Episode 80: Kids Without a Holiday (2)
“There’s more, so don’t hesitate to eat if you need it.”
“Thank you, Team Leader!”
“Enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you, Sunbae!”
The trainees bowed as Seonwoo handed out sandwiches, then again as I distributed zero-calorie drinks.
A short-haired trainee, beaming with a sandwich in hand, scurried over to a ponytail trainee.
“Unnie, what did you get?”
“Me? BLT.”
“I got chicken tender—wanna split?”
“Ugh, I’m not really craving chicken breast…”
“Unnie, your evaluation song this month was ‘Foreigner,’ right? I’ll help you.”
“Hmm… OK, deal.”
I thought they might be close, but apparently not.
“Ugh, I think I picked the wrong song this time. Should’ve stuck to my usual.”
“What’s the hard part?”
“Here.”
“Oh, ‘Summer City.’ Not me… Yoonjin-ah! Later, check Minseok’s practice. You did ‘Summer City’ last time, right?”
“Minseok’s doing ‘Summer City’? That’ll be tough for him. Come to me later, unnie!”
“Thank you!”
Even while eating, the kids exchanged ideas energetically.
I’d noticed it before, and it still amazed me.
Helping with someone else’s evaluation?
Unheard of at Starlight, at least.
With debut spots uncertain, who’d help whom?
At Starlight, failing to tackle your own challenges alone meant elimination—standard practice.
That’s the reality.
Drop the weak and move on.
Like MLB gathers baseball prodigies, this idol hub overflows with trainees—Koreans, Chinese, Japanese, even Southeast Asians chasing the dream.
Such camaraderie is typical of small agencies.
The kid next to me, at best, edges closer to debut in a place where the line between trainee and debut team blurs.
A lack of robust trainer support forces that closeness.
A luxury only major agencies, assured of debuts, can afford.
The tight bond of mid-tier agency trainees, pulling each other up.
Two clashing ideals coexisting—it’s more cultural shock than surprise.
“Yujin-ssi, I’ll step out to the restroom. Take one for yourself.”
With that, Seonwoo left, and my thoughts deepened.
As the initial shock faded, the first thought was,
‘This is fun.’
Exactly that.
MyWay, prioritizing artists, wouldn’t skimp on trainee investment.
It’s no secret that MyWay’s ability to settle accounts from the first single for Hylliy and Oberon stems not from low costs but from AZ sacrificing a chunk of her earnings.
So, the kids’ active feedback likely reflects MyWay’s deliberate culture.
Pitting them against each other to pick survivors?
Or fostering symbiosis to debut as many as possible?
Neither’s clearly “right.”
Efficiency favors the former.
‘MyWay knows that.’
They’ve the resources—AZ’s name alone boosts their clout.
With funds to settle Hylliy and Oberon’s first singles, building a solid trainee pool is feasible.
Yet MyWay chooses the harder path.
The reason’s not hard to guess.
‘For those kids.’
Light casts shadows—nature’s law.
These kids are that shadow.
The thickest shadow named “trainee” under the idol spotlight.
I know most here will escape that shadow for the light.
‘But how many can claim that with certainty?’
Lee Hee-kyung?
‘She didn’t know—she just created it.’
I’m certain.
None.
So, MyWay’s approach might aim to minimize dropouts.
Probably true.
I’m a beneficiary of it.
‘Wonder what’d happen to this unorthodox company without Lee Ahjeong.’
For now, I shelve that thought—it’s time for something else.
“Yujin-ssi, why aren’t you eating?”
“Oh, I’m fine.”
“Hmm. It’s pretty good here.”
Seonwoo returned, plopping down with a tumbler, grabbing a sandwich.
A peek showed bubbling dark liquid inside.
“Haha… I can’t stand zero-calorie drinks, but I can’t just drink cola in front of the kids.”
So he brought it in a tumbler?
No issue if unnoticed.
I gave a small smile to his unprompted whisper, then voiced my lingering thought.
“When’s their evaluation? Friday?”
Though all are off, this Friday’s a regular weekday and month-end.
But Seonwoo shook his head.
“No, next week. It won’t be a month-end eval, so we considered last week, but it’s set.”
“Hmm. Good timing.”
Perfect if time’s tight.
I’d asked since it didn’t seem like a February prep, and a week feels right.
