On the Subject of Dance
October 2nd.
Three in the afternoon.
We are inside the agency's break room…….
Vocal practice has begun, and choreography is underway. Ah — by "vocal practice has begun," I mean we selected the title track and the new songs to be included on the album.
I pray the choreography is not too high in difficulty.
Five in the afternoon.
The choreographer sent over a short video and asked, "What do you think of this?"
She says it's the traditional dance of some country or other, which she intends to reinterpret through a modern lens and build into choreography.
Hye-gyeol took one look and burst out, "Amazing! The best! Incredible!"…….
As for me, I thought I was losing my mind just watching it. What nation on earth dances its traditional dances with such fervor?
I truly cannot fathom what manner of people ever danced that country's traditional dances.
Nine in the evening.
It was around six, I believe. Jang Tae-ri sent me a message comforting me — since she cannot dance either, I shouldn't worry myself too much.
When I replied that I was not worried in the slightest, she changed her tune and asked whether a *little* worry might not be in order.
Jang Tae-ri declared that since this was a path I had chosen for myself, striving to improve was the right thing even if it never came naturally.
Hearing that, I think I finally understood why Jang Tae-ri succeeded. So this is how the diligent must labor to reach the top.
October 3rd.
For the first time in a while, we recorded an episode of Dating Process.
Since it was a public holiday, we filmed a scene of the three of us going to an amusement park, and Jang Tae-ri and Shin Jo-woon — apparently convinced I would be utterly incapable of riding any of the rides — kept trying to load me onto strange, frightening-looking contraptions.
They would say things like, "But you rode the Viking ride just fine on that show before. Why not now?" — when in truth they simply wanted to tease me.
Good heavens! The sheer audacity!
Let one thing be made perfectly clear. I am not incapable of riding amusement rides — roller coasters and the like. I merely had no wish to ride them.
No, really — think about it. Why, of my own money and volition, should I pay to be flung upside down through empty air and shaken about like laundry?
When I said as much, Shin Jo-woon explained that people ride such things because they wish to feel a thrill. "Then you, who understand it so well, ride to your heart's content," I retorted — whereupon Shin Jo-woon proposed a wager.
When I asked what manner of wager, he proposed this: whoever could ride the roller coaster without letting out a single scream would be the victor.
And when I asked what benefit victory would bring, he declared that the winner would be granted the right to smack the loser's mouth three times.
It came after three hours spent singing for the composer in order to divide up the song parts.
While the members took a short break, Jong-woo stepped out into the hallway to fetch some drinks.
"You're Lee Jong-woo, Wild Animal's manager, right?"
He was pulling a beverage from the vending machine when a bright voice spoke up beside him.
Strangers in the industry greeting him as if they were acquainted had become a fairly common occurrence lately, so Jong-woo turned his head with practiced composure — and then jumped in surprise.
"Oh! Hello, hello!"
It was the manager of a massively successful solo idol.
"Here to pick up a song, I take it?"
The moment the man asked so familiarly, Jong-woo flustered and blurted out his purpose for visiting, tacking on unnecessary details besides.
Even after the words left his mouth he cursed himself for being a fool, but the sheer stature of the idol this man managed left him cowed without quite knowing why.
Now of all times is when I need Yeon-woo's mindset, Jong-woo thought ruefully. How confident would he look if he could meet someone that formidable without so much as blinking?
The fortunate part was that the manager had approached in genuine good faith, and did not smirk at Jong-woo's needless timidity.
After exchanging a few words of well-wishing, Jong-woo gathered his drinks, gave a polite bow, and turned to go.
But the man's business was not yet finished.
"Manager Lee Jong-woo."
The manager called out to him, sidling up warmly, and held out a business card.
"Might Yeon-woo's schedule be busy this Saturday?"
"Yeon-woo's?"
Jong-woo checked his calendar swiftly before answering.
"No, we'll be working on the album all week."
At that answer, the manager brightened and pressed on.
"Then would Yeon-woo perhaps be willing to do a featuring for our Milling on Power Idol this week?"
"A featuring?"
When Jong-woo's eyes went wide, the manager played a video of last week's music show on his phone.
It was a stage in the following format: while Milling sang, another performer would come out, dance a simple routine alongside him, then take over for the featuring verse.
"We have someone doing the featuring on the album itself, but they refused to appear on stage. So for each music broadcast, we're inviting special guests and asking them to do the featuring only for the stage itself."
"Ah…… scheduling-wise it would be fine, but……"
Jong-woo murmured, noncommittal. A featuring with Milling, of all people. It was by no means a bad stage to take. But something in the video Milling's manager showed him nagged at him — the way the featuring guest had matched a bit of the choreography alongside Milling mid-performance.
"I'm not sure our Yeon-woo can dance this."
For stages like this — brief appearances on short notice — it was common enough to learn both song and choreography within an hour or two before going up.
But Jong-woo remained uneasy at the thought of Yeon-woo memorizing choreography in an hour or two and stepping onto that stage.
"Haha, it'll be fine."
Yet Milling's manager, as if he had set his heart on Yeon-woo and no one else as his featuring partner, pressed the offer once more, saying he truly wished to share the stage if there were no objections.
Jong-woo deliberated, then accepted. It was true enough that Yeon-woo had built considerable name recognition — but that image leaned closer to variety-show personality than idol, and this had always weighed on Jong-woo's mind.
But if Yeon-woo were to briefly feature alongside a top idol like this……
In the end, after much agonizing, Jong-woo resolved to send Yeon-woo out for Milling's featuring.
