IMHTR 07

Chapter: 07

“What kind of guys are these?”

Lee Min-gyu, one of the two manipulated idols in S-rank, barely managed to relax his face in front of the camera before it had completely twisted.

The corners of his smiling mouth trembled.

His company had already received the song and choreography for “Choose Your Prince” three months ago and made him memorize everything.

With that preparation, Min-gyu planned to secure a “skilled performer” image from the very first practice using his polished singing and dancing.

He had stayed up late last night because everyone was practicing like crazy together, so he couldn’t leave early—but despite that, his condition was surprisingly good.

In fact, his movements were sharper than usual, and smooth parts felt even more fluid than normal.

‘But why are those guys more noticeable?!’

Through the full-wall mirror in the practice room, Min-gyu could clearly see every movement of the S-rank trainees dancing.

All nine of them were doing the same choreography, yet it was obvious who stood out as the “main characters” and who were just “background.”

And he realized he himself was one of the background ones.

‘Did those bastards also practice in advance?’

‘That’s what his face is saying.’

Yechan, who caught Min-gyu’s wavering gaze through the mirror, thought indifferently.

Trying to act important in front of a real veteran with just a few months of practice—it was ridiculous.

Before Yechan’s resets began, Choose Your Prince 99 (Chumaf 99) had been a massive hit show.

Its theme song was something every trainee naturally practiced at least once.

Even after the resets started, during the first two runs the show was successful, so Yechan had performed this song quite often.

After that, there were no more chances for a long time, so he thought he had forgotten it—but as he practiced again, his body slowly started remembering.

‘Or maybe it’s because of this.’

Dance: A+

Yechan glanced at the status window he had kept open when entering the practice room.

This satisfying stat was the result of all his effort.

He had poured every point he earned from the past week of training tests, plus points from this boot camp leveling and quests, into dance.

When it first reached rank A, his thoughts and body often didn’t match, which was frustrating—but after the “+” appeared, his body moved exactly as he intended, with delicate control.

If A+ was already this good, he couldn’t help but look forward to what would happen after the next upgrade.

‘If I reach S, will I be even better than before?’

While Yechan was enjoying himself, the music ended.

“Looks like everyone has mostly memorized the choreography. Then let’s each practice individually from here on.”

Sang-rok, who had just finished dancing the extremely difficult “Choose Your Prince” without looking exhausted, looked around at the trainees.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Sang-rok placed a tablet from the production staff onto a small table.

“I’ll leave the tablet here. Feel free to check it anytime.”

Because he was the oldest S-rank trainee with the most experience, he naturally ended up acting as the leader.

“Hyung, about this part…”

And that was why he kept getting involved with annoying people like this.

Helping others during a timed mission—what excessive kindness.

Unlike Sang-rok, Yechan had no intention of mingling with others and chose a corner of the practice room.

“Yechan, want to practice together?”

Baem Se-hyuk, who had naturally become informal after practicing all night together, approached him.

Woo Hwi-gyeom was right behind him.

“I’m going straight to the booth, so I’ll practice alone.”

Yechan quickly refused.

He didn’t want to get involved with Hwi-gyeom any more than necessary, and he also planned to go to the second-floor booth after a few more solo runs.

Practicing more would just drain his energy since he already knew the song—and being the first to attempt it among 99 trainees would also be a good narrative advantage.

“Really? Then… Hyun-sool hyung, want to join us?”

Kang Haesol flinched.

He hadn’t been paying attention at all and looked surprised.

Meeting Baem Se-hyuk’s clear eyes in the mirror, Haesol frowned slightly.

“I’ll practice alone.”

“Oh? Then it’s just us two.”

Nodding, Woo Hwi-gyeom followed Baem Se-hyuk as they moved away.

Yechan rubbed his temple with his thumb.

‘How am I supposed to separate those two?’

If left alone, Baem Se-hyuk might get dragged into rumors just for being friends with Woo Hwi-gyeom.

People would start saying things like “his personality is questionable for associating with a school bully,” spreading all over online communities.