“Yujin-ssi?”
“Take your time eating.”
I rose lightly, his voice trailing as I walked off.
Feeling a bit idle, I grabbed a zero-calorie cola before heading off.
My steps led to the short-haired trainee who’d taken the last sandwich—her stage name eludes me, though I recall she performed under one.
“‘Foreigner’ is a Yoon Hye-sung sunbae song, right? What’s the hard part?”
‘Foreigner,’ a notoriously tough track even for Yoon Hye-sung, known for making difficult songs seem effortless, is compounded by its rapid tempo.
Approaching the ponytail trainee who’d chosen it, I asked. She, sharing an earbud and discussing the song, didn’t notice me until she jumped.
“Yes, the bridge—breath control’s tricky… Ack! Sunbae-nim?”
‘Her name… right, Seol Nari.’
She seemed embarrassed.
A dancer-singer struggling with breath? Not shameful if it’s a problem.
“Sing it once.”
“Ahem.”
Nari, blushing, tackled the tricky part. My hunch was right.
“You’re short on breath. No choice—take a break here before continuing.”
“But the original…”
She countered instantly.
No need to be shy about that.
“Sure, one breath sounds great, but if it messes up what follows, it’s worse. Breaking here boosts the song’s integrity. You probably know that.”
“Oh…”
“That works because it’s Yoon Hye-sung. Even she rests when off-form. Can’t recall exactly, but check YouTube—there’s footage.”
“Really?”
Not a clear memory.
But as a non-machine, Hye-sung likely has off-day clips. ‘Foreigner’ probably has a split-breath version too.
If not, no big deal.
“Forcing the impossible matters, but knowing your limits does too. Minus that, ‘Foreigner’ suits your voice, Nari-ssi—no big deduction. Seonwoo might differ, though.”
Choosing an unfit song is a minus for a singer, but adapting flexibly is a plus for an idol.
I meant to highlight that, but Nari’s expression turned odd.
“You… know my name…?”
Oops.
Pre-regression memory trolling again. Once done, twice isn’t hard.
“Yes. And you’re Sang-ah-ssi, right?”
The short-haired trainee, Ju Sang-ah, also stuck in my mind. The mood shifted.
“You know me too?”
“What about me?”
Their boldness—MyWay’s vibe?—drew them closer, despite my sunbae and producer status.
Some I knew by name, some by stage name, some just by face.
Luckily, a smooth escape existed.
“Okay, that’s not the point. Matching names is less useful than reviewing practice, right? I can’t stay long today.”
As expected, their mouths shut like clams.
“But just vocals, not dance. I’m not confident there.”
I could teach dance if pressed, but my skill’s just adapting others’ lessons. Better trainers could outdo me for these kids.
‘Vocals, though—I’ve co-trained with producers, so I’m proud of that.’
Instantly, over half the boys’ faces fell.
Oddly, all were male.
“Yujin-ssi, this eval’s dance for boys, vocals for girls. Favoring some over others might skew fairness…”
Seonwoo approached cautiously.
If that’s the case, no issue.
“If I stop after one, fairness is already off… Next month swaps, right?”
“Yes, boys do vocals, girls do dance.”
“Then it’s fine. I’ll come again next month.”
No need to wait for a reply.
“Waa!!”
The dejected cheered up.
“Yujin-ssi might get tired, though. After Hylliy’s producing, you’re on ‘Blue Poem’ next.”
Seonwoo lowered his voice, hinting at Ko Yohan’s song.
“A day or two’s fine. If needed, I’ll record hard again.”
My purpose here justifies it. Checking their skills firsthand isn’t bad.
“I’ll leave when Zia’s back.”
“Where’d Zia-ssi go?”
“For a bath.”
Suck… “Won’t listen if I stop her. Do as you please.”
Seonwoo gave up fast—likely glad for the trainees’ benefit.
With nothing else to do, the lesson began.
Even with two late arrivals joining, no word from Zia.
Returning well past my estimate, Zia asked,
“Late, huh? What were you doing? Not bored?”
“Bored to death. Sigh.”
“Sorry. I’ll cook whatever you want as payback.”
Unaware of the danger, she said it.
Tempting, but—
“No. Instead, let’s go somewhere tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“Nope, can’t tell.”
Good.
I’d worried how to lure her ‘there.’
Lucky break.