Next Steps (2)
“So this is JYB.”
After receiving word from Studio NMIX, Seol Soyoung paid a visit to JYB Entertainment headquarters.
Having been cast as Bomi, the female lead of Fly High, she needed to record the OST and learn the choreography — both of which could only be handled properly at JYB’s main building. Since every co-star sharing those songs and dances was already a JYB idol, having Soyoung shuttle between the set and the agency would save everyone a great deal of time.
The moment she stepped inside, she spotted Na Yeongjin, once again serving as lead production director.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Miss Soyoung.”
Na Yeongjin bowed the instant he saw her.
“Not at all, PD Na. I know perfectly well that me coming here is the best arrangement.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
“Oh? Director Go Dongbin is here as well?”
“Yes. It’s been a while, Miss Soyoung.”
Indeed — standing beside Na Yeongjin was Go Dongbin, once again taking the role of filming director. The moment he heard about the production of Fly High, he had fought hard for the position. The reason was simple: Seol Soyoung. As a cinematographer, the performance she had delivered that day had left him stunned. He wanted to witness that uncanny spectacle with his own eyes once more.
Still, one concern lingered. There was no longer any reason to doubt Soyoung’s acting. She had already cracked the shell completely after filming the climactic scene of episode fifteen — if anything, having her on set was a comfort. The real problem lay with the idols who had never acted a day in their lives, and with CEO Baek Junyeong’s side of things. That was precisely why Na Yeongjin and Go Dongbin had come to JYB today.
Filming was tentatively scheduled to begin in about three weeks. Until then, the two of them planned to keep visiting the agency to give the cast feedback and coaching.
Soyoung headed for the recording studio where Baek Junyeong was waiting, while Go Dongbin and Na Yeongjin made for the practice room where the idols were standing by.
“Ah, Director Go. Before we meet them, I should pass along Writer 927’s instructions first.”
“That man gave me orders?”
“Yes. He said even if their acting is a little stiff, the moment you decide they’ve reached an acceptable level, we can move straight into filming.”
“Hah. So he’s leaving the call entirely up to me. In that case, there’s no way we’ll hit the projected schedule.”
Go Dongbin let out a long sigh. He hated to say it about Writer 927, but the bar for “ready” was going to be high. And idols, of all people, lived on the belief that they were already exceptional. Once real feedback and coaching began, he wondered how long their will to act would actually last.
“We’ll do our best!”
The booming greeting that hit him the second he entered the practice room nearly made Go Dongbin jump. Even more startling than the full-throated energy was the sheer venom burning in their eyes.
Flustered, he leaned toward Na Yeongjin and whispered,
“PD Na. What’s wrong with these people?”
“Mm. Probably because of what CEO Baek told them.”
“Told them?”
Baek Junyeong had made a declaration to the idols still buzzing over their casting: until they cleared Studio NMIX’s standards, they were not to even think about meeting Seol Soyoung — or receiving a handwritten autograph from Writer 927.
Just as Go Dongbin had expected, the idols knew full well they were talented. Looks, dance, voice — each of them possessed the kind of presence that could captivate a crowd. But talent alone hadn’t made them idols. Grit and relentless effort had carried them this far. Catching even a glimpse of that resolve, Go Dongbin allowed himself a small smile.
“Well… we might end up starting a little earlier than planned.”
Or perhaps — not a little. A lot.
“Wow! Miss Soyoung! It’s so good to meet you!”
“Ah — yes. It’s nice to meet you as well.”
Alone in the recording studio with Baek Junyeong for the OST session, Soyoung found herself slightly thrown by the man’s sky-high energy. A few minutes of small talk made it clear he was a devoted fan of Welcome to Cafe Violet.
“Writer 927 told me you sing well?”
“Well… I wouldn’t go that far. I’m just not terrible.”
“Is that so? Then I suppose we’ll have to test that.”
