After a few more minutes of banter outside, Mojin cheerfully dragged Ji Hyo toward the main entrance of Glint Entertainment, pushing open the glass doors with a dramatic flourish like he was opening the gates of a palace.
"Welcome back to the battlefield," he announced with exaggerated grandeur.
Ji Hyo stepped in, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe. The lobby was sleek, modern, and polished to perfection. The faint scent of citrus cleaner lingered in the air, and bright white lights reflected off pristine marble floors. Everything screamed professionalism and ambition.
"This is where dreams begin… or crash and burn," Ji Hyo thought quietly.
"Come on," Mojin said, leading him toward the elevators. "Let's go check in with management first before we start the tour. You gotta show them that you're alive and breathing."
They rode the elevator up to the fifth floor, where the Trainee Management Office was located. Mojin politely greeted the receptionist and helped fill out a short re-entry form on Ji Hyo's behalf, while Ji Hyo stood awkwardly, bowing and smiling at the staff who kept glancing at him with half-familiar curiosity.
As they left the management office, Mojin handed Ji Hyo a slim plastic card, glossy and marked with a small Glint Entertainment emblem in the corner.
"Here—your trainee ID. Management said to return it to you."
Ji Hyo blinked, looking down at the card.
"Trainee Division – Ji Hyo Hyun"
His name and barcode were neatly printed across the surface.
"Is this my ID?" he asked.
"Yeah," Mojin said. "After you collapsed in the training room last week, they picked it up and kept it safe until you returned. You've been out for a while, remember?"
Right… That must've been the moment everything changed. When the old Ji Hyo disappeared… and I took his place.
"This ID's important," Mojin added, slinging an arm over Ji Hyo's shoulder. "You'll need it for getting into the company building, training rooms, recording studios, and all that jazz. Lose it again, and you'll regret it."
Ji Hyo nodded, slipping it into his wallet. "Got it."
"Oh, and by the way—if you ever forget it again, some instructors make you run laps around the practice floor as a 'friendly reminder'."
Ji Hyo raised an eyebrow. "What is this, idol training or military boot camp?"
Mojin laughed. "Exactly what I said when I first joined. You'll get used to it."
Mojin gave him a brief but thorough tour of all the places within trainee access:
The 3rd floor dance studios, with huge mirrored walls and polished wooden floors.
The 2nd floor vocal rooms, soundproofed and lined with mics and digital monitors.
The trainee cafeteria, which Ji Hyo noted smelled amazing despite being closed for the evening.
The lounge area, stocked with vending machines, practice notebooks, and even a mini-library of training materials.
The trainee gym and meditation room, designed for physical and mental wellness.
As they moved from hallway to hallway, Ji Hyo kept looking around in awe, soaking in the atmosphere. The place looked more like a high-end performance academy than a simple training facility.
"Compared to my past life… this really is another world."
Oddly, though, they hadn't run into a single other trainee.
"Is it always this quiet?" Ji Hyo asked as they exited one of the vocal rooms.
Mojin chuckled. "Nah. Normally, the place is packed, buzzing like a beehive."
"Then where is everyone?"
"Ah," Mojin said, tapping his forehead. "Right—today's Sunday. No official practice schedules. Most of the trainees are off resting, hanging out, or catching up on private lessons elsewhere."
Ji Hyo blinked. "Wait… today's the 29th? That means tomorrow is March 1st…"
"Yup." Mojin nodded. "Why?"
But Ji Hyo had already frozen.
March 1st… Isn't that the start of a new month?
At that very moment, a soft chime echoed in his mind, and a translucent screen flashed before his eyes.
[SystemTask: Monthly Evaluation Performance]
Objective: Participate in and complete the Monthly Training Evaluation.
Ji Hyo's eyes widened.
"Wait… that means I can complete the quest right away?! That's tomorrow!"
His excitement lasted all of three seconds.
Then reality hit.
"Wait… the evaluation… I have to perform?! I have to sing?! In front of real instructors?! What am I supposed to do?!"
His face paled, and he staggered slightly, earning a worried glance from Mojin.
"Hey, you alright?"
