated your first performance. The weighting is 80% audience, 20% judges.”
No one had yet heard how the performances were ranked.
Everyone looked nervous, waiting to find out how their teams had done.
“Lastly, each contestant received benefit points based on their team’s ranking in the courage training mission. One benefit point is equivalent to one vote point.”
It was a better deal than expected.
To get just one point, someone had to vote directly for a contestant.
Hajun’s hands clutched together, damp with nervous sweat.
“Then, let’s begin the first ranking ceremony.”
The set lights dimmed.
The only lights left were from the platform where Jian stood and the digital screen.
A spotlight turned on, illuminating the chair labeled 69.
***
“What… What the…?”
The contestant sitting in that chair widened his eyes in surprise.
He hadn’t expected to be called out like this, and his neck turned bright red from embarrassment.
Thanks to his makeup, the contrast with his now pale face made the scene look even more surreal.
“The contestant sitting in seat 69 is Kim Jihoon.”
Kim Jihoon clenched his fists so tightly on his thighs that the veins bulged blue beneath the skin.
His legs trembled with tension, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to endure.
“Will Kim Jihoon be able to hold onto the 69th spot?”
Lee Jian’s voice dropped a tone.
The usual smile on her face faded, and Kim Jihoon swallowed hard, trying to keep his dry throat from closing up.
“Here is Kim Jihoon’s score.”
“Gasp…”
Kim Jihoon’s profile photo appeared at the center of the screen.
Below it, a stream of fast-moving numbers rolled past.
Not only Kim Jihoon but all the other contestants held their breath.
“Kim Jihoon was part of the team that placed 7th in the last mission. His final score includes the benefit bonus.”
The numbers beneath the photo came to a sudden halt.
“Kim Jihoon’s total score is 57,891 points.”
He was the first contestant to have his score revealed.
The others racked their brains, unsure whether that was a high or low number.
“His rank is…”
Lee Jian didn’t pause.
She immediately moved on to announce the ranking.
All eyes, including Kim Jihoon’s, were drawn to her small lips.
“79th place.”
“…Ah.”
Kim Jihoon’s face, which had been holding onto a sliver of hope, crumbled rapidly.
He bit down hard to hold back the rising tears, but his face—filled with sorrow—was clearly captured by the camera.
“Kim Jihoon, please move to the elimination zone.”
It was a cold, merciless decision, fitting for a survival show.
A section lit by cold blue lights was revealed.
There weren’t even chairs to sit on—just a space to stand.
“Yes… Thank you so much to everyone who voted for me…”
Kim Jihoon barely managed to rise from his seat.
He bowed deeply toward the camera, expressing gratitude to the fans who had cast even a single vote for him, despite being eliminated in the very first ranking ceremony.
“The 69th seat is now empty. I wonder if its next occupant is already among the seated… or still standing.”
The chair marked “69” now sat eerily glowing in silence.
The contestants seated on either side of it had gone pale.
The contestant sitting in the 68th seat, likely to be called next, looked like he might faint at any moment.
“On to the next ranking.”
Lee Jian continued the ranking ceremony with practiced skill.
Her voice was neither too loud nor too fast.
She broke her sentences at just the right pace, which only made the contestants’ mouths go drier from anxiety.
[Hero, your heart rate is really fast right now.]
“Beep.” (Why are you shaking so much, contractor? You’re making my whole body tremble.)
Roy remembered Kim Jihoon’s performance on stage.
He had been part of the rival team that chose the same song as Roy’s team.
While Jihoon hadn’t stood out in looks or skill, he had performed well enough not to drag the team down.
And yet, he was ranked 79th.
Roy was hit with the harsh realization that making it into the top 70 would be far more difficult than he had thought.
Though he wore a calm expression on the outside, both Earth and Bell had picked up on his mental state.
“This is… really bad…”
Lee Hajun was just as anxious.
His large eyes were already brimming with tears.
Sitting in a seat assigned to a high rank, he was now starting to wish he could go back and applaud his past self for having the guts to sit there.
“10th place.”
The body of Han Jihoo, who had been leaning back in his seat more comfortably than others, tensed at once.
A ripple of murmurs spread among the contestants.
Everyone had expected 68th to be called next—so when 10th place was suddenly announced, it caught everyone off guard.
Han Jihoo, sitting in the 10th seat, was visibly stunned.
“Han Jihoo, how’s the seat? Is it comfy?”
“Yes. Very comfy.”
Han Jihoo barely managed to gather himself enough to respond.
Though faint, his voice trembled at the end.
Even he couldn’t remain completely calm under these circumstances.
“You looked surprised when I called 10th place out of nowhere.”
“Honestly… yeah, I was a little surprised.”
His honest answer made Lee Jian chuckle softly.
The problem was, she was the only one smiling.
“Everyone, stay on your toes. The rankings will continue to be called in random order.”
Roy quickly did some mental math on the filming time.
At least 70 names would be announced.
Each would likely come with a different comment or reaction, meaning half the day could vanish in the blink of an eye.
‘…Shouldn’t have drunk that water.’
[Hero, do you have to use the restroom?]
Before coming to this world, Roy had never experienced nervousness.
His teammates used to joke that his heart must be made of steel.
But in this moment, even Roy couldn’t help but feel tense.
He learned that when nerves kicked in, your palms would sweat and—out of nowhere—you’d suddenly become desperate for the bathroom.
“Will Han Jihoo be able to hold onto his 10th place ranking?”
Lee Jian’s smile vanished as she spoke again, and a heavy tension once more settled over the contestants.