"Of course, let us not forget the very people who helped each and every one of you become the artists standing here today." Foca said. "Please give a warm round of applause to your mentors, coaches, and teachers!"
At his words, a group of very familiar faces emerged from the Jenga Tower.
The vocal mentors stepped out first, led by Head Vocal Coach Robin.
These were the people responsible for nurturing the trainees' most personal instrument, their voices. They taught them how to sing with proper technique, how to project without straining, how to control their breathing, and how to perform while preserving vocal stamina. But perhaps their greatest lesson of all was teaching them how to care for their voices, because an artist's voice is something meant to last a lifetime.
The trainees applauded loudly, many of them bowing instinctively toward the mentors who had patiently corrected countless off-key notes and shaky performances.
Next came the dance mentors, led by Head Dance Coach Dora.
They were the ones who built the trainees from the ground up, drilling proper foundations before allowing them to soar. Rather than confining them to a single style, these mentors encouraged versatility, exposing them to a wide spectrum of dance.
Hip-hop. Contemporary. Jazz. Ballroom. Ballet. Tap. Waacking. Locking. House. Even traditional dance forms.
Every lesson expanded not only their technique but also their artistic vocabulary. These professionals poured years of knowledge into the trainees with unwavering patience, ensuring that every step they took was grounded in discipline before becoming art.
Then came the rap mentors, led by Head Rap Coach Lorelei.
They taught far more than speed and clever rhymes.
They taught rhythm. Presence. Confidence. Storytelling.
They showed the trainees that rap was poetry sharpened into music, where every syllable carried intention and every verse had something worth saying.
Whether it was Old School Boom Bap, Trap, Conscious Rap, Melodic Rap, Drill, Chopper, or experimental fusion styles, these mentors spared no effort in passing down both the technical skill and the soul behind the craft.
Next, came the music production and instrumental mentors, led by Head Coach Kafka.
True to her name, Kafka constantly challenged the trainees to think beyond convention.
Together with the rest of the mentors, she taught them how to compose, arrange, produce, and breathe life into melodies that had existed only in their imaginations. They learned to communicate not just with lyrics, but through chords, harmonies, rhythms, and silence itself.
More importantly, they were taught never to become prisoners of trends.
Whether creating pop, classical, R&B, jazz, rock, hip-hop, electronic music, or daring genre fusions, these mentors encouraged the trainees to chase authenticity above popularity.
Because trends fade.
But genuine artistry never goes out of style.
Next came the lyric writing and composition mentors, led by Head Coach and industry legend, Sir Siegfried.
Alongside his carefully selected team of veteran songwriters and composers, they taught the trainees perhaps one of the most vulnerable arts of all... expressing themselves through words and music.
When the trainees found themselves unable to put the songs in their hearts into words, these mentors were there to gently guide them. They taught them that songwriting wasn't about finding the perfect lyric right away. Sometimes, it simply began with honesty.
More importantly, they created a safe space where emotions were never something to hide or be ashamed of.
Whether it was Jeremiah somehow turning his... rather enthusiastic appreciation for dick into surprisingly catchy lyrics, in case y'all forgot. Or Yen painting vivid emotional landscapes with his words, making listeners feel as though they were standing inside his memories. Or Bobby simply pouring every raw, unfiltered emotion onto paper without worrying whether it was pretty or polished.
These mentors never judged them.
Instead, they encouraged them to dig even deeper.
They taught the trainees that the most unforgettable songs aren't always the most technically perfect. They're the ones that make someone, somewhere, whisper,
"That's exactly how I feel."
They were the guiding hands that shaped heartfelt thoughts into songs capable of reaching thousands, perhaps even millions, of hearts.
Lastly came the production, fashion, styling, and all-things-glam mentors, led by the ever eccentric Noir.
Together with the rest of the styling team, they were responsible for ensuring that every trainee looked as extraordinary as the talent they possessed.
These were the people who knew exactly when to push a concept further... and when to pull it back before it crossed the line into excess.
