Chương 6: New Beginnings (1)

"Ha-rin, can you stay for a minute?" The dance teacher asked, "Leader duties." He reasoned with a soft smile.

Ha-rin slowly nodded her head, shooing her members to go ahead to the company car. She looked back to the teacher curiously, wrapping her arms around herself while waiting.

The man looked her up and down, "You did well today." He complimented, patting upon Ha-rin's shoulder.

Ha-rin shifted out of his grip, nodding her head, "Thank you sunbae-nim." She replied, smiling at the praise, she wasn't used to getting compliments about her skills.

The man frowned at her reaction to his touch, "You're growing to be better than the others, you know." He continued.

Ha-rin, pursed her lips, "Um– Thank you…" She replied, flustered and weirded out by the added comment. "You've taught me well."

The man looked up at her praise, "Have I? Glad to hear I'm of some use." He joked.

Ha-rin's face dropped, was her favorite teacher really putting himself down like this? "No, Teacher, you're very useful!" She insisted, "You've prepared us well for our debut."

The man suddenly embraced Ha-rin, and she froze at the contact. "Thank you, sweety." He purred, too close to ear. Too close to her chest, too close to her mouth, and as his hand began to run up and down her back she gulped.

Struggling out of his embrace, she looked up at her teacher in confusion, "Teacher?"

"No– I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable! It's just– just no one has ever appreciated me for my work like you…" He said with a sad smile.

Ha-rin frowned, "Oh– No! You didn't make me uncomfortable." She insisted, even though she was quite uncomfortable.

He smiled at her, "Good, good. Now go catch up with you members, yeah?"

"Yes, Teacher!" She bowed, scurrying out of the practice room with a soft smile on her face.

Joon-woo shot up his bed in a cold sweat. With a troubled expression he looked left, right, and then to his chest. Right, he wasn't Ha-rin anymore.

He sighed and rubbed at his temples. Debuting as Ha-rin was hard. Her confidence was low and she had no one to turn to. She had dropped out of school and her part-time jobs could only accommodate her trainee-hours so much. Her bandmates from the beginning had treated each other more as co-workers, never friends despite living together in the same dorm for nine years. So she fell fast for the praise her teacher had given her.

Kite looked upon Joon-woo as it had for the last few days, worried.

Ever since his little bathroom panic attack, Kite looked at him weirdly. Not with pity, because Joon-woo knew that look all too well to to miss it, and not with a demand, like he had also come to know. Joon-woo returned Kite's stare.

"I see you looking at me, Kite." Joon-woo said.

"You had a nightmare." Kite simply replied.

Joon-woo rolled his eyes and sent Kite a head-tilted grin, "I know. You'll have to get used to that, too." He joked.

Kite just stared at Joon-woo sadly for a few moments. Joon-woo scratched his cheek, uncomfortable with the look. "Kite, what time is it right now?" He asked, just trying to change the subject.

"6 A.M.." Kite replied, "The first shooting is in a few hours." It reminded.

Joon-woo nodded, as he had found Park Joon-woo had a paid off barely working phone. The phone did just what Joon-woo needed it to do, message Reggie.

Reggie had replied fast and with multi-message texts, and upon conversation, Joon-woo found that Reggie was a nice guy.

He had moved to Korea to live with his mother after graduating high school. He was 19 and quite well-off for a trainee. He had also passed the auditions but for completely opposite reasons as Joon-woo, Reggie was a dancer. Reggie had the looks and his body moved weightlessly to his commands despite his height of six foot, and it was singing he struggled with.

Upon their text conversations, Reggie, besides having a hard time controlling his volume, was anxious. He was anxious in a new country with a language he only knew in snippets. He thought of Reggie as he looked at himself in the mirror. Reggie was tall and had gone blond just a few months ago. Reggie had a mature face shape, with a defined jawline that amplified the shine in his smile. Reggie, if Joon-woo failed, would definitely make it as an idol. Joon-woo could practically see the man on stage already.

The body of Park Joon-woo was skinny, skinny as he could wrap his thumb and index finger around his wrist. He was too skinny, which in some regards, made him lucky.

As Ha-rin, he had to diet consistently over the nine years to maintain her weight of a hundred pounds or less. She had done every diet, probably. From the infamous paper cup diet, to living off of just ice cubes and plain tofu with a heavy exercise schedule. Ha-rin had destroyed her body. Regretfully so, as health problems followed her after it all, and she found herself dizzy every hour of every day in her later idol days.

But part of her never regretted it, as weekly weigh-ins were something she had to do even in her trainee days. And she saw, she saw as girls would get scolded for being over a hundred and ten pounds even if they hadn't eaten for days. She watched girls, teenage and early twenties, throughout their dinners and pass out mid-practice and as she watched, she was one herself.

