Lee Kang-joon sat on the edge of his bunk, staring at his hands. The [Cognitive Overload] debuff was a viscous, grey fog that slowed every thought. In his 97th life, he had mastered physics, medicine, and music, but currently, he was struggling to process the sequence of "loop, swoop, and pull."
"Hyung," a voice whispered.
Kang-joon looked up. Yoon-ho was standing in the doorway. His eyes were still swollen from the previous night, but the jagged, defensive anger was gone. In its place was a weary, profound sadness.
"The bus leaves in ten minutes," Yoon-ho said. He walked over, knelt down, and without a word, tied Kang-joon's laces for him.
"I... I can do it," Kang-joon stammered, his voice sounding thin even to his own ears.
"You can't even remember the lyrics to the first verse, can you?" Yoon-ho asked, looking up. He didn't say it with malice. He said it with the pity one reserves for a fallen giant. "I heard you through the door last night. You were right. Tears don't pay leases. But being a machine doesn't make music."
Yoon-ho stood up and patted Kang-joon's shoulder. "For the first time since this show started, you're the weak link, Professor. So today, I'm going to be the one who carries you."
The Top 18 sat in the backstage waiting room, but the "Wholesome" vibe of the beach trip had been completely incinerated. This was the Blood Bath.
In the corner, Jae-hyun was holding onto Seong-min's sleeve. Seong-min was a Rank 17 trainee—a quiet, hardworking dancer who had been Jae-hyun's best friend since their first day as trainees three years ago. Seong-min's face was pale; he knew the math. To survive the cut to 13, he needed a miracle.
"Don't worry," Jae-hyun was saying, his voice cracking. "The fans saw your solo in the 'Future' rehearsal. Your rank will jump. We're going to debut together, remember? We promised."
Seong-min just smiled, a small, heartbreaking tilt of the lips. "Jae-hyun-ah, just... if I don't make it, don't stop smiling for the cameras. The fans love your smile."
Kang-joon watched them, his brain struggling to categorize the scene. Usually, he would calculate Seong-min's "Retention Value" (Low) and "Marketable Synergy" (Average). Now, all he felt was a dull, aching pressure in his chest.
[System Warning: Physical Synchronization Error: 25%. Vocal Stability: Unstable.]
[Global Rank Projection: #15 (Elimination Zone).]
The Performance: 'Yesterday's Echo'
Team Past took the stage. The set was simple: a dimly lit room with eighteen chairs, though only nine were occupied. No rainfall. No strobe lights. Just the raw, unplugged sound of a piano and a cello.
The song began.
Yoon-ho took the lead. His voice was a revelation. Freed from the crushing weight of Kang-joon's "Perfectionism," he sang with a desperation that was visceral. It wasn't "technically perfect," but it was real.
Then, it was Kang-joon's turn.
He stepped into the spotlight. The audience, expecting the "Genius Professor," leaned forward.
Kang-joon opened his mouth.
"The shadows of the past... they... they..."
He blanked. For two agonizing seconds, the "Perfect Idol" stood in silence. The cognitive fog had swallowed the line.
A collective gasp went through the audience. PD Na Ye-eun squeezed her pen so hard it snapped.
In that moment of total failure, Yoon-ho stepped forward. He didn't wait for the cue. He picked up the harmony, weaving his voice into the silence, covering Kang-joon's mistake with a soulful ad-lib that made the "blank" look like a planned, emotional pause.
He caught Kang-joon's eye. Breathe, he mouthed.
Kang-joon closed his eyes. He stopped trying to "calculate" the music. He stopped thinking about the 97 lives. He focused only on the vibration of the cello in the floorboards.
He sang.
It wasn't the refined, polished vocal of a Rank 1 trainee. It was the voice of someone who was drowning. It was raw, slightly sharp, and carried an agonizing vulnerability. For the first time, the fans didn't see a "Professor." They saw a boy who was terrified of losing everything.
When the song ended, there were no cheers. There was only the sound of 15,000 people exhaling.
***
The eighteen trainees stood on the tiered risers. The air was cold, the stage lights blinding.
"The results are in," the MC announced. "Today, we say goodbye to five of our brothers. We will announce the ranks from 1 to 13."
