Chapter 6: Grade Evaluation (2)
I thought the performance wasn’t bad.
I couldn’t say it was top-tier, but at least it was twice as good as what I had done eight years ago.
Judging from the positive reaction, maybe I could even aim for an A grade.
Just as I was thinking that to myself—
Flash—
A strange letter appeared on the screen behind me.
“Do Seohan trainee, H grade.”
…What?
At the same time, the trainees started murmuring.
The Stardust Project divided trainees into A, B, C, D, and F grades.
There were no other letters after that.
That’s how it was publicly known, but the production team had hidden a separate grade.
H grade—short for Hidden grade.
My jaw unknowingly dropped wide open.
“What’s that?”
“H grade?”
“There was something like that, hyung?”
“Wow, you really never know what’ll happen.”
“That’s what makes it a survival show.”
And that grade…
Han Dawon stepped in to explain.
“Trainee Do Seohan is granted the qualification to prepare for the center evaluation.”
The period to prepare for the center evaluation was a week—until the official filming for the signal song began.
After the center appeal, I remembered it was probably decided by viewer votes.
After rattling off the explanation, Han Dawon smiled faintly.
The appearance of a new grade had already thrown the trainees into a frenzy.
“Center evaluation?”
“Wow, then doesn’t that mean he might be the center for our signal song?”
“So there was a separate center grade.”
“I’m so jealous.”
Since I had previously participated in the Stardust Project, I knew exactly what this H grade meant.
Out of thirty-four trainees, only three would receive it.
Its mere existence brought overwhelming screen time and recognition.
Honestly, I was surprised too.
Originally, H grade should have gone to Ha Junseo, who came after me.
If I was picked instead of Ha Junseo…
Then what happens now?
My head was in chaos.
But at the same time, a strange thrill surged up inside me.
No matter what anyone said, this was an opportunity.
And opportunities were meant to be seized.
Just moments ago, Han Dawon had been looking at me indifferently, but now he smiled and got up from his seat.
“Trainee Do Seohan. You’ll be challenging the center evaluation, right?”
I lightly returned his provocative gaze and nodded.
“Yes, I’d like to try.”
Crash, clatter.
Already, loud noises were echoing from the end of the hallway.
“Waaaah! It’s the dorm!”
“Where’s room 310? Is it this way?”
“Wow, amazing. The setup looks so weird….”
Official move-in day at the Stardust House.
I’d come here once eight years ago and thought I’d never return in my life—but here I was again.
It felt oddly nostalgic.
Seems like Doubles and TBN spent all their money on the set, because the dorm looked cramped as ever.
There were so many people, and yet we had to cram ourselves into narrow bunk beds.
Still, on your second try, you learn to claim the bottom bunk quickly.
No particular reason.
“Joints… are precious.”
Exactly.
After eight years of trainee life during which I pretty much wrecked my joints, and dozens of physical therapy visits, I’d learned my lesson.
Joints are thin, fragile, and precious.
Thud.
I tossed the modest luggage I’d packed into the corner and waited for the next member to arrive.
Originally, my dorm roommates were guys who appeared for barely a second in the background during the broadcast.
But now, the situation might have changed.
I’d heard a rumor that rooms were assigned based on rankings.
My guess proved to be right almost immediately.
“Oh! Seohan!”
“Oh, this is your room?”
Ha Junseo burst through the door with a bright smile.
We had never shared a room before, but maybe because of the changed scores, we were now assigned together.
“You’re in this room too?”
“Yeah, my spot’s over here.”
“Wow, you were seriously good. I didn’t expect you to prepare ‘Dan-O-Mu’. I wanted to talk to you right after your performance, but I missed the timing.”
“That was when you were almost up next, right?”
“Yeah, I was so nervous I thought I’d die.”
Recalling that moment, Ha Junseo shuddered and started stacking boxes of espresso capsule coffee beside his bed.
Next to them sat a cheerful teddy bear that looked just like him.
When he saw me glance over, he added proudly,
“I can’t sleep without him nearby.”
Ah, I see.
Thud.
Ha Junseo shoved the teddy bear’s head into the corner and smiled contentedly.
“Say hi to him. ‘Good night, Byeoldol!’”
