“Hoo…”
Interest sparked in Lee Jian’s eyes.
No matter how much she tried to manage her expression, it was clear that she was getting tired as the auditions continued.
She expected this next contestant to struggle just like the ones before—unable to properly showcase their skills on the transparent stage.
“‘Someday, I’ll—aaack!'”
“‘In these fluttering days of excitement—.'”
It had become almost routine for contestants to scream mid-song.
Many stumbled over lyrics or went off-key.
There had been a few who managed to stay calm while singing, like Roy.
But none of them had shown the same level of composure as him.
“Under the dazzling rays of sunlight—”
The song Roy chose was a digital single released by EX’s main vocalist—a Hunter idol who had won Rookie of the Year last year.
It was a ballad about longing for a lost lover, known for its calming melody and restrained sound.
The song had hit ten million streams within a month of its release and was well known among the public.
While it didn’t require a wide vocal range, it was infamous for its difficult rhythm.
“His rhythm sense is decent. The first verse starts on a syncopated beat, and a lot of people mess up the timing right from the beginning.”
Unconsciously, Lee Jian tapped her fingers on the table to Roy’s beat.
“But compared to the other contestants, he’s a bit bland. There’s no standout quality.”
His composure in the face of danger—like monsters prowling beneath his feet—was admirable.
But judging solely on vocal ability, there were shortcomings.
“His vocal technique isn’t bad, but the sound doesn’t really carry. It’s oddly hard to hear him.”
Since she had put the mic down, Roy couldn’t hear Lee Jian’s evaluation.
“I guess I still love you—”
The song built toward its climax.
Though the range wasn’t high, the pitch gradually increased near the end.
“Phew. I thought he was going to crack a note.”
Yukay relaxed into his chair, unclenching his fists.
Roy seemed like a good singer, but there were moments when his pitch wavered dangerously.
“Even today, I wait for you—”
Roy carefully delivered the final note and then took a quiet breath.
“Thank you. You have a nice tone. And your vocal technique is decent.”
Lee Jian was the first to pick up the mic.
Among the three judges, she was the only one with the expertise and experience to evaluate vocal skills.
“But you don’t really stand out compared to the others. Your tone is nice, yes, but your pitch was unstable.”
Roy listened calmly to her critique.
He had been expecting this.
According to the data Earth had provided, his chances of being eliminated in the first round were 88%.
“Still, it was impressive how you didn’t panic and stayed composed. A lot of the other contestants couldn’t showcase their full potential because they were so startled.”
And it was understandable.
Even now, a monster was circling Roy’s feet, baring its sharp fangs.
If there weren’t a protective barrier, those gleaming eyes—full of bloodlust—looked like they’d devour Roy’s lower body in a single bite.
“Your vocal grade is Bronze. You’ll need to work harder.”
“Thank you very much.”
Roy gave a polite ninety-degree bow.
“Now, let’s take a look at your dance. You prepared your song and dance separately, right?”
“Yes.”
Roy wasn’t yet at the level where he could sing and dance simultaneously.
Unlike Kim Chan and Lee Doha, who had prepared to do both at once, Roy had split his performance.
“Please start the music.”
Yukay signaled the staff, and an upbeat backing track started to play throughout the studio.
Wearing a serious expression, Roy smoothly executed the choreographed moves he had practiced countless times.
As the music continued and Roy danced on, the judges’ expressions began to twitch ever so slightly.
Even Kim Hanbom, the most stone-faced of the three, was no exception.
Roy had chosen the dance track Ttu-shi-ppa-shi, released six months ago by the group Thunder Girls.
During contract renegotiations, three of the group’s six members had left, and the remaining members had banded together to release this track.
They had shed their previous innocent image in favor of bizarre choreography that left a lasting impression.
More than 50% of the lyrics consisted of the words “Ttu-shi-ppa-shi.”
When it was first released, even fans and the general public found it strange and wrinkled their noses in confusion.
‘But man, this song is insanely catchy. The choreography looks hard, but once you try it, it’s surprisingly doable.’
The idea to select this song had come from Hwang Guman.
Given Roy’s lack of dance experience, they needed a unique song to make an impression on the judges.
‘If the footage from the second audition gets released, I think he’ll stand out as a “weird but memorable” contestant. It might even steer the editors toward giving him a highlight cut. Better to keep the same vibe during this performance.’
Hwang Guman had heard about how Roy danced with a broom during the second audition.
It made sense to double down on that direction.
Roy’s skills were improving at an incredible pace, which was why Hwang made that call.
As the first verse neared its end, a faint flush appeared on Roy’s face.
