༺ How To Avoid Debut – 5 ༻
As soon as Jun arrived on set, he stood still, his mouth agape. The lights hanging from the ceiling were so dazzlingly bright that they were an artwork themselves. The set was more extravagant than he had anticipated, and this made him feel unnecessarily anxious.
“We begin shooting in 5 minutes.”
Seeing the staff bustling about in the vast set caused him to stiffen more. His entire body, tensed with nerves, felt as though it was throbbing, but there was no way he could relax.
The MC, a famous idol, smiled from the front, attempting to ease the tension. However, seeing his face only doubled Jun’s nerves. The face that he had only ever seen on TV was now right in front of him, making reality feel increasingly elusive. He was not even sure what mindset had brought him to sit here.
His seat was already assigned, so he briefly parted ways with Jigu. The two seemed to be sitting fairly close, engaged in conversation at the far end. Jun seemed to be asking questions one after the other, with Jigu responding expressionlessly – it did not look like a particularly friendly conversation.
In the center was a large stage, surrounded by numerous cameras. Right in front of it were the seats where the participants would sit. There were 11 chairs in a row, for a total of 33, which occupied a considerable amount of space. At first glance, the chairs looked incredibly comfortable, and they indeed were. If it wasn’t for the impending start of the shoot, he might have been able to take a nap.
“Hello, nice to meet you.”
“Ah, yes. Me too.”
He had been sitting there blankly staring straight ahead when he snapped back to reality upon hearing the greeting from a participant sitting in the row ahead of him. After shaking hands and nodding politely, he noticed that everyone around was also busy exchanging greetings. Caught off guard by the sudden flurry of greetings coming from all sides, he ended up shaking hands left and right, exhausting all of his nervous energy.
It had been a while since he was in such a crowd, which caused him to shift in his seat a few times. The person sitting next to him must have thought he was uncomfortable because they moved their chair slightly to the side. Oh, they didn’t have to do that.
“We’re not live, so everyone relax! If we make a mistake, we can stop and start over.”
The main PD, situated in the middle, told everyone to relax and then shouted “Standby”. He swallowed, his throat dry. Being told to relax, followed immediately by “Standby” made it impossible not to be nervous.
“We’re starting the countdown.”
The prospect of debuting wasn’t even a desperate need for me, and yet here I was, shaking with nerves. How much more tense must the others be, those who were fiercely competing to get even a few more seconds in front of the camera, to draw even a bit more attention? In the moment I thought I wouldn’t be able to survive, I heard the cue for the shoot to begin.
The MC started off with a prepared opening script, and a huge camera hanging in the air was accurately capturing us. This was far more nerve-wracking than I had expected.
“We’re moving to the first stage.”
Simultaneously with the signal, the first participant ascended to the stage. Whatever they did, being the first to go always attracted attention, so it was an important spot. Naturally, I assumed someone skilled would go up, and indeed, the participant, with their vibrantly colored hair, rose and walked toward the center of the stage. It was him, Kim Seongwon.
“He was a trainee, so he should do well.”
“He’s not someone who’s only done this once or twice…”
The two people on my right, who seemed to have become friendly through a brief exchange of greetings earlier, were clearly audible as they conversed. The camera moving back and forth in front of us did a close-up of them, discussing various things about Seongwon.
“Cue the music, please.”
Seongwon, who confidently requested the accompaniment, started to move fluidly. He had chosen a decent pop song, and his performance was decent as well. He had cleverly choreographed a dance and delivered the song with stability.
He was singing and dancing at the same time. Even though I clearly heard that they only had to do one or the other, the fact that he prepared for both indicated that he was undeniably confident. And his actual performance affirmed this.
“He’s really good.”
“There’s a difference when someone with experience performs.”
Comments about the recent stage performance were heard from all over. Even without paying close attention, it was easy to tell that all the comments were positive. The MC also laid out his praises with a bright expression.
From what I heard from my uncle, the MC was not supposed to badmouth anyone, regardless of how well they did. Still, it was unlikely that he would sugarcoat a noticeably lackluster performance. Therefore, it was clear that the previous stage had a high level of completion.
“Thank you!”
…By the time it was the fifteenth or perhaps the seventeenth act, I couldn’t even keep count anymore. I could no longer hear the chatter of those around me. Sleepiness surged, and I was so exhausted that I wanted to run out of the set right then. I should have gotten more sleep.……
At first, I had been engrossed and delighted by the dances and music I hadn’t seen in a while, but as the performances repeated endlessly, I eventually became worn out. The other participants seemed to be in a similar state, as the chatter had definitely lessened compared to the beginning.
However, that was it. No one showed signs of dozing off or becoming lax. They were constantly touching up their hair and asking their neighbors about the state of their faces.
My turn was the twenty-seventh. My uncle had painstakingly chosen this order. It was the perfect time for me to be exhausted to the point of drowsiness, to a degree where I wouldn’t even remember it.
‘There must still be around ten people left.’
It took about six to seven minutes for one person to finish their stage and for the next person to go up. In conclusion, we had been doing this for almost two hours. Fortunately, no one made mistakes, so we didn’t have to stop and start again.
“Hello.”
A man with orange hair came up to the stage, dragging a chair with a groan. It seemed to be a performance that required a chair. The sight of him flicking back his hair that had fallen on his forehead and grabbing the microphone disappeared briefly from my view and then came back. It was because I was dozing off.
