Chapter 65
“When you’re active as an idol, your dance skills inevitably get a bit rusty. Of course, with all the accumulated experience, you become much better at expressing the stage, so it’s more enjoyable to watch—but still.”
It’s different from trainee days. Back then, all you had to do was practice dancing and vocals. Now there are events to attend, MC gigs, fan signings, radio appearances, broadcast schedules, and so on… busy days one after another.
Even flops aren’t any different. In fact, because they’re constantly running around local events, they often make less money yet can be busier than top-tier idols.
“Taking all that into account, I watched her—and she danced better than I expected. Given that she probably couldn’t devote herself entirely to practice, I could tell just how much bone-grinding effort she must have put in. That’s how it felt.”
That wasn’t a lie. At first, Ayoung’s dancing had been so awkward it gave rise to a sense of duty that she absolutely must not be sent out like that.
But Ayoung practiced, and practiced, and practiced again. Even with Jihyeon’s full support, she stayed behind in the practice room until she herself was satisfied, practicing alone. Even on days when Jihyeon wasn’t there, she still practiced.
“I could see that effort. That’s why, when she said she came out because she wanted to do what she could as the youngest member to save the team, it felt sincere.”
That was all Jihyeon could say for her. The rest was Ayoung’s responsibility.
If she doesn’t get eliminated, the number of contestants will shrink with each round, and inevitably more and more attention will be focused on Ayoung.
If she makes it to the end, there will be around ten contestants left. By then, anyone even slightly interested in idols won’t be able to not know Ayoung. And that’s where your story will truly shine.
‘Please let my interview help become the foundation for that.’
“Ah, you worked really hard!”
After finishing a short interview with a few more questions, Youngjun gave a small round of applause and approached Jihyeon with a bright smile.
“Once again, I’m reminded that Jihyeon is a born superstar.”
“Pardon?”
“Ah, actually, I was looking at the same person too.”
Youngjun rummaged through his things, pulled out the document with Ayoung’s profile, showed it to Jihyeon, and nodded.
“Can’t you just picture it? She’s young but very capable, and her story is well-structured.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“If this kid continues to do well all the way to debut, I think it would be a huge help in gathering a fandom for the girl group the broadcasting station plans to launch later.”
Youngjun rubbed his lower lip as he smiled in satisfaction.
“And from a production standpoint, too. We need at least one more character like this, don’t we? She’s also one of the two currently active idol contestants.”
One of the two. Jihyeon’s expression, as she repeated Youngjun’s words in her head, wasn’t particularly bright.
‘Honestly, it doesn’t feel that good.’
She remembered. There was another contestant who had said she’d come out because her team had essentially gone into a state of disbandment and her own activities had dwindled.
Her name was… Park Sooyoung, if she recalled correctly.
‘Her skills were just average, a C grade, and it’s not like she had an especially appealing face. It’s only natural she’d be eliminated, but—’
She was happy that Ayoung was getting attention, but when she thought of Park Sooyoung, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
Because the fact that the PD had chosen to focus on Ayoung meant that the other girl with the same background wasn’t even worth drawing attention to.
‘Get a grip. I’m already busy enough protecting just one Ayoung from Sehee.’
This was a survival audition. It had to be judged fairly, and it was impossible to look after everyone.
After exchanging polite words and greetings with Youngjun, Jihyeon turned to head back to the waiting room, but a staff member approached her and told her she could go home for the day.
There were no additional shots to film, and practice would continue until tomorrow, so there wasn’t much for her to do as a judge.
Hearing that, Jihyeon glanced once more toward the set where Ayoung would be, then forced herself to turn away, even though her steps didn’t want to move.
Was Ayoung properly preparing for tomorrow’s performance?
‘I’m not sure, but…’
As Jihyeon turned around sharply, a short sigh escaped her lips.
“Please… do well.”
“Haah… haah…”
I’ll just rest for a moment, then continue.
Ayoung stopped the choreography video playing on the provided laptop and leaned against the wall beside her, struggling to catch her breath.
It was already a genre she wasn’t good at, and with the lack of time making her anxious, it felt like her stamina was draining even faster.
Worse still, while the other team members were visibly getting more used to the choreography, Ayoung alone kept making more and more mistakes.
Earlier, she’d twisted her foot slightly during group practice and had to stop, which made her feel self-conscious.
‘At this rate, I won’t be able to get a good score.’
It would be a burden on the team, and on herself too. And if—just if—she didn’t stop at dancing awkwardly and actually made a mistake on the main stage…
‘I’ll immediately become a candidate for elimination.’
Ayoung knew that her grade wasn’t within the safe zone, even among the B ranks.
It would definitely be dangerous.
“Hey.”
A cold voice came down over Ayoung’s bowed head.
When she looked up, Sehee was standing there, one hand on her hip, posture tilted.
“In a bit, we’re going to practice together again. Don’t burn out before then. Just rest a little and join in later.”
“…Ah, s-sorry.”
Ayoung took a sip of water, barely steadying her breathing as she apologized to Sehee.
But contrary to her words, her body was already moving back toward the laptop.
Unable to stand it any longer, Sehee grabbed Ayoung’s wrist so roughly that the other members looked over in surprise.
Her dark eyes, lifted coldly toward Ayoung, flickered sharply.
“Does what I say not sound like words to you?”
“Sorry… but I still can’t match that part properly. So I need to practice more so that when we practice later—”
“You can’t match it anyway. Then just listen to me and at least be sloppy but—”
“Then what are you telling me to do?”
The edge in Ayoung’s voice was unmistakable.
“So you’re saying I should just stand there like an idiot? You want me to do that on the main stage too?”
Ayoung had a huge number of moving parts. And the distribution hadn’t considered her movement lines or stamina at all.
Crushing the paper in her hand—the one listing each person’s parts—Ayoung spoke to Sehee in a low, trembling voice.
“Do I look like someone who can just follow orders without worrying about anything?”
“What?”
“What do you want me to do, right now?”
Sehee was someone Ayoung liked. When she first met Sehee on this program, Ayoung had been happy.
The fact that Sehee—who had always known her manager’s contact, never missed schedules—had gone silent for a while and then suddenly appeared at the audition.
The fact that Sehee, who used to smile brightly whenever their eyes met and chat away while giving her little things, was now looking at her with a cold expression as if she were a stranger.
The fact that Sehee, who had claimed she couldn’t dance at all, had suddenly appeared as an incredible talent who captivated everyone’s attention at the audition.
Ayoung hadn’t questioned any of it, not even a little. She’d heard Sehee had been injured and lost her memory, and thought, well, it can’t be helped.
She was just happy to be together with Sehee.
She didn’t hope for Sehee to do better for her, nor did she want any special treatment.
She simply wanted them to respect each other as fellow contestants and compete in good faith.
She believed that, if that happened, Sehee’s memories might return—and even if they didn’t, that Ayoung’s sincerity would someday reach her.
‘But… what is this?’
Ayoung bit down harder on her lower lip, crushing the paper in her hand even more.
Sehee treated her worse than a stranger.
‘You are a team.’
That was clearly what Jihyeon had said. Sehee must have understood it too.
That’s why she’d been so busy revising things with the other members and reworking the choreography.
But in all of that, Ayoung wasn’t included.