“Byeol… Byeoldol….”
What the heck kind of name is that?
I thought maybe it was just a camera-conscious act, but then I remembered—this really was his personality.
“Haha… okay.”
He wasn’t just kind—he had a somewhat quirky side too.
I decided to respect his preferences.
As I patted Byeoldol’s head gently, I spoke calmly.
“Sleep tight.”
That’s when it happened.
Bang—
Without warning, the door burst open again.
This time, two faces peeked in at the same time.
“Huh…?”
This combo, here?
What the heck is this room? How are there so many debut members in one place?
If it weren’t for the cameras, I would’ve visibly shown my shock.
Stardust’s final debut members—Jin Sehyun and Seo Haim.
With sharp and distinct features, the guy who walked in first looked handsome enough to make anyone say so out loud.
I didn’t expect to see them here.
That guy was Jin Sehyun.
I think he placed around third in the final debut rankings.
He had stood out quite a bit even back in Doubles.
Next to him, someone was smiling brightly and waving.
He had a baby chick-like face and a youthful look.
“Hellooo!”
Seo Haim.
He’d been in the same program as me, but we hadn’t really interacted.
He wasn’t from Doubles, but a solo trainee who struggled early on, eventually becoming one of the dark horses who secured a final spot in Stardust.
His cheerful voice continued.
“Nice to meet you. I’m in this room too! Oh, I want the top bunk. I like being close to the ceiling!”
Scurry scurry.
Seo Haim quickly claimed the remaining top bunk and bumped his head on the ceiling.
“Ow!”
Bang.
It was already getting noisy.
I hadn’t noticed it at seventeen, but now they suddenly felt like kids to me.
Though the problem was—they were both older than me.
“Ouch, that hurt. What if I lose brain cells.”
Rub rub.
Seo Haim, rubbing his head, met my eyes.
I gave him an awkward smile of respect.
Haha.
“Please take care of me!”
…Still, his innocence was nice.
“Me too.”
Jin Sehyun added calmly to Seo Haim’s enthusiasm.
The calm and the lively—two extremes.
They sat together and began chatting.
Before Choi Han arrived, those two had been the youngest in Stardust, so I guess they were already forming a solid bond even back then.
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“Wow, we’re the same age.”
While exchanging greetings, their eyes turned toward me.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“The youngest! No wonder you looked so cute!”
You’re the one who talks like the youngest though.
Seo Haim said that with wide eyes, and Jin Sehyun murmured quietly to himself.
“…You’re younger than me?”
And then there was Ha Junseo, twenty years old.
Somehow, Ha Junseo had ended up the oldest in this room.
He smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Right, Seohan’s the youngest here, huh?”
“I guess so.”
Having started training at a young age, I’d heard that phrase often.
Hearing it again now made me feel nostalgic, and I smiled faintly.
For now, I was indeed the youngest.
Whoever else came in, I had no idea yet.
Jin Sehyun asked casually.
“There’s still one person left, right?”
“Yeah, everyone’s here except one.”
One bottom bunk bed was still left in the corner.
Honestly, they could’ve made it a four-person room.
This was probably the production crew’s way of saving budget wherever they could.
So who would the last person be?
Honestly, this team already had such a strong lineup, I didn’t need anything more.
I just hoped someone wouldn’t come in and derail it all.
I wasn’t asking for much.
Just… not someone weird, please….
Clack.
“I’m Lee Junhyeok.”
“Ah.”
Speak of the devil.
Of all people, the weird one showed up.
In the awkward dorm room.
“Hehe, I’m already excited. Things are going to get busy starting tomorrow.”
Lee Junhyeok let out a boisterous laugh and started throwing out awkward lines.
Even so, I could feel he was weirdly wary of me.
He’d always been like that.
He was the kind of guy who got jealous and endlessly tormented anyone he thought was doing better than him.
Even during trainee days, quite a few had quit because they couldn’t handle his turf-guarding behavior.
He thought of Doubles as his own territory since he’d been there longer.
Even though I had been a trainee for a while, I’d only recently joined Doubles, so I expected he’d act the same toward me.
