Chapter 11 #2
“What defines K-pop?” Choi asked, his voice booming sermon-style.
He let the question hang long enough that Andy almost raised his hand to guess the answer.
“Is it perfectly synched choreography?” Choi continued.
“Is it stable vocals? Is it flashy outfits and top-tier production quality? Many would say yes. But, I say no. K-pop is so much more than the sum of its parts. It’s a conversation taking place between an artist’s soul and the audience’s heart! ”
Andy cheered along with the contestants surrounding him. Whatever this mission was, it had to be good.
“Before all of this,” Director Choi continued, gesturing around him, “before all of you, there were the pioneers. Artists who blazed the very trail you walk on today. Artists who put Korean culture on the map, elevating our industry until it dominated on a global stage.” Andy vigorously nodded.
Choi spoke on that from his experience as one of those trailblazers.
“For our next mission, you will honor those pioneers. Your first official unit mission is the Updated Retro-Classics challenge!”
More cheers and applause from the assembled contestants. Choi smiled, letting the noise naturally die down before continuing.
“But honor is not imitation,” Choi declared with passionate candor.
“Any trainee can copy a performance. I’m not looking for trainees.
I’m looking for idols. For artists. You must take these legendary songs,” he said, clutching a fist to his heart, “and inject your own blood, sweat, and sincerity into them! You must show me who you are.”
Choi turned, slowly pacing the stage. “We’ll give you all the tools you’ll need. Stylists, wardrobes, sound engineers, and the advice of your mentors. But the vision? The heart? That comes from you. The creative direction rests entirely on your shoulders.”
Choi’s smile faded, his expression turning sharp and serious.
“This won’t just be a performance. This will be a test of your identity.
And your reward? The top five teams will earn a powerful advantage in the next global vote.
The top individual performer will earn an even greater one.
But, remember, the Dream Makers won’t vote for mere copies. They’ll only vote for what’s real.”
Choi’s smile returned, even grander than it had been before.
The teams, he explained, would be divided by rank.
The first five ranks would be Team One. The next five, Team Two.
And so on. “Now, I know what you’re thinking,” Choi added.
“Team One has our best Dream Boys. How can we possibly beat them?” He chuckled.
“Well, my first response to that is, welcome to the music industry. There will always be a better, more popular group. With a larger, more dedicated fanbase.” He cut across the room with his gaze, fixing Andy in place.
“But, the thing about those dream teams, if you will, is that they’re subject to much higher expectations.
The higher you rise, the farther you could fall.
” He looked away, leaving Andy so chilled he could almost see his own breath.
Not a threat, exactly. But always a possibility. Welcome to the industry.
“Besides,” Choi continued, “it’s true that Team One has our highest ranked Dream Boys. But our best ones? That’s for the rest of you to decide. Any one of you could be sitting in the top five chairs at the end of this mission. That’s entirely up to you.”
Andy took a slow, deep breath to calm his surging anxiety.
He’d already seen one of the cameras in the right corner swing his way, capturing his reaction to Director Choi’s personal message.
He had no idea what he looked like. Hopefully, better than he felt.
Being on the dream team meant teaming up with the one person in the room Andy was currently furious with.
Divine retribution, probably, for telling him to fuck off.
Maybe the showrunners had been watching his friendly chat with Min Jae after all.
So, only divine in the sense that he was being offered for sacrifice to the K-pop gods.
Hopefully, they’d take the ice king instead.
After being dismissed and handed their new packets, Andy, Min Jae, Min Jun, Tae Woo, and Woo Jin–the dream team–made their way to Practice Room One in the Dragon Wing.
The other contestants practically burned holes in the back of Andy's head the whole way there.
He didn't blame them. He was just as upset about Director Choi's naked ploy to fix a giant target to his back.
Punitive. Maybe Choi and Min Jae were more alike than Andy had first thought.
Practice Room One was the biggest in the Dragon Wing.
A small perk for being at the top of the food chain.
Andy followed the others inside, the door shutting behind him, sealing the five of them in an awkward, pressurized silence.
