And so, after what felt like an eternity, but was in reality only an hour of preparation...
The time had finally come.
The doors to the square colosseum studio swung open.
She had arrived.
She was the moment.
The icon.
The legend.
The walking OSHA violation of human resources.
Our unhinged queen herself.
Hyouka.
And within seconds, she had everyone's attention.
"ALRIGHT, BOYS! TAKE YOUR SEATS!"
She barked the order with the confidence of someone who paid everybody's tuition.
The trainees immediately scrambled to obey.
Some were confused.
Some were curious.
Some were far too nervous to question anything.
But everyone collectively agreed on one thing.
For reasons they couldn't quite explain...
You simply listened to this woman.
There was an aura around her.
The kind that made even the rowdiest trainees suddenly remember they had manners.
Once everyone had settled into their seats, Hyouka strode toward the center of the square stage.
Silence settled over the room.
A heavy one.
Until one trainee cautiously raised his hand.
Hyouka acknowledged him with a nod.
"Yes, Porsche?"
"...Uh, excuse me..."
Porsche scratched the back of his neck.
"But... who are you?"
A fair question.
One that everybody else had also been silently asking.
"Excellent question."
Hyouka nodded as though he'd just asked the meaning of life.
"I am Hyouka."
"Sir Foca's number one fan."
"And his one and only secretary."
She proudly placed a hand over her chest.
"Any further questions before we begin?"
Another hand slowly rose.
"Yes, Ludwig?"
"What are you doing here today... Miss Hyouka, ma'am?"
The poor guy sounded like he was asking permission to breathe.
"Another excellent question."
Hyouka looked positively delighted.
"Cat will be part of the evaluators today."
"So I'll be taking over her hosting duties."
She clasped both hands behind her back.
"It is my first time taking on such a prestigious responsibility."
"But make no mistake."
"If Sir Foca has entrusted me with this role..."
"I intend to give it one hundred and ten percent."
"I refuse to embarrass that magnificent man."
Her smile widened.
"So."
"Y'all better behave."
"Or else."
The room went quiet.
Porsche, feeling particularly brave...
Or particularly stupid.
Decided to test his luck.
"...Or else what?"
Several members of LEAVEN visibly flinched.
Hyouka slowly raised an eyebrow.
Not because she was angry.
No.
She was impressed.
Impressed that someone possessed the confidence to poke a sleeping bear with a pool noodle.
The LEAVEN members, however, already knew better.
You never picked a fight with Hyouka.
Because if she decided to end you...
She wouldn't make it quick.
"That guy done fucked up," Nikola muttered, barely suppressing a laugh.
"Wha? Why?" Mikko whispered.
Nikola simply jerked his chin toward Hyouka.
"Just watch."
"You've only met her once."
"You don't know her yet."
"Sir Foca's secretary isn't human."
"She's chaos wearing designer heels."
And thus...
The show began.
"Well, for starters, Mr. Khloe..."
The moment those words left Hyouka's mouth...
Porsche froze.
Every instinct in his body screamed danger.
"...Wait."
One trainee blinked.
"Did she just call Porsche... Khloe?"
"Why, yes."
Hyouka smiled sweetly.
"That is the name his parents legally gave him."
"Khloe."
"With a capital K."
The room collectively leaned forward.
"You see..."
"His parents were convinced they were having a baby girl."
"So they picked out the name before he was born."
"Paperwork included."
"Unfortunately..."
She paused dramatically.
"The ultrasound had the accuracy of a weather forecast."
"So when little Mr. Khloe finally made his grand entrance into the world..."
"The doctor looked down..."
"...noticed the unexpected bonus attachment..."
"...and suddenly everyone realized Khloe was, in fact, not a girl."
"It resulted in one spectacular lawsuit against the OB-GYN."
"Very messy."
She delivered the story with the calm professionalism of a university lecturer explaining tax law.
Around the room, the reactions varied wildly.
Some trainees looked horrified.
Some genuinely pitied Porsche.
Some looked like they were trying not to laugh.
