TDOCD Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The Last Chance

 I couldn't hide my surprise when Han Damin brought it up first.

 "I think Ra-eun and Hayoung probably felt the same way," she said softly, her voice carrying a weight I hadn't noticed before.

 My ears perked up at the mention of Seo Raeun and Min Hayoung.

Min Hayoung's involvement made sense, given her LoveMeIdol background, but Seo Raeun?

Sleep could wait – this was too intriguing to ignore.

 "When you all tried again, you must have really steeled yourselves," Damin continued, her eyes distant with understanding.

 Try again? Even Seo Raeun? I shifted in my position, turning to face them properly, drawn into the unfolding conversation.

 A bitter laugh escaped Seo Raeun as she nodded, while Min Hayoung's signature smile – the one that seemed permanently etched on her face – had vanished completely.

 "That's right," Min Hayoung said, her eyes darker and more serious than I'd ever seen them.

"This is probably really my last chance too. I came in prepared to face more hate if necessary... but if I fail this time, I don't think I can do it anymore."

 Hate? The word caught me off guard. Sure, there had been that early training camp dispute, but nothing before that seemed worthy of genuine hatred. I found myself listening to a conversation filled with context I couldn't grasp, references to events I'd never witnessed.

 Min Hayoung's hand drifted to her heart, rubbing it absently.

"The mental toll was too heavy. I realized this might not be something I should pursue."

 As I listened silently, the pieces began falling into place. Not only Min Hayoung but Seo Raeun too – both were veterans of survival programs, making another attempt at their dreams.

 Though we'd only known each other for a week, making detailed confessions difficult, it became clear that Min Hayoung's past with LoveMeIdol held painful memories.

There was apparently a notorious video that everyone except me knew about – her lowest moment captured and preserved for public judgment.

​The hate comments had taken their toll, leaving emotional scars that hadn't fully healed. This Start Plan appearance was her shot at redemption, a chance to rewrite that negative first impression.

 "But I still couldn't break that habit and got greedy about parts again," she confessed, her voice thick with regret. "I'm really sorry about that time, everyone."

 "Min Hayoung, no more apologies." Han Damin's voice cut through the atmosphere with unexpected firmness. "You've been incredibly careful since that day. Most people can't see their own mistakes objectively, and even when they do, they resist admitting them. But you've shown real reflection and careful consideration. You don't need to apologize anymore."

 "That's right," the other members chimed in, supporting Damin's words.

 It was true – since that incident, Min Hayoung had been constantly monitoring herself, weighing every expression and word with careful consideration. Who could fault someone trying so hard to grow?

 "Thank you," she whispered, emotion making her voice waver.

 "I really want to do well this time," she continued, gathering strength. "I really want to debut. For real..."

 "Me too," Seo Raeun added. "I'm not getting any younger. This will probably be my last shot."

 "Same here," Han Damin joined in. "I've dedicated my entire life to this path – I can't let it end like this."

 "So let's give everything we have to this competition," Damin concluded. "We're all desperate for this chance."

 I leaned back, staring at the ceiling as their words resonated deep within me.

Finally, I understood why the producers had chosen the "last chance" theme for members who were just beginning their journey.

They knew the truth – that for most of us, this program represented our final attempt at our dreams.

 'Actually, I'm no different,' I thought to myself.

 As the others continued encouraging each other, I closed my eyes. Yes, we had to give it our all. But first, sleep – before my mind could spiral into more complex territories. I forced myself to focus on the creeping drowsiness, letting it pull me under like a tide, escaping the weight of tomorrow's expectations.

 ***

 Morning arrived with a surge of nervous energy.

We rose early, methodically packing our belongings and tidying the dorms that had been our home for the past week.

The bus that would take us to the broadcasting station waited outside – our chariot to the first performance after an intense week of training.

 Through the bus window, I found myself studying the training camp building, its familiar silhouette now holding a week's worth of memories.

 'It was more fun than I expected,' I reflected, surprising myself with the thought. In fact, it had been ages since I'd experienced such a hopeful atmosphere in any dorm setting.

