Chapter 56: You’re Really Going for It (2)
When looking only at the song, the person Choi Myunghwan was most worried about at first was Do Seohan.
To be honest, he didn’t really match the concept.
Self-proclaimed sexy hamster.
He seemed to think so himself, but the other trainees unanimously disagreed.
But still.
Was he always this good at pulling off a concept?
While the other trainees were struggling with the intense concept, Do Seohan surprisingly stood out.
‘Kids grow in the blink of an eye.’
Do Seohan, the youngest, was growing day by day.
Compared to when he first started Stardust, his dancing skills had improved significantly, and his range had widened too.
Choi Myunghwan muttered with a satisfied expression.
“It’s a tough dance, but he really brings it to life. Definitely talented.”
“…Thank you!”
Maybe it was because his dance style clearly emphasized contrasts in strength, but he had a knack for highlighting the impact of the song cleanly.
The kid danced so tightly and smoothly.
“Seohan, you’re going to be something.”
“Thank you!”
Seohan bowed his head with a flushed face.
Choi Myunghwan, recalling something he’d heard from Yoo Minseo, casually flipped through the lyrics sheet and said,
“Minseo said that when Seohan gets complimented, he gets super embarrassed.”
“…Huh?”
“You look especially handsome today.”
“Pardon?”
“You dance well, you’ve got a good face. Oh, and you’re tall too. How tall are you? You’ve got it all, huh?”
Had the rumor spread that far?
Fwoosh—
Seeing Seohan’s face turn bright red in an instant, Choi Myunghwan chuckled.
Seohan froze like someone whose system had lagged.
“Th…th…”
“Nope. I thought you’d grown up, but you need to grow a little more.”
“Pfft.”
Cha Seongbin trembled, holding back laughter.
It was because Seohan had instinctively backed far away.
He really was still a kid.
Choreographer Choi Myunghwan smiled and spoke.
“Alright, I’ll stop teasing you.”
Do Seohan, Kang Siwoo—there were a lot of trainees in this team who drew his attention one way or another.
Choi Myunghwan spoke with an energetic voice.
“You’ve got to do well. You’ve got to give it your all. This is your last chance, right?”
“That’s right!”
“We’ve got a little time left, so let’s think again. How can we find the answer? Think about the best way to make this performance the best it can be.”
“Yessir!”
Lee Dokyung answered immediately and looked back at Choi Myunghwan.
Still, it was a bit of a relief.
Choi Myunghwan nodded and stood up.
“Alright, that’s it for today’s lesson.”
After choreographer Choi Myunghwan left, the practice room became quiet.
The first to cautiously raise a hand was Lee Dokyung, who had taken the center role.
“I have something to say.”
Lee Dokyung was quick-witted in many ways. That’s why he understood that insisting on his position in this situation wouldn’t do him any good.
‘It’ll only hurt my image for no reason.’
He wasn’t confident in fully pulling it off.
So he judged that it would be better to create a heartwarming picture and hand it over to someone else.
Lee Dokyung swallowed hard and began to speak.
“What should we do about the center…. After hearing the instructor’s words, I thought about it, and I think this song’s vibe is… a little different from mine.”
At Lee Dokyung’s words, Seo Haim nodded.
She too had been struggling with digesting the song.
So she could roughly understand what Lee Dokyung was trying to say.
Lee Dokyung spoke bluntly.
“I’d like to hand it over to someone else.”
“In that case, I’d… like to recommend Siwoo-hyung.”
Seo Haim carefully raised her hand and pointed to Kang Siwoo.
He was one of the few members Choi Myunghwan had praised earlier, and the song’s concept suited Kang Siwoo’s unique cold aura.
“I agree too.”
“Yeah, it suits him. I think he’d do well.”
“Are you okay with it, hyung?”
Kang Siwoo’s screen time had been practically nonexistent, just as fans said.
It had gotten to the point where fans openly wondered if he’d made an enemy of the PD.
He was on the verge of not debuting due to his lack of screen time.
Missing this opportunity would be foolish.
Kang Siwoo nodded immediately without hesitation.
“Then I’ll give it a try.”
“We’ll trust you, hyung.”
“Waaah!”
In some ways, a rather awkward relationship.
Lee Dokyung and Kang Siwoo had once been entangled in an unpleasant blackmail incident, but even so, there were no objections to the center selection.
Lee Dokyung handed over the part to Kang Siwoo with a relieved face.
Clap—
Lee Dokyung clapped briefly and looked around at the team members.
“Alright then…”
With that, the center part was confirmed once again, and they were about to wrap up the meeting.
That was when it happened.
Do Seohan, who had been silent, suddenly raised his hand.
“I have something I’d like to say too.”
Everyone turned their heads in surprise at Seohan’s words.
Lee Dokyung cautiously asked, reading the room.
“Are you… going for the center?”
“No, that’s not it.”
Seohan shook his head with a smile.
His current rank was 5th.
With the situation becoming desperate, Choi Myunghwan’s harsh critique kept ringing in his ears.
‘Overall, it’s weak.’
