Author: LyraDhani

Time didn’t exactly fly by. Only a few days had passed, but…

 

‘It feels like at least a week has gone by.’

 

It felt as though a tremendous amount of time had gone by because the members were displaying attitudes completely different from before.

 

‘Should I have done this sooner?’

 

It felt like we had become an entirely different team. I even started thinking that coaxing the Elder Duo along and leading the team that way had been the right answer all along. Now that the Elder Duo had openly stepped into the role of supporters, several advantages were coming to light.

 

‘You really can’t ignore the value of experience.’

 

Indeed. The experience they had accumulated from spending years as trainees, struggling and surviving through all of it, wasn’t something that could simply be dismissed. I could immediately see where the Elder Duo’s initial source of confidence had come from.

 

Unlike ordinary run-of-the-mill trainees, these were people who had once belonged to actual debut lineups and had stood right on the threshold of debut. Though they had unfortunately slipped every time, that experience hadn’t vanished.

 

In other words, in a short period, Jung Taehee and I were absorbing various tips and know-how from the Elder Duo. Of course, being able to digest it was another matter entirely, but…

 

‘For now, it’s best to just gulp it all down first.’

 

Taehee, in particular, was the biggest beneficiary of their intensive tutoring. He practically had no trainee experience whatsoever and had only received vocal training, so every casual remark they made as they passed by became invaluable advice for him.

 

“Ah! For this part, it’ll be easier if you align yourself with the shoulder line.”

 

“The shoulder line?”

 

“Yeah. Just for this part, don’t look at the floor markings; look at the shoulder line. See Unha’s shoulder over there? Watch that, and from where Unha moves: left foot, left foot, right foot.”

 

“Ah…”

 

“And Taehee, when your part starts, you don’t necessarily have to focus on the choreography. Of course, matching it is best, but we’re not in a position to worry about everything right now. Let’s consider singing as the priority. That’s how most people do it.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Don’t mention it.”

 

Of course, their tone was a bit stiff. Since they were conscious of the cameras, they couldn’t act perfectly natural, but from the outside, it didn’t look awkwardly staged to a problematic degree.

 

In front of the cameras, Taehee and I would consult them about our personal worries, or we’d listen to the mental training lectures they had always heard at their agencies. The messages were the usual clichés—Let’s work hard. We can do this. Let’s become one team—but as always, I had to assume this kind of melodrama had a high chance of working.

 

‘The show can’t be intense all the time.’

 

After moving slightly to a spot without cameras…

 

“Hyung… do you… have a moment?”

 

“Yeah, Unha… what’s up?”

 

“I’m just… having a hard time.”

 

“What’s wrong now… hmm?”

 

I knew the cameras weren’t rolling, but the audio was still being recorded. Since we had settled in a precarious blind spot of the CCTV, there was a high probability this would make it into the broadcast.

 

The Elder Duo seemed quite flustered by my sudden tearful performance, but being the perceptive guys they were, they immediately played along with the ad-lib.

 

“Unha…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I know you’re feeling pressured. You’re receiving a lot of attention and high expectations. Since this is a situation you never expected, it must be even harder… but… doesn’t that mean there are that many people who love you? Shouldn’t you meet the fans’ expectations?”

 

“Huh? Ah…”

 

“If it’s really too much… let’s just rest for today. It’ll be okay to take one day off. But…”

 

“Ah… no. I think… I should go practice.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“…….”

 

“…….”

 

“Um… Hyungs…”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

 

I finished it off with lines like that. The two of them ruffled my hair as though they were kind, dependable mentors. In fact, they seemed intoxicated by the good teacher role. It wasn’t something I’d expected, but it almost looked as though they had already given up on debuting through Idol Classism.

 

And it wasn’t just how things looked on the surface…

 

‘That’s what it seems like, right?’

 

It would be more accurate to say they looked like they had completely let go of their lingering attachments. It was as if they had accepted that debuting through this program was next to impossible and had agreed to focus instead on what they would do after the show ended. Rather than ‘giving up’, calling it a ‘strategic choice’ felt more appropriate.

 

‘These Hyungs are really tough.’

 

They were already looking beyond the end of Idol Classism. They wanted to survive as long as possible and raise their recognition as much as possible to somehow navigate the lowered threshold later.

 

As if they had a PR strategy team attached, their SNS activity started changing, and they even changed their makeup style. It also seemed that, in case their contracts were terminated and they ended up moving to another agency, they were making connections with other trainees and taking the opportunity to learn more about those trainees’ agencies. Since so many mid-to-small agencies were gathered here, they turned it into an opportunity.

 

Perhaps they believed there was no hope of joining a major agency at their age anymore, because if you looked at the photos they posted on social media, most of them were taken with trainees from smaller agencies.

 

What was even more impressive was how they were utilizing Lee Unha to the fullest. I’d already told them I was willing to help if there was anything I could do, but trainees from small agencies were knocking on my door almost every single day. It was to film challenges together under the Elder Duo’s direction.