Ji Hyo forced a smile. "Y-Yeah. Just… felt a little dizzy."
[Reminder: Monthly Evaluation starts tomorrow at 9:00 AM sharp.]
[Note: No rehearsal time will be provided during the evaluation. Host must prepare in advance.]
"You've got to be kidding me…" Ji Hyo muttered under his breath.
[Would you like to file an official complaint?]
"No! I'd like a time machine, actually."
[Complaint request: denied. Time machine: not available.]
Ji Hyo groaned.
"No chill, no mercy, this system really came for my neck."
But despite his nerves, there was a flicker of hope in his chest.
If he pulled this off… he'd be one step closer to his mission.
One step closer to unlocking a new skill.
One step closer to standing on stage.
Even if he was scared stiff, he knew what he had to do.
After bidding farewell to Mojin, Ji Hyo didn't waste a second. He headed straight back to his apartment building, keeping his head low and his pace brisk.
He glanced around cautiously, making sure no one was watching.
"System said I shouldn't let others know about my background… Better stay low-key."
When he entered the building and reached the elevator, he exhaled in relief.
"Okay… time to figure out how not to humiliate myself tomorrow."
Once he stepped into his unit, he closed the door behind him and slumped against it, staring at the ceiling with a sigh.
"Monthly evaluation… What the hell am I even supposed to sing?"
The reminder from earlier still echoed in his head like a haunting chime.
[Task Objective:Participate in and complete the Monthly Training Evaluation.]
He walked to his desk and placed his phone down, then stared blankly at the wall.
"I mean, my only decent stat is 'Vocal Talent – R&B Soul [C-]', and even that doesn't feel like much."
Still, it was all he had. Dance? Zero. Acting? Not even funny. Visuals? Sure, maybe his face could score points… if only the evaluation was based on staring contests.
He sat at the edge of his bed and leaned forward, fingers steepled against his lips in thought.
"I'll have to sing. No choice."
But what song?
He opened the music app on his phone and started scrolling through songs he remembered from both his past life and whatever the body's memory sync had retained. Ballads, slow pop, K-R&B, even some acoustic indie tracks.
He tried one.
And then another.
And then ten more.
Each time he sang, he cringed harder.
"Why does it sound like I'm trying to strangle a dying walrus?"
His pitch control was all over the place. His voice cracked midway through choruses. His falsetto? Non-existent.
"I suck," he muttered flatly.
He threw himself back on the bed, groaning into a pillow. "This is hopeless. I can't sing like this tomorrow. They'll kick me out of the building before I even finish one verse."
[Host, current performance data is approximately 41.6% acceptable for evaluation.]
"Oh wow, thank you for that motivational speech, System."
[You're welcome.]
He spent the next few hours cycling through more songs, warming up, experimenting with vocal registers, humming scales like an awkward bathroom singer, and even watching vocal tutorial videos online.
By midnight, his voice was hoarse, his shoulders aching, and his spirit completely deflated.
His body slumped against the wall, hair disheveled, eyes heavy.
"…I sound like a background character who got cut from the pilot episode."
Still, there was a flicker of stubbornness in him.
He kept trying—just one more song, just one more take—until eventually, his exhaustion overtook him.
He collapsed onto the bed, limbs sprawled messily, mouth slightly open.
And outside, the moon quietly gave way to morning.
The faint glow of sunlight began to creep into the room, peeking through the curtains. A sliver of warm light crawled across the floor and landed squarely on Ji Hyo's face.
The moment the ray touched his cheek, he scrunched his nose, groaned, and turned over—but it was no use.
His body stirred, groggily waking up. Eyes still half-lidded, he blinked into the light and slowly sat up.
"…Sun's already up?" he muttered in disbelief, voice raspy and dry.
He glanced at his phone.
7:02 AM.
His eyes widened instantly.
"Wait—WHAT?! I overslept?!"
[Correction: You still have approximately 58 minutes until the evaluation call time.]
"…I hate how you sound calm while my soul is combusting."
He stumbled out of bed, practically tumbling into the bathroom to wash up. His heart was pounding—not from nerves, but from panic.
"Please, oh please, don't let me sound like a croaking frog today."