Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Wanna Have Some Candy?
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The judges exchanged glances and shook their heads. Then their eyes turned to me.
“What’s No. 119 going to do?”
Ah, my turn already. I flashed a grin.
“I’ll dance.”
I’d gotten B-rank dance skills, so I might as well give it a shot.
“What song should we play for you?”
I pursed my lips, then quietly closed my mouth. I could’ve asked for one of the songs I’d practiced hard before regressing. I still remembered the choreography.
‘But I just had a fun idea.’
I looked at Lee Kyung-bae and beamed.
“Yumi’s Shooting.”
Our Kyung-bae, wanna have some candy?
The judges furrowed their brows. You’re in for a treat, so don’t make that face. I quietly rolled my shoulders and took a step forward.
“Does it have to be this song?”
“Yes.”
“Shooting’s popular, huh? We’re not scouting a girl group, but everyone and their dog picks this one.”
For a split second, I nearly burst out laughing. Got it. So lots of people had done this song.
“If you’re doing it just to stand out, I’d advise against it.”
Lee Kyung-bae’s face instantly turned ashen.
‘Huh, he must’ve picked it purely to show off.’
I shrugged. Well, I got where he was coming from. How many aspiring idols didn’t want to stand out?
‘But getting called out for it makes you look bad.’
Knowing when to hold back was a talent in itself.
I smiled at the judges.
“It’s not to stand out.”
Though I do wanna feed you a little candy on the side.
‘Plus, Yumi’s Shooting is kinda being wasted otherwise...’
The judges’ expressions shifted. Soon, the music started playing. I moved my body leisurely. Of course, I didn’t shake it as excessively as our Kyung-bae had.
‘With cheat-enhanced muscles, this should be more effective, right?’
Instead, I moved to the beat. A soft wave with a slight break made my body tremble with the rhythm.
I was on stage right now. It was just the judges and our Kyung-bae, but this was still a stage with an audience.
It felt good. My heart pounded with the thrill of being alive.
Yeah, the stage.
The place I’d longed for so badly.
The song flowed out.
~Sleeping with my friend behind my back~
The lyrics captured the emotion perfectly. Yeah. How shitty must that feel? I narrowed my eyes. Betrayal—I knew it well.
‘I want to kill them, but Korea’s a country of laws.’
So I can’t.
I glared ahead, stepped half a pace forward, then snapped back. For the part where Yumi sits softly on the floor and stands, I moved a beat faster, then mimed shooting a gun with my fingers in the remaining time. A reaction came.
“Oh!”
The plumpest judge exclaimed in admiration. That’s the president, right? I switched expressions to match the lyrics again.
‘They must’ve seen this choreography a million times.’
Of course they’d be sick of it.
My body felt surprisingly light. My legs moved faster than expected. Even I was shocked by my dancing.
‘If B-rank is this good, what’s A-rank like?’
No time to think. The lyrics came back.
~Shooting! Shooting! I’ll kill you.~
I want to kill you. But if I can’t, how does that feel?
‘That’s probably what Yumi’s stage expresses.’
It was grotesque, but the core emotion was anguish. Hating someone you loved, wanting to kill them but being unable to—that feeling overflowed in her performance.
The floor-sit move approached. This time, I dropped to the floor on the proper beat. But unlike our Kyung-bae, I didn’t twist my waist.
I just followed the original choreography. Instead, I pointed the imaginary gun at my own head.
~Shooting!~
I moved my hand like firing a gun, shook my head in that direction. My body convulsed like I’d really been shot, then I collapsed fully onto the floor at the end.
The music stopped.
I panted as I got up. Wiping sweat, I felt their stares.
The chubby president in the center spoke first.
“Hah...”
He grinned like he’d seen something entertaining.
“What are you, kid? Wow...”
Nice compliment. See, Mr. President? Told you you wouldn’t regret it.
I sat back down. Glancing at our Kyung-bae, he was a sight to behold.
His eyes wavered, lips twisted. His legs trembled, hands fidgeting.
‘Our Kyung-bae’s rattled, huh?’
What’s wrong? I went all out showing off, just like you advised.
Then the guy next to him spoke up.
“Hey, No. 119!”
“Yes.”
“Stiff, but decent enough.”
Damn. I figured it’d get praise, but the bar’s high here.
‘Must be the B-rank skills.’
Definitely not prodigy level.
‘Not enough to pass, huh?’
I let out a small sigh. I needed something else. A solid, heavy punch.
That’s when the guy spoke again.
“But that’s not the point. How’d you know?”
Huh? Know what?
“What Shooting expresses. Most people just ape the weird sexy bits.”
No idea what he meant, but it was a good question. I smiled with my eyes.
“There’s weirdness, sure, but isn’t betrayal the stronger feeling?”
Pleased with my answer, the skinny guy next to him bared his teeth in a grin.
“Exactly. We put that in, but everyone else... Well, that was a point, but it left us wanting.”
He said “wanting,” but as creators, they must’ve been pissed.
“No. 119’s interesting.”
I beamed. More praise, please, choreographer.
“That last move No. 119 added? Yumi wanted to do it too, but ratings board nixed it. Kinda implies suicide, y’know?”
Ah, got it.
“Yumi’d love seeing this video. You’re filming, right?”
The choreographer eyed someone else, who nodded from the back.
Film me pretty. Yumi’s watching—gotta bust some shoulder moves.
