The morning atmosphere was heavier than usual. Contestants were gathered in the main hall, sitting shoulder to shoulder, their eyes fixed on the stage where the box for the draw had been placed. It wasn't just a box—it looked like a vault of fate, the kind that could shape or shatter dreams in seconds.

Dayo sat with his head slightly bowed, palms pressed together under the table. He wasn't the type to pray much, but today he made an exception.

God of luck, ancestors, anybody listening… just don't let me pull someone like Min Jae. Anyone but him. Please.

He opened his eyes and exhaled slowly. His heart was racing in a way that even performances hadn't managed to trigger. The whole process was simple: walk up, stick your hand in, pull out a number. But that simple act could decide his opponent—and maybe his survival.

One by one, contestants were called. Numbers were drawn. Some cheered, others groaned, and the whispers never stopped. Dayo's turn finally came. His legs felt heavy as he stood, every step toward the stage stretching longer than it should.

He reached the box. Stared at it for a second. Took a breath, plunged his hand in, and pulled a folded card. His fingers shook a little as he opened it. Number 27.

He glanced up at the big screen where names and numbers were being paired. His eyes scanned quickly until he found it. Opponent: Seat 57.

His chest eased when he saw the name. Not Min Jae. Instead—it was the raffle draw winner.

Gasps and whispers rose immediately in the room.

"Wow, he got the raffle kid?"

"Lucky."

"Those ones never last past the first round."

Dayo ignored them and moved to his assigned seat. As he settled down, the person beside him turned. A tall, lean guy with boyish charm, dressed casually, but his wide eyes carried nerves that gave him away.

"You're Dayo, right?" he asked, voice soft but eager.

"Yeah. Guess that makes you my opponent."

The guy smiled nervously. "Yeah. Lucky me… or unlucky me. Please go easy on me."

Dayo smirked. "Nah. You don't want me to go easy. Besides, luck is a skill too. Don't sell yourself short."

The guy laughed, shaking his head. "Are you trying to hype me up or whine me?"

"Neither," Dayo said simply. "I'm just saying what's real."

The interaction earned a couple of curious glances from nearby contestants. Some chuckled at the exchange, others shook their heads like Dayo was wasting his energy encouraging someone who was already doomed. But Dayo didn't care. He'd been underestimated before—he knew what that felt like.

The draw continued until all sixty contestants had their numbers. The hall felt split in two: half excited, half crushed by the weight of their opponents. Rivalries were already brewing, friendships already showing cracks. The competition wasn't waiting for the stage—it had already begun.

---

That afternoon, the news about Dayo's matchup spread across the hotel like wildfire. Contestants muttered in corners, some with envy, some with disdain.

"Man, Dayo's lucky."

"Yeah, raffle guys never survive this round. Easy win."

"He's humble about it now, but watch him crush the poor guy."

Others painted him differently. "He's acting too calm. I feel his arrogance is going to bite him."

Dayo heard the whispers but let them pass off his shoulders. He wasn't interested in proving people wrong with words. He preferred the stage to do the work.

Still, he couldn't deny the weight of their expectations. That night, lying awake in his room thinking of what he would do for his perfoemance he wants something different. Something tgat would stand out A message.

No one is weak. Everyone has their own fight, their own strength, even if it doesn't look obvious.

The idea grew in him until it became clear—his song would be about that. About destiny, resilience, and the quiet strength hidden in people who were always overlooked. It wouldn't just be a song to beat an opponent; it would be a statement to everyone watching.

He quickly stood up and brought out his headset searching for songs that suited the message after long hours he found one he wrote out the lyrics and started restructuring it.

***

The next day, each contestant had a scheduled slot to meet with the production team. When Dayo's time came, he walked into the room calmly. The setup was simple—two cameras, a bright backdrop, and Producer Alisha seated with a tablet, her sharp eyes studying him as if she was reading past his skin.

"State your name for the record," she said.

"Dayo."

"Number?"

"Twenty-seven."

She nodded, tapping her screen. Then she leaned forward slightly. "And your opponent is number fifty-seven. The raffle draw contestant. Tell us what you think about him."

Her tone carried a subtle trap, like she was daring him to belittle the guy. Dayo noticed it instantly but didn't flinch.

"He's strong," Dayo said simply.

Alisha raised a brow. "Strong? Historically, no raffle contestant has ever made it past this round. Don't you think he's just lucky?"

Dayo smiled faintly. "Luck is also a skill. And history doesn't decide the future. Just because no one has passed before doesn't mean he can't. He earned his spot, same as the rest of us. Underestimating him would be stupid."

For a moment, the producer stared at him, the faintest hint of surprise flickering in her expression. She had expected arrogance, or at least dismissal, but instead he gave her a sharp, respectful answer.

"And your song choice?" she pressed.

"It's simple," Dayo replied. "I want to sing about strength. About how everyone carries their own destiny. People look at him and see weakness, but I see someone who's standing here the same as me. No one in this room is weak. We all have our battles."

Alisha tapped her tablet again, her expression neutral. But the cameraman glanced up, clearly impressed.

"Alright," she said finally. "That's all for now."

Dayo stood, thanked them, and walked out. His heart was steady. He knew his words would be broadcasted. People might call him naïve, or think he was bluffing. But that didn't matter.

What mattered was that when he stepped on that stage, his song would make them believe it.

Inside the room Alisha looked at her assistant

"What do you think?"

"Haha he is good"

Alisha nodded.

"This seasons has promising people. I hope he makes it till the end call the next person."

The stage lights were waiting.

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