Andy, Min Jae, Min Jun, Tae Woo, and Woo Jin.
A dream team on paper, no doubt. But Andy couldn’t begin to think of a worse collection of personalities to work together.
Min Jae, his current nemesis, and Woo Jin, who’d been following him around Sky Village like a puppy.
Tae Woo, who’d dropped a spot in the previous ranking, replaced by Min Jun, who stood right beside him.
At least Min Jun would ally with Andy, if it came down to it. Hopefully.
Andy held up the packet a PA had handed him.
“Should we take a look at what they’ve given us?
” He opened the packet, suppressing a groan as he pulled out the short stack of lyrics sheets.
Printed across the top in neat block letters, U & Me 4EVA by O-RING.
Or, rather, ORAK, meaning entertainment or amusement, in Korean.
A fun bit of double-meaning wordplay. But that was where the fun ended.
Andy’d heard the song before. Anyone his age whose parents listened to K-pop would’ve probably heard it as a child.
One of the quintessential 1st gen groups debuting in the late 90s, O-RING’s music was a mix of incredibly sweet, melodic bubblegum pop and dramatic, heartfelt ballads.
They were known for their matching colorful outfits and simple, catchy point choreography.
Andy passed out the lyrics sheets to the others, who mostly didn’t bother to hide their groans. Everyone except Tae Woo, who nearly jumped for joy.
“Is this really our mission?” Tae Woo held up the lyrics sheet as if it might suddenly combust. “I love this song!”
Woo Jin snorted. “Seriously? It’s gotta be at least twice as old as you are.”
“What?” Tae Woo huffed. “I’m only a year younger than you, sunbaenim.”
“That’s right! And it’s twice as old as I am.” Woo Jin shook his head. “I can’t believe this is our song.”
Andy pulled the thumb drive from the packet. “Should we watch the video?”
“We should choose our group leader first,” Min Jae announced. Andy turned to fix him with a narrow-eyed stare. Was that asshole already making a power play? “I nominate Andy.”
No one was more shocked than Andy to hear that. But he did a better job than most to conceal his surprise. Especially Woo Jin. “I don’t–”
“Andy is our number one ranked member,” Min Jae explained, cutting Woo Jin off, his tone smooth and utterly reasonable. “It’s only right that he should lead the number one team.”
A reasonable, logical, respectful choice. It made perfect sense in a world where everyone wasn’t constantly angling for advantage. But Min Jae was definitely making a play, even if Andy didn’t understand it. It was all the ice king ever did.
Andy glanced at the others. “What do you all think?”
Woo Jin shared a long, pointed look with Min Jae before surrendering to the inevitable. “Min Jae’s right. I vote Andy.”
“Me, too,” Min Jun said.
“Not that it matters,” Tae Woo added, “since it’s already a majority, but I agree. It should be Andy.”
Which made it unanimous. Not that Andy couldn’t have refused the role.
But he didn’t want to. Being leader in the last challenge was what put him into his number one rank in the first place.
But that was with a team that genuinely wanted to be led by him.
His current team’s decision felt a lot more like offloading unwanted responsibility onto him.
“Okay,” Andy replied, already feeling the extra weight settling on his shoulders. “If that’s what everyone wants. I’ll be the leader. And my first decision as leader is to watch this video and see exactly what we’re working with.”
Andy went to the large, wall-mounted monitor–no simple tablets for the dream team–and slipped the thumb drive into the side slot.
He grabbed the remote, found the video file, and started playing it.
From almost the first frame, a slow-motion car crash of disbelief and horrified amusement exploded in his mind.
The five members of O-RING, dressed in matching, billowy white outfits, bounced around a stark white set, their choreography a series of simple, heart-achingly earnest gestures.
They sang of promises and forever, the kind of innocent sugary pop that hadn't been cool in decades.
Andy wasn’t alone. He glanced at the others.
Tae Woo smiling and nodding his head to the beat.
Min Jun’s horrified stare. Woo Jin wearily rubbing his forehead.
Min Jae–well, being Min Jae. He could’ve been watching the birth of his first child or an actual car crash. Andy never would’ve known which.