The names began to fall like guillotine blades.
* Rank 1: Min-soo (The "Center" was safe, but he was looking at Kang-joon with horror).
* Rank 2: Gun-woo.
* Rank 3: Jae-hyun.
Jae-hyun didn't even celebrate. He was staring at Seong-min, who was still standing in the "Unranked" zone.
Ranks 4 through 10 were called. The "Monster Unit" was being picked apart.
"Rank 11... Do-yoon."
"Rank 12... Hyun-woo."
Only one spot remained in the "Safe Zone." Rank 13.
The three remaining "Main Characters" of the drama were Yoon-ho, Seong-min, and Kang-joon.
Kang-joon looked at the screen. He saw his own face—pale, hollow-eyed, looking like a ghost of the man who had commanded the rainfall. He saw Seong-min, whose hands were clasped in prayer. He saw Yoon-ho, who was looking at the ceiling, waiting for the end of a seven-year nightmare.
"The final trainee to join the Top 13," the MC shouted, "is... Yoon-ho!"
The room exploded. Yoon-ho fell to his knees, sobbing. He had done it. He had saved his parents' shop. He had survived seven years of the basement.
But then, the realization hit.
If Yoon-ho was 13...
Lee Kang-joon was Rank 14. The "Professor" was eliminated.
The silence that followed was deafening. The staff were whispering. PD Na was on her feet, talking frantically to the producers. The "Golden Goose" of the show, the man who had single-handedly doubled their ratings, was out.
[System Alert: Narrative Paradox Detected. Host's elimination will result in Loop Termination. Calculating 'Emergency Intervention'...]
"Wait!"
A voice rang out from the judges' table. It was the head vocal coach, the one who had been harshest to Kang-joon.
"The producers and judges have been granted a one-time 'Professional Mandate'," he said, his voice trembling with the weight of the decision. "We have the right to add a 14th seat to the next round for a trainee who has shown 'Exceptional Artistic Growth' or 'Essential Technical Value.' We are exercising that right today."
He looked directly at Kang-joon. "Lee Kang-joon-ssi. You failed today. You were a semitone off, you forgot your lyrics, and you were a liability to your team. But for the first time in this competition... you were an artist. You are our 14th trainee."
Kang-joon didn't feel relief. He felt a crushing, soul-deep shame. He had been "saved" by a pity vote. He, the man who lived 97 lives, was a charity case.
But the "14th Seat" did not exist for Seong-min.
"Seong-min-ah," the MC said softly. "Please step forward."
Jae-hyun let out a choked, animalistic sob. He lunged forward, grabbing Seong-min's jacket. "No! No, wait! Take my spot! I'll give him my rank! He's better than me! He's worked harder than anyone!"
"Jae-hyun, stop," Seong-min whispered, gently prying Jae-hyun's fingers away. He was crying, but he was smiling. "You're Rank 3. You're going to be a star. I... I got to stand on this stage with you. That's enough."
Seong-min bowed to the judges, then to the audience. As he walked off the stage, the light on his nameplate flickered and died.
The five eliminated trainees were ushered to the exit. The sound of their footsteps on the metal ramp was the loneliest sound Kang-joon had ever heard.
Jae-hyun collapsed on the stage, his forehead pressed to the floor, his shoulders shaking with the kind of grief that only a twenty-year-old can feel when they realize the world isn't fair.
Kang-joon stood at Rank 14. He looked at his hands. They were still shaking.
[System Notification: Humanity Metric: 18%. Debuff 'Cognitive Overload' is clearing, but a new status effect has been added: [Survivor's Guilt (C)].]
[Rank: #14. Status: Bottom Tier. Next Mission: The Final Five Mandate.]
Kang-joon didn't look at the system. He looked at Jae-hyun. He looked at the empty spot where Seong-min had stood.
He realized that his "Perfection" had been a lie. He had saved the agency, but he had watched a friend die (metaphorically) because he was too busy calculating hertz.
He walked over to the sobbing Jae-hyun and sat on the floor next to him. He didn't offer a spreadsheet nor a calorie count. He just sat there in the dark.