From Thug to Idol: Transmigrating to a Survival Show

“I’m looking forward to this performance,” Woo-jin said as June’s team stood at the center.The other trainees anticipated their performance too.

“Did you hear? They finished the choreography early yesterday.”

“Well, what else would you expect? They have the highest-ranking trainees.”

“This better be a good stage.”

Pressuring comments came from left and right, and the original artists also raised their eyebrows in surprise when they saw their ranks.

Gun and June made eye contact, and June was surprised when Gun avoided his eyes. Ever since the ‘shit’ incident, it seemed like Gun had been deliberately ignoring him.

“Introduce your team,” Gun said, still not looking June in the eyes. 

“Good morning, judges,” Zeth started off. “We are Team Aces.”

Woo-jin raised his eyebrows. “Aces, huh? You just made us expect even more, Zeth. I hope your team lives up to your name.”

“You may start,” Minho said. 

As soon as the music played, the trainees exclaimed in nostalgia. ‘I Love You, Leave; I Don’t Love You, Don’t Leave’ is such an iconic song. It could be recognized by the first piano notes. 

Everyone watched intently as Leo started a flowy and contemporary dance intro.

“Woah, Zeth’s not the center?”

“How could you even pick a center among these people? Only June is not deserving.”

June clicked his tongue as he executed his moves.

These little rats are still underestimating him.

Yuri stepped forward, his voice gentle yet commanding as he opened the song. 

“I looked once again up at the blue skies, 

A memory, long-lost, held within my eyes.”

His vocals filled the room, capturing the audience’s attention instantly. It was a well-known fact that Yuri was a good singer, one of the best among the trainees. 

He had the same grade as Ren and June under A-, but June was able to upgrade his vocals due to the bonus round, so he now ranks the highest in terms of vocals among the trainees. 

Lin Zhi followed, his husky voice contrasting with Yuri’s. 

“I held you back, kept feelings at bay,

Now we’re adrift, worlds away.” 

Then, he chimes in during the chorus, his voice blending with Yuri’s. Surprisingly, their voices matched each other pretty well; however, there was a slight dissonance when they sang the high notes. 

Jihyun pursed her lips together as she listened to their voices. 

There’s something…iffy about their performance. 

With a bit of a fumble, Zeth and Jisung emerged as centers during the chorus, their unsynchronized dancing somewhat uncomfortable to watch. Their styles were too different, and it was highlighted during their pair dance. 

June sang the first part of the second verse, already feeling tired after the countless jumping and ballet-inspired movements during the chorus.  There was no doubt that the choreography was tiring, and by the second verse, their vocals started getting shakier. 

At first glance, it seemed like a flawless performance. However, as the bridge approached and as Lin Zhi sang the high notes, a subtle unease settled over the room. 

While their performance was technically impressive, there was a lack of genuine connection to the emotions behind the ballad. Despite their powerful movements, the mentor’s expressions remained somewhat unimpressed. 

As Lin Zhi sang the last notes, Leo took the center and did a back tumble, making the trainees exclaim in shock. After their performance, the trainees applauded. Although, it quickly faded when they noticed the somber expressions on the mentors’ faces. 

“I thought it was good, but why do the mentors look so disappointed?”

“Yeah, it was good. But it isn’t anything special. It’s like they just wanted to show off their skills.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it…” 

“Yeah, yeah, It was disappointing.”

Team Aces, once the object of high expectations, now found themselves at the center of doubt and uncertainty.

Gun was the first one to speak. He sighed into the microphone, making the atmosphere even heavier.

While practicing, June couldn’t pinpoint what their team lacked. 

They were definitely good…but something was missing. 

And now, June finally knew what the problem truly was. 

They weren’t a team. 

They were mere individuals who performed their respective parts without regarding its emotional aspect.

“Let me critique the dance,” Gun said. “The choreography…isn’t bad. There are some good elements, but how do I say this? It’s somewhat repetitive?”

Team Aces nodded. 

“And at some parts, it felt like the moves were forced. They didn’t flow seamlessly, and there was too much going on during the chorus. Instead of feeling impressed, I only felt distracted.”

“I had high expectations for this group,” Woo-jin continued. “But it seemed I should have turned it down a notch. Your singing was dissonant. Have you ever tried practicing it as a group before?”

Zeth pursed his lips. 

“No, sir,” he quietly said. 

Woo-jin chuckled in disbelief. “I rest my case. So, you all just want to be dancers, huh? I get it. You don’t want to focus on singing that much.”

June felt a bit annoyed. This dude was putting words into their mouths! However, he didn’t dare say anything since he knew the power of evil editing. 

“But they didn’t do a great job at the dance,” Hyerin said, chuckling bitterly. “If you jump around and show off your high ranges, do you think it’s going to make you win? Or maybe your team is just complacent since most of you already have high ranks?” 

“Anyway,” she continued. “I suggest looking into the dance. It’s somewhat confusing, and it doesn’t resonate well with the lyrics.”

“Yes, mentor,” the team muttered. 

The other trainees looked at the highest-ranked team bowing their heads in regret. Some of them felt a blast of satisfaction. It was nice seeing the top guys getting rained on with criticism. 

However, just as June thought things couldn’t get any worse…it did. 

Hwan took the mic, making the room dead silent. 

He cleared his throat and looked at the trainees, his dark sunglasses concealing what he truly felt. 

This was the very first time he had spoken all throughout the interim evaluations, so his potential commentary made even the mentors anxious. 

“Do you really think your performance was worthy of my song?” Hwan asked, his voice cutting through the atmosphere like a sharp knife.

“Well, you’ve ruined it, tainted it with half-hearted effort and empty execution.” 

His words hung heavy in the air, a bitter truth that the trainees couldn’t escape. Hwan’s eyes locked onto each of them, his gaze unyielding. “You had a chance to showcase my song to the world, and you’ve squandered it. Those rankings you received? You don’t deserve them.”

  “You think this is enough? Do you think you can skate by with mediocrity? If you believe that, then you don’t understand the weight of the responsibility you’ve been given. My song deserves more than what you’ve given it.”

A heavy silence settled over the room as Hwan’s words sank in. This was the harshest evaluation someone had gotten from the entire evaluation. Even the trainees who weren’t part of Team Aces felt the sting of his criticism.

  “I expect nothing less than the best.”

“So, I suggest you start all over again.”