Chapter 07
“Oh my god—Ji-on, what did you even do this past week?! You couldn’t do this step at all last week, and now you’ve got it?”
In the end, I got showered with way more praise from the dance trainer than I’d expected.
It felt good, since it was the result of pure effort, but at the same time it was honestly embarrassing. My face got so hot it was hard to deal with.
Still, both objectively and subjectively, my dancing had improved a lot. On the first day I’d looked like a broken jointed doll. Now I was more like… a robot with its commands properly input?
I still couldn’t really control dynamics yet, so my movements were stiff, but at least I could follow all the choreography. The disaster where my body couldn’t keep up with what my head memorized was officially over.
I could now blend into group choreography without sticking out, but when I looked at Go Hyunseo or Hyunjae, I still felt like I had a long way to go.
Objectively speaking, in terms of current dance skill, it felt like Kang Sua—who was slightly better than me but still in the same general range—came first. Next was Lee Hanbyeol, who had started dancing only after joining MusicProve, then Joo Hyerin, and above them were Go Hyunseo and Hyunjae.
Apparently Kang Sua had joined the company only about a month and a half before me. Of course her dancing was still awkward.
Joo Hyerin wasn’t used to pop-style dance, but maybe because of her background as a figure skater, she looked very comfortable using her body.
Elegant and light, I guess. She moved well in a way that felt different from the two who’d started directly with pop dance.
She said it was probably because she’d taken ballet and modern dance lessons during her athlete days, so dancing itself didn’t feel unfamiliar. Personally, I thought she was also naturally gifted to some extent. Even as an athlete, she’d been praised for choreography understanding and expressive ability.
“Oh—nice! Ji-on, your timing was right just now!”
Yes. All that effort wasn’t for nothing.
Just last week, I couldn’t even hit the beats properly and was flailing around. It really felt like a whole different era now.
“Good job, everyone. You’re starting to look like idols.”
That was the dance trainer’s final comment before clapping and ending the lesson.
Which, conversely, meant we hadn’t looked like idols until today… but hey, we’re trainees, not idols yet.
At least for now.
“Oh, right—Hyunseo.”
“Yes?”
“For this month’s evaluation, are you planning to use the song we’re currently working on?”
“Ah… yeah, probably. Ji-on unnie doesn’t really have time to learn completely new choreography from now…”
“Then next week, before it ends, let’s record a video while singing live.”
“…Monthly evaluation?”
“End-of-month evaluation. We do it in the last week too.”
When I tilted my head slightly at the trainer’s words, Hyunjae, who was sitting next to me, quickly jumped in to explain.
“Didn’t we skip it last month?”
“That time, since unnie had just joined, we skipped the evaluation and only had a meeting with the team leader.”
“Oh… that’s why. Why am I the only one who didn’t know?”
“Haha, I was actually going to tell you today! We need to start preparing for it soon.”
Team leader… why didn’t you tell me about something this important?
No matter how small it is, an evaluation is something you give your all for. And this was an end-of-month evaluation. I suddenly felt dizzy.
Was this my fault for carelessly assuming there wouldn’t be evaluations because the company didn’t care much about the idol division…?
“But you don’t need to worry too much. Dance is evaluated as a group, and individually it’s just solo vocals. Not an idol song.”
“That’s less than I thought.”
“Yeah. Usually only the team leader watches anyway, and it’s not like anyone gets cut because of it. It’s more like a regular checkup. We just need to prep dance plus live vocals.”
“…Live?”
“Oh, yeah. We evaluate dance and live singing together.”
Oh… wow.
Two weeks and one day after joining MusicProve, this was the first time I felt a bit resentful toward Team Leader Lee Subin.
It’s not that I’m completely unconfident, but if the evaluation includes live vocals, that means we need separate dance-live practice too!
“Uh… then what about the song choice? How do you usually decide?”
“Normally we discuss it together, but I think Hyunseo unnie was planning to go with this one? Since learning a new choreography now would be hard for you…”
“Wait. I didn’t mishear, right? You said this song?”
