The Wild Card

The sound of the studio doors closing behind Han Mirae felt like a final judgment. The echoes of her footsteps as she followed the staff down the corridor were muffled, drowned under the noise in her head. Every heartbeat throbbed in her ears, louder than the applause she hadn't earned. Her limbs felt heavy, her ankle pulsing with heat beneath the wrap. But none of that compared to the dull, growing weight in her chest.

Ranked last. Probation. Underperforming.

The words scrawled across the screen during the evaluation replayed mercilessly in her memory. She hadn't cried onstage. She hadn't allowed herself that collapse. But now, walking away from the lights and the cameras, the reality settled like a stone in her stomach.

Probation.

It wasn't just a warning. It was a branding. It was a mark that said: You don't belong.

Behind her, Team C was dismissed one by one. No cheers. No comfort. No words. She hadn't even been able to look at them properly when her name was called last. There had been too many eyes, too much shame. She didn't want to see the disappointment she feared the most—hers mirrored in their faces.

Especially Kang Jiwon's.

They'd barely started trusting each other. Now she was dragging the whole team down. What if—

The staff stopped before a different hallway, darker and narrower, leading to a quiet waiting room with a single table and a row of gray chairs. They gestured inside.

"You'll be evaluated separately in the next round," the coordinator said curtly, avoiding eye contact. "Wait here. The judges will discuss your case further."

Her case.

Like she was already halfway out the door.

Mirae sat stiffly, clutching her hands in her lap, fingers digging into her palms. The fluorescent light overhead buzzed softly. No windows. No clock. Just stillness and her own thoughts.

She wanted to scream.

---

Backstage, Team C's Waiting Room

"What the hell was that?" Sunwoo exploded the moment they were out of camera range. His fists were clenched, his jaw rigid.

Jiwon didn't answer. He stared at the floor, unmoving, lips pressed into a thin line.

Do-yoon sat down hard on the bench, running a hand through his hair. "She ranked last. Mirae."

"It doesn't make sense," Minchae said, voice shaking. "She wasn't that bad. Her vocals were shaky, but we all saw her try."

"She was injured," said Sumin quietly. "And she still danced."

Sunwoo scoffed, not at her, but at the situation. "So what? The judges don't care. They want results, not excuses. If she screws up again, we're next."

"That's harsh," Minchae said, but her voice faltered under the tension.

Sumin gave Sunwoo a pointed look. "What do you want us to do? Blame her? She's probably in hell right now."

"I'm not blaming her," Sunwoo snapped, then softened. "I'm saying we have to figure this out. Fast. Or we're all dead weight."

The silence that followed was thick and bitter.

Jiwon finally looked up. "She didn't deserve that ranking."

They all turned.

"She's not the best singer, fine. But she improved. You saw how much she practiced. How much she gave, even with that ankle." His voice cracked at the edge. "We didn't back her up enough. We let her go out there shaky and nervous and then left her alone."

"She wanted to go out there," Sunwoo argued, but the fire had left his voice. "She didn't ask for help."

"She shouldn't have had to."

The words stung.

Do-yoon leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "So what now? She's not even in the main group anymore."

"She's still Team C," Jiwon said firmly. "Until she's eliminated, we train with her. We help her. We fight to bring her back."

"Even if that risks our own scores?" Minchae asked, hesitantly.

"If we don't, then what kind of team are we?"

No one had an answer.

---

In the Isolation Room

Mirae had stopped counting the minutes. Her hands trembled in her lap. She wished she could cry, but it felt like the tears had dried up, evaporated by the heat of humiliation. Her phone had been taken. No mirror, no distractions. Just her thoughts.

And the replay of the judges' words.

> "You had potential in the audition, but this performance was a disappointment." "Are you even taking this seriously?" "You're skating by on determination alone."

Every comment pierced deeper because they weren't wrong.

She had wanted this so badly. She had pushed through the pain. But maybe wanting it wasn't enough.

The door creaked open.

A producer stepped in with a folder.

"Han Mirae."

She stood immediately, back straight.

The producer didn't smile. "You've been assigned to the Wild Card category. That means you'll be training separately, under stricter evaluation. You won't perform with Team C in the next round. If your performance doesn't show significant improvement, your journey here will end."

Mirae swallowed hard. "Understood."

"There will be no vocal support from your team. No choreography aid. You'll be paired with a different trainee from another disbanded group. Training begins tomorrow at five a.m."

"Do… Do I know who I'm paired with?"

The producer flipped a page and paused.

"Yoo Sera."

Mirae's blood turned to ice.