Meanwhile...
The Kweens?
Baby.
They were dining.
"Oh, this tea is piping," Pink whispered.
Hyouka continued as though she hadn't just publicly aired the man's birth lore.
"Anyway."
"Mr. Porsche over there isn't just obsessed with Porsche."
"He's also deeply obsessed with The Notebook."
"And A Walk to Remember."
"He watches them every Christmas and New Year's respectively."
A beat.
"Religiously."
Another beat.
"How do I know?"
She smiled.
"Because he has a secret Z account entirely dedicated to reviewing chick flicks."
Porsche's soul quietly packed its bags and left his body.
Hyouka looked around the room.
"So."
"Would anyone else like to ask me any more questions?"
She slowly scanned the sea of terrified faces.
Silence.
Not a single hand.
Not even a twitch.
"Wonderful."
She nodded approvingly.
"Then let us proceed."
"I shall now explain today's auditions."
"So listen carefully."
"Because I will not be repeating myself."
As Hyouka continued speaking...
Porsche simply stared into the void.
Nobody particularly pitied him.
After all...
Karma had finally clocked into work.
The same guy who had spent weeks acting like an insufferable jackass was now getting publicly filleted with a smile.
His little friend group...
Or whatever they insisted on calling their "bros before hoes" fraternity...
Had suddenly gone pale.
If Hyouka knew all that about Porsche...
What exactly did she know about the rest of them?
Because if Porsche had just been sacrificed as a demonstration...
They might very well be next.
After all...
LEAVEN wasn't all sunshine, glitter, and inspirational speeches.
The show gathered talented people from every corner.
Unfortunately...
Talent and personality weren't part of the same application.
Some contestants were diamonds.
Others...
Were dumpster fires with exceptional stage presence.
You couldn't win them all.
****
And with everyone's attention firmly in the palm of her hand, Hyouka began explaining how the day would unfold.
"Alright."
"Today's evaluations will be split into two parts."
"Morning auditions..."
She held up one finger.
"...and afternoon auditions."
A second finger.
"Vocal evaluations first."
"Dance evaluations later."
She looked around the room.
"Did y'all get that?"
The response came instantly.
Loud.
Sharp.
Uniform.
Like they had somehow wandered into military boot camp instead of a survival show.
"YES, MA'AM!"
Hyouka nodded.
Then suddenly...
"Caelan."
The trainee practically shot upright.
"Y-Yes, ma'am!"
"What did I just say?"
The entire room froze.
A pop quiz.
Already.
Caelan looked like his soul had temporarily disconnected from his body.
"U-Um..."
He swallowed.
"Morning is for the vocal auditions."
"Afternoon is for the dance auditions!"
Silence.
Hyouka stared at him for what felt like an eternity.
Then...
"Very good."
She nodded.
"A plus."
Caelan immediately let out a breath so loud it sounded like he'd just survived a Category Five Hyouka.
The trainees around him quietly patted his shoulder in congratulations.
The poor man had lived.
"For the signal song," Hyouka continued, "all of you already know there are only a limited number of spots available."
She clapped twice.
Clap! Clap!
Like clockwork, members of the production staff walked in carrying folders, handing one to every trainee.
"Inside those folders, you'll find how the signal song has been divided."
She waited for everyone to flip them open.
"From there, the choice is yours."
"You can audition for only one section."
"Multiple sections."
"Or..."
She shrugged.
"You can sing the entire song and let the judges decide where you fit best."
She clasped her hands together.
"If I were in your position..."
"I'd think very carefully."
"If you're absolutely confident you can secure a specific part..."
She gave an approving nod.
"Then go for it."
"Clap clap."
"Sana all."
The room collectively blinked.
Several trainees looked at each other.
Confused.
Very confused.
Meanwhile...
The Filipinos immediately knew.
Monarch.
Zen.
Yen.
Jordan.
And Eli, who had long since been adopted into a Filipino family.
Eli smirked.
Jordan looked like he was fighting for his life trying not to laugh.
