At exactly 4:30 AM, while the rest of the Top 18 were still dreaming of debut stages and chicken, the "Monster Unit" was standing in the center of the darkened main studio. They were dressed in mismatched tracksuits, looking significantly less like immortal vampires and significantly more like a group of confused college students called in for a mandatory lab session.
"Hyung," Jae-hyun whispered, his voice echoing in the vast, empty space. "Why do we have wrenches? And why are we wearing goggles?"
Kang-joon, who was currently peering into a drainage grate with a high-powered tactical flashlight, didn't look up. "Because the Consortium's outsourced technicians have 'accidentally' installed the Glow-Mineral filtration units at a 15-degree tilt. In fluid dynamics, this creates a localized pressure bottleneck. When the pump hits 100% capacity during the chorus, the pressure will blow the primary seal. The stage won't just be 'wet'; it will be a flash flood. The PDs will call it a safety hazard, cancel the effect, and we'll be stuck performing in dry Victorian suits looking like we're at a very stiff funeral."
He stood up, handing a heavy-duty pipe wrench to a bewildered Min-soo. "Min-soo-ssi, you have the strongest grip strength. I need you to tighten the secondary bypass valve. Lee Hoon, you're the most stable; hold the ladder. Hyun Woo, keep your goggles on; the mineral water has a high calcium content that can irritate the eyes."
"I thought we were idols," Min-soo muttered, though he gripped the wrench with the same intensity he usually reserved for a microphone. "Why am I a part-time plumber?"
"Because an idol who can't control his environment is just a puppet," Kang-joon said, his voice calm and certain. "In Loop—I mean, in my extensive studies of stagecraft, I've learned that the greatest performances aren't built on talent alone. They are built on the elimination of variables. Now, turn it clockwise. Carefully."
For the next two hours, the "Monster Unit" underwent the most unconventional rehearsal in K-pop history. Under Kang-joon's direction, they adjusted valves, cleared "mysterious" debris from the drainage filters—likely planted by the Consortium's cronies—and recalibrated the spray nozzles to ensure a fine, atmospheric mist rather than a localized drowning.
By 7:00 AM, the boys were sweaty, covered in a bit of pipe grease, but oddly energized. They had literally taken apart their own stage and put it back together. The "Safety Hazard" that Ms. Chen had planned was now a mathematically sound, high-performance aquatic system.
"Alright," Kang-joon said, wiping his forehead with a grease-stained towel. "Test run. Everyone to your starting positions. We're doing the chorus. No music, just the cues."
The boys moved to the center of the stage. The silence of the morning was broken by the low hum of the pumps. Then, with a sharp hiss, the "Rainfall" began.
It wasn't a chaotic downpour. It was a controlled, shimmering curtain of water that caught the early morning light filtering through the high studio windows. As the water hit them, the reality of the challenge set in.
"It's... it's heavy!" Do-yoon gasped, his voice straining as his hoodie soaked up the water.
"Don't fight the weight," Kang-joon commanded, moving through the rain with a grace that seemed unaffected by the elements. "Use the momentum of the water. Adjust your center of gravity by two centimeters forward. Min-soo, the lift! Now!"
They attempted the three-man fall—a dramatic sequence where Min-soo "collapses" into the arms of Jae-hyun and Lee Hoon. On the first try, they slipped, a tangle of wet limbs and laughter.
"Again!" Kang-joon shouted, though his eyes were crinkling with a rare, genuine amusement. "And Min-soo, try to look like a dying aristocrat, not a wet cat!"
"It's hard to be an aristocrat when I have water up my nose, Hyung!" Min-soo yelled back, wiping his face and grinning.
They did it again. And again. By the fifth time, they had found the rhythm. The strawberry-scented grip-gel worked perfectly. The drainage was so efficient that the water didn't pool at their feet; it simply vanished through the grates they had cleared themselves. They were dancing in a storm, but their footing was as solid as if they were on dry land.
When the production crew and the other trainees arrived at 9:00 AM, they stopped dead in their tracks. The "Monster Unit" was standing in the middle of a perfectly functioning rainfall stage, completely drenched, but radiating an aura of absolute, unshakeable confidence.
PD Na Ye-eun stared at the scene, her coffee cup frozen halfway to her mouth. "How... how is the water running already? The technicians said it wouldn't be ready until tonight."
"We noticed some minor pressure discrepancies during our early morning vocal warm-up," Kang-joon said, stepping off the stage and accepting a towel from a stunned assistant. "We took the liberty of assisting with the calibration. It's quite stable now."