A disappointing assessment that the performance didn’t bring out the glamour and tightness of the song.
This couldn’t go on.
He had to tear up the final stage, even if it meant pouring out his soul.
So, about that.
From the moment he heard Choi Myunghwan’s evaluation earlier, a specific image had come to his mind.
“What if we used a prop?”
“A prop?”
Lee Dokyung turned to Seohan with wide eyes.
“Yes.”
A stimulating seasoning to bring out the impact of this song.
There’s a concept that always works with a song like this.
We’re not going to perform like this, right?
Then…
Seohan added with a confident voice.
“Let’s use a rope.”
“……?”
Where did the rope come from?
The moment Seohan’s envisioned scene came to life in their minds.
Lee Dokyung couldn’t help but let out a baffled laugh.
“Wow…”
You’re really going for it, Do Seohan.
* * *
A perfect stage, worthy of the final.
We had to create a performance that would make even the viewers who were casually enjoying the final broadcast without any intention of voting want to cast a vote.
That’s why I took charge of performance leadership.
I was confident I could do it well.
Because I really planned to pour everything I had into it.
This final allowed more freedom in choreographing compared to the previous missions.
That meant there were many parts I could tweak.
Thanks to that, I meticulously revised a lot of the choreography.
After a short monitoring session, I shouted loudly.
“Let’s go again, aligning the arm angles!”
“Yessir!”
I boldly chose to use ropes.
The added props made the formations more complex, and since perfect synchronization was key to making the performance look cool, there wasn’t a single part we could afford to gloss over.
Two ropes crossed between Choi Han and Seo Haim standing on either side, and Kang Siwoo burst through between them as if tearing through a net.
But then—
Whoosh—
In an instant, the ropes unraveled and wrapped around Kang Siwoo again.
A boy tightly bound in the trap of ropes.
It was choreography symbolizing the inescapability of fate.
As expected, adding props just like in my original idea brought out the impact.
“Ooh.”
I smiled with satisfaction and gave a thumbs up.
“That was really good just now.”
It was a section where we’d had a few mistakes. Kang Siwoo pointed to himself and asked,
“Did I hit the beat this time?”
“Yep—It was super clean.”
“How did the visual look?”
“Very—provocative and nice.”
Impact was everything.
From that perspective, the last monitoring session was satisfying.
Listening to the conversation, Seo Haim clicked her tongue in disbelief.
“Do Seohan, you’re way too serious…”
“You should always be serious about the stage.”
“At this level, it’s obsession…”
Even if I ended up becoming a sexy maniac, I had to speak the truth.
This song was the kind that still wouldn’t be enough even if we squeezed out every last bit of sexiness we had.
It was the kind of song where we had to flip our image 180 degrees just to stand a chance.
Of course, to do that, perfect synchronization came first.
If our complex formations tangled up on stage, it would be a disaster, so even dozens of run-throughs weren’t enough.
The good news was that our bodies seemed to be remembering the timing after repeating the choreography, and everyone was starting to sync up.
I quickly ran to my spot after setting up the camera nicely.
“Let’s go one more time.”
The song was so relentlessly intense that there didn’t seem to be a single moment to catch our breath.
So much so that after each practice run, we could barely move our limbs.
“One more time!”
“Alright, let’s try again?”
We repeated that tough routine a few more times.
“One more…”
My survival instincts kicked in, and I swallowed the words that almost popped out of my mouth.
I looked around at the five of us who’d become living corpses and asked,
“Should we take a little break?”
“Mm…”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
Wobble—
Since we had been practicing until sweat poured like rain, everyone collapsed at my words like they’d melted.
Seo Haim fell forward in the same position she’d been standing.
“I’m gonna die…”
“Gasp… pant. This is brutal.”
I too was gasping and hurriedly reached for my water bottle.
Ah, this is tough.
I only endured it because I had the joints of an 18-year-old….
If I were 26, I’d have passed out instantly.
And on top of that, with the tension from leading the performance, my shoulders were stiff with fatigue.
“Aigo.”
“Haah…”
The moment I sat down, I couldn’t help but groan.
While I was slumped against the wall, completely exhausted, Seo Haim called out to me.
“Seohan. Are you hanging in there?”
“I just keep thinking… if only I’d won rock-paper-scissors. That’s all I can think about.”
“…Honestly, same.”
“Who lost that game anyway?”
Seo Haim cleared her throat and avoided my gaze.
She’d lost at rock-paper-scissors and got assigned to this song, if I recall correctly.
I quickly added something to avoid putting pressure on her.
“No, it’s fine. I like taking on challenges.”
“Seohan, your eyes are trembling as you say that.”
“Ah… I’m dying…”
What could I do—I was really dying here.
It felt like I was aging back the eight years I’d regained preparing for this stage…
While I was muttering complaints to myself, a loud vibration rang out.
Seo Haim, startled, quickly pulled her phone out of her pocket.
“Oh, it’s my sister calling.”
“Your sister?”
With just those words, Cha Seongbin turned his head with wide eyes.
Seo Haim’s sister…
“That person!”
Currently, the most famous civilian in Stardust.
It was her.