Taehwan came out of the room with a spark in his eyes and a proud bounce in his step. His face lit up with satisfaction, like someone who just nailed a performance he'd been preparing for his entire life. Ji Hyo sat up straighter, watching him with curiosity.
"How was it?" Ji Hyo asked, genuinely wondering if the nerves in the room matched the reality inside.
Taehwan beamed. "It was great," he said with a confident nod. "They asked a lot but I think I left a good impression."
He then threw a playful salute toward Ji Hyo and added, "Good luck in there. Might be your turn soon, handsome."
Before Ji Hyo could even say a full word in response, Taehwan was already waving his goodbyes, practically skipping toward the exit.
"I still have training class, gotta run!" he called out, voice echoing down the hall. And just before he rounded the corner, he turned briefly and grinned. "Bye, handsome!"
Ji Hyo blinked a few times, momentarily thrown off. He let out a short laugh, lips twitching into an awkward smile. "What kind of goodbye was that…" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head lightly.
Still, as strange as the interaction was, he found himself feeling oddly… relaxed. Maybe it was the boy's energy or maybe it was just comforting to talk to someone else who was in the same situation. Either way, the tension in his chest eased just a little as he turned his gaze back toward the hallway, waiting for his name to be called.
Ji Hyo sat back down quietly, his fingers gently fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie as the silence in the waiting area thickened. One by one, the other trainees were called in, and he watched each of them leave the room with a mix of nerves and hope. Some looked confident, some looked terrified, and others wore the same uncertain expression he carried in his own chest. Time passed slowly, almost dragging.
He checked the clock on the wall—again.
A low hum of anxiety began to build in his stomach when he noticed that the room had gone quiet. Too quiet. He glanced around, eyes scanning the corners, and his brow furrowed.
Wait… there was no one else left.
He was the only one in the waiting area.
Ji Hyo tilted his head slightly, confused. Did they forget about me? he wondered. He stood up slowly and peeked down the hallway, just to double-check if someone was maybe calling from a different room—but no. The corridor was empty too.
The uneasiness inside him bubbled up. Was this part of the process? Or did something go wrong?
He turned around, pacing a little now. The walls suddenly felt too white. Too quiet. He tried to stay calm, but he couldn't stop that one thought from surfacing:
Did they change their mind about me?
The door to the interview room creaked open at last.
Ji Hyo's head turned immediately, heart skipping a beat in anticipation. Three producers stepped out—two women and one man—chatting casually as they exited, but the moment they saw him standing alone in the waiting area, their pace halted.
The first producer, a tall woman in a cream blazer with sharp red lipstick, gasped and covered her mouth dramatically.
"Oh my god," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement and awe. "Who is this handsome?"
Ji Hyo blinked, completely caught off guard. He was still wearing a face mask—just a plain, black one that covered the lower half of his face. How could she tell? he thought, raising an internal eyebrow. Is that even possible?
Maybe he should just wear a mask all the time if it draws this much attention, he joked in his mind.
But just then, the system chimed in, its voice sly and teasing in his thoughts.
[With your Presence [A+], it wouldn't matter if you wore a sack over your head. Your presence is felt even before your face is seen.]
Ugh, not helping, Ji Hyo muttered mentally, trying not to sigh out loud.
Before he could recover, the second producer, a man with round glasses and a clipboard tucked under his arm, tilted his head and asked politely, "Excuse me, are you here for something? Looking for someone maybe?"
Ji Hyo nearly choked on his own air.
Seriously?
His inner self was flailing in disbelief. Punching the air sounds like a great idea right now, he muttered inside. He had been waiting there for nearly an hour, and now they were acting like he was some random lost tourist?
He straightened up and offered a small, respectful bow.
"Ah… I'm here for the interview," he said, a bit awkwardly, eyes blinking fast as he tried not to sound passive-aggressive.
The third producer, a younger woman with a tablet clutched to her chest, furrowed her brows and tapped hurriedly on the screen.
"Interview?" she echoed, scrolling down the digital list of names. "But… all the trainees have already been interviewed. We called everyone."
Ji Hyo's chest tightened. What? No way.
For a moment, he stood frozen. He didn't know whether to be confused, embarrassed, or just plain annoyed. Has he been forgotten? Was he skipped? Was this some kind of test?
The air hung thick with awkwardness.
The male producer quickly sensed the tension and gave a gentle nod. "Let's not talk out here. Come inside."
He gestured for Ji Hyo to follow them back into the interview room, and Ji Hyo quietly stepped forward, still clutching his phone, thoughts swirling in his head.
What is happening?
Did they forget me?
Is this a bad sign—or a good one?
He couldn't tell yet. All he knew was that he was finally going to face whatever this was.
The three producers exchanged puzzled looks as they took their seats again. Ji Hyo stood in front of them, his nerves tangled up, but he kept his expression calm.
They whispered to one another briefly before the man among them—tall, in his mid-thirties, and wearing a grey turtleneck under a navy blazer—turned to him. His name tag, partly visible on his lanyard, read Producer Min Jae-hyun.
Min Jae-hyun cleared his throat.
"Let's confirm a few things first. What's your name again?"
"Ji Hyo Hyun," he answered politely, voice steady despite the odd tension in the air.
The woman with the tablet scrolled again. "Not on the list," she muttered.
"Mine's complete, too," said the first woman, Producer Kang Areum, who'd called him handsome earlier. She tapped her paper notes and frowned.
Jae-hyun narrowed his eyes slightly in thought. "We personally interviewed all 100 contestants for this season. The lineup was finalized weeks ago. You weren't on that list."