 

The small-agency trainees loved it because they got to film a challenge with Lee Unha, and the Elder Duo got to claim credit for connecting them. The only one losing out was my roommate, No. 123 Jung Taehee.

 

In the midst of that, they somehow connected with No. 45, the SNS expert, and were hanging out together after practice to plot things. If anything…

 

‘Haven’t things… gotten even busier?’

 

Yeah, it was enough to make me wonder if they’d actually become busier than they had been previously. Not that it was a bad thing. If anything, it was a good look. Even though they were spending a lot of time on various things, they were showing more passion and sincerity for the most important part—team practice—than anyone else.

 

The same went for constantly contacting and talking to other trainees. It was a bit of a chore, but it also made the atmosphere feel much livelier.

 

Thanks to them, I actually got the chance to build rapport with other trainees, share their experiences, and hear about the general state of the industry. Originally, I only exchanged greetings with Jung Taehee, Kim Haejun, the Hopeless Trio including No. 98 Kim Taeyeol, and the Elder Duo… but now I was exchanging greetings even with guys whose names and faces I couldn’t remember.

 

Actually, Kim Haejun and Jung Taehee had narrow social circles as well, so they benefited from this as well. It was also an opportunity to refresh the image regarding the incident between the two of them, so the team was in an upward trajectory in many ways.

 

That positive energy was even having a favorable effect on Kim Haejun’s ‘work’.

 

“How is it…?”

 

Sure enough, Kim Haejun appeared with a result that was quite satisfying. Jung Taehee didn’t seem to have any particular thoughts, but the Elder Duo were nodding, seemingly pleased. I liked it quite a bit too.

 

‘This is… actually really good.’

 

“…….”

 

‘Haejun had every right to be greedy for this.’

 

Dangerously by TOP9 had been an unfortunate song that entered the charts but failed to hold its position, steadily dropping until it disappeared. Without the buzz of being TOP9’s debut track, it might have struggled even to chart at all. It was truly worthy of being called a stain on YM’s record, and the agency seemed to feel that way as well.

 

But if someone asked whether the song itself was actually bad, I would have to tilt my head. After all…

 

It was a song released by one of the few major agencies in the country. Since it was a track YM had poured investment into for the TOP9 project, it was hard to hastily judge the song itself as bad.

 

I, who knew nothing about composition or song structure, didn’t have the ability to judge whether the song was actually crummy or if TOP9 just failed to bring it to life, but… looking at the result created now…

 

‘Didn’t TOP9 just completely fumble this song?’

 

The thought actually crossed my mind. Kim Haejun hadn’t brought some groundbreaking rearrangement. Since it was an arrangement, not a composition, he hadn’t changed the basic framework of the song, nor had he dismantled and reinterpreted the whole thing.

 

‘Did he just change the genre?’

 

It would be best described as changing the existing hip-hop-based genre into something more Kim Haejun-esque. It almost frustrated me that I lacked the knowledge to evaluate it professionally. One thing I couldn’t deny, though, was that this rough guide version Kim Haejun had put together sounded incredibly good.

 

The other teammates seemed to feel the same. Even the Elder Duo, who had pushed for Dangerously, looked stunned as if they hadn’t expected such a result.

 

“It’s… it’s good?”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. It sounds better than the original.”

 

“Let’s listen one more time.”

 

“Taehee, what do you think?”

 

“I think it’s okay… yeah… Unha?”

 

“Of course I like it.”

 

But what about Kim Haejun, the one who brought this result?

 

“…….”

 

“…….”

 

He must have brought it because he was confident, but was he truly satisfied with his work? Judging by his expression, he didn’t look completely satisfied. He looked a bit uneasy, as if something was weighing on his mind. After quietly gauging his reaction, I spoke to him again.

 

“How do you feel about it, Haejun hyung? Do you think you’ll be satisfied if we go with this?”

 

“Mmm… for me…”

 

“Is something bothering you?”

 

“No. Honestly, I’m satisfied enough, but… still…”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I feel like it’s lacking for a competition.”

 

“…….”

 

“It would be good to listen to as a digital track. But this is a competition after all. I feel like it needs something more… groundbreaking…”

 

I felt like I understood what he meant.

 

‘There is a difference… between a digital track and a competition track. In this case, it’s better to put more weight on the performance.’

 

Kim Haejun’s voice reached me.

 

“I think it would be better if we took the concept a bit more clearly.”

 

“Should we have a concept meeting?”

 

“That would be… for the best…”

 

While the team members were exchanging opinions once more, a sudden thought that popped into my head escaped my lips.

 

“Let’s do ‘Revolution.’”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Our concept. Let’s go with ‘Revolution.’”

 

“…….”

 

“The theme of this mission is ‘Citizen Revolution,’ after all.”

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