Baek Junyeong asked her to sing just the first verse of whatever song she felt most confident with. Performing in front of someone — especially a stranger — could be nerve-wracking. But when it was for a drama, Soyoung became bold. And when it was for the person who had planned Fly High specifically to help her, she was ready to do anything. No — she had to.
“I’ll start.”
“Please. Just relax and do whatever feels natural.”
With that, Soyoung began to sing. The song was Words I Want to Tell You — a female ballad that had been popular about eight years earlier, and one her mother, Lee Hwayang, still loved. The melody swung through wide, demanding intervals; it was not an easy piece for a beginner.
Truthfully, Baek Junyeong hadn’t expected much. He knew Soyoung had never formally studied singing. Her craft was acting, not music, and he had already decided to grade her on a curve.
And then—
I want to tell you. But it isn’t easy…
The first phrase hit him like a blow to the head. Her voice was easy on the ear, the tone itself strangely unforgettable — the kind of color you heard once and never forgot. But what truly stunned him was the immersion. Thick, living emotion rode every note, the kind that seized a listener’s heart and refused to let go. People who could do that as if it were the most natural thing in the world had a name:
Genius.
Realizing that the girl in front of him was a genius not only at acting but at singing, Baek Junyeong could only laugh in disbelief. The lack of technical foundation was obvious — and she was still this good. Only now did he understand why Writer 927 had cast her as Bomi.
“Miss Soyoung.”
When the song ended and she waited quietly for his verdict, Baek Junyeong spoke.
“Have you ever thought about becoming a singer?”
“Pardon?”
Soyoung tilted her head at the sudden question. He was not joking. He was dead serious.
“Just quit acting and join our agency. No — please join. I’m begging you!”
“Ah… that might be a bit much.”
The conversation had veered off course, but his reaction was still good news. It meant her talent was already strong enough to go straight into recording. Aside from a few fundamentals, there was nothing left to polish in her singing.
Not long after, however, a far more crushing reality crashed down on him.
“How was that?”
Soyoung asked after performing the choreography he had just shown her. Baek Junyeong’s soul left his body.
“Uh… filming starts in three weeks, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Then how about we propose pushing it back three months?”
“???”
Her puzzled look was nothing compared to his own confusion. She was clearly a genius at acting and a genius at singing. So what in the world had he just witnessed? It looked like a robot that had never been oiled, desperately trying to force its limbs to move. In short—
She was a god-given disaster at dancing.
“This is… difficult.”
Dance was not something that improved after a few weeks of half-hearted practice. Honestly, he was starting to worry more about her than about the idols.
But who was Baek Junyeong? CEO of JYB Entertainment, a veteran who had raised countless idols. Given enough time, he was confident he could reform even a heaven-sent dance catastrophe.
“I resent the past version of myself who thought that so lightly, and I resent the writer who dumped her coaching on me even more.”
“Well then, feel free to keep resenting both. Though didn’t you look thrilled when you volunteered to coach Miss Soyoung yourself?”
“I didn’t know! I had no idea it would be this bad!”
“And yet you said she’s improved a lot in the end, didn’t you? Bravo~ Well done, CEO Baek!”
Hmm. I gave him a round of thoroughly encouraging applause, so I’m not sure why he’s clutching the back of his neck.
Anyway.
“Oh, I heard the news. You’re having Miss Soyoung practice choreography with the idols now?”
“Yeah… well. The kids already earned Director Go’s approval, and even though Miss Soyoung still has a long way to go, she needs to get used to the formations and blocking.”
“That makes sense.”
The idols had won recognition from Director Go Dongbin and PD Na after only two weeks of feedback. I’d heard they had ground their teeth and thrown themselves into acting practice. Now, with the remaining days until filming, they were running choreography and extra acting drills side by side.
“But why are we filming the dance practice? Director Go keeps rolling the camera.”
CEO Baek suddenly asked me.
“Ah, that. I asked him to. We can use it for the making-of film.”
“A making-of? Will people really bother watching us practice choreography? The footage is going to be long, too.”
“Mm… who knows.”
At least anyone interested in the drama would check it out once, right?
I hoped so.