“Yes. But wouldn’t this be better for you?”
“No, no… um. I don’t think this will work.”
“…What?”
“Hold on, let’s gather everyone for a second. Guys, come here.”
The choreography we were learning was set to a song that sounded easy to listen to, but vocally it had every element that made singing difficult.
More than half of the vocal lines required delicate falsetto and heavy breath control.
“Hyunseo and the teacher were talking about the monthly evaluation. We’re doing group dance and live vocals, right? Are we really using this song for the evaluation?”
“That’s the plan for now. There’s not enough time to learn a new choreography, and I didn’t want to burden you, unnie.”
“…Has anyone actually tried singing Limit Sequence? It’s… a lot harder than it sounds.”
We can’t do it. At least not right now. Other than Kang Sua, I don’t think anyone can sing this song properly.
“We’re sticking with what we learned because of me, right? …I think we should change the evaluation song. What do you think?”
I’m really saying this for your sake. This song is too high-difficulty for our team right now.
***
The problem song, “Limit Sequence,” is the title track from legendary girl group ACEra’s 10th-anniversary special album.
That alone tells you how difficult it is. It’s a song soaked in ten years of experience and skill. ACEra is famous for having uniformly strong vocalists across all members, which makes it even tougher.
“They performed this at their ten-year mark. I think it’s a bit early for us. It’s not that the concept doesn’t fit, but… how do I explain it? Just because a song sounds easy doesn’t mean it’s easy to sing. Do you get what I mean?”
…Oh, kids.
The four of them were sitting close together, trying hard to understand, but it clearly wasn’t easy.
To be fair, about 75% of the problem was probably my explanation.
Only Kang Sua looked like she vaguely understood, staring straight at me. If you get it, help me out instead of just watching!
“I agree with Ji-on. Singing this while dancing is tough—it’s too delicate and has a lot of off-beat phrasing. The difficulty is high too.”
Thankfully, Kang Sua stepped in with support, probably picking up on my silent glare.
She’s right. The song is extremely delicate.
There are tons of parts where the dance hits straight beats while the vocals come in off-beat, and the chorus has way too many details to manage measure by measure. One small mistake and the sound turns harsh and metallic.
In short, even basic timing is brutally tricky, and if the tone slips even a little, it sounds painfully sharp.
“…Is it really that hard? It didn’t sound that difficult when I listened to it…”
“That’s understandable. The range itself isn’t too hard for you, Hanbyeol. The problem is… how do I put it… technique.”
“Technique?”
“Yeah. It’s not a song where you can just push out bright, strong notes.”
I paused and looked at the younger members, who were still staring at me in confusion. I didn’t want this to sound wrong.
“First… what I’m about to say isn’t that you’re bad at singing. You’re good. The song itself is just difficult.”
“We’re not that fragile. Just say it.”
Wow. That’s… pretty cool of you.
At Hyunseo’s gesture to hurry up, I stopped circling around it and gave my conclusion.
“Okay. Then I’ll be direct. I don’t think we’re at the level where we can properly sing Limit Sequence yet. It’s hard even standing still, and singing it while dancing, with disrupted breathing, is just too much. That’s my opinion. So if possible, I want to change it.”
If it were a powerful song, maybe. But pulling off light, breath-heavy vocals naturally while dancing takes a lot of time.
And we don’t have that time.
“Jaeyi said the monthly evaluation is mostly just the team leader watching, but even if it doesn’t have a big impact, an evaluation is still an evaluation. I don’t want us to use an overly difficult song because of me. Feeling like we messed up or getting negative feedback hurts just the same…”
I tried my best to speak gently. At least, I think I did.
Luckily, they seemed to understand my point. Each of them nodded with fairly convinced expressions.
“I get it. But if we change the song, we’d need to start choreography practice immediately because of you, unnie. Do you have a song you want to do? I’m not blaming you—just gathering opinions.”