Ji Hyo's heart sank slightly, but he spoke up, "I received an invitation." He quickly fished out his phone from his pocket and opened the email app.
The producers leaned forward slightly as he opened the message, and after a few taps, he showed them the screen.
There it was: a formal invitation, complete with the official header from AZ Entertainment, a signature from one of the high-level producers, and instructions to come on this exact date, at this exact time, for the final pre-show interview.
All three producers leaned in to look at it. Kang Areum even took his phone to inspect it more closely.
"It's legit," she said after a pause.
Min Jae-hyun furrowed his brows. "It's definitely from AZ… but this was sent after we locked in the cast. The final list was closed three weeks ago."
"Why would management send this without telling us?" asked the other woman, Producer Seo Hana, tapping her pen against her cheek.
Ji Hyo could feel the confusion thick in the air, the way their brows all furrowed and how their tone dropped a pitch lower into seriousness. They didn't look mad—just… thrown off. But that alone was enough to make his stomach knot a little.
"I… I didn't mean to cause any trouble," he said quickly. "If it's a mistake, I can leave—"
"No," Min Jae-hyun interrupted, raising a hand. "You were officially invited. It's not your fault if there was miscommunication within our department."
"Besides," Areum chimed in, eyeing him again from head to toe, "with a face like that, it would honestly be a crime to let you go."
Ji Hyo blinked in surprise behind his mask.
Again with the visuals… Is that all people see? But then again, being an idol was about visuals too—he knew that.
"What's strange," Seo Hana added, pulling up her phone, "is that there's been a lot of talk about you recently… Wait—" She turned her screen to the others. "Is this him? The street performer guy from Naver who trended?"
Ji Hyo's eyes widened slightly. "That was… me, yes."
The three producers glanced at each other again, something unspoken passing between them.
Min Jae-hyun leaned back in his seat, arms crossed thoughtfully. "That might explain it. Maybe someone high up saw your video and gave an executive call. It wouldn't be the first time something like this has happened."
Areum nodded. "Still weird they didn't loop us in, but honestly, after watching your performance? I'm not surprised."
Ji Hyo stood still, unsure what this meant. Did he still have a chance, or was this just a mix-up?
Seo Hana finally broke the silence. "Well, since you're already here… and you were invited, officially… we'll proceed with the interview. But we'll have to check in with the management right after."
Ji Hyo exhaled in relief and nodded. "Thank you."
As he sat down for the unexpected yet now very real interview, he couldn't help but wonder—
Was this fate? Or is someone watching him from behind the scenes?
Either way, he had no intention of letting this chance slip by.
The interview went smoothly, much to Ji Hyo's surprise.
After the initial confusion, the atmosphere gradually eased. The producers threw him the usual questions: background, training experience, strengths, goals, favorite artists, and why he wanted to debut. He answered each one honestly—some with poise, others with a small stutter when nerves kicked in, but overall, he managed himself well.
They even asked him about the viral performance clip, and he explained how it happened unintentionally. The three producers nodded, clearly intrigued, especially when Ji Hyo shared that he trained independently and had no official agency backing him yet.
It was going well… until the final question.
Producer Kang Areum tapped her pen against the table and tilted her head slightly, grinning. "Alright, last one. Every season we ask this question for fun, so don't be nervous—Ji Hyo-ssi, do you have a weird talent?"
Ji Hyo blinked.
A… weird talent?
He stared blankly at the three producers who now wore expectant smiles. His brain suddenly went silent—empty. He didn't prepare for this. How was he supposed to know they'd ask something like that?
He chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head, trying to stall for time. "Uh… weird talent? I… I'm not sure if I have one."
Producer Min Jae-hyun leaned forward with a smirk. "Come on, everyone's got something strange they can do. Can you twist your fingers weirdly? Speak in chicken language? Mimic a car engine?"
Ji Hyo's face twisted at the last one. "Why would anyone want to mimic a car—never mind."
He scanned his brain like a desperate man searching through files during a power outage.
Weird talent… weird talent… come on.
Then—like a curse from the heavens—he remembered something he used to do to make his younger cousin laugh.
Without thinking, he sat up, brought his hand to his face, and… made dolphin sounds. High-pitched, wobbly, very accurate dolphin sounds.
There was a full second of stunned silence before Kang Areum burst out laughing. Seo Hana followed immediately, covering her mouth as her shoulders shook. Even Min Jae-hyun cracked a grin, although he tried to keep a straight face.
Ji Hyo's face turned beet red under the mask.
Oh my god what did I just do—
He wanted to disappear. He wanted to vanish into thin air. Better yet, be consumed by the ground itself.
Just as he internally begged the floor to open up beneath him, the familiar chime of the system rang in his mind.
[Request to be eaten by the ground has been denied.]
[Reason: Geographical and existential restrictions.]
[Additionally, the system refuses to permit self-destruction out of embarrassment.
Please carry on, Host.]
"Not helping," Ji Hyo muttered under his breath.
Min Jae-hyun chuckled, "I gotta say, that's a first. Definitely memorable."
Seo Hana grinned, still laughing. "You passed the vibe check."
Kang Areum gave him a thumbs up. "Dolphin Boy. Iconic. I'll remember that."
Ji Hyo slumped slightly in his seat, groaning into his hands. "Please don't call me that."
Despite his embarrassment, he could feel the producers were genuinely amused. The interview wrapped up not long after, and he left the room red-faced but with a strange sense of accomplishment.
He might've humiliated himself just a little—but if that weird talent helped make him more memorable in this insanely competitive industry, then maybe it wasn't so bad.
Maybe.