Despite the challenges, there had been an undeniable warmth to our time here – everyone's enthusiasm and dedication had made it feel almost like a school trip. The producers, mentors, and even the environment itself had shown us unexpected kindness.

 But experience had taught me better than to let my guard down. 'It's too early to feel at ease,' I reminded myself.

Sure, the filming atmosphere could be wonderful, but editing was where the real story would be crafted.

I remembered all too well how my previous group, Choux Cream had experienced the same warm treatment during filming, only to be shocked by how ruthlessly scenes were cut and arranged in post-production.

Until the first episode aired, I wouldn't let myself get too comfortable with our apparent good fortune.

 The bus's peaceful atmosphere shattered when the E team members boarded, slightly behind schedule.

 "Hello," they offered tentatively.

 "...Hello," came our equally awkward response.

 I couldn't help but marvel at how this was our first real encounter with E team. Whether by design or coincidence, we'd somehow managed to avoid crossing paths during our entire week in the same building.

Their arrival plunged the bus into a thick silence that seemed to underscore the competition ahead.

 The journey to Unet Broadcasting Station passed in that same silence, mercifully brief given the training camp's proximity to the station. Within fifteen minutes, we were disembarking and following the producers' lead toward the set.

 "Enter quietly," they cautioned us repeatedly. "Footsteps are fine, but no talking." The studio door opened with deliberate slowness, revealing the debut team already deep in rehearsal.

 Chapter 5. First Round Performance

 The sight that greeted us was nothing short of spectacular. Every element of the performance – from props to direction to musical arrangement – radiated a level of polish that might have put actual music shows to shame.

We stood transfixed at the entrance, unable to tear our eyes away from the stage.

 The rehearsing trainees commanded attention even in their casual practice clothes, emanating an unmistakable professional aura that spoke of serious training.

 "Wow, what is this..." whispered one of our members.

 "They're so good. What are we going to do..." another murmured anxiously.

 May Rookie – that was their name. They represented SU Entertainment, one of the nation's top agencies, and it showed.

'As expected, the big agency trainees are different,' I thought, observing their polished movements.

Whatever training they received at their company had clearly set them apart – they possessed that indefinable quality that screamed "future idol."

 The impact was especially strong on our members, who were seeing their competition for the first time.

Throughout our preparation period, we'd been kept completely in the dark about other groups' song choices and progress, making this sudden revelation all the more intimidating.

 Their concept, focused on powerful dance performances and intense energy, stood in stark contrast to our more innocent approach.

But I refused to let that shake my confidence. 'We don't need to worry,' I reminded myself. 'Because we're pretty good too!'

 After all, intensity wasn't everything in this industry.

When it came to individual capabilities, we could hold our own against anyone – that wasn't just pride talking, but an objective assessment based on what I'd seen in our status windows.

 The tension of the moment was suddenly broken by an enthusiastic shout:

 "Oh! Hello! Hey hey! Focus, those are the individual trainees over there!"

 We turned to find seven girls hurrying toward us, small cameras bobbing in their hands, their eyes sparkling with genuine excitement.

 "Wow! Nice to meet you! We really wanted to get to know you, but this is our first time talking!"

 As I tried to process this sudden shift in atmosphere, I felt Choi Song-yi grab my arm tightly, using me as a human shield. Seo Raeun and Min Hayoung quickly followed suit, clustering around me like nervous chicks.

 "Uh... why?" I asked, bemused.

 "Huh? No, no..." they mumbled, failing to explain their sudden bout of shyness.

 It took me a moment to understand – normally in situations like this, everyone would gravitate toward our leader, but Han Damin was occupied with the writer some distance away.

I'd become the default sanctuary simply because I seemed the least likely to be rattled by strangers.

 Suppressing my amusement, I put on a friendly smile and returned their greeting.

 "Hello. You're right – it was disappointing we couldn't talk before going straight into the dorms. May I ask your names..."

 They beat me to it with an enthusiastic introduction: "Hello! We are I Meet You, coming to meet you soon!"

 "Wow!" I couldn't help but react.

Who in the world came up with that group name? It was simultaneously endearing and cringe-worthy – the perfect embodiment of the idol industry's particular brand of charm.