Manager Kim looked at the drainage grates, then at Kang-joon, then back at the grates. He knew exactly what had happened. He leaned over to PD Na and whispered, "I told you. He's not a trainee. He's a one-man production company."
The "Wet Vampire" rehearsal was, of course, captured by the "Behind-the-Scenes" cameras. Within four hours, the first "leaked" stills and short clips hit the internet. The reaction was a tidal wave that even Kang-joon's drainage system couldn't handle.
[THE KANG-JOON ANALYSIS LOUNGE - URGENT UPDATE]
User: LogicIsSexy
Title: THE WATER REHEARSAL IS HERE. I REPEAT: THE WATER REHEARSAL IS HERE.
I don't even have words. Look at these frames.
* The way the water hits Min-soo's hair? He looks like a 19th-century tragedy.
* Jae-hyun holding Do-yoon in the rain? THE EMOTION.
* But guys... look at Kang-joon in the background. He's not even looking at the camera. He's checking a VALVE. While soaked. In a white shirt.
#WetVampires #ProfessorPlumber #RoadToStarlight
[Comments]
@KpopScientist:
I've been analyzing the spray pattern. It's perfectly uniform. Do you know how hard that is to achieve in a drafty studio?
The fluid dynamics are represented by the Navier-Stokes equations:
And it looks like they've accounted for every variable of the 'u' (velocity field). Kang-joon definitely touched those pipes.
@VampireLover:
Can we talk about the 'strawberry' smell reports? The staff are saying the whole studio smells like a Victorian garden after a rainstorm. How is this show so high-budget suddenly?
@Minsoo_Center_01:
I used to think Kang-joon was just a weird smart guy, but seeing him lead the team through a literal storm... he's the real leader. Min-soo looks so much more relaxed now that he has the 'Professor' handling the technical stuff.
@Antifan_Watcher:
Okay, I give up. I tried to find something to hate, but 'Scientific Vampires in the Rain' is a concept I can't ignore. Buying my voting tickets now.
The "wholesome" vibe continued through lunch. Because they were all "Team Water" now, the Monster Unit spent the break helping the other units with their simpler sets. Kang-joon even gave a quick "Anatomy of a Slip" lecture to the "Supernova" team to help them avoid injuries during their high-energy jumps.
However, the peace was shattered when Ms. Chen arrived at the studio, accompanied by a group of grim-faced men in suits. She walked straight to the stage, her eyes fixed on the damp floor.
"Who authorized the activation of the Glow-Mineral system?" she demanded, her voice echoing. "This is a gross violation of safety protocols. I have a report here stating the system is prone to electrical shorts."
Kang-joon stepped forward, still in his damp tracksuits, holding a digital tablet. "Actually, Ms. Chen, we've updated the safety report. Since we manually recalibrated the pressure seals and ensured the grounding wires were properly insulated—something the initial contractors missed—the risk of an electrical short has been reduced to 0.04%."
He flipped the tablet around, showing her a live feed of the electrical currents. "The system is currently the safest piece of equipment in the building. In fact, it's so safe that the 'Glow-Up' insurance representative, who I invited for a private viewing an hour ago, has already signed off on a 20% reduction in our liability premiums."
Ms. Chen's face turned a shade of purple that matched the "Suburban Gloom" pastels. "You invited the insurance representative? Without consulting the legal department?"
"I was merely being an efficient asset, Ms. Chen," Kang-joon said, his voice a smooth, dangerous silk. "Ensuring the safety of the trainees and the financial security of the sponsors. Isn't that what the Consortium wants? Stability?"
He stepped closer, his damp clothes lending him a strange, spectral intensity. "The 'Vampire's Requiem' is no longer a liability. It is a guaranteed viral phenomenon. If you shut it down now, you aren't just canceling a performance; you're canceling the most profitable thirty minutes of television in the history of this agency."
Ms. Chen looked at the tablet, then at the camera crews who were filming the entire "confrontation" for the variety segment, then at the "Monster Unit" boys who were standing behind Kang-joon like a wall of wet, determined granite.
She turned on her heel and walked out without another word.
"Hyung," Min-soo said, clapping a hand on Kang-joon's shoulder. "I think you just killed a vampire in real life."
"I merely provided a more efficient alternative to her plan," Kang-joon said, though his eyes were already scanning the room for the next variable. "Now, back to the stage. We have six hours to master the three-part harmony in a literal downpour. Jae-hyun, stop drinking the mineral water, it's for the aesthetic, not for hydration."