Killing Two Birds with One Stone (2)
“Still a long way to go, Naeun. The hip has to snap harder right here!”
While I was lost in thought over the song, Ari playfully tugged on Naeun’s earlobe as the younger girl chattered away nonstop.
“Ow! I know, I know! I have to work even harder! This is a dream chance that found its way to me!”
Even with her ear pinched, Naeun answered with a bright, giddy grin—more thrilled than hurt.
…She’s pushing herself too hard.
Her face was stretched into the brightest smile, but there was no hiding the dark circles sunk deep under her eyes or the faintly roughened texture of her skin. She’d endured the crushing pressure of the audition and plunged straight into a solo debut schedule of this scale—there was no way she’d been getting any real sleep lately.
“Um, Ari-nim. No—Ari-ssi?”
I opened my mouth, then trailed off, suddenly unsure how to address her.
This is awkward.
With people like Kang Minhyuk or Han Doyun, whom I’d met on Voice of Legend, we were all contestants on equal footing, so adding “-ssi” felt natural. Ari was different. She was a top-tier choreographer in the industry—someone whose presence carried the same weight as Kang Soyoung sitting in the judges’ seats.
As I hesitated over the title, Ari seemed to read my mind in an instant. She waved a hand with her signature booming laugh.
“Aigoo! Why so stiff, Jiyoung-ssi? Just call me Unnie, nice and easy!”
She gave my shoulder a friendly clap and grinned.
“Un…nie?”
I awkwardly worked my lips around the word. No matter how many times I tried it in my head, it sat strangely on my tongue.
“…I’ll just stick with Ari-ssi.”
In the end I answered with flat, ironclad finality.
“Wow, ice-cold. Fine, call me whatever’s comfortable!”
Ari nodded, completely unbothered. I turned my gaze back to Naeun.
“More importantly—Naeun. Looking at her face, she seems exhausted. Aren’t you working her into the ground?”
At my blunt remark Ari’s eyes went round, then she thumped her own chest in mock injustice.
“Anyone listening would think I’m some evil teacher cracking the whip! She begged me for every single one of these sessions!”
Beside her, Naeun swept her sweat-damp bangs aside and grinned sheepishly.
“Teacher’s actually the one telling me to please get some rest.”
She looked at me with those still-sparkling eyes and added,
“And… my parents are so happy and excited after hearing the news. They never thought their daughter would ever get a debut stage. With that much support pouring in, how could I just sit back and rest? Every minute, every second is precious!”
A debut opportunity that had arrived like a miracle. I knew that desperation all too well. With her family’s hopes piled on her shoulders, it was no wonder she was throwing her whole body into it until it broke.
Even so, I shook my head firmly.
“Keep that up and you’ll wreck yourself.”
“…What?”
“Passion’s great. Desperation’s great. But if you burn out and collapse before you even step on stage, what good is any of it? If your body can’t keep up, you’ll only show half of what you want to show.”
I squeezed Naeun’s shoulder and spoke seriously.
“How about calling it a day and getting some real rest?”
“But…”
Naeun’s lips parted to protest, then pressed shut. They say you know your own body best—she must have felt the limit approaching herself. She drew a deep breath and held up one finger like a compromise.
“Then just one last time! Just one more run-through!”
Yeah. Of course that’s what you’d say.
With her eyes burning like that, there was no chance she’d listen if I told her to stop and lie down right now.
I turned toward Ari, who stood in front of the mirror.
“I’d like to learn the choreography too.”
“Unnie too?!”
Naeun’s eyes went round as a rabbit’s. Ari clapped her hands with a sharp crack, as if she’d been waiting for exactly this.
“Oh! I’ve been dying to see Jiyoung-ssi dance with my own two eyes! Absolutely welcome!”
Naeun latched onto Ari’s arm, chattering excitedly.
“Right? Our Unnie’s a total genius! I swear, the way she moves her body is something else!”
After hyping me up, Naeun tilted her head with a puzzled look and asked,
“But Unnie, why all of a sudden? You always said dancing helps on stage, but that you’re a musician and you want to focus purely on the music?”
…Her instincts are disgustingly sharp.
The question hit dead center. I flinched and glanced away.
“Ahem. Ahem.”
I cleared my throat to erase the fluster and said,
“I want to be helpful to you, Naeun.”
In an instant Naeun’s eyes filled with emotion.
“Un… Unnie…”
Sometimes a white lie does wonders for life. I couldn’t possibly spit out the truth here.
I can’t bring myself to ask Kim Taesung to his face what the hell he was thinking giving me this song five years ago—my pathetic pride won’t allow it. So I’m going to dance the choreography myself and figure out his intention with my own body.
