Chapter 23: The First Ranking Announcement

The ranking announcement came much sooner than expected. And understandably so.

[Only contestants who placed in the top 30 may take a seat on the stage. All other contestants, please remain seated where you are.]

The format of the announcement ceremony was… incredibly unforgiving.

[We will begin by announcing ranks 51 through 100.]

One by one, the names of contestants from 51st to 100th appeared on the giant screen.

“Ah…”

Some contestants who spotted their names swallowed bitter disappointment. Regardless of how bitter it tasted to them, the cold, mechanical announcement continued without pause.

[Next, ranks 31 through 50.]

The list of names appeared on the screen, now twice as long to match the number of contestants being shown.

“Ahhh—! So close! I could’ve made it on stage!”

A contestant who appeared to be in 31st place gave an exaggerated reaction. At first, he seemed a little too optimistic… but still, that’s the right way to play it. Other contestants, who missed the chance to show any reaction, scrunched their faces in regret. But if all you show is the same disappointed expression as everyone else… how are you going to get any screentime?

‘Hmm?’

Just then, I spotted Hyunjae making the exact same disappointed face as the rest.

‘No way…?’

I quickly scanned the scoreboard.

[Lee Hyunjae, 49th place]

Ah— Not a good sign. He’d almost missed even the front row of the floor seating below the stage. They’d said the rankings were based on the judges’ evaluations from the preliminaries, but…

‘I really don’t get their criteria.’

Everyone sees things differently, after all. No matter how much I worry about it now, it’s not something I can solve on my own.

[Next up: ranks 11 through 30.]

Another group of 20? Aside from slightly fancier screen effects, the announcement proceeded in pretty much the same way.

“His name still hasn’t come up yet…”

I’d been subconsciously worrying because Woojin’s name hadn’t been called, so I quickly searched the screen with my eyes.

“Uh… Whoa!”

But before I could even finish scanning the list, Woojin’s excited shout echoed across the studio.

[Choi Woojin, 11th Place]

This was a bit… no, way higher than I’d expected. At first glance, it might’ve seemed like a positive turn of events—unlike the mood earlier—but… this wasn’t good at all.

‘How many points did you give him just for his face, Choi Hansol?’

Was he insane? Even if I were biased, this ranking was far too generous for the current Woojin.
Without thinking, I shot a glare at Choi Hansol. He was staring up at the screen with his usual half-lidded gaze. When our eyes met, he smirked knowingly.

Oh, really?

Whether he knew how frustrated I felt or not, Woojin kept going, “Wow…! Whoa…!” over and over in amazement.

‘No, Woojin. Please… stop…!’

Just look around you a little…! Sure enough—

[Contestants ranked 11th through 30th, please come up to the stage and take your seats according to your rank.]

The looks the other contestants gave Woojin as he timidly made his way toward the stage were… not kind. Especially the ones who had seen his preliminary performance back in the Seoul region.

‘Seriously? That’s the guy Choi Hansol passed without even properly watching his stage.’

There was no way they’d be pleased. Sure, Woojin had pulled it together a bit later and managed to sing and perform decently when the roulette system was in play, but still…

‘There’s no way he deserves 11th place.’

Even among the contestants following him up on stage now, a few had clearly shown better performances during the prelims.

‘This isn’t good…’

But before I could dwell on it further, the announcement resumed.

[Next, ranks 6 through 10.]

The contestants from 6th to 10th walked up to the stage and took their seats.

[Next, 5th place.]

Now, the ones truly worth paying attention to started appearing.

[Heo Jungyeon, 5th place]

[Park Jun, 4th place]

[Yang Seou, 3rd place]

At this point, only two seats remained on stage.

And naturally, the number of contestants yet to be called should’ve been exactly two…

“Huh?”

At this point, I started to feel a strange sense of déjà vu. Wait a minute. The number of people who haven’t been called yet…

‘There are three…?’

Because the lower-ranked contestants had all just sat down quietly offstage, I hadn’t noticed. Aside from me, two other contestants hadn’t been called yet, and they were looking around anxiously.

[Next, in 2nd place.]

[Jeon Byeongun, 2nd place.]

