Sol grabbed the edge of the hat resting on his head. Curious, he observed Tae-oh standing at the distant corner of the alley, gazing into the distance. The familiar sight seemed to overlap with the figure of Kang Ga-ram.
Last night, Ga-ram was also standing here, looking at that alley. When Sol tried to take off his hat, Tae-oh reached out his arm to stop him. Before their hands could touch, Tae-oh withdrew his hand. Perhaps because of what happened in front of the bathroom, it felt awkward to reach out, and Sol was bothered by what he had said.
He didn’t want Tae-oh to care just as he suggested, but maybe it had become a habit for the other to look out for the other members. Once again, he took care of Sol. However, the words that followed were unexpectedly blunt.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you hit me.”
“It’s not because of that...! Fine, from tomorrow, make sure to be punctual.”
“I won’t run away without a word, so next time, don’t wait for me and just go ahead.”
In response to Tae-oh’s words, Sol spat out words that didn’t reflect his true feelings while pulling down the hat the other had given him. If Tae-oh hadn’t waited for him? He would probably have continued to lie down without any plans, and the situation would have been even more chaotic now. Typically, this was a pattern Sol had experienced repeatedly. Despite Baek Yoo-chan and Seo Ju-hwan taking care of him, they couldn’t manage all of Sol’s actions.
“...I didn’t wait because of that. It’s temporary, but I’m the leader. As I said yesterday, no matter where you go, stick together in pairs.”
“Oh... right.”
Sol vaguely nodded his head, not remembering well. He didn’t want to ask again, fearing that Tae-oh’s temper would flare up. Observing Sol’s subtle behavior, Tae-oh added something. After staring at the alley for a while, Tae-oh, who had pushed down his hat, glanced at Sol and moved his steps again.
“Some people even practice in places like emergency staircases because there’s no practice room. It might not matter much to you, but for others, their lives might depend on it.”
“Huh? Yeah.... yeah.”
“I know you don’t have a specific goal or enthusiasm for this. But anyway, you signed the contract. As an adult, take responsibility properly. Your current position might be desperate for someone else.”
Sol nodded his head in response to Tae-oh’s additional words while walking. He seemed to understand the feeling. Sol also, during his time as a dancer, had seen others who couldn’t receive choreography and sat huddled in front of the mirror preparing for the stage. Sol understood why Tae-oh was bringing up such a story and talking to him. He was saying not to make fun of those who worked harder and were more desperate than himself.
For any reason, he had taken that seat, and it was a warning to at least pretend to be diligent. He knew it well. Sol, too, had a time when he was ambitious. Someone seeing him like this would probably find him pathetic, including Tae-oh, Do Ji-ho, DK, and Kang Ga-ram. He, lost in his own thoughts, distancing himself from reality, was brought back by Tae-oh’s voice.
“We have the evaluation song this week. It’s ‘Hot Trick’ by D-Block sunbaenim. If you go now, the others are probably already learning the choreography...” (T/N: Sunbae/nim - senior.)
Tae-oh’s words trailed off as he looked at Sol’s blank expression. It wasn’t just that he didn’t have an idea, but his blank face showed his lack of knowledge in this field.
D-Block, the idol group with the best performance among those produced by YC Entertainment. Practically the idol group making YC Entertainment thrive. They were undoubtedly a successful idol group. They were so well-known in South Korea that anyone on the street would have heard of them at least once, and their debut song, <Hot Trick>, had gained fame for its hardcore choreography.
“...You’ve never heard them before?”
“Uh... no.”
How could he not know? Tae-oh was skeptical, but Sol was very sure of his answer.
“You should familiarize yourself with idol group songs as much as possible. Especially if it’s a senior group from the company.”
“I’ll look it up.”
“...Alright. Until the debut schedule is set, we’ll practice and evaluate a designated song every week.”
“Yes.”
“Vocal and dance evaluations are separated. Two songs will be challenging for you, right?”
When Tae-oh asked, he almost reflexively nodded his head. Based on his experience, it was expected that following one dance routine would be physically demanding for him. Knowledge about the same idol group was crucial in many ways. This was not only to facilitate practice but also for future activities.
While walking, Tae-oh watched him searching for ‘D-Block’ on his phone and tried to estimate the time inwardly. In addition to lesson time, he would have to find time to watch over him during practice.
