From Thug to Idol: Transmigrating to a Survival Show Chapter 1042: Everything Comes With A Prize

"We are going to crush it again," Zeth remarked, collapsing onto the floor while shaking his head. He gave his brow a quick wipe, shivering slightly. "Ugh, this sensation is repulsive. I am feeling unusually feverish."

Ren glanced at him, arching a brow in amusement. "You are perspiring," he observed.

Zeth felt a jolt, as if the world had suddenly inverted. "What?" he questioned, a strained laugh escaping him.

Ren erupted into chuckles, while nearby, Jisung wiped his own forehead with an innocent expression.

"Whoa, you really are sweating," Jisung noted. "I find it hard to believe! Is this actually the first time?" Zeth’s face went pale while the others retreated into their own chatter. "Hey, everyone!" he cried, scrambling to his feet. "How should I handle this? What happens now?"

Akira looked over with a grin. "Nothing happens," he replied calmly. "You are sweating. It is perfectly normal. You are essentially just like the rest of us now."

Zeth slumped back down to his knees with a heavy thud. Clenching his fists, he stared up at the ceiling. "This was the exact scenario I was dreading," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Alright, guys," Jaeyong said, clapping his hands together. "I think that is enough for tonight. We will have our final run-through tomorrow before heading out to our schedules the day after."

The other members murmured their agreement. Zeth remained in a state of inner confusion, but Ren hauled him up and guided him out of the practice hall.

Meanwhile, as June gathered his water bottle and towel, his thoughts drifted to someone else.

Mei.

With only two days left until their highly anticipated Christmas collaboration, she hadn't reached out to him once.

Not a single phone call or text message.

He shook his head. Clearly, she was still feeling unprepared for the performance.

"You alright, bro?" Jisung asked, draping an arm across his shoulders.

June nodded in response. "Yeah, I am just processing our duet act."

Jisung looked at him knowingly but decided not to probe further.

The group began to clear the room, their conversation turning lighthearted as they swapped jokes about holiday plans and the massive crate of gifts sent by their dedicated fans.

As his teammates prepared to head out, his phone vibrated. His gaze locked onto the screen.

Mei: Meet me at the third-floor practice studio.

He stared at the notification. Without a word, he grabbed his jacket and headed upstairs. The third-floor room was silent, cast in the soft, flickering glow of overhead fluorescent bulbs.

Mei was already waiting there, sitting cross-legged and staring intensely at the mirrored wall.

The sound of the door clicking shut caused her to turn. "You made it."

"Mhmm," June replied, walking deeper into the room. He dumped his bag down and leaned against the wall with his arms folded. "What is happening?"

Mei let out a long breath. "I have been doing some thinking," she started.

"Well, I am pleased to hear you are still capable of that," June teased, earning a sharp click of her tongue.

"Would you quit it, please?" she retorted dryly. "I am genuinely serious right now."

June chuckled, shook his head, and allowed her the room to elaborate.

She watched her silhouette in the mirror. "When I first started in this industry, I truly believed the pinnacle of love was the kind that set your heart galloping. The cinematic version—the grand gestures, the fairytale endings."

She hesitated, a bittersweet smirk forming on her lips. "But now… I am not so certain anymore."

"What do you mean by that?" June enquired.

"I poured over the lyrics again," she stated. "I kept reflecting on everything you mentioned earlier."

She turned to face him fully, resting her hands on her knees. "I have come to believe that the purest love is not romantic in the slightest. It is about sacrifice. It is those quiet, selfless acts people perform for one another without the expectation of reward. Like… like siblings."

June cocked his head, his curiosity piqued.

"When I was young, I was convinced love had to be spectacular," Mei continued. "But lately, I keep thinking about the little things."

"This might sound strange," she started. "But I have been having dreams."

"What kind of dreams?" he asked.

"Odd ones," Mei answered. "Well, not exactly odd. Just… tranquil."

"There is this figure in my dreams. Someone who consistently waits for me after classes, even at the cost of missing his own practice sessions. He abandoned so much just to ensure I could follow my aspirations. That is genuine love, isn't it? Giving up a portion of your soul for someone else."

June felt a tightness in his throat. Had Mei somehow regained her past memories?

"It is," he said softly.

Mei gazed at him intensely. "But how do you translate that into music? How do you make the audience feel it? I haven't reached out because I simply do not know how to channel that."

June stood up straight. "Singing is an act of feeling, I have always said. It is not something you just perform mechanically. You need to tap into something deep within you that you have never touched before."

She blinked, a flicker of doubt dancing in her eyes.

"Give it a shot," he encouraged, motioning toward the stereo in the corner. "Sing it. Just once. Ignore the potential crowd; forget I am here. Just… feel it."

Mei wavered, then gave a singular nod. She walked toward the player, pressed play, and shut her eyes.

The room quieted as the opening notes of 'The Greatest Love' began. Mei started to sing.

Initially, her vocals were steady yet guarded. Then, Mei’s brows furrowed, her body stiffened, and a flood of memories seemed to pull her under.

A man’s voice—not particularly gentle, but undeniably reassuring—reverberated in her mind. She could not perceive his face, yet the warmth of his tone was unmistakable.

"You feel anger, and that is perfectly alright," he had told her once, pacing back and forth. "But you are resilient. Stronger than you realize. You refuse to be weak!"

He was always there, sharing stories, even if he sounded infuriatingly lecture-heavy. The memory was hazy and distant, but it was enough. He was the man from her dreams.

Mei’s voice cracked, but the slight imperfection only heightened the raw beauty of the melody.

June stepped forward, his own voice weaving into hers. Their harmonization filled the space, a blend of lingering sorrow and hope that felt simultaneously far away and painfully present.

They were constructing a narrative together.

When the final note dissipated, Mei opened her eyes. A singular tear traced a path down her cheek, catching the light. She brushed it away quickly, looking mortified.

A faint, teasing smirk appeared on June’s face—and somehow, Mei found it hauntingly familiar... far too familiar.

"Everything alright there?" he asked, his tone radiating that same old, slightly annoying charm.

Mei clicked her tongue and looked away, struggling to keep her composure.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I am fine."

At that exact moment, June understood that Mei finally remembered.

However, it was only the memory that had returned, not the recognition of his identity.

In this lifetime, she would never remember him as her brother.

And yet, that seemed to be the necessary path.

Every miracle demands a price.

For June and Mei to find happiness in this life, they were forced to sacrifice the very bond they had cherished most in their previous ones.