…How was I supposed to say any of that out loud? Mortifying.
And so the choreography lesson began. I asked Ari to teach me just the chorus section in a quick crash course.
The choreography itself was easier than expected—about the same difficulty as Invitation, the one Naeun and I had stayed up all night perfecting last time. No, with its faster tempo and more intuitive moves, it actually sank into the body more smoothly.
Ra-Ra, lalala.
Ra-Ra, lalala.
Ra-Ra, lalala.
Ooh, ooh, ooh baby
In front of the mirror I lightly stepped to the beat and added the hand gestures. At first the bouncy, playful energy unique to pop-rock felt awkward, but once I rode the rhythm and moved my body, it became surprisingly fun. More than anything, that simple chorus was viciously addictive—it kept looping in my head even after the music stopped.
When the track ended and I caught my breath, Ari—who had been watching me closely through the mirror—clicked her tongue in admiration and nodded.
“Wow. You’re a real genius. You dance seriously well.”
Naeun, watching from the side, bounced up and down as if the praise were for her.
“Right?! See?! I told you our Unnie moves completely differently!”
Ari stroked her chin and looked me up and down with the expression of someone who’d just discovered something fascinating.
“But it’s really weird. It’s the exact same choreography, yet when Jiyoung-ssi does it, the whole concept of the song feels like it flips?”
The concept flips. My gaze snapped to Ari. It felt like a clue that might finally reveal why Kim Taesung had tried to give me this song five years ago.
“The concept flips? How is it different?”
Ari flicked her fingers lightly as she explained.
“So when Naeun dances it, it’s like a golden retriever wagging its tail, all ‘I love people!’ Just watching it fills you with energy and good vibes—the classic, beloved idol feel.”
“Hehe, golden retriever?”
Naeun laughed, half-embarrassed and half-pleased.
Ari’s eyes turned serious as she looked straight at me.
“But Jiyoung-ssi is different. With you it’s more like… even if you’re just standing there casually riding the rhythm, without putting in any extra effort, you completely seize people’s attention?”
“…I seize attention?”
“You’re dancing this bright, playful choreography, yet there’s this cocky ease underneath it. Like you’re looking down at the audience going, ‘Feels good that I’m dancing for you, doesn’t it?’”
So that was it.
Only then did the real reason Kim Taesung had offered me this song five years ago become crystal clear.
He calculated that I wouldn’t need to force cuteness or playfulness… that the indifferent groove alone would be enough to bewitch the public.
Maybe Kim Taesung had already seen through a weapon inside me that even five-years-ago me hadn’t known—how to dominate people’s gazes without ever setting myself down. I’d recoiled from the cat-ear concept back then and rejected it, but his eye for talent had been dead-on.
“Jiyoung-ssi? Why are you suddenly spacing out?”
Ari’s voice yanked me out of my thoughts with a start.
“Ah, no. It’s just… interesting.”
I forced an awkward smile and tried to brush it off, only for Naeun to poke my arm and shove her face right up to mine.
“Unnie! I’m shooting the music video soon—come hang out!”
“Music video shoot?”
I narrowed my eyes slightly. The choreography draft had only just come out and they were already filming the music video?
I clicked my tongue inwardly.
Kim Taesung, that bastard—he’s working the kid without a single break.
But looking at Naeun, panting and soaked in sweat yet with eyes still blazing, my thoughts shifted.
No. She probably begged him herself to shoot as soon as possible.
I made a reluctant face and opened my mouth.
“But what can I do? Kang PD asked me to stay off media as much as possible.”
At my answer I could practically see Naeun’s invisible tail—spinning like a helicopter propeller moments ago—droop flat.
“Ah…”
Her expression crumpled; she pouted.
“Then… it can’t be helped. You made a promise with the network. I don’t want you getting in trouble, Unnie.”
Watching her hide the disappointment and stare at the floor like a dejected golden retriever, I finally couldn’t hold back a quiet snort of laughter.
“Text me. I’ll come.”
“…What?”
Naeun’s head snapped up in shock.
“If I pull a hat down low and hide in a corner, no one will notice. When the schedule comes out, let me know.”
Before I’d even finished speaking, color flooded back into Naeun’s face.
“Yes!!”
She jumped in place and let out a shout that nearly blew the roof off the practice room.
“Really?! Unnie’s really coming?! Wow, I’m shooting my debut music video with Jiyoung Unnie monitoring!!”
“Hey, hey. You’re going to burst my eardrums.”
“I’m going to get permission from the CEO right now!!”
Ignoring my attempts to stop her, Naeun shot out the practice room door like an arrow.