Balancing his own skills, the members’ abilities, Tae-oh felt exhausted even before starting. Recently, there had been too many complications. There was Manager Yeong-ho, who mumbled like a sly fox, and it bothered him. Tae-oh, like Ga-ram, was a person who silently focused on his work. Still, the leader position thrust upon him unexpectedly kept his mouth open without a break. It felt burdensome.
“Since it’s the first week, unifying the songs into one would probably be better.”
Tae-oh mentioned other things that Sol should be careful about or pay attention to. As Tae-oh went through each point, Sol diligently recorded his words in the phone’s notepad. Observing this, Tae-oh furrowed his brow. It occurred to him that the phone, filled with notes, would be confiscated upon reaching the company. He hesitated for a moment, thinking about the futility of making notes on the phone.
“You know you have to submit that phone to Manager Yeong-ho, right?”
“Was that so...?”
Upon hearing Tae-oh’s words, Sol held the phone tightly, making a distressed sound. The yellow notepad app was filled with black text, but Sol’s notes turned out to be useless. To make matters worse, as soon as they arrived at the practice room, Manager Yeong-ho unexpectedly extended his hand. Tae-oh handed over his phone nonchalantly, but Sol stared at his phone for a while in front of him. It was to review the notes he had written just a while ago. Sol cursed his dull memory.
“Tae-oh-ya, Sol-ah.”
“Manager Yeong-ho. Can I get another spare phone?”
“Another one?”
“Yes, for Sung Sol... It seems like it would be necessary for various reasons, including memorizing the choreography.”
“Alright, I’ll get it for you.”
Manager Yeong-ho seemed to have something he wanted to say to the two of them, but when Tae-oh interrupted and asked for something else, he didn’t bother pointing out their tardiness or blaming them.
Especially in times like these, when Tae-oh, who was currently the center, seemed to be struggling, Manager Yeong-ho judged that it’s better to give a piece of advice and end it rather than unnecessarily scratching further.
Along with agreeing to Tae-oh’s request without a word, he came back shortly with a spare phone after taking the members’ phones. Tae-oh handed the phone with only Wi-Fi connected to Sol. Somehow, Sol seemed to have a vague idea about Tae-oh as a person.
A person who, despite personal dislikes and feelings, set aside personal emotions and took responsibility for the group. Tae-oh was a mature and relatively realistic figure compared to his peers. At least, he was the type to try to manage and resolve situations rather than indulge in extravagant fantasies or avoid them like Sol.
Once Sol realized that he wasn’t the kind of person who would take things personally, he let out what had been on his mind as they walked from the dorm to the practice room. Tae-oh would have been more likely to help him rather than get angry or ignore him. Of course, he would be more strict later when the consequences of his behavior were less than favorable.
“That, you know. Uh, Tae-oh... Can I call you that?”
“Why?”
“Perhaps. Can I practice alone?”
“Alone?”
Sol cautiously plucked up the courage. In truth, even he was uncertain. Sol was doubtful whether practicing alone would lead to a solution, and he himself felt the same way. Was it due to his lack of confidence that Tae-oh’s thick eyebrows furrowed? Sol seemed to shrink as if to cower to the ground. However, he didn’t want to experience again what happened yesterday. If another strange quest popped up while they were all gathered, it would be troublesome.
“You’re not debuting as a solo singer.”
Among members who had undergone systematic training, they couldn’t afford to have a time bomb-like feature that could explode at any moment. Yesterday, his life was at stake, and he barely made it through, but even now, cold sweat formed on his palms when he thought about that moment.
If the same situation as yesterday happened again, he couldn’t guarantee the outcome this time. Perhaps Sol might end up crying in front of everyone and then face the system shutdown. The pain and fear from yesterday kept replaying in her mind. Sol had to find a way to shake off that sensation and figure out a solution alone so he could dance again.
“I know that. Just during the time to familiarize with the choreography. There might be a gap in progress with the other members.”
“…Alright. Instead, make sure to join before the afternoon lesson, two hours prior.”
“Got it.”
Despite Sol’s frozen expression, Tae-oh agreed more easily than expected. Of course, it would be better if someone could check his progress, but considering that Sol had a basic understanding of dancing, and she didn’t want that, there seemed to be no need to clash from the beginning.
It was evident that it would be difficult to receive positive feedback no matter what Sol did during his first lesson after joining. It wasn’t a problem that could be solved overnight. Tae-oh nodded, but Sol remained still, silently staring at him. Seeing Sol not moving and remaining silent, Tae-oh paused for a moment.
“Since no one else is using that place, you can use it.”
“Thank you.”