Hyunseo quickly added the last part.
Seems I wasn’t the only one worried about sounding harsh. That was a relief.
“Well… I do have one in mind. But are you guys okay with learning choreography from scratch? If there’s something among what you already know…”
“Either way, it’ll all be new for you, right? You’ll have the hardest time with the choreography anyway, so isn’t it basically the same whether it’s a familiar song or a new one?”
“…That’s true.”
Wow. Hyunseo has a terrifyingly powerful fact-based attack skill.
She wasn’t wrong, so I nodded easily. Since choreography was my biggest issue, we might as well pick a song that suited us.
Oddly enough, Kang Sua looked more serious than I did. Just from her eyes, I could almost hear, “Are you a T?!”
Before I burst out laughing, I quickly continued.
“Do you know ACEra sunbaenim’s older song Never Give Up? It was super popular when we were in elementary school.”
“I know it. Wasn’t it the national CSAT cheer song?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Hyerin, you were in kindergarten when it came out, right? You still know it?”
It’s an old hit from over ten years ago, but instead of feeling outdated, it still feels powerful. It’s a straight, on-beat song with a rock-based band sound.
It carries a ‘cheering you on in life’ message. Even though it was released in summer, it became a massive CSAT encouragement song. The concept itself is basically cheerleading.
Even ACEra—considered top-tier vocalists—had a rookie era. Back then, powerful, energetic singing suited them better than delicate control.
In other words, it’s a song that fits these kids perfectly.
I’d actually made a small list of songs that might suit the members, just in case. I’m really glad I did. I didn’t think I’d use it like this.
“It’s a bit old, but I think it suits Hyerin and Hanbyeol’s vocals well, and everyone’s range should be fine. Rock songs usually prioritize power over delicacy, which makes them easier to sing while dancing.”
“I just watched a stage video. I think we can do it. Hyunseo unnie and I can handle the choreography quickly. I’m in favor!”
“Hmm… Jaeyi unnie does like this style.”
“Hey—Lee Hanbyeol, how do you know my music taste?!”
“Ugh, why is she like this again…”
I wondered why it’d gotten quiet for a moment. There it is.
I lightly stopped Hyunjae and Hanbyeol from bickering and carefully asked Hyunseo for her final opinion. Kang Sua would’ve objected already if she disliked it, and Hyerin seemed pretty into it too.
“I think Never Give Up is good too. But unnie, are you really okay? Time-wise…”
“…I’ll try. If I have to, I’ll pull all-nighters.”
Seriously. I’ve only been an idol trainee for two weeks.
At my comment about staying up all night, Hyunseo’s gaze sharpened with clear displeasure, but—
What else is there? Is there some magic way for a beginner to master choreography fast without extra practice?
There isn’t. You just practice until you drop.
It’s better for one person to suffer and deliver a good stage than for everyone to play it safe and fail together.
And besides—
[▷ Sudden Event Triggered!]
[EVENT: Surprise Visit from the CEO]
[The CEO, who dislikes idols, will attend the monthly evaluation as a surprise judge. Be careful not to fall out of favor due to lacking skills!]
[Event Duration: D-16]
[After the event ends, rewards and penalties will be applied based on your clear rank (S/A/B/C/D).]
After I became aware of the “monthly evaluation,” that notification suddenly appeared in the corner of my vision.
Im Gyeongtaek, CEO of MusicProve. That fossil of a man.
A lunatic old-school CEO who launched a girl group yet doesn’t even consider idols real singers and spews verbal abuse without hesitation.
In my previous life, I’d confronted him directly as a producer, telling him to spend more money on the team. But right now, as a mere trainee, I hadn’t even seen his face once.
And now he was coming to the evaluation?
This evaluation cannot fail.
No— it has to be flawless. Even by his standards.
That man may be rotten to the core, but his ear for vocals is terrifyingly sharp.
…We absolutely have to raise the team’s overall vocal quality before the evaluation.
No matter what.
