A whole month had already flown by, and the trio had been grinding non-stop — but in the healthiest way possible. Their schedules were packed, sure, but never to the point of collapsing face-first into the floor like they used to back ho.
Their mornings kicked off at 7AM with breakfast, then fitness training at 7:30 for one to two hours. After a thirty-minute breather, dance training began. And not just the usual idol-generic stuff — they were thrown into everything: ballet, contemporary, jazz, ballroom, and of course hip-hop. They trained straight until noon, when lunch rolled around. They got a whole hour to eat, and another hour to chill before the next round of lessons.
At 3PM sharp, vocal training started. An hour and a half of scales, technique, harmonization drills, and whatever else the vocal coaches felt like throwing at them. After that ca English lessons until 6PM. And once English class ended?
Yeah — English mode stayed ON.
By evening, they were expected to speak only in English, no matter how much their brains wanted to short-circuit. The belief was simple: imrsion works faster. And honestly? It was working.
After vocal and English lessons, they got an hour of free ti before dinner at 7PM. Then ca personal/self-training ti until 9PM. After that? Hard stop. No sneaking extra practice, no staying up to dance until sunrise — house rules. Their sleep schedule was sacred. Six to eight hours every night, non-negotiable. Foca's team acted like sleep was the holy scripture of success.
The trio usually knocked out between 11PM and midnight, sotis earlier if their bodies beat their souls to the punch.
Saturdays were lighter — just fitness training in the morning and three hours of self-practice. Sundays? Fully off. The only rule was still English-only communication during weekends for the imrsion period.
But honestly? The three were living their best damn lives. No complaints. Not even one. They knew every ounce of effort was actually building toward sothing real this ti — not the "work until you die and maybe you'll debut" mystery gamble they grew up with. Here? Hard work equaled outcos. Goals. Support. Structure.
And let's be real — they were more than willing to work their asses off when they were finally being treated like, you know… actual employees with actual paychecks.
****
On Foca's side of things, everything was moving like butter on a warm pan — smooth, glossy, and exactly how he planned it.
Their audition show had been officially greenlit, and most of the participant slots were already locked in. At first, nobody believed the open auditions were legit. People were clowning it left and right, calling it "the scam of the century." Soone even leaked a copy of the standard contract contestants would receive if they got signed, and the internet tore it apart like starving wolves.
That is… until August, Ahn Jae, and Silas dropped their bombshell.
All three posted on their official socials, confirming they had signed with Bread Music. Not only that, but they sang the company's praises like paid angels — talking about the honesty, the transparency, the way Bread Music actually treated artists like humans instead of disposable stage decorations. They encouraged everyone to audition, calling it a once-in-a-lifeti opportunity.
And when the Sunshine Trio speaks? The internet shuts the hell up and listens.
The applications poured in like a flood. Foca saw the numbers spike, leaned back, and smirked.
Then ca the real work — the deep selection process.
Foca, Luca, and Tuesday spearheaded the operation, backed by a small army of employees: seasoned producers, dance instructors, legal staff, dical advisors, and even the poor new intern who sohow ended up sorting audition videos at 3AM with a cold brew in each hand. On the bright side, they're being paid premium on top of their normal pay.
Together, they sifted through thousands of applicants to select the final 100 trainees for the program.
The requirents were clear.
Male, aged 18 to freaking 30, because why the hell not.
Any nationality, any ethnicity, as long as they can speak or at least understand English.
Sexual orientation? Wide open.
Must be cis n or trans n with traditionally male physiology — needed for choreography, group formations, and stamina requirents.
No severe chronic illness that could put them at risk during hell-level training.
And last but not least — SINGLE.
No ssy relationship drama, no clingy partners, no paparazzi scandals. Fresh slate only.
Applicants had to send:
A headshot with a white background,
One bare-faced,
One with makeup (if they used any).
And four videos:
1:30 singing a cappella,
1:30 singing with a track,
1:30 dancing (any genre),
1:30 rapping a cappella — even if the rap was disastrously bad.
Plus all the usual personal info for the thorough background check Bread Music's legal team would be running.
(And yes, they ant thorough. CIA-who kind of thorough.)
By the end of the month, everyone at Bread Music was exhausted, over-caffeinated, and slightly traumatized — but the roster was finally set.
And Foca?
Oh, he was grinning like Christmas ca early.
The invitations went out, each one stamped with a single destination:
Fiji.
Not the touristy part.
Not the resort side.
No, no — Foca's island.
Because of course he owns one.
The island had been gifted to him on his 18th birthday by his father, Vincent — partly because he loves his son, but mostly because he wanted to spite Jonathan, the eldest brother. Jonathan had gifted Foca a re mansion for his 18th, which now serves as Bread Music's main HQ. So naturally Vincent said, "Cute house, son… here's a whole ass island."
And he didn't gift him so barren stretch of sand either. The place ca fully loaded — villas, pools, docks, spas, staff quarters, everything. All the essentials for the ultimate retreat, fully operational.
Recently, the place had been expanded further to support the upcoming audition program: training halls, dorms, performance stages, cara setups, dical wings, the works. The production team essentially built "Idol Hungery Gas: Tropical Edition."
Foca chose the island partly for efficiency…
but mostly because he finally wanted to use it.
He'd never actually gone.
Too busy with school and such.
So now?
He was about to host a hundred hopeful trainees on his private paradise, and honestly?
He was just excited to see his damn island for once.
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