Misha looked at Dayo, speechless. She had a lot to say, but little ca to mind.
Dayo, on the other hand, said, "Misha, right?"
Misha just nodded without saying a word.
"Sorry for bumping into you. I was daydreaming. I hope you’re good?"
Misha, with her cold-looking face, nodded again.
"Alright then, and oh, congratulations on crossing to the next stage."
"Hm, thanks. And... sorry." She whispered the last part like she didn’t want Dayo to hear it.
But he did. "Eh? Sorry for what?"
Misha looked a bit embarrassed and lowered her head. "Well... for the store incident. I looked down on you."
Dayo chuckled. "Haha, you still rember that?"
"Hey, it’s not fair—I’m apologizing," she said, frowning slightly.
"Okay, my bad. Apology accepted. And oh, I have to say, I liked the way you held your ground while playing the piano."
Misha’s cold face showed a faint blush, and she suddenly felt vulnerable. Gosh, why am I flustered all of a sudden? she thought.
Trying to calm herself, she replied, "Yeah, but not like your group, though. I an, you guys were amazing."
Then they both went on talking, and unlike before, Misha was freer and more talkative. They spoke from the bus ride till they reached the hotel.
Then Misha paused a bit, hesitating whether to say what was on her mind.
Dayo noticed and gently held her shoulder, making her flinch slightly. "Hey, what’s wrong? You said you wanted to tell sothing important."
Misha hesitated for a few seconds, then sighed like she’d made up her mind. "Have you heard of the na Michael?"
Dayo flinched a bit but composed himself quickly. "Why are you asking?"
Misha smiled faintly. "Good, you know him. So this will be simple."
Dayo played dumb. "Hmm?"
Misha smirked. "Do you know he’s interested in you?"
Dayo looked at her. "And how do you know this?"
"It seems you’re aware, but let tell you this—he’s more serious about you than you think. That’s all I’ll say." With that, she waved goodbye and walked away.
Dayo just stood there, lost, not knowing what to do with the information she’d given him. But now, he could understand Frank’s behavior—and he felt it was probably Michael’s doing. A part of him even started suspecting that maybe Michael had a system too.
"Ah, my head aches from all this thinking, gosh," Dayo muttered. It felt possible because what were the chances he was the only one with a system? And if Michael had one, it explained everything—why he didn’t want to let him go.
After all, till now, he hadn’t seen anyone else with an SSS potential. Hell, even he didn’t know the full extent of his. So if his theory—which he hoped was wrong—was actually right, and Michael had a system, then it made perfect sense.
"Hey, Dayo! The episode is about to be broadcast—co, let’s go watch!" Min-Jae called out.
"Alright, I’m coming," Dayo replied, walking toward the room where the broadcast was to be watched.
When Dayo entered the lounge, most contestants were already gathered around the big screen. The energy in the room felt mixed—half excitent, half tension. Everyone was eager to see how the episode had been edited.
Min-Jae waved him over, patting the empty seat beside him. "Bro, co here! It’s starting!"
The large screen flickered to life, and the Global Stage logo appeared with a wave of sound effects. Then ca the highlights—the performances, the crowd, the judges’ reactions.
Soon, Dayo’s team performance began playing, and the room got quiet the whole ti.
Min-Jae turned slightly toward him. "Bro, you really killed it. This was on another level."
Dayo smiled faintly. "Thanks, but... I just feel bad for Tyrell."
Min-Jae frowned. "Yeah. That part shocked everyone. He didn’t deserve to go. Everyone’s talking about it."
Dayo looked at the screen again. He could see the mont Frank’s trumpet mistake happened—barely noticeable, but still there. The editors had cleverly adjusted the sound, making it less obvious.
"They really covered for Frank," Dayo muttered, shaking his head. "They made it look like nothing even happened."
Min-Jae sighed. "I know. But that’s the thing about this competition—it’s not fair to those who don’t have a backup."
When the performance ended, fan reactions and trending posts began rolling on-screen. Dayo’s group na was already climbing the hashtags. He could see comnts flooding in:
"Team Dayo’s song is insane!"
"That trumpet guy almost ssed it up, but the recovery? Crazy good!"
"Tyrell didn’t deserve to go! Bring him back!"
"Ugh, I sll conspiracy."
Min-Jae grinned. "See? You already have people fighting for him. You should use that montum."
Dayo looked at him. "Yeah, I know—that’s the plan. You wouldn’t mind helping out, right?"
"Haha, of course I wouldn’t. A friend of yours is a friend of mine, so sure."
"Alright, thanks. Let’s do that now, and hopefully tomorrow the result favors Tyrell."
"Okay, let’s go."
Dayo nodded slowly. He picked up his phone, opened his cara, switched to the front lens, and started recording a short clip.
"Hey everyone," he began, his tone calm but sincere. "It’s Dayo from Team Jayson. I just want to say thank you for all the love and support. You guys have been amazing. But I also want to talk about sothing important. Tyrell Hayes—my teammate—gave his all on that stage. He didn’t deserve to go ho tonight. If you believe in second chances, I’d really appreciate it if you could vote for him in the wildcard round. Let’s bring him back where he belongs."
He paused, smiled faintly, and ended the video. He tried his best not to make it seem like there was any issue—hopefully, no one would sense it and just vote.
Min-Jae posted on all his social dia accounts supporting Tyrell.
Both of them smiled at each other and went to bed as they were tired and needed to rest.
Within a few hours, the post went viral. Comnts poured in from fans across different countries. Hashtags like #BringBackTyrell and #TeamDayo started trending.
"If Dayo says vote Tyrell, we vote Tyrell!"
"These guys are brothers for real."
"Dayo’s loyalty is unmatched."
"If Daddy JD says vote, we vote."
"So let’s go, Team JD!"
"Vote for Tyrell!"
Even a few other contestants saw and reposted the clip, adding comnts to boost it.
While Dayo rested, fire was brewing—fans were voting. By tomorrow, they’d know if all the effort had paid off.
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