Though his expression stayed serious, his lips twitched slightly during some of the more unique hand movements.
“…That’s the end.”
***
After finishing the final move of the first verse, Roy bowed politely to the judges.
Unlike after the song, when Lee Jian had immediately spoken up, an odd silence filled the room.
The camera crew zoomed in on the judges’ faces, capturing their reactions.
Getting the signal from a staff member, Yukay hesitantly picked up the mic.
“Wow… I didn’t expect to see this song performed here…”
It had been a chart-topping hit the moment it was released six months ago.
Even now, it still played from time to time on streets and TV programs.
“I mean, I know I’m supposed to judge, but… Roy, your serious expression and sharp moves were just…”
Thunder Girls had performed it with bright, cheerful expressions befitting a girl group.
Even most cover dancers mimicked that same vibe.
But Roy had danced the comical routine with a dead-serious face—something none of the judges had ever seen.
“Ahem. It’s confusing, sure, but we still have to evaluate. At first glance, your moves seem clean, but it’s obvious you haven’t trained that long. I’m guessing you haven’t been dancing for very long, right?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Some of the transitions looked amateurish. Dancing isn’t just about bending joints or moving your body—it’s also about expressing individuality. Right now, it feels like you’re just trying to copy the moves exactly.”
That was an accurate assessment.
Though Yukay had a friendly smile and lighthearted vibe, his experience couldn’t be ignored.
Roy quietly clasped his hands in front of him and listened intently.
“Your dance grade is also Bronze.”
“Thank you.”
It was the result Roy had expected.
He gave a final bow and moved in the direction the staff member had gestured toward.
“Please attach this just above your name tag.”
“Okay.”
Two round stickers labeled Vocal and Dance were placed above Roy’s name tag.
Both stickers were a bronze color.
***
“Hyung, how did it go?”
“Both are bronze.”
“Same here…”
“You too?”
“Yeah… I totally messed up on stage.”
Roy looked at the stickers above Kim Chan’s name tag and fell silent.
He’d thought Kim Chan would at least get silver—but he had the same color as him.
“Doha hyung luckily got gold for both. I’m the only one who blew it.”
Kim Chan’s eyebrows drooped into a pitiful arch.
“Was the monster really that scary?”
“I seriously almost peed my pants…”
Kim Chan glanced around and then whispered in Roy’s ear.
‘The mic probably picked that up too.’
But it was already said.
Pointing it out now would only make Kim Chan feel worse.
“They told us to wait here until the rest of the participants are done being evaluated. They even gave us snacks.”
Not just Kim Chan—several participants nearby had expressions like they’d already died inside.
Only those with gold stickers on their name tags, and Roy himself, managed to stand with composure.
“Is that it for today?”
“Probably. They said we’ll be assigned to our lodging based on sticker color after the evaluations.”
The sun was already beginning to set.
Roy munched on the bread and milk Kim Chan handed him as they waited for the rest to finish.
***
“Everyone, please gather over here~”
Finally, the 100th participant stepped down from the evaluation stage.
Tears brimmed in their eyes—seemed like they’d flubbed their performance too.
“Let’s group up by rank! Go to the group that matches the higher of your two sticker grades!”
Roy and Kim Chan joined the group of participants who had bronze stickers for both categories.
‘Looks like about 10 gold, 30 silver, and 60 bronze.’
When they split into ranks, the numbers roughly broke down like that.
“Um, hello…”
“Hi, nice to meet you.”
A participant Roy had met earlier on the boat approached him.
It was the youngest contestant, Lee Hajun.
“I’m glad I know someone here.”
His eyes were red and puffy—he must’ve been crying for a while.
Roy didn’t understand why Lee Hajun felt so comfortable with him, but he quietly made room at his side.
Next to them, Kim Chan stood, watching Hajun with curious eyes.
***
“Bronze-ranked participants, you’ll be walking to your lodging~”
“…Huh?”
That felt unfair.
Gold-ranked participants got to ride in carriages pulled by tamed D-rank monsters called Holse.
The carriages were so extravagantly decorated in gold and crimson that they dazzled the eye.
Silver-ranked ones were shuttled by staff in vans.
But bronze? They had to walk with their own two legs.
“That’s just mean…”
Lee Hajun pouted, his lower lip sticking out.
“Neighhh!”
“Aaagh!”
One of the Holse let out a loud whinny and reared up, lifting its front legs high into the air.
The nearby participants yelped and stumbled back in surprise.
The Holse was easily five times the size of an average adult man.
“So jealous…”
This is weirdly similiar…