“…Why did I…”
He was singing quite well, but gradually, his singing voice became fainter. I was in trouble. I couldn’t fall asleep.
I tried to stay awake by forcing my eyes open and resisting the overpowering sleepiness, but my willpower wasn’t remarkable enough to endure over ten performances.
Ultimately, when I opened my eyes… .
“Why isn’t number 27 coming up?
I heard the PD’s voice, and as I was looking around, the kind person next to me, who discovered that I had fallen into a deep sleep, woke me up with a few nudges.
“Are you, by chance, number 27…?”
“…Ah, yeah. Yes.”
As soon as I managed to open my eyes, the bright stage lights felt blinding. To face the morning… what morning? Why would I greet the morning in such a place?
Damn it. The curse slipped out as soon as I grasped the situation. Of course, only in my mind. Outwardly, I calmly stood up. If only I had woken up before my stage. All the participants were glancing this way, watching the PD’s reaction.
“I’m sorry, that’s me.”
“Come down quickly and get ready.”
Under normal circumstances, a participant dozing off during filming would have resulted in a reprimand, but the PD seemed lenient, as if he had gotten a word from my uncle standing right next to him. I wondered if he was giving me a break because this wasn’t a live broadcast and I was a substitute, so I quickly went down to the stage. Considering I had fallen into a deep sleep during the filming, I couldn’t afford to move slowly
“…….”
As soon as I met the gaze of the 32 participants sitting in front of me, the deadened tension started creeping back up. Why was I so conscious of them, they weren’t even the judges. Probably because I had just woken up from sleep. I couldn’t even rub my eyes because they were made up, and I was a bit scared worrying about my appearance after just quickly fixing my hair a few times. There wouldn’t be any traces of saliva, right? Surely not. If there were, my uncle would have given me some sort of sign.
“Let me know when you’re ready.”
The PD kindly even prepared time for me to get ready, but I couldn’t use it. I was in a situation where I was very conscious, so taking that comment literally and taking time to calm my mind and body was not possible. So in the end, after taking just one deep breath, I immediately gave a positive response.PD
“I’m ready.”
As soon as I looked into the camera right in front of me with a poker face, the MP3 file I had given to my uncle started playing exactly five seconds later.
I was fully awake now, and contrary to my worries, my body moved freely. I was worried I might forget the choreography due to the tension, but that was an unnecessary concern. Once I started, time passed in an instant. They say time heals, but its effect was more potent than I thought.
The cameras placed in front and behind the stage consistently followed me until the song ended and only stopped when the music stopped. As the obligatory applause poured out and I bowed to the camera, I had completely finished my task. I was trembling. More from chills than tension.
“Wow, your dancing… I now somewhat understand what it means for movements to be alive and breathing.”
With nearly 10 years of experience, the MC, full of seasoning, was clapping with praise. I gave a nod of acknowledgement and quickly darted back to my seat.
As I settled into the soft chair, vowing never to doze off again, I saw my uncle when I turned my head.
‘Well done!’
He was passionately shouting, his thumb raised high. Uncle, if you raise your hand like that, your stomach shows. We were too far apart for any substantial communication, so I merely nodded and reciprocated the thumbs up. And just in case any neighboring participant might see, I subtly glanced behind.
“Number 28, please step up.”
“Number 29?”
“Number 30, get ready.”
Perhaps being engulfed in the frosty atmosphere once made me unable to fall asleep any longer. My eyes were so clear that even if someone tried to force me to sleep, I wouldn’t have. Thanks to that, I was able to earnestly watch the rest of the performances. Stages that only garnered applause without a word swiftly passed by, and before I knew it, it was number 31’s turn.
“Number 31, please step up.”
“Yes.”
The one who answered the PD and raised their hand was Jigu. When I came to my senses after spacing out for a moment, the accompaniment was already playing. He looked natural, holding the microphone in his right hand, casually sitting on the chair.
It was a calm ballad that I was hearing for the first time. It was the moment when the facts inferred from his voice alone perfectly matched. The song, fitting his mood, fell exactly in line with his soft voice. I was slightly captivated by the song that struck my taste. There was a heavy feel to it, too weighty to be the sentiment of a nineteen-year-old.
“Thank you.”
Jigu, who was carrying on the song with misty eyes into the camera, bowed slightly with a small smile as if nothing had happened as soon as the accompaniment cut off. Until the moment he walked straight back and sat down in his original seat, he seemed slightly exhilarated.
Jun seemed moved by the song, lightly touching Jigu’s shoulder as if pouring out his impressions. Jigu, to anyone’s eyes, gave an awkward smile and unconsciously poked his cheek with his index finger. Was it awkward to receive praise, or was he still nervous?
“Good job.”
“Great work everyone!”
With the end of the last performance, the shooting was concluded. The PD’s voice served as a signal, and voices of appreciation echoed here and there. As soon as the command came that we could leave now, people began to rise from their chairs. I was about to get up, thinking that everyone was going home, when two people who had been sitting at the far end came over to me.
“You really dance well.”
“Pardon?”
“I was so surprised when I saw you that I thought about it until the end.”
“Oh, thank you.”
Those who I thought would get up immediately seemed to take the time to approach the performers who had impressed them.
Starting with those first two people, three more came up to give compliments, and several others came up after that to give their thoughts on the performance. It had been a while since I’d received praise for my dancing. I’m human, too, so I couldn’t dislike the compliments. In the end, I found myself smiling.
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