Rooming assignments paired Hajun with Kim Raebin at the dorms. Cramming two people into a space smaller than a fraction of his dressing room back at his family’s US estate felt ridiculous for a wealthy heir. Hajun remembered living in a small place with his mother years ago. By that standard, the room felt like a typical two-person space.
“Whoa~”
“Cha Eugene! Go to your own room!”
It looked set to become a three-person room. Eugene had earned a single room as a reward for first place, yet he showed zero interest in enjoying that perk. Hajun let Eugene dive onto the bed and roll around. The sight brought to mind the dog back at his family’s house.
“I’m sleeping here!”
“No way. There are two beds, and Hajun-hyung will feel crowded!”
“Are you crowded?”
“Not at all.”
“He said no! Kim Raebin dummy.”
“You…!”
Barking and screeching filled the air. A familiar cat and dog fight broke out before his eyes. Who played the cat and who played the dog remained a mystery. Setting down his modest bags, Hajun felt like he was watching Leo, his stepmother’s cat, brawl with Chocolate-Chip-Cookie, the German Shepherd trio back home.
A knock at the door cut short the bickering.
“Change into these and gather downstairs by ten,” a staff member instructed, delivering sets of training clothes.
“Got it.”
“Okay!”
Spotting Eugene in the room, the staff member handed over an extra set of clothes without a word. With tacit approval granted, Eugene beamed. Raebin looked ready to object, but seeing no one else raise a fuss, he held his tongue.
“Where are you sleeping?” Hajun asked.
“I can just bring a blanket!”
“Can you sleep on the floor?” Raebin asked.
“Yeah! But I like the bed.”
“That means you plan to steal a bed!”
Hajun decided to treat them like a giant cat and dog taken in as roommates. If the fighting got out of hand, he would toss both out.
After changing, the contestants gathered downstairs while the MC explained the upcoming schedule. Tailored mobility classes, skill tiers, and details dragged on. Hajun received Upper Vocal and Upper Dance badges without surprise.
Returning to his spot, his eyes met the child actor’s.
Standing with a Lower Vocal badge after failing his dance evaluation, the contestant darted his eyes away. Shame showed clear on his face. Pity touched Hajun for a second, but he brushed it aside. His own talent was no sin, nor was the other guy’s lack of skill his fault.
Classes proved easy.
“You memorized the choreography already?” the instructor asked.
“Yes.”
“…After watching it once?”
“Yes.”
Claiming the top spot in Upper Dance took zero effort. Watching Hajun’s flawless movements, the choreographer used him as a demonstrator halfway through class. Realizing he was handing out free labor, Hajun considered pretending to struggle next time.
“Let’s eat together!” Eugene called out, eyes sparkling as he tried to get close.
Hajun found the persistence tiresome. “No.”
“Why?!”
“The moment we finish eating, you’ll drag me to practice.”
Dancing called for moderation, a concept alien to Eugene. Hajun wanted rest and a nap.
“You’re skipping lunch?”
“Yeah.”
“No way! I won’t ask to practice, just eat with me!”
Trapped among teenagers, Hajun was dragged into sharing a meal. After a few days, he grew accustomed to kids commenting on his small appetite. Every contestant ate like a starving spirit.
Sipping his seaweed soup, Hajun glanced at a heavy eater sitting a short distance away.
The new curse vessel, busy stuffing his face, caught Hajun’s gaze and snapped his head away.
Right—he dodged his eyes. Even though Upper Vocal classes brought them face to face every day, Park Moondae went out of his way to avoid him.
Hajun had tested his spiritual power near him once, but Moondae hadn’t noticed. He lacked spiritual vision. Yet watching his eyes wander now and then, Moondae seemed aware of his own curse, even if his vision stayed partial. Curious.
Eugene’s voice cut through his thoughts. “The way you eat looks awesome!”
“Hmm?”
“Like… upper class? Posh? But your face looks like a street thug!”
“Cha Eugene!” Raebin gasped, shocked by the blunt words.
“What?”
Hajun gave Eugene credit for sharp instincts. Spotting upper-class table manners from someone eating cafeteria food with standard utensils—without fine dining cutlery—was no simple feat.
“Is your family rich? Did you run away from home because they opposed your dream?” Eugene asked.
“Is this a drama?”
“Oh, I know! ‘Take this money and break up with my son!'”
“A trashy drama script, huh.”
His family was rich, sure. Dreams… he had no idea about that. Moving out happened ages ago, making the run-away theory nonsense. Hajun wondered when Eugene—sharp in strange ways yet blind to their shared American background—would figure out the truth.
Maybe life did mimic a drama.
“You got lucky. Must be nice. Luck is the key factor in the industry.”
“…”
“Too bad you couldn’t use luck for dance class. Hang in there.”
Leaning against the stairwell wall, Hajun recalled the soap operas Katy used to watch. Feuds, ranks, petty spite, ugly human nature—that kind of garbage.
Some fool upstairs was running his mouth, not knowing anyone stood below. Hajun clicked his tongue and made a noise to announce his presence.
“…”
“What are you doing?” Hajun asked, stepping into view.
“W-What. Were you listening?”
“No. You two ran your mouths without checking who was here.”
Hajun looked between Park Moondae, who looked ready to bolt, and Choi Wongil, whose face burned red with spite.
“Hey. Is it his fault he sings better than you?”
“…”
“You wouldn’t dare talk like that to me, right? Because you’re scared. Does he look easy because of that dazed face? Picking on the weak while cowering before the strong. What a rotten attitude.”
Moondae stood confused, not sure if Hajun was defending him or insulting him.
Choi Wongil, red-faced with anger yet lacking the nerve to face Hajun, turned tail and scurried off.
“…Thanks.”
Moondae felt zero gratitude, yet the timing was spot on. Hajun didn’t bother to reply. Moondae couldn’t tell if Hajun was a bad guy, but escaping a rude delinquent took priority. Getting dragged into personality drama was a hard pass.
“I’ll be going.”
“Hold on.”
“…Yes?”
Moondae tilted his head back to look at Hajun as he stepped closer. Damn, the guy was tall. Standing before that broad frame and sharp glare, Moondae stiffened. He wouldn’t swing a punch for no reason, right? People were nearby, so screaming remained an option if things turned sour.
Hajun spoke in a low tone. “You.”
“…”
“Keep a tight grip on it.”
“…?”
Keep a grip on what? Choi Wongil…?
Leaving behind those cryptic words, Hajun turned and walked down the stairs.
Left alone, Moondae racked his brain to make sense of Hajun’s intent before giving up. Good or bad aside, the guy was a total lunatic.
