The next morning, the mood in the main practice room was toxic.
The rumor had solidified: the debut group would be chosen from a pool of 25 contestants, meaning the A-Class Unit (the top 10, including Kang-joon) would be fighting 15 Wild Cards chosen from the company's huge, unseen pool of B and C-Rank male trainees.
The ten A-Class members sat together, but the solidarity was fractured by fear.
"We shouldn't have to compete with them," Min-soo, the lead dancer, muttered, running a tense hand through his sweat-damp hair. "We've worked the hardest...if anything we're guaranteed spots."
"Nothing is guaranteed," Kang-joon said, wiping down his side of the mirror.
His voice was steady.
"The show needs drama and wild Cards are drama."
[System Warning: Negative Outlook Detrimental to Group Morale. Debut Success Score: Stagnant at 0.050%.]
Kang-joon ignored the System.
Negative outlook was a tool.
He focused on the new challenge instead.
He didn't fear the Wild Cards' talent; he feared their unpredictability.
In his past runs, random, fatal incidents often arose from the chaotic introduction of new, desperate competitors.
Loop #51: A prop malfunction during a Wild Card's aggressive performance.
The sharp edge of a falling stage decoration hit Kang-joon during their rehearsal transition. Died of head trauma.
He had to eliminate the Wild Cards quickly, not by outperforming them, but by managing their environment.
The first Wild Card assessment began abruptly.
Fifteen anxious trainees were paraded into the room.
They were visibly shocked by the size and polish of the A-Class unit.
One trainee stood out: a small, fierce-looking vocalist named Choi Do-hwan. He had piercing eyes and an air of desperation that spoke of years spent in the company dungeon.
Manager Kim pointed to the A-Class unit. "These ten are your targets.
To earn a spot, you must outperform them in every metric."
Kang-joon excused himself immediately after the Wild Card assessment began, feigning a need to check his vocal schedule.
He needed to activate his biggest potential trap: the Production Office Key Card.
He reached the fifth floor that was full of executives and production staff.
The environment was plush, quiet, and unnervingly clean.
He inserted the key card into the main Production Office lock.
The green light flashed.
[System Alert: Unauthorized Access Granted. Risk Level: Extreme. Opportunity Level: SSS. Debut Success Score: 0.101%.]
The score spiked dramatically, confirming the System viewed internal control as a massive factor in achieving debut.
Kang-joon was now in the deadliest, most rewarding territory.
The office was a maze of desks and monitors. He went straight for the back storage room, which, in Loop #27, was where the elevator maintenance logs were stored.
He found the file cabinet.
Inside, tucked beneath years of obsolete camera manuals, was a thin binder labeled 'Building Maintenance: Vertical Transport.'
He flipped through the entries for the elevator he took daily.
His eyes narrowed on the most recent inspection date: "Passed, despite minor fraying on cable 3."
The report was dated six months ago.
The accident in Loop #27 happened six weeks after that.
He pulled out his phone and accessed the [Perfect Memory Chip].
He recalled the specific phone number for a reliable, independent elevator inspector he'd hired during Loop #49 (The CEO Persona).
He sent a coded text message, scheduling a discrete, off-hours inspection of the fifth-floor elevator junction box.
The System didn't register the communication, as it was outside the immediate Success Mandate, but Kang-joon had neutralized a major, plausible death trap.
He then sat at a vacant desk, his mission shifting.
He wasn't just neutralizing traps but also managing the show's variables.
He accessed the show's master file on the internal network.
The file detailed the performance schedule, the challenge themes, and the crucial Trainee Weakness Index compiled by the trainers.
He focused on the Wild Cards.
He saw Choi Do-hwan's file.
Weakness Index: Frightened of heights/High-stress public speaking.
He scrolled to the show's fourth challenge. Theme: 'Ascension'—High-Intensity Acrobatic Dance on a Multi-Tiered Stage.