“Wanna see that body twist and shout some more. Curious how it’d look with better flexibility. Not great now, but kinda pulls you in.”
Threat or what?
That’s when Kang Min-je’s voice cut in.
“Few trainees dance like that. You know it.”
The mood hushed instantly.
‘What?’
Why the tension? And Min-je hyung, praising me?
The Pig President in the middle said,
“Yeah, true.”
“Right?”
Kang Min-je nodded with a smile. Going for extra points? What’s with him?
The Pig President, oblivious to my thoughts, turned with a grin. Seeing it twisted my guts more.
Why’re you praising me?
‘Plus you look smug, Min-je hyung.’
Like looking down from on high, doing well?
Why’s this bastard judging and praising me? Infuriating.
My insides boiled, but I kept it cool. I repeated to myself quietly.
‘He’s a stranger now.’
And I was the psycho in this zone.
I beamed. A good psycho would smile now. Show your pretty side, Cha Dowon.
The woman on the right spoke.
“Cute smile.”
The Pig President added,
“Visuals are pretty solid, right?”
“Yeah. Good proportions. Seems just cute at first glance, but the features are bold up close—nice.”
I wiped my smile away. Expressionless face for their viewing pleasure.
“Love those dark eyes. How old?”
I answered this time.
“Fifteen.”
The Pig President grinned. Like a pig head on an altar—kinda funny.
“Nice voice too.”
The woman again.
“Trained your projection? It resonates.”
I nodded with an innocent smile.
“Yeah. Acting’s my strongest suit.”
“Acting’s your specialty?”
I scratched my cheek shyly.
“Not quite a specialty. I just like reading scripts.”
The Pig President let out another small sigh of admiration.
‘How about it, Mr. President?’
Feeling like raising me? I think I’d fit right in here. What do you say?
Reading my profile, the president said,
“Don’t just grill No. 119. Ask the others too.”
“Oh, right.”
The judges finally turned questions to the rest. I grinned and looked back at our Kyung-bae.
‘Well, now?’
He was glaring, fists clenched.
‘What’s your deal, seriously?’
Don’t blame me for your lack of skills.
I mouthed silently.
-Thanks, hyung.
Thanks for Shooting. Made a great meal out of it. Our Kyung-bae hyung.
Kyung-bae blurted out loud.
“Fuck.”
Whoa. Even I was shocked, Kyung-bae.
I flinched exaggeratedly, feigning surprise. The judges questioning others all turned to him.
“No. 118, did you just swear?”
He’s lost it, our Kyung-bae hyung.
“N-no, I...”
“Always like this? Swearing in an audition means that’s all you say normally...”
The judges muttered among themselves.
“Kids these days swear too much.”
“Back in my day, the rough ones did too.”
“No boundaries—that’s the problem. Parenting issue?”
I watched Kyung-bae’s face. Turning bluish-purple was more entertaining than any movie.
Bittersweet, though.
‘Why’d I let a punk like this crush my idol dream?’
He’s nothing special.
I sighed softly and looked away. My eyes landed on Kang Min-je.
‘Sunglasses suit you.’
Our eyes met—or seemed to, lenses hiding it. I blinked, playing dumb.
‘Min-je hyung, long time no see.’
Couple years, right?
‘Doing well?’
‘Gotta pretend I don’t know him, yeah?’
Act all “Oh my gosh!” innocent shock?
Complications flooded in. I clenched my fist.
‘Not falling for it this time, hyung.’
This life, I’ll use you. Climb over you with all my heart. Peanuts compared to what you did, right?
I exhaled, refocusing on the audition. Then our Kyung-bae hyung suddenly shot up.
“Don’t badmouth my dad!”
His shout rang in my ears. This time I was genuinely startled, eyes wide on him. His face purple-red, he pointed accusingly.
“I’ll just make my own company! Who are you to trash my dad!”
He kicked his chair and stormed out. Childish. I stifled a laugh at the toppling chair.
‘Total bad seed.’
Rich kid or rotten from the start—who knows.
Once he was gone, the Pig President smiled wryly.
“Kids like that are trouble.”
Agreed.
“Yeah, Mr. President. Headache enough already.”
“Does he get debuting as a group? Or not?”
“Selfish types like him can’t hack trainee life, let alone debut.”
Gotcha.
‘Our Kyung-bae hyung’s so petty.’
But maybe the dad-starting-company thing’s real. Seeing him years later means he lived that life.
‘Wonder if I’ll cross paths with Kyung-bae hyung again.’
Not my problem.
The judges, done chatting, turned back. I smiled prettily.
‘What’s on your mind?’
A new voice spoke—one silent till now.
“Take off your dress shirt.”
Soft voice, massive impact.
What?
I thought I misheard. Looking around, the Pig President smirked.
Hey. What’d you just say? Strip in an audition?
The Pig President nailed it down.
“Didn’t hear? Take it off, kid.”
I erased my smile quietly. Now I got it.
Ah, pressure interview, Mr. President. A normal middle school sophomore would freak here.
‘Naughty.’
But what to do? I’ve looped life to reach this point.
‘If it’s pressure they want...’
I stood calmly, unbuckling my pants.
‘I’ll give it.’
Plus, I needed that heavy punch—perfect timing.
As my leather belt loosened, the judges buzzed.
“H-hey, why’re you taking off your pants?”
I beamed.
“More confident in the lower half.”
“Don’t! You don’t actually strip, do you?”
I tossed the belt aside.
“If you say strip, I strip.”