"You invited Woo Yeon-woo?"
Milling, who had been discussing the interpretation of the song with the composer in another recording studio, could only ask back in disbelief when his manager — who had stepped out to grab drinks — relayed the news of the Woo Yeon-woo featuring.
"Seriously? No, why?"
Handing Milling a bottled black tea and the composer a soda, the manager smirked.
"Why? Because he sings well. Great voice. Come on, you've always said you wanted to work with Woo Yeon-woo."
"I did. But I meant working on a track together in the studio, not doing some throwaway one-off featuring like this."
The composer, listening in, popped the tab on his can and asked with a chuckle, "Why? It's good publicity, isn't it?"
Milling let out a short sigh and looked away.
"If Woo Yeon-woo were an incredible singer, then actually working on a song together would help me. But he's not, so if he goes on stage and happens to sing well, it doesn't help at all — it just invites comparison. Besides, even going out alone, I'd generate enough buzz to hit number one on the real-time searches no problem."
The composer's eyes went wide.
"Wait, Milling, you sing great. Why are you being so unconfident?"
Instead of answering, Milling just sulkily drummed his fingernails against the tea can.
"He's got the face too……"
"So do you."
The manager and the composer both started in surprise and rushed to console him. But Milling was clearly still brooding, fiddling with his own hair, so the manager cleared his throat loudly and spoke as if sharing a secret.
"Relax, Milling. Honestly? We didn't ask Woo Yeon-woo because he sings well."
The composer snickered and jabbed the manager in the ribs with his phone.
Milling asked, puzzled.
"Then why did you ask him? For the publicity?"
"No. Because he can't dance."
Milling's brow furrowed.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Woo Yeon-woo's got the song and the voice, sure — but the man can't dance. He can't even handle his own group's choreography. You really think he's going to pull off yours after a quick practice session?"
Only then did Milling go, "Oh," and nod along in understanding.
The manager chuckled softly and gave Milling a gentle pat on the back.
"Just think of him as the guy who brings the buzz. And once everyone sees you and Woo Yeon-woo dancing side by side, they'll know exactly who the real star is."
That Saturday.
Rembrary rose before dawn, stopped by the shop, and received makeup rather heavier than usual for once before making his way to the broadcasting station.
Milling's manager, Milling himself, and the dance team for Milling's new song welcomed Rembrary's arrival with startling warmth.
"Thank you so much for honoring our request."
"Not at all. The honor is ours, that you would call upon our Yeon-woo."
Rembrary exchanged greetings in kind, and for the next three hours he labored to memorize the simple movements he would perform during his featuring verse, along with the choreography for the part of the chorus where everyone danced together.
"Do you think you can manage it?"
"Jong-woo."
"Yes?"
"I suspect you already know the answer."
Jong-woo felt a fresh wave of anxiety at that, but forced himself to stay calm. The fact that Rembrary couldn't dance was something nearly everyone with even a passing interest in this side of the industry knew. And his exceptional vocal skill went without saying.
There was no use clicking his tongue over it now. When the rehearsal began, Jong-woo swallowed his unease and clapped Rembrary on the back.
"Go do your best out there."
Around the time Milling's fans and the general public were lamenting Rembrary's dancing skills once more, the members of Wild Animal were learning the title track's choreography from their choreographer.
However……
"Is it really okay to keep it like this?"
"Feels like Yeon-woo can't keep up."
The choreography was so demanding that once again, Rembrary failed to follow it properly. As always, Rembrary memorized the dance quickly enough — but could not translate it into natural, flowing movement.
The choreographer merely shrugged.
"You're not seriously suggesting the rest of you should sacrifice the performance just to match Yeon-woo's level, are you?"
At that devastating one-liner, the members exchanged awkward glances. It was a fair point.
In the end, the members went back to drilling the choreography.
Three days later, Hye-gyeol was the first to master it perfectly. Danced by someone who could genuinely dance, it was choreography that drew gasps of admiration all on its own.
CEO Im came down to the practice studio for an early progress check, watched the dancing and singing, and excitedly told his secretary how much he expected from this album.
The other staff members likewise speculated that the song seemed unremarkable at first listen but had real mainstream appeal — that it would do well.
And so, a few more days on, nearly every member had managed the choreography respectably, Rembrary excepted. The part distribution for the song was finished as well. This album was sailing along like a ship with the wind at its back.
That is, until one employee came in holding something and asked, "Have you guys seen this?"
Jong-woo, who had been demonstrating this round of choreography to Rembrary while whining, "What am I supposed to do if I dance it better than you, huh?" — hurriedly shut off the music.
"What is it?"
The employee set a tablet down in the middle of the practice studio.
Jong-woo leaned in toward the screen.
"What is it?"
The members, who had been snickering as they watched Jong-woo dance, shuffled over on their knees to peer at the tablet's screen too.
"Ooh, let me see."
"Ugh, get your head out of the way."
But the moment they saw the video, all the chattering died.
It was footage of another idol group practicing choreography in their own studio — and one of their members was explaining it with the words, "This is the choreography for a track on our next album."
Everyone murmured uneasily. Even Jeong-seo's usual deadpan cracked, leaving him visibly stunned. And small wonder: the choreography in that video was none other than the ultra-difficult, utterly distinctive routine that Wild Animal had been grinding their teeth to prepare for this very comeback.
Jong-woo's face darkened as he asked the employee:
"When's their comeback date?"
"A little earlier than ours."