It cut through the practice room during warm-ups clean, powerful, and unafraid. The sound carried confidence, the kind that didn’t hesitate or second-guess itself.

Kai looked up instinctively.

The trainee stood near the center of the room, posture perfect, voice unwavering. He was new, taller than Kai, broad-shouldered, with sharp features and eyes that seemed to measure everything they saw.

“Who’s that?” Ren muttered under his breath.

Min glanced over. “Transfer trainee. Joined during the break. Name’s Jae-Hyun.”

Jae-Hyun finished his phrase and lowered the mic with a small, satisfied smile. A few staff members nodded approvingly.

Kai felt something twist in his chest not jealousy.

Pressure.

Ms. Hoshino clapped once. “Good. Clear tone. Strong projection.”

Jae-Hyun bowed slightly. As he straightened, his eyes landed on Kai.

They lingered.

Not curious.

Assessing.

During break, Kai remained seated, reviewing his notes. He was halfway through a breathing diagram when a shadow fell across the page.

“You’re Echo.”

Kai looked up.

Jae-Hyun stood there, arms crossed loosely, expression unreadable.

“Yes,” Kai said calmly.

“I thought you’d be… louder,” Jae-Hyun said.

Ren stiffened beside Kai. “Hey—”

“It’s fine,” Kai interrupted quietly.

Jae-Hyun tilted his head. “You’re not singing.”

“I’m recovering.”

A pause.

Then Jae-Hyun smiled not cruelly, but without warmth. “So you’re taking up space you can’t use.”

The words landed hard.

Kai felt the familiar urge to shrink, to justify himself. Instead, he inhaled slowly, grounding himself.

“I’m learning how to use it properly,” he replied.

Jae-Hyun studied him for a long moment. “We’ll see.”

He walked away without another word.

Ren swore under his breath. “What’s his problem?”

Kai stared at the page in front of him, though the lines blurred. “He’s not wrong to question it.”

Ren turned sharply. “Yes, he is. You earned your spot.”

“Did I?” Kai asked quietly. “Or did Echo earn it?”

That afternoon, rankings were posted.

Jae-Hyun ranked high.

Kai wasn’t ranked at all.

The omission felt heavier than any low number.

Ms. Hoshino addressed it immediately. “Kai Mizuno is temporarily unranked due to medical recovery. This is not a punishment.”

But the damage was done.

Whispers followed Kai through the halls.

If he can’t sing, why is he here?

Echo was better.

Maybe he’s past his peak.

That night, Kai returned to the balcony.

He focused on his breathing exercises, slow and careful. His throat felt stable no pain, no strain.

He allowed himself a tiny sound.

Barely audible.

A hum.

It lasted less than a second.

But it existed.

Inside the practice room, Jae-Hyun watched from the doorway, arms crossed, expression thoughtful.

For the first time, doubt flickered not in Kai.

But in his rival.

To be continued…