So as Joon-woo stood at the mirror, he was relieved that he wouldn't have to diet to such extremes anymore, as selfish as it was. Because Ha-rin would've killed for such fast metabolism.

He sighed, slipping on his tear-covered running sneakers with ease. Would he have to see similar diets in others if he succeeded on Producer10? Would he see a day's worth of food, stuffed into a single paper cup? Fingers pressed to the backs of tongues after dinners? He frowned, as the too-pale of his old bandmates as Jung Ha-rin, they were always too skinny.

Joon-woo shook his head, ridding his mind of the memories. He supposed it was just part of being an idol, as much as it saddened him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. It could only be from one person, as Joon-woo appeared to have zero contacts and zero numbers saved on his phone, Reggie. He pulled his phone out and red the message:

Reggie Lee-hyung: Joon-woo-ah!

Reggie Lee-hyung: Are you on your way?

Reggie Lee-hyung: I just arrived and I can already feel my throat giving out (-_-)

Joon-woo pursed his lips into a smile as he read over the messages, Reggie had a habit of using emojis and sending simple messages in strings rather than one message. He reread the mention of a sore throat and Joon-woo acknowledged his own, aching legs.

Both of them had worked their bodies tirelessly over the last few days. Reggie had sent Joon-woo updates on his voice through short memos, asking for advice here and there. Joon-woo had happily complied, sending back examples of his own voice, with exercises to perfect pitch and such.

Vice versa too. Joon-woo had ruthlessly moved his body through various boy group choreography and stretches, of course he knew his limits and he knew well not to pass him. It was too often that, as Ha-rin, he would pull muscles from stretching too hard or moving her body too rough. But even so, in a body as untrained as Joon-woo's, his legs still ached, weighing down his walk to the bus stop greatly.

Reggie had given him pointers on the nitpicky thing the trainers would definitely pick up on, how much effort he put into each move and how high he raised his arms or legs. Truthfully, Reggie had earned a few points in Joon-woo's book for his help. And through Reggie's advice, Joon-woo found that Reggie had been in various types of dance throughout his childhood, mostly hip-hop from what Joon-woo gathered, but he still weighed his connections well.

The bus pulled up to the busy stop, people filtering through each other to get at least a spot. Joon-woo rolled his eyes, he hadn't missed the crowds, at all. But he still followed nonetheless, the first recording of Producer10 calling his name.

–+–

Joon-woo pushed through metal double doors. Along his stomach was a large sticker with the number 13 and his name. It had the oh-so-infamous logo of Producer10 on the very top. It just reminded him that he was really, truly here.

He looked up from entering and gulped at the sight that welcomed him.

About 50 trainees stood awkwardly around a warehouse-like room. Behind the many, there were large bleachers with numbered chairs for seats. At the very top of the bleachers sat a chair with the number one etched into it. At the bottom of the bleachers was a larger row of ten chairs, ranging from 40-50 etched into them. Joon-woo gasped, as the chairs were grand, being see-through with a futuristic font.

He turned to a large stage. A white half-circle stood four feet above the ground, a large version of the Producer10 logo projected onto the backdrop with various lights. To the sides and in various middles were large cameras, some had camera crew manning them. Above were stage lights, unused at the moment, but Joon-woo figured they would be used later.

As he admired the set up, a familiar voice caught his attention.

"Joon-woo-ah?" Reggie asked, a few feet away with his eyes perking up at Joon-woo's entrance.

Joon-woo bowed his head in acknowledgement just a bit and gave a small wave in reply. Reggie made his way over with a nervous smile, on his stomach was the number thirty-nine.

"Hello Hyung." Joon-woo greeted.

Reggie shrugged, face slightly reddening at the use of honorifics. "We're only a year apart… Please speak comfortably." He requested in a low whisper.

Joon-woo's mouth went agape, were they really close enough to do so? "Okay, sorry…" He apologized, trying to admire the scene more.

The 50 or so trainees were spread out in groups, though many stood alone, confused and not knowing what to do. What Joon-woo noticed is that they all had similar bodily features. They were skinny, but not so skinny as to look anorexic, most had light muscles, and most hair was plain black, with the occasional festive head of hair sprinkled in the crowd. He also noticed that quite literally everyone was taller than him.

Noticing Joon-woo's admiration of the place, Reggie chimed in, "It's really cool in here…" He said, running his fingers through his blond hair. "I wish I could take a photo." Reggie complained.

They had confiscated phones in exchange for the name and number stickers, which is why Joon-woo figured everyone looked so bored.

"I'm sure when the episodes start airing, you can start taking plenty of photos." Joon-woo assured, his eye catching the entrance of a familiar man.