“Phew…”

The named contestant let out a relieved sigh as he walked up onto the stage. Naturally, my eyes met with the only other person left standing.

‘Seo Chanul…’

How could this be…? There was only one seat left on stage, but two people remained. Had PD Jang Yeonju made a mistake? Should I raise my hand and say something right now…?

[And next—]

Before my quickly racing thoughts could amount to anything, the announcement continued without pause.

[1st place.]

[Seo Chanul, 1st place.]

Seo Chanul looked startled for a moment, then broke into a delighted expression— But he didn’t head up to the stage immediately. Instead, his gaze turned to me.

‘Not on the ranking…?’

Even as Seo Chanul and the other contestants turned their eyes toward me, I didn’t have the mental space to process their attention.

Had I somehow missed my name when they announced ranks 51 through 100?

Yeah. That seemed like the most plausible explanation.

‘But… me?’

No matter how I thought about it, me, ranked below 51?

“Alright! That concludes the ranking announcements!”

Choi Hansol stepped forward again, mic in hand, addressing the entire stage.

Wait, that’s it?

“…Is what I want to say, but—there’s still one person left.”

Huh?

“I’ll be announcing the final name myself.”

Uh…?

“The very last contestant! The one who ranked above first place!”

As Choi Hansol pointed directly—presumably at me, sitting there with a dumbfounded look on my face—

“Contestant Kim Haram!!”

Just as Seo Chanul was about to take the 1st place seat, with a flourish—ta-da!—another chair appeared beside it.

A dazzling, oversized seat in a brilliant blue, shaped like a peacock’s outspread wings.

The kind of luxury throne that screamed: extra.

For a brief moment, I exhaled in relief. But almost immediately, a strange, complex feeling welled up from deep inside.

Why… why on earth…

‘Why are you taking this ridiculous concept so seriously!!!’

I told them to do whatever they wanted, and now look at this mess.

I hadn’t even realized how tense I’d been, but now that it was over, I felt so unjustly wronged that my fist clenched on its own.

What’s next? The platform’s already too tall—are they going to install a whole escalator for me?

“As a matter of fact, all platforms for ranks 5 and up are now equipped with small lifts for easier access. Please feel free to use them in the future.”

…Are you serious?

Looking closer, sure enough—on the side of the stage, there was a lift like the ones used at concerts to raise and lower stage sections.

…Okay. That’s it. I’m officially done imagining anything. I’m scared they’ll actually do it.

“In addition, since Contestant Kim Haram’s seat doesn’t yet have an official title, I’ll be naming it arbitrarily… ‘The Peacock Seat.’”

“…Excuse me?”

The Peacock Seat, on top of 1st place?

What kind of nonsense wordplay was that?

Choi Hansol met my burning gaze with complete calm and even gestured graciously toward the stage.

“Please take your seat, Your Grace the Peacock.”

Oh, I am not doing this.

*****

“Wow, I thought something had gone wrong for a second there.”

“…Huh?”

As I made my way toward the so-called ‘Peacock Seat’—no, the 0th place seat—Seo Chanul came up to speak to me.

Ugh. My heart was still pounding, and I couldn’t fully stop it from reacting…

[Your unique trait “Even Otakus Hit the Jackpot” trembles violently once again!]

Every time this guy talks to me, some weird alert pops up.

“Why would you say that?”

“Well, I mean—come on. There’s no way your ranking would be lower than mine, and then suddenly I’m announced as first place?”

“No… it’s not that big of a deal.”

To be honest, I had expected to land in the upper ranks. That’s probably why I was so surprised.

If nothing else, the performance itself hadn’t gone poorly. Still, to be straight-up 1st place… as expected of my bias, I guess…

“Next time, I’ll be the one ranked higher than you.”

Just as I was about to teeter off the edge into fangirl-mode, Seo Chanul suddenly flared up with competitive spirit.

‘There it is.’

It was a side of him I knew very well—Always bright, always brimming with charm, and always fiercely ambitious, reaching for the top.

You were always bright, full of talent and charm, and constantly burning with the desire to climb higher.

‘This is why I liked you.’

Talent and effort. You had both, and I really liked that about you.

