Concept Evaluation (1)

"Want to try it again?"

Eun-bi unnie's voice rang through the practice room.

Se-rin still had that uneasy look in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her eyes. She was starting to find the feel of it, little by little, but the frustration of a body that refused to keep up still sat heavy on her shoulders.

"It's okay if you mess up this time. Let's just go all the way through."

Se-rin worked through the choreography from the top, one count at a time. First move. Second. Third. It was still clumsy, but Eun-bi unnie stayed right beside her, holding her center and coaching her through every beat.

"Se-rin, you need to drop your waist lower here. That's how the power comes through."

Se-rin ran the move again. The stiffness in her body began to loosen, and the angles of her arms and legs grew sharper, more precise.

"Oh! That was really good just now!"

I couldn't help shouting, my voice bright with excitement.

In that instant, Se-rin's expression changed. She moved into the next count without hesitation, and confidence started to gather at her fingertips and the tips of her toes.

That was the beginning of the shift.

As time passed, the change only grew clearer. At first she had struggled just to stay on beat. Now she was riding the rhythm, starting to understand the flow itself.

"Whoa! Se-rin's actually getting it!"

No — "getting it" wasn't enough. It was like she had become an entirely different person.

In the beginning, Se-rin would shrink into herself every time she danced, her face filling with self-reproach at the smallest mistake. But the Se-rin in front of me now was enjoying it. She was hitting every move on the exact beat — clean, unshaken, and sure of herself.

The girl who used to crumple inward like a wad of paper was finally starting to shine.

"Oh my god, Se-rin's skill just did a total quantum leap!"

Yu-ri, watching from the side, burst out in admiration. A proud little smile tugged at Se-rin's lips. Even Eun-bi unnie, who had been coaching her so hard, drew in a breath and smiled quietly.

"Se-rin, you could walk onto a stage right now and hold your own!"

"Was it... really okay?"

Her voice was still careful, but her eyes were different.

I nodded hard.

"It wasn't just okay. It was perfect!"

The rest of the team broke into applause. A smile spread across my face before I even noticed it.

This wasn't a miracle. This was what effort looked like when it finally paid off.

"You worked so hard. This has to be exhausting — here, eat this. It's super refreshing!"

When practice wrapped, Yu-ri held out a raw lemon to Se-rin, from who-knows-where.

"Yu-ri... I appreciate it, but I'll pass..."

"Huh? If you eat this, your eyes snap open! Your brain snaps awake! Instant life, I'm telling you!"

"Yu-ri, you eat it. A lot of it...!"

Se-rin had her confidence back — still timid, but no longer afraid to say what she meant. That, more than anything, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was the biggest win of the day.

And at last, the day when Se-rin would shine her brightest was almost here.

A few days later, we headed to the designated location.

"Whoa...! I've never been in a recording studio like this."

"Me neither!"

The atmosphere was nothing like the practice room. Instead of the familiar mirrored walls, a studio packed with speakers and recording equipment stretched out in front of us.

"We do recording practice at the company on a regular basis, but this is the first time we've ever done it for real. It's kind of amazing."

"It actually feels like debut is getting close."

Someone murmured it under their breath, and I felt the same way.

This is a completely different feeling from just practicing an existing song and putting it on a stage.

This was the real professional realm now. A tension settled over us that was nothing like the sweat we had poured out in the practice room.

Then the door opened, and a man walked in.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Yu Jin-woo, the composer in charge of this new track."

"Wow! Hello!"

"Hello!"

The trainees stood to greet him, but he waved us back into our seats and settled in front of us.

I had already seen him in the mission briefing video, but meeting him in person felt strangely different.

"I've been watching the show. You all must be exhausted, right?"

"No way, it's so much fun!"

Han Yu-ri answered in a bright, excited voice. If anyone else had said that, I would have written it off as empty politeness. With her, I had a feeling she actually meant it.

"How's the song? Wasn't too hard, was it?"

"We love it!"

Good answers poured out. They had to. From the very first phrase, the melody of this track grabbed you by the ear. It was exciting and sophisticated at the same time — every practice session, the energy just came naturally.

And even if it hadn't, the only person who could look a composer in the face and drop this song sucks would be Yu-ri. Well, Se-rin might not exactly not say it either.

"That's a relief. All right — today, let's fill this song with your amazing voices!"

"Yes!"

Once the staff around the composer finished setting up, recording finally began.