It was the producer from the auditions. He held a megaphone and clipboard in hand as he strutted with a large eye bag across the floor of trainees. With a black cap weighed over his eyes, he walked up the stairs to the white shining stage. The producer cleared his throat, eyes began to follow him, then.

"Hello!" He called from the microphone, it sent an echo throughout the large warehouse.

By now, most if not all of the crew and trainees had their eyes on the man.

"I'm Producer Ha Jang-soo! When I call your name please make your way to the seat that correlates with the number on your sticker!" He instructed.

Many trainees exchanged glances, looking at both their own number and each others' number. It was then Joon-woo got a hunch on what the numbers meant. It was their rankings…

"Number 50, Contestant An Jin-Ho!" Producer Jang-soo called.

A blue-faced trainee stepped out of the small crowd, with his head down he sat in the chair labeled '50'. I was tucked awkwardly to the left and barely in camera view. But as if uncaring to the shame it caused each name being called so low, Producer Jang-soo continued.

Joon-woo had zoned out, not paying mind to the embarrassed trainees taking their seats. That was, until, the only name he even cared about was called.

"Number 39, Contestant Reggie Lee!" Producer Jang-soo called.

Reggie snapped his head up, but his face didn't go red at the ranking. The chair of 39 was the first to be on a higher row, granted it was just a chair higher than the last 10 contestants. But even so, Reggie had a calm expression. Joon-woo hoped he could be as calm as him.

Joon-woo listened to the various names being called, not really watching the name called make their way to their seat, that was until Producer Jang-soo got to the top 15.

"Number 15, Contestant Ryeo Hyun!" Producer Jang-soo called.

Joon-woo tilted his head at the man's appearance. He was bulky, large muscles poking at his biceps. His hair seemed to be in the early stages of growing long. And his expression was the first he'd seen proud. Ryeo Hyun took his seat with a small grin.

"Number 14, Contestant Bo Jaesang!" Producer Jang-soo called.

To Joon-woo's surprise, an average looking student stepped from the crowd. His hair was a copy of what he had seen on the Seoul streets a million times, his face had no prominent features, and his body wasn't particularly muscular. But still, Bo Jaesang smiled widely at the ranking, even taking his seat with an average expression.

Now, it was Joon-woo's turn. He looked at Producer Jang-soo from where he stood.

"Number 13, Contestant Park Joon-woo!" He called.

Joon-woo began at the clear white lined steps, trying to keep a blank face as many eyes fell upon him. He set his eyes upon the grand number 13 chair, and when he sat, he watched the piercing gazes turn away.

It was when Producer Kang-soo got into the top five, Joon-woo really paid attention. Each trainee that walked up wore a prideful expression, their bodies well built and their faces blessed by the gods. Joon-woo could only imagine their skills.

"Number 2, Jung Hyun-Ok!" Producer Jang-soo called, voice clearly becoming strained with every name he called.

A fair-skinned dyed-blond head of hair began up the stairs. His features were that of somebody mixed, his foreign features were the kind that Korean school girls fawned over, an almost pointedly nose with his jawline poking his skin in all the right places. And his body was as well-toned, not too bulky, but noticeable enough to get stares in the streets. Jung Hyun-Ok was hot, and Joon-woo knew he would be a fan favorite.

Joon-woo took a deep breath in preparation to see who was number one, if everyone else in the top ten looked like actual models you would see in the magazines and on the ads. His eyes scanned the now empty floor for anyone that wasn't a crew member. But as if his eyes deceived him, he saw no one else. He looked around and the other trainees appeared to be unable to see who number one was.

"Number 1, Contestant Mi Yong!"

The seated trainee's eyes scanned the floor and they found their target as a student began up the stairs. His hair was dyed a festive pink and his face, as if doused in the make-up of Athena. To Joon-woo's surprise, Mi Yong was about his height and his expression wore a cold glare. But even with the ugly glare, Mi Yong's face shined with no light. As Ha-rin, Joon-woo would've definitely deem Mi Yong a crush.

But most importantly, many trainees were surprised because not only was Mi Yong 24 years old, but he had also been a part of a K-Pop group previously.

'Winners' was his group. They had debuted out of Musi Entertainment a few years back, and after just two singles being released and little to no promotion, the group had gone on indefinite hiatus, which basically meant they disbanded in music industry terms.

Eyes fell on Mi Yong, eyes of jealousy, as he was the person to beat. Especially as he took his seat at the single chair at the very top row of the bleachers.

Every other trainee's chairs were plain white, but still grand and quite large. But Mi Yong's seat was in the shape of a star. It had various blue-purple color schemes layered around it, it was the number one seat, for the number one star.

But Mi Yong, as if unaffected by the piercing glares of competition, wore a face of confidence. Joon-woo suddenly wasn't sure how far he could get.