Thanks to Seo Chanul’s unwavering attitude, the stress I’d been feeling just moments ago seemed to ease a little.

“Would you like to go now?”

“…Sorry?”

“Duke… no, top priority. I could give it to you right now.”

Seo Chanul glanced over at my chair, which was at least twice as extravagant as his own.

“Uhh… maybe not right now.”

“…Okay.”

What’s with that blunt rejection? Ouch, that kinda hurt.

As soon as Seo Chanul declined the seat, Choi Hansol’s voice rang out from the speakers.

“All participants have now been assigned their ranks. I wonder if everyone is satisfied with their placements.”

Choi Hansol looked around at the participants on and off stage as he continued speaking.

“Then let’s move straight on to the next stage!”

Dudong—!

With a dramatic sound effect, new text appeared on the screen.

[Position Selection & Grade Evaluation]

What the hell? They’re making us do something else right away?

“Ooh…”

“Ma…”

When the participants didn’t react much—

“…Cheer.”

“WAAAAAAAH—!!”

“This is insane. I’m so excited!”

“I’m definitely getting an A grade~!”

Choi Hansol’s forced enthusiasm was met with equally forced reactions from the contestants.

‘Man… they really are trying hard.’

Choi Hansol continued the event with a satisfied look on his face.

“Some of you seem to have a good sense already! This grading is separate from your ranking and will range from Grade A to Grade F!”

The rest was the usual spiel: each grade had a fixed number of spots, and those wouldn’t change even after filming ended, so be careful.

“Now then, let’s reveal the list of available positions!”

Screens mounted around the ceiling lit up with the lineup:

Vocal…
Rap…
Dance…

‘Isn’t this a little too stereotypical?’

Just as I thought that—

“Oh?”

There it was. Something that stood out.

Above the standard three positions, glowing in a distinctive shade of violet—

[AIl]

All…?

Could it be what I’m thinking?

“Would anyone like an explanation of the somewhat unfamiliar AIl position?”

“Yes!!”

By now, the participants had been trained enough to eagerly respond to Choi Hansol’s cue.

“But I’ll skip the detailed explanation.”

“…?!”

Don’t tell me you’re just following the script. We gave you a reaction and everything, and now you want to act all mysterious?

“It is exactly what you think it is. Rap, vocal, dance. And above that is AIl. So, what does that mean?”

A murmur rippled through the participants.

“If you’re confident in rap, vocals, and dance — then step into the AIl position.”

Choi Hansol spoke again, this time in a weighty, meaningful tone.

Alright. I’ve made up my mind!

‘I must never choose the All position.’

It was an obvious decision. It’s hard enough to be good at just one thing—how could anyone handle all three…?

“You’re probably thinking something like, ‘How could anyone handle all three?’ right?”

Flinch. This is why I hate perceptive adults.

Even if you get a little more attention in the beginning, as the show goes on, the gap between you and the participants who focused on one skill will inevitably widen. Considering the nature of short-term survival programs, and how much the contestants improve in a short time…

‘No matter how I think about it, there’s no reason to do it.’

While I was strengthening my resolve, Choi Hansol opened his mouth again.

“For those of you who are still hesitating, the production team has already pre-assigned someone to the All position. You know what they say—getting started is the hardest part.”

Oh dear… who’s the poor soul? Whoever it is must’ve really gotten on PD Jang Yeonju’s bad side.

“We understand that many of you are quietly displeased with Kim Haram’s title.”

Huh? Why me all of a sudden?

All I did was sit still and get handed a—title? No, a ranking. That’s all I did.

“We understand. Originally, there were supposed to be 100 contestants in the finals, but thanks to this, there are now 101.”

“……????”

A string of question marks floated above my head in confusion.

Most of the contestants seated below me started glancing up toward where I sat.

“So!!”

Suddenly, grand music began playing as the All Position icon and my name appeared side by side on the screen.

“Contestant Kim Haram has been forcibly designated as the first All Position contestant!”

The All Position emblem completely engulfed my name tag.

Then the four position symbols were displayed on the screen in a row, and my name was listed right next to the All Position icon.

“…Ha.”

Now this was just absurd.

The ranking, the position—everything.

“…Fine.”

At this point—

“Bring it on.”