Zen wasn't doing much better.
Yen simply smiled, already accepting whatever chaos Hyouka was about to unleash.
Monarch...
Unfortunately, his flu picked the absolute worst time to remind him it existed.
He immediately broke into a coughing fit.
The other trainees turned toward them, desperately searching for context.
Before anyone could explain...
Hyouka beat them to it.
"If you're wondering what 'sana all' means..."
She suddenly sounded like a language professor.
"It's essentially the Filipino equivalent of saying..."
"'Must be nice.'"
"'Lucky you.'"
"'I wish that were me.'"
She proudly nodded.
"So the next time you're feeling just a tiny bit jealous..."
She pointed dramatically at the room.
"You say..."
"'Sana all.'"
She swept her arm across the trainees.
"Everybody."
"Together."
The room echoed back uncertainly.
"...Sana all."
Some sounded enthusiastic.
Some looked like they were being held hostage.
Some genuinely wanted to learn more.
Others had simply accepted that questioning Hyouka was no longer worth the emotional damage.
"Excellent."
Hyouka smiled proudly.
Then, just as quickly...
Her expression returned to business mode.
"Now."
"As I was saying."
"If you're confident you can secure a specific section..."
"Focus on that."
"But if you're unsure..."
"If you honestly don't know where your strengths lie..."
"Your safest option is to sing the entire song."
"At least then, the judges can decide where you belong."
She paused.
Then smiled.
A smile that should've come with a government-issued warning.
"As for the rap section..."
The room instinctively tensed.
"Now that's a battlefield."
She slowly held up three fingers.
"There are only three rap positions available."
"So..."
"What better way to audition..."
"...than by writing your own verses?"
The room exploded.
"Wait!"
"For real?!"
"We have to write our own rap?!"
"Right now?!"
"Why are we only hearing about this now?!"
Hyouka immediately raised both hands.
"Hey."
"Don't come at me."
"I don't make the rules."
She looked entirely unbothered by the collective panic attack she'd just caused.
"Anyway."
"You either write your own verse..."
"Or you don't."
She shrugged.
"Simple."
The room collectively disagreed.
"Oh, and don't panic."
She smiled.
"The rap evaluations won't begin until after the vocal auditions are over."
"So you'll have plenty of time."
She paused.
"...Probably."
That single word somehow made everyone feel significantly worse.
****
"So."
"Get to choosing."
Hyouka clapped her hands together once.
"In exactly ten minutes, the people evaluating you will be walking through that door."
She pointed toward the studio entrance.
"And y'all better be standing there prepared."
"Because if you go up there and give anything mid..."
She smiled.
"...pray they don't cook y'all to well done."
A collective gulp rippled through the room.
Everyone knew she wasn't joking.
The stakes had never been higher.
One mistake.
One bad audition.
And everything they'd worked so hard to build could come crashing down like a house of cards.
"Now."
"I've said my piece."
"So get to choosing..."
She glanced toward the trainees already panicking over the rap section.
"...or writing."
"Whichever applies."
With that, Hyouka turned on her heel and exited the studio.
The door hadn't even fully closed before the room exploded into chatter.
Some trainees finally remembered how to breathe.
Others immediately ran toward the production staff, desperately asking if anyone had spare pens and paper.
Panic.
Excitement.
Regret.
The usual survival show cocktail.
Meanwhile...
In one corner of the room...
Monarch was busy fighting an entirely different battle.
Cough.
Cough.
Cough.
Not the polite little cough people fake to clear their throats.
No.
The kind that sounded painful.
The kind that made your own chest hurt just listening to it.
Eli frowned.
"Dude..."
"You okay?"
Monarch slowly turned toward him.
His eyes were watery with exhaustion, and the mask covering the lower half of his face did little to hide how miserable he looked.
"No."
He answered without hesitation.
"I feel like shit."
As if on cue...
Another coughing fit overtook him.
Eli immediately reached over, rubbing slow circles against Monarch's back.
"Yeah..."