Yoo Sera?

The girl who had smiled when Team C failed? The one who mocked her audition? The one who wanted to see her fall?

"Dismissed," the producer said without looking up again.

---

Later That Night – Dormitory

When Mirae returned to the dorm, the air shifted. All conversations halted.

She kept her head down, limping slightly as she passed by the other trainees, the whispers burning into her skin more than any spotlight.

"She's the one on probation, right?"

"Last place."

"She should just quit."

Mirae clenched her fists.

In the hallway outside Team C's room, she paused. She couldn't open the door. Not yet.

She didn't want to see pity.

Didn't want to see fear that she might drag them down again.

But before she could turn away, the door opened.

Jiwon stood there, holding a water bottle and a bag of ice.

"I figured you'd come back late."

Mirae blinked, stunned.

"Ice your ankle," he said, voice even. "Don't skip dinner."

"I—" She bit her lip. "I thought… you'd be mad."

"I was," he said honestly. "At the system. Not at you."

She looked down.

"You're not alone," he added. "Even if they say you are."

Her throat tightened. "Thank you."

But Jiwon shook his head. "Thank yourself. You didn't quit out there. That's more than a lot of people would've done."

She nodded, and then he turned back into the room, leaving the door open behind him.

Mirae didn't enter.

She just stood there a moment longer, letting that open door be enough.

---

Next Morning – 4:57 a.m.

The training room was dark, cold, and empty except for the silhouette already stretching at the mirror.

Yoo Sera.

Dressed in sleek black, makeup-free, hair pulled back. She looked up as Mirae entered.

"Well, well. The charity case finally shows."

Mirae ignored the bait, quietly dropping her bag by the wall.

Sera clicked her tongue. "We're partners now, apparently. Though I'm not sure why I got dragged into this loser camp."

"You got placed here too," Mirae said calmly.

Sera smirked. "Yeah, because I was too threatening to the judges. Not because I bombed like you."

Mirae didn't flinch. "Then let's both prove them wrong."

For a second, Sera's expression faltered—just a flicker of surprise. But it was gone in an instant.

"Fine. But don't slow me down."

She turned to the mirror and started rehearsing sharp, aggressive moves. Mirae followed suit on the other side of the room, her body slower, more methodical.

Each motion sent a twinge through her ankle.

But she didn't stop.

Not when it hurt.

Not when Sera rolled her eyes.

Not when the trainer arrived and barked, "You two are here because you're the program's bottom barrel. You want to stay? Prove you're not."

The day blurred into a storm of drills, corrections, failed notes, and harsher remarks. But Mirae didn't give up. She didn't break.

Because this was survival.

And she still had something left to prove.

---

That Night – Team C Training Room

Jiwon checked his watch. Mirae hadn't come back yet.

"We should do something," he said suddenly.

Sunwoo looked up. "Like what?"

"Train her."

"Didn't the staff say she's supposed to work alone now?"

"She can't be on our team officially. Doesn't mean we stop caring." Jiwon stood up. "We're going to find a way."

Do-yoon nodded. "If anyone deserves a wild card comeback, it's her."

---

Two Days Later – Evaluation Hall

Mirae stood on the glossy floor of a smaller practice stage, breath shallow. Her ankle had swollen again, but she'd taped it up herself.

Beside her, Sera whispered, "You ready to lose again?"

But Mirae wasn't listening.

She stared ahead at the panel of judges. At the cold eyes that had once praised her and now looked at her like a mistake.

The music started.

She took her first step.

---

Backstage

Team C huddled around a tablet in their dorm, eyes glued to the live stream.

Minchae gasped. "She's… she's actually doing it."

Jiwon leaned forward, fists tight.

"She has to stick the final note," Sumin whispered.

Onscreen, Mirae hit the bridge. Her voice wavered—

—and then soared.

Jiwon exhaled.

But in the next moment, Mirae faltered, her foot slipping just slightly—just enough that the judges exchanged glances.

---

Evaluation Room

As the last note faded, Mirae stood trembling.

One judge leaned forward.

"Interesting. Your technique is inconsistent, but your expression was powerful."

Another said, "Still not enough to justify a return."

But the head judge raised a hand. "Or… maybe it is."

They conferred in whispers.

Then the head judge looked up.

"Han Mirae, your case will be reviewed… again. You are not eliminated yet. But your fate will depend on one thing."

Mirae's heart stopped.

"What?"

The judge smiled thinly.

"You will compete solo in the next evaluation."

The room tilted.

Solo?

Again?

And then came the final blow:

"Against Yoo Sera."

---