They taught the trainees that fashion wasn't simply about wearing expensive clothes.
It was about telling a story before a single note was even sung.
From stage costumes and accessories to hair, makeup, skincare, posture, and even everyday fashion, these mentors refined every visual detail until it complemented the artist rather than overshadowed them.
Because whether people liked it or not, appearance was part of being a performer.
A striking face might catch someone's attention.
A memorable style might make them stay.
But true artistry was what made them become lifelong fans.
That was the philosophy Noir and the rest of the styling mentors instilled in every trainee who walked through their doors.
****
The trainees erupted into thunderous applause once more, their hearts overflowing with gratitude and respect for the people who had helped shape them into the artists they were today.
"What a sight this is." Sir Siegfried said, his voice carrying both nostalgia and pride. "It feels like only yesterday you all stepped onto this island, still wet behind the ears. And yet, here you stand today, having grown into remarkable young artists." He smiled warmly. "It truly has been a joy watching every single one of you grow."
"Sir Siegfried is absolutely right!" Kafka chimed in enthusiastically. "You all have come such a long way, but remember..." She raised a finger. "You still have an even longer road ahead of you. Don't start becoming complacent just because you've made it this far. The day you think you've learned everything is the day you stop growing as an artist."
"I couldn't agree more!" Noir declared with their signature theatrical flair. "Although..." They placed a hand dramatically over their chest. "I still vividly remember the day I first witnessed Johnny's fashion sense... or rather, the tragic lack thereof."
Several trainees immediately burst into laughter.
"I still wake up in cold sweats thinking about it," Noir continued with a shudder dramatic enough to earn an Oscar. "But look at him now! Positively radiant. Looking at all of you, I dare say we have worked absolute miracles."
"Hey! My fashion wasn't that bad!" Johnny protested.
"Johnny, darling..." Noir sighed dramatically. "The truth hurts. But the truth also sets us free."
That single sentence completely defeated him.
Because deep down...
Johnny knew.
His fashion choices had, in fact, been catastrophic.
Noir had practically staged a full-blown fashion intervention. Clothes were confiscated, ripped apart, ceremoniously burned, and, according to eyewitness accounts, a few particularly offensive pieces had even been launched into the ocean, never to be seen again.
It had truly been that dire.
Johnny pouted while muttering under his breath, only for his fellow trainees to comfort him...
Before immediately roasting him again.
The roasting, everyone unanimously agreed, was a necessary part of the healing process.
"Now!" Dora called out, clapping her hands together. "The finale's almost here, so y'all better work your asses off!"
"Whatever you've been keeping in your bag of tricks," Robin added, "it's time to bring every single one of them out."
"Stop thinking about saving something for later," Lorelei said firmly. "Leave nothing behind. Give yourselves a performance you'll never regret."
"Very well said, mentors." Foca replied with his signature warm smile.
He then turned back toward the trainees.
"Just as your mentors have said, this is the time to put everything you've learned here into practice."
His smile softened ever so slightly.
"Because whether we like it or not... and believe me, it saddens me to say this..." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle over the island. "Not everyone standing here today will debut as part of LEAVEN."
Silence.
The cheerful atmosphere from moments ago faded into quiet determination.
As close as they had become...
As much as they laughed together...
As many meals, rehearsals, victories, and tears as they had shared...
This was still a survival show.
And survival meant not everyone would reach the finish line together.
"I know I dampened the mood a little." Foca admitted with an apologetic smile. "So... allow us to make it up to you."
His eyes sparkled.
"We've invited back the very people who once stood exactly where you're standing now."
"The people who trained beside you."
"The people who shed blood, sweat, and tears alongside you."
"The people who crossed the finish line before you did."
"They've returned today to encourage you... to inspire you... and to help you through this final stretch of your journey."
Foca smiled proudly before raising his hand toward the Jenga Tower.
"Everyone..."
"Please welcome back your former fellow trainees..."
He paused just long enough for anticipation to reach its peak.
"...now known to the world as LEAVEN!"