He sighed.
"You look like shit too."
"No shit, Sherlock."
Monarch muttered before taking a shaky breath.
It almost sounded like panting.
"Have you taken your medicine?"
"I have."
"It just doesn't do much."
"And I hate taking it."
"It makes me sleepy."
"I can't afford that today."
Eli stared at him like he'd just said the dumbest thing imaginable.
"Dude."
"Why are you even here?"
"You're already part of the debut lineup."
"Why are you putting yourself through this when you look like you're about to get knocked over by a strong breeze?"
Without warning, Eli placed a hand against Monarch's forehead.
His expression immediately changed.
"...Holy shit."
"You're burning up."
"Dude, you need to rest."
"I'm getting the medic."
He started to stand.
Only for Monarch to suddenly grab his wrist.
Hard.
Eli blinked.
For someone who looked one sneeze away from collapsing...
The bastard still had terrifying grip strength.
"Tell them..."
Monarch rasped.
"And I'll personally make sure Jordan catches this flu."
Eli's eyes widened.
"Don't you fucking dare."
"Try me."
They locked eyes.
A brief standoff.
Neither willing to blink first.
Until...
Cough.
Cough.
"Cough."
The coughing interrupted the staring contest.
"Fuck."
Eli's irritation vanished immediately.
He grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and shoved it into Monarch's hand.
"Here."
Monarch took a long drink.
"...Thanks."
His voice had become even raspier.
Then, like every Filipino household had collectively programmed into its children at birth...
He pulled a little white tube from his pocket.
Popped it under his nose.
And took one long inhale.
The legendary Vicks inhaler.
Somehow...
It always found a way.
"Can you at least tell me why you're putting yourself through this instead of resting?" Eli asked quietly.
Monarch stared at the floor for a moment.
"I know the internet."
A pause.
"But more importantly..."
"I know Filipino internet."
He let out a dry laugh.
"They'll say I've gotten complacent because I'm already in the debut lineup."
"They'll say it's gone to my head."
"They'll say I've become arrogant."
"They'll say I'm slacking because I think I've already made it."
He shook his head.
"I can't let that happen."
"My dream is only just beginning."
He looked down at his hands.
"So..."
"If this is the sacrifice I have to make to keep doing what I love..."
"So be it."
Eli wanted to argue.
He wanted to tell Monarch to stop caring about strangers on the internet.
To stop carrying expectations that weren't his.
But...
He also understood.
The internet could build you into a hero.
Then tear you apart before breakfast.
Especially if you gave people a reason.
No matter how small.
He sighed.
"...At least promise me you'll rest after today."
Monarch nodded.
"I promise."
Right then, Jordan walked over.
"Monarch."
"I got something for you."
He held out a cooling fever patch.
"This should help bring your fever down."
Even with the face mask hiding most of his expression...
The tiny smile in Monarch's eyes was impossible to miss.
"Thanks, JorJor."
He accepted the patch.
Then immediately handed it to Eli.
Eli raised an eyebrow.
"...Seriously?"
"What am I?"
"Your personal assistant?"
"Hurry up."
Monarch lightly smacked Eli's arm with the unopened patch.
Eli laughed.
"Fine."
"Your Majesty."
He peeled the backing off.
Carefully brushed Monarch's bangs away from his forehead.
Then...
Smack.
He stuck the cooling patch on with far more enthusiasm than necessary.
Monarch slowly looked up at him.
The glare he gave could've curdled milk.
Eli smiled innocently.
"There."
"Better?"
"...Gago."
Monarch muttered.
But there was laughter hiding underneath the insult.
Eli grinned.
"Awww."
"You love me."
Monarch rolled his eyes so hard they nearly left orbit.
As the room buzzed with frantic preparation...
The three of them remained in their little corner.
Eli kept the conversation going, making sure Monarch focused more on laughing than on how miserable he felt.
Jordan naturally slipped into the rhythm beside them.
The three of them bickered.
Teased.
Laughed.
Like they'd been brothers their entire lives.