The weight goal of 50kg had been reached, and Jiwon could finally stop worrying about the grueling regimen that had consumed his every waking moment. For a brief period, he had allowed himself to relax slightly, though the IDOL system never truly let him rest. With his physical transformation complete, the focus had shifted entirely to his vocal progress—the next challenge in his relentless journey toward debut.
Now, his primary goal was to elevate his vocal skill from Level C to Level B. While the other trainees followed the company's standard vocal training routines, Jiwon had something far more demanding, something the others couldn't see or even begin to understand.
"Today's Task: Vocal Training Session—Full Control. Progress to Level B."
The system's cold, mechanical voice greeted him as he entered the company's recording studio. The trainees had gathered for vocal practice, and though they shared the same space, Jiwon knew his battle was different. For them, it was about hitting notes and refining technique under the instructors' watchful eyes. For him, it was an internal war, one where the system pushed him to the edge of what was humanly possible.
As they lined up for warm-ups, the tension from the other trainees had not diminished. Jiwon felt the familiar weight of their glares, and though they no longer made snide remarks, their resentment was ever-present. The whispers had shifted from disbelief to grudging acceptance. He had earned his place through sheer transformation, but now they were waiting for him to fail, especially in the realm of vocals, where his weaknesses had once been apparent.
The instructor, Ms. Kang, was one of the toughest in the company, known for her no-nonsense approach. She walked into the studio, her sharp eyes scanning the room. When her gaze landed on Jiwon, there was a flicker of interest, but she quickly turned her attention to the group as a whole.
"Today, we'll be working on control and delivery," she announced. "I want to hear the emotion in your voices. You're not just hitting notes—you're telling a story."
Jiwon tried to focus on her words, but the system's prompt kept replaying in his mind.
"Level B required. Failure to progress will lead to penalties."
The pressure was suffocating. The system had forced his physical transformation, and now it was pushing him toward vocal perfection. But his progress hadn't been smooth. Level C had taken weeks of constant effort, and now, with the system's demands increasing, the leap to Level B felt insurmountable.
The trainees were called up one by one to perform short vocal pieces. Jiwon's turn came soon enough, and he stepped forward, feeling the familiar tightness in his throat. Ms. Kang watched him closely, her expression unreadable. The other trainees waited in silence, their curiosity thinly veiled behind their indifference.
He started to sing, and for a moment, everything felt like it was falling into place. His voice was clear, controlled, and—most importantly—it had improved significantly since his early days of training. But as the notes climbed higher, the system's pressure intensified.
"Improve tone. Stabilize pitch."
The constant barrage of corrections threw him off balance. He could feel the weight of the system's expectations pressing down on him, its cold logic contrasting sharply with the emotion Ms. Kang had asked for. His voice wavered for a split second, and that was all it took.
Ms. Kang raised a hand, stopping him. "Jiwon, you've come a long way. But there's something missing. You're too focused on technique. Where's the emotion?"
Jiwon felt his chest tighten. Emotion? The system didn't care about emotion—it only wanted results. But Ms. Kang's words weren't something he could ignore. In this room, under her guidance, raw emotion was just as important as technical ability.
He nodded, retreating to the back of the room, his mind racing. The system was pushing him toward technical perfection, but Ms. Kang demanded something more human. The two goals seemed at odds, and Jiwon felt trapped in the middle.
That night, after practice, Jiwon returned to his dorm room, exhausted both mentally and physically. Hwan was already asleep, oblivious to the turmoil Jiwon was dealing with. As he lay in bed, the system's voice continued to echo in his head.
"Vocal progress insufficient. Immediate correction required. Proceed with additional training session."
He groaned, sitting up in bed. He knew he had no choice. Ignoring the system's commands wasn't an option—he had learned that the hard way. Quietly, so as not to wake Hwan, Jiwon slipped out of the room and made his way to one of the company's small, private practice rooms.
The dimly lit room felt suffocating as he stood in front of the microphone. The system's tasks flooded his mind, each one more demanding than the last. He sang through the exercises, pushing his voice to its limits. Every time he hit a high note, the system demanded more. His throat felt raw, but the system didn't care about that. It only cared about reaching Level B.
Hours passed, and by the time the system finally declared the session complete, Jiwon could barely speak. He collapsed onto the floor, his body trembling from the strain. But the system had no sympathy.
"Progress logged. Level C approaching full completion. Continue tomorrow."
He stared up at the ceiling, his vision blurry with exhaustion. How much longer could he keep this up? The system was relentless, and there was no one he could talk to about it—not Ms. Kang, not the other trainees, and certainly not his parents.
But as he lay there, a small flicker of hope remained. If he could just reach Level B, if he could just master this one last step, then he would be unstoppable. The path to debut in Atelier was within reach. He couldn't afford to give up now.
With that thought, he forced himself up, heading back to his dorm. Tomorrow would be another day of relentless training, but Jiwon knew that if he wanted to make it, he had to endure. The system had brought him this far, and it wasn't going to stop until he had achieved everything it had promised.