The apartment was empty. The neighbor next door was also gone—rumor had it they were working overtime. Although the body's original owner apparently had an older brother, it seemed they didn't live together.
The items Maehwa had purchased earlier were strewn carelessly across the floor. This kind of quiet atmosphere would be perfect for… well, sinful activities. The problem was, all those toys were only useful if there was someone else to use them on.
"Why didn't I buy a DVD while I was at it?" he grumbled. At least that would've been better entertainment than just staring at these props, now lying around like weird decorations.
He slumped onto the sofa. "Bored!"
His eyes landed on the calendar next to the fridge. Five more days, huh? Maehwa was fully aware that every contestant was likely grinding hard to polish their skills—especially those from big companies. With great styling and expertly produced songs, it wasn't surprising they got all the attention early on.
Meanwhile, independent trainees like Maehwa were often just screen fillers, barely shown on camera. Unless he had something to turn himself into a standout icon that viewers couldn't ignore.
He rummaged through the closet, pulling out outfit after outfit. His face scrunched in distaste.
"This kid really lived a dull life. Why are all these clothes so... dark?" he muttered, tossing a boring black shirt onto the bed.
Letting out a long sigh, Maehwa stared at the chaos he'd just made. "Forget the outfits. Let's pick a song."
The first thing he'd have to face was a self-evaluation performance, where contestants would sing in front of mentors and be placed into classes. Who knew what came after that, but the initial audition wasn't something to take lightly. That was the first impression stage, the one that could make or break a contestant before the show even began.
Choose the wrong song, and he'd instantly be labeled average—forgettable, irrelevant, just another face lost in the crowd.
"Even though I can sing, this kid's vocal tone is already pretty nice. I need to learn how to articulate better."
Ballads? Too technical. Upbeat songs? The dancing was too much of a risk. Popular hits? They'd definitely get compared to the original artist. Maehwa needed a song that overcame technical gaps and showed off his vocal color clearly.
"This is harder than I thought."
Wait a second, why was he taking this so seriously? He needed to remember, he was a Sin, not some dream-chasing human. Being an idol was merely a means to harvest points, not to prove anything to anyone. He shouldn't get too invested.
So with that in mind, Maehwa stopped thinking and went to sleep. There's always tomorrow.
***
Time was the cruelest thing in existence. One blink later, and five days had passed.
Maehwa had to pull an all-nighter just to settle on a song for his self-evaluation, after being possessed by Procrastinate, the Sin of Delay. Even the Seven Deadly Sins weren't immune to the temptation of other sins.
The first day of filming had arrived.
Maehwa stepped off the bus with a heavy sigh. He wore a black shirt under a yellow fleece sweater with rolled-up sleeves. Loose black pants and white sneakers completed his look. Simple, yes, but at least he looked tidy for a first impression, right?
But then he looked forward… and was immediately slapped by social hierarchy. Some trainees were stepping out of sleek black vans, decked out in expensive branded clothes and drop-dead gorgeous faces. If Envy were here, he'd be dying of jealousy.
All the contestants piled into their assigned waiting rooms, sitting quietly or practicing in groups to kill time.
The first ones on the Star Peak stage were obviously those from the big agencies. Solo trainees like Maehwa were going to be called dead last. Might as well keep reading the novel he started last night. The body's owner had a whole collection of light novels.
A small TV in the corner flicked on.
Maehwa's eyes widened, abandoning his book. The stage on the screen looked like something out of another world. The transparent glass floor lit up under each contestant's step, producing dynamic wave-like visuals. Seventy seats were arranged in a pyramid formation.
A massive LED screen wrapped around the room, flashing high-end animation that shifted every time a contestant walked in. Agency names, highlights, and every other flashy detail lit up in sparkly fonts, enhancing the competitive vibe. Automated cameras moved around the stage like dancers, capturing every expression—ambition, nerves, confidence, all mixed together.
Maehwa kept watching. The contestants were scrambling to grab top and center seats. Obviously, those got the most attention.
One by one, trainees from different agencies were called to take their spots in the pyramid. They exchanged greetings, waved at the camera, and threw out cringey cute antics. Maehwa rolled his eyes.
Desperate much? Lacking affection, are we?
After what felt like an eternity of unfamiliar names being called, the words "Independent Trainees" finally flashed on the big screen. A staff member opened the double doors and motioned them forward. Finally! Maehwa had almost fallen asleep waiting for the room to clear out.
Back on the main stage, the other trainees clapped as the solo contestants entered. Polite applause all around.
"Welcome, our independent brothers! They're good-looking too!"
There were five independent trainees in total, Maehwa included. While the other four responded to the crowd with shy smiles and small waves, Maehwa scanned the seating arrangement, looking for a free spot.
"Wait, are you seeing this?"
"Whoa, that guy's hair is… pink!"
He could feel all eyes on him—some shocked, some curious—staring at his brightly colored hair. Most trainees had black or brown hair, so of course they'd be surprised someone went this bold.
What's the big deal? Never seen pink before?
He casually walked toward a seat on the far edge. Number 70. How ironic. Maybe it was just his instinct as the youngest of the Seven Deadly Sins that led him to pick the very last seat.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Maehwa quickened his pace so no one would beat him to it. But someone moved seats faster than he did. Song Kyorim, according to the banner in front of him. The guy smiled politely.
"Hey, did you want to sit here?"