Of course, Baem Se-hyuk would still end up at the top despite rumors—but Yechan didn’t want his teammate’s value damaged by baseless claims.

But forcibly separating them might also lead to rumors that “Ha Yechan is isolating people.”

He remembered how, in his past life, a single sharp-eyed photo had led to absurd comments about personality and character lighting up social media.

Yechan shook his head.

Right now, focusing on the mission was more important.

Another window appeared under the status screen.

Linked Quest

– Get an S rank in the “Choose Your Prince” evaluation test from Chumaf 99!

That’s right.

The production team said it was just individual filming for center positioning, but in reality it was a surprise evaluation to reassess trainees’ ranks.

Yechan, who had already seen this show in the future, knew this—but the quest was unnecessarily reminding him again.

‘So even the “booth” thing was a trick.’

Wiping sweat from his forehead, Yechan left the practice room.

Since it was still early, the hallway was mostly empty except for a few staff members.

He headed straight for the stairs to the second floor.

“Oh, Yechan trainee. Already going to the booth?”

A program writer he met on the way widened her eyes and spoke to him.

“Yes.”

Yechan smiled shyly, dragging out his tone in a way that didn’t suit him. The writer’s cheeks turned red.

‘People really don’t change their preferences.’

Kim Sang-hye, the writer, was a huge fan of “Resist Spirit Ha Yechan”—she loved it when someone who looked cold and untouchable acted soft.

That strange preference had been directly admitted by her.

At first, Yechan didn’t notice because he had been reset mid-interview and wasn’t fully aware—but during a previous ranking shoot, he clearly saw her shining eyes.

As “Resist Spirit,” Yechan hadn’t been soft at all—but to Sang-hye, there was no idol more perfect than someone who looked sharp and performed well.

Or maybe she saw something only she could see—because she remained his fan until his last reset point.

Now, meeting her here as trainee Ha Yechan felt strange.

To Kim Sang-hye, he was just a fan-worthy idol in another role—but to trainee Ha Yechan, she was a helpful production staff member.

Sang-hye snapped out of her daze and cleared her throat.

“Ahem… you seem confident. Maybe you should think about it a bit more calmly?”

She glanced around cautiously—no cameras.

Once a trainee finished the booth evaluation, they were supposed to return to the dorm and avoid contact with others.

But in a place where everyone had smartphones, secrecy was impossible.

Messages could spread easily among trainees.

Sang-hye wanted Yechan to be prepared for that kind of information flow.

She was trying her best in her own way.

Yechan smiled.

“Thank you for worrying about me. But I’m actually feeling really good right now. If I practice more, I think I’ll just lose energy.”

“…I see. Then there’s nothing I can do. Good luck.”

Sang-hye looked like she wanted to say more but held back.

Yechan was satisfied.

In the entertainment industry, there were no real secrets.

If Sang-hye talked too much, it would look like favoritism.

‘It’s better if I just get good subtitles and editing effects when I appear.’

Unlike terrestrial TV, N-net often had writers handle subtitles.

And people naturally put more effort into someone they liked.

Yechan arrived at the second floor room where the booth was located.

Unlike other floors, there were many staff members here.

He politely greeted them as he passed and opened the door.

Inside the room was a transparent cube-shaped booth made of plastic film.

On three sides of the booth, trainers and external judges sat with serious expressions.

This second evaluation test—placing trainees into a pressure-filled interview-like booth instead of self-filming—was something Yechan quite liked.

Before his resets, he had been moved by trainees giving their best performances under pressure.

After multiple resets, he realized that if someone couldn’t even handle this level of pressure, they had no business surviving as an idol.

Standing in front of a scene he had only ever watched through screens before, he naturally thought of Baem Se-hyuk again.

Right now, Yechan couldn’t completely overpower him in skill.

Nor could he confidently show a shocked expression.

So instead, Yechan calmly stepped into the booth and smiled.

“Hello, I’m trainee Ha Yechan.”

He added a relaxed self-introduction as a bonus.