The island exploded with deafening cheers.
****
And with that declaration, the trainees erupted with excitement.
Their heads whipped from one direction to another, eagerly searching for where those familiar faces would appear.
Then suddenly...
One trainee's eyes widened.
"What is this anime entrance type of shit?!" he blurted, pointing toward the shoreline.
Every head snapped in the same direction.
There, with the endless ocean serving as their backdrop, stood the former trainees.
Walking together.
As one.
The morning breeze swept through their hair as the sunlight danced across the water behind them. It was the kind of entrance that made goosebumps race down one's arms, like the heroes arriving at the perfect moment before the final battle.
Even the camera crew seemed determined to capture every glorious second of it.
Leading the procession was Pandesal Fac7ory.
Monarch. Jordan. Eli.
The moment Zen spotted Jordan, his usually calm expression cracked.
His eyes lit up.
Without even realizing it, he grabbed Mikko's arm with the strength of a hydraulic press.
"Ow... ow, ow! Snowflake!" Mikko winced, trying to pry Zen's fingers off his arm. "Ease up a little, okay?! I kinda need the blood flowing through this thing!"
Zen immediately loosened his grip.
...Only slightly.
Next came Salt × Bread.
Ahn Jae. August. Silas. Kang Ian. Mika.
"Yo! They're back!" one trainee shouted excitedly.
The cheers only grew louder.
Then appeared MelonBun House.
Yone. Corsair. Ryu.
"The Harmony Duo!"
"No one's ever surpassed Corsair and Ryu when it comes to harmonizing."
"Seriously, those two breathe like they're sharing the same lungs."
The compliments continued as the trio smiled and waved.
Then came 4 of Scones.
Leo. Nox. Isaac. Nikola.
The moment Louie's eyes landed on them, something inside him reignited.
He had already stood onstage beside them once.
He had already experienced, if only briefly, what it felt like to belong.
Now...
He wanted it for real.
I'll prove it.
I'll show Sir Foca he made the right decision.
I won't stay a probationary member forever.
Beside him, Mikko silently clenched his fists.
His thoughts mirrored Louie's almost perfectly.
I'll debut.
I'll earn my place.
I'll make Sir Foca proud... and blow his socks clean off.
The two probationary members exchanged only the briefest glance.
No words were necessary.
They both carried the same dream.
One day...
They'd finally be able to shout to the world that they were members of 4 of Scones.
Next came Jeweled Macaroons.
The Kweens themselves.
Aqua. Kitty. Pink. Javi.
They strutted forward with enough confidence to convince everyone the island belonged to them.
"Yaaaas! Werk, bitches!" Jeremiah screamed, clapping with enough enthusiasm to power a small city.
Finally...
Walking side by side came Opera Cake...
...and Apple Rose Tart.
Bobby and Lili.
Hand.
In hand.
The moment Bobby's friends noticed, they immediately cried out in exaggerated betrayal.
"Traitor!"
"How could you betray your brothers?!"
"I thought we all agreed we'd stay single forever!"
The surrounding trainees slowly turned toward the poor soul who had made that declaration.
"...Nah, bro," one replied. "I'm not taking it that far. I don't wanna grow old alone."
"Hold on." Another frowned. "When exactly did we make that promise? Because nobody consulted me."
"My guy..." a third trainee sighed. "You're fighting a battle that exists only in your head."
The first trainee clutched his chest dramatically.
"How could all of you?!"
"You are all dead to me!"
"Don't talk to me ever again!"
His theatrical outburst only made everyone burst into laughter.
The island, moments ago filled with tension, was alive once again.
But beneath the laughter...
Beneath the jokes...
Beneath the cheers...
A fire quietly ignited within every remaining trainee.
Seeing LEAVEN standing before them transformed an impossible dream into something tangible.
They weren't looking at celebrities.
They were looking at people who had once stood exactly where they stood now.
If they could do it...
Then maybe...
Just maybe...
They could too.
The finale suddenly felt closer than ever.