We worked through the parts one by one, starting from the top. There wasn't as much tension as I had expected. We had sung this song countless times in practice. Everyone eased into the studio atmosphere and recorded naturally.

But then.

"Let's take that one more time. Ease off a little."

As the retakes piled up, the mood in the room began to shift. Even the parts we had thought were fine got recorded again. Once. Twice. Three times.

I could see the unease blooming on people's faces.

They're actually getting stiffer.

It had started light, but as time passed, tension built among the trainees.

"That was good just now — let's loosen up and try it again?"

Yu Jin-woo's tone was gentle, but every time he called for another take, the trainees flinched a little smaller.

And then, at last, it was Kang Se-rin's turn.

Ah... if she shrinks back here, it's going to be a disaster.

Despite that worry, Se-rin quietly put on the headphones and stepped up to the mic. She took a light breath, then let out the first phrase.

And in that moment—

"Oh, that's really good."

Yu ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Jin-woo muttered it almost to himself. And that wasn't the end of it. The second Se-rin's part finished, he kept nodding.

"That was excellent. Let's keep the first take and go one more time. Just sing it as comfortably as you did just now."

Se-rin's face barely changed. She still looked serious, still focused. But what I saw in her now wasn't the girl who had been shrinking into herself. It was someone who had found her strength again.

Thank god.

Then came the second take. A vocal that was soft and powerful at the same time. Breath and expression that carried the emotion exactly where it needed to go.

The last word left her lips, and the composer clasped his hands together and nodded.

"Okay! That's it! We don't need another one."

The studio erupted in murmurs.

"Whoa, Se-rin finished in two takes?"

"I told you Se-rin can really sing."

Se-rin stepped out, and we all listened back to her part. When her voice faded, the composer spoke with something like awe.

"You hit the groove exactly where I wanted it. Honestly, you sing better than a lot of artists who've already debuted."

At that one sentence, Se-rin's eyes went wide. An impressed ohhh rippled through the room, and someone gave her a few pats on the shoulder.

"Even good singers take forever when they record with me. I'm a perfectionist hardass like that."

The trainees laughed at the composer's half-joke and gave Se-rin little shoves.

"Yeee~ Se-rin-ssu~"

"The UnderSeRins."

"What's an UnderSeRin?"

"Singers who debuted under Se-rin."

Se-rin laughed, embarrassed by the team's nonsense, but her face was full of a confidence that hadn't been there minutes ago.

And then, at last, it was my turn.

The music ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠started, and the beat rolled through my whole body.

The key to this song was maximizing the intensity of the performance and the energy in the vocal. The rhythmic melody line came first — so the important thing was to strip out any unnecessary emotion and sing it clean.

Just like we had practiced. Exactly like that.

When I finished the last phrase, a light silence settled through the earphones.

And Yu Jin-woo sat there tight-lipped, staring at the monitor.

...What?

Something was off. Normally the first thing you would hear was feedback like let's take that one more time. He had skipped right past that and was sitting there with a serious face, like he was thinking something through.

My head started spinning.

Did I... mess something up?

Had I gone off-pitch? Missed the beat? Or was I not supposed to put emotion into it, and I had put in too much?

Just as the anxiety started to rise, he slowly lifted his hand and set it over the red button.

"How did you do that?"

My head tilted on its own.

"...Do what?"

"This song — if you look at it, it's a performance-driven track, right?"

The composer looked like he genuinely couldn't figure something out.

"But there's emotion in it."

My mind went blank.

...Huh? I just sang it, though?

Han Yu-ri, watching from the side, suddenly cut in.

"I think you've been watching the show a little too hard. Are you over-invested in Seo-yeon?"

Everyone laughed at that, and Yu Jin-woo seemed to take it as a joke too — no offense in his face as he propped his chin on his hand and muttered.

"Is that it? She's such a striking contestant that my brain just assumed the emotion was there?"

Then he played my part back again. His eyes followed the monitor. My voice spilled out through the speakers.

Yu Jin-woo folded his arms and sat there with a serious expression for a long moment. Then he picked up the mic again.

"Well... if it sounds good, it sounds good. It's not a bad thing. Let's take it again."

So I hadn't messed up?

Then I shouldn't overthink it. Just sing it comfortably.

The beat rolled in, and the first phrase started again.

And when I finished the last line—

The studio went quiet.

This time Yu Jin-woo stared even harder at the monitor, his expression more serious than before. His fingers tapped his chin. One hand on his forehead, he listened to the song again, and again, like someone trying to solve a puzzle.

Then he muttered, almost to himself.