If Choi Do-hwan had to perform that, he would likely freeze, be eliminated, and suffer immense emotional distress...a high-risk variable for everyone involved.
Kang-joon opened the challenge document and made one minute, critical edit: He swapped the 'Ascension' theme with the proposed 'Acoustic Reinterpretation' theme from Challenge 6.
He didn't save the changes but simply closed the file.
The System didn't flag the interaction, as he didn't alter his own profile.
He then immediately called Manager Kim. "Manager-nim, I finished reviewing the cuts.
I think the 'Ascension' theme is structurally weak.
We should swap it with 'Acoustic Reinterpretation'...it will create a better narrative arc for the show."
Manager Kim, already flustered, agreed instantly.
Kang-joon had just used his future knowledge to steer the show away from a high-risk physical performance (for the Wild Cards) and toward a safer vocal one.
Back in the practice room, Kang-joon observed the evening training session.
The A-Class unit was exhausted, running the 'Zero Gravity' choreo for the tenth time.
The Wild Cards were practicing their audition pieces in small clusters, their desperation palpable.
Kang-joon walked over to Choi Do-hwan, who was practicing alone, his voice raw but powerful.
"Do-hwan-ssi," he said gently.
"You have incredible power...
But your high notes are strained.
You are pushing too much from your throat."
Do-hwan flinched, unused to attention from an A-Class trainee.
"I... I have to stand out."
"You already stand out," Kang-joon said.
He demonstrated a quick breathing technique which was a minor adjustment he'd learned from a forgotten vocal coach in Loop #35. "Use your diaphragm...Don't push."
He tried it, and his next high note was instantly clearer, sustained, and less painful.
[System Quest Updated: Increase Vocal Quality of Trainee 'Choi Do-hwan'. Sub-Quest Complete. Reward: Small EXP gain.]
Kang-joon wasn't helping him debut but ensuring his vocal success was easy and sustainable.
A less strained performer is a safer performer. He was subtly reducing the potential for him to collapse from vocal chord hemorrhaging (Loop #83: A Wild Card fatality ruled 'natural causes').
Later that night, back in the dim light of the dorm, Jae-hyun watched Kang-joon meticulously clean the communal countertop with a strong antiseptic wipe.
"Hyung, what are you doing? It's spotless."
Kang-joon didn't look up.
"Maintenance," he said, injecting weariness into his voice.
"There was a flu outbreak in Loop #7. One trainee was hospitalized. We need to maintain hygiene."
Jae-hyun looked troubled. "You keep talking about things that haven't happened, Hyung. You're preparing for a debut, not a war."
Kang-joon only shrugged.
'Ah...I keep forgetting I tend to blurt things out...he doesn't know of things that had happened in past runs...even if he's the same person...it's a different loop..'
*Sigh...
He was using his knowledge to neutralize random variables.
The less chaos, the less likely him dying would find an opening.
Kang-joon received the text message when he was alone, checking the door locks of the dorm.
[Unregistered Number]: Interested in survival, Lee Kang-joon-ssi? The clock is running faster than you think.
Kang-joon stopped breathing.
This was the contact from the Hourglass card he'd received from the scout.
[System Warning: Host Attention Diverted to Non-Mandate Communication. Risk of Career Sabotage: High.]
The System flagged the contact as a career risk, but not a death threat.
Kang-joon texted back a single word.
"Who."
The response was instantaneous.
"Someone who knows your current agency is a death trap. Meet me at the Cheongdam Riverwalk, 3 AM. Alone."
Kang-joon deleted the texts immediately.
The time was 11 PM. He had four hours.
This wasn't an assassin but a poacher scout using genuine, high-level knowledge of Starline's financial instability to steal talent. The scout's offer was risky, but it presented an opportunity for an alternate, high-EXP path to debut that the System might favor.
He had neutralized the elevator.
He had neutralized the high-risk performance. He had neutralized the kitchen counter.
Now, he had to decide if he dared to neutralize his own death by meeting said person at the riverwalk.