“I think I saw you during the monthly evaluations, Seohan. You seem strong in actual performances. You did well.”
“Ah.”
If it weren’t for the cameras, his personality would’ve come out in full.
I also suppressed my irritation toward him and gave a small smile.
“Thank you. I worked hard.”
Jin Sehyun helped me maintain my composure.
With a calm voice, he changed the subject.
“Doesn’t the center evaluation and training schedule come out starting tomorrow?”
“Oh, right. The center evaluation.”
At Seo Haim’s words, everyone’s attention turned back to me.
“Wow, it’s my first time seeing an H grade. Are you all prepared for the center evaluation?”
Seo Haim added with wide, sparkling eyes.
Center evaluation.
I almost forgot about it.
While others were busy worrying about vocal training, I had one more thing to think about.
Ha Junseo let out a short shout.
“Yeah, besides Seohan, who else got H grade?”
“There’s one right next door! Not me, but another solo trainee, Lee Dokyung, I think?”
Seo Haim continued rapidly.
“So, have you thought about anything yet? Besides the signal song video, they said to prepare some special skill. That kind of stuff is really important! If you’ve got something decent, we can help you confirm it.”
I didn’t know he was this kind of guy, but he’s quite proactive.
Seo Haim scratched his short hair and sparkled his eyes.
Since he asked so openly, maybe dropping a small hint wouldn’t be too bad.
I had been thinking about it ever since Han Dawon announced the H grade.
Like Seo Haim said, the center evaluation required not only a performance video of the signal song but also a special talent that could captivate viewers.
Since everyone was already skilled in singing and dancing, it was necessary to show some unique plus-alpha.
If I remembered correctly, there was one guy who confidently breakdanced and ended up sweeping the floor, and another who devastated the studio with a three-tiered aegyo routine.
That side… wasn’t my thing.
What I was good at… honestly, only one thing came to mind.
After quitting trainee life, I had joined a theater club at the university I entered.
But that didn’t mean I was going to do a one-man show on that big stage.
“I’m thinking of doing impressions.”
“…….”
“…Huh?”
Ah, right.
The moment I said it, I immediately sensed the meaning behind the cold reaction.
Impressions? Here? This isn’t a comedy show.
And during the center evaluation at that?
“Uh…uh.”
Seo Haim rolled his eyes briefly before arriving at a strange conclusion.
“Impressions… you mean vocal mimicry? Oh, are you doing vocal impressions?”
“I do those too.”
“If you’re going to sing through mimicry, shouldn’t you be on Hidden Singer or something instead of here?”
“Wow, that sounds fun.”
“A fresh performance, huh.”
No, that’s not it.
I was going to wave my hands and explain, but I gave up.
Everyone was already looking at me with expressions full of anticipation for an impressions stage.
Everyone except Lee Junhyeok.
“I’ll do my best.”
“I’m looking forward to it! Really!”
Lee Junhyeok looked at me with a faintly contemptuous gaze, as if to say, “What kind of lunatic is this?”
It felt a bit unfair.
Though I didn’t get a chance to explain myself.
I glanced at the clock in a hurry to end the conversation.
Ah, it’s almost bedtime.
“Shall we get ready then?”
“Yeah, let’s. We need to sleep if we’re going to hit it hard tomorrow.”
At Ha Junseo’s words, Seo Haim, who had been dragging around his blanket, returned to his spot.
I also threw myself onto the bottom bunk.
I smeared the sponsored skincare product from TBN across my face and glanced toward the camera.
Even your sleeping face gets immortalized by the broadcast.
“Ah, is it recording well?”
This is the basic rule of being an idol trainee.
I gave the camera a small smile, then lay down on the bed again.
Ugh.
I pushed myself too hard on the first day—my body felt stiff, and I thought I’d fall asleep quickly.
Still… I managed the first evaluation decently….
Now… time to sleep…
Wait, what was tomorrow’s schedule again?
Ah.
On the first day of moving into the dorm, there’s always that one thing that shows up by unwritten rule.
The wake-up mission.
“…!”
What was the benefit again?
I think it was something amazing.
The moment the benefit flashed through my mind—
‘Let’s set everything up before sleeping.’
My sleepiness completely vanished.