Thirty Minutes of Silence and One Terrible Dance
Thirty minutes after I started working on the choreography, the air in the practice room had gone stale again. The music was still playing, but not a single person opened their mouth.
Wow. This is suffocating, seriously.
Everyone was thinking about something. The problem was that nobody wanted to be the first to move.
Afraid of being told their ideas were no good. Afraid of stepping up and ruining the mood for nothing.
"Let's just do it exactly like the original."
Someone said it as they flopped down onto the floor.
"Either way, we're—"
The sentence trailed off. Nobody needed it finished to understand.
Either way, we're the bottom-tier team.
The weakest of the weak.
I watched them in silence.
So that's why the broadcast gave them such a generous edit. Now I totally understand how that train wreck of a stage happened.
"Everyone, gather round."
Waiting any longer wouldn't change a thing.
"I'll show you what I came up with first. It's absolutely incredible, by the way."
Skeptical eyes all around. But they gathered anyway.
"You…… made choreography?"
"Yep. Worked really hard on it, too."
I nonchalantly turned the music on and started moving.
"……?"
From the very first move, something was deeply wrong.
Off-beat timing, ambiguous hand gestures, joints bending at random for no discernible reason.
A grim, battle-ready expression that had less than nothing to do with a refreshing song. And on top of that, an inexplicable jump.
It was worse because I was committing to it with my whole heart.
"Whoa……"
"What even is that……"
All with the most serious expressions on their faces, too.
"What do you think?"
I finished the last pose as awkwardly as I possibly could.
An astonishing silence settled over the room. Nobody could find their voice.
"Pretty good, right?"
At that shameless line, Kwon Gihyeon finally broke.
"Hyung, are you insane?"
"That's going too far, even for a joke—"
I nodded along serenely.
"Right? Amazing even by your standards, huh? Come on, let's practice this right now."
"No, that's not what I—"
I felt the air freeze for an instant.
"No objections, right? Why?"
Grinning, I started the music again.
From here on out, it's their choice. Will they eat the food made by X's hands, or gather their own ingredients and cook?
"Alright, I'll teach you from the first move."
"Hyung, wait a second!"
Song Wooju shot to his feet.
"W-were you serious?"
"Of course! Do you know how hard I worked on this?"
Well, how could he think anything else? I'd made it out of moves so unsightly they'd make anyone with functioning eyes turn pale!
"You're not supposed to extend there — you have to bend it like this!"
The words burst out of him before he clapped a hand over his own mouth, apparently startled by what he'd just said.
In an instant, every gaze in the room locked onto Song Wooju.
"Huh?"
I tilted my head with a perfectly clueless expression.
"Bend it? Bend what?"
"No, I—"
I deliberately bent my body in even stranger places. The result looked exactly like…… a balloon man caught in a gale.
Song Wooju's hand wandered helplessly through the air. His face said he was dying of frustration.
I asked, cool as anything.
"Then, Wooju, why don't you give it a try?"
Sighing, Song Wooju dragged himself up little by little.
That's right. There's no way you'd just let this slide.
The target had taken the bait, precisely as planned.
"……"
I cleared the floor for him without making it obvious, and Song Wooju slowly stepped forward.
"Don't laugh if it looks weird."
"Pfft, come on. It couldn't be worse than—"
I turned to Ji Dongseok.
"What?"
"N-nothing. Wooju, hurry up and show us."
It was clearly a jab at my choreography, but I let it slide as if I hadn't noticed.
Which seemed to give Song Wooju a shot of confidence.
"I'll play the song."
Song Wooju moved to the music.
It was a world apart from what I'd done. The beats landed exactly where they should, the moves flowed into one another — there was actual momentum.
Totally different from the original choreography, but perfectly suited to the song's refreshing vibe.
"Oh—"
"Hey, that's good!"
Even the guys who'd been sitting there with their mouths shut reacted immediately.
Song Wooju froze. He looked like someone who had never expected to be praised in his life.
I knew you had something in mind.
The truth was, after getting eliminated from the survival show, Song Wooju had pivoted to become a choreographer. It was a career change so unexpected that even fans who'd assumed he'd be a rapper were baffled by it.
Quitting trainee life had nearly destroyed him, but he'd clawed his way back through dance — he became a choreographer famous enough that I'd actually seen his interviews about it. That was Song Wooju.
With a guy like that here, why on earth would I need to make the choreography myself?
"Wow, Wooju. That's really good."
"When did you even come up with this?"
"What if you'd never made him try it?"
The compliments poured out, making a mockery of the dead silence from before.
"Great. Let's go with this."
So I nailed it down on the spot. And this time, everyone nodded along.
It's miles better than what I showed them, after all.
The only possible outcome.
Song Wooju didn't look displeased either. If anything, he let out a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness……"
Trust me, Wooju, I'm the one who's relieved. I was worried you'd all just decide to follow my convulsion-dance to the bitter end.
"So what comes after this part?"
"Well—"
This time Kwon Gihyeon jumped in.
"Couldn't we connect it like this?"
As always, starting was the hardest part. One by one, they began offering ideas.
"Or how about this?"
"Oh, that would really make the beat pop—"
The practice room, so recently drowning in silence, grew loud as if by magic. Ji Dongseok's enthusiastic praise and over-the-top fussing filled the guys right up with confidence.
"I'll take the back half of the second verse."
"Nice. Then who's doing the pre-chorus?"
"Not confident here……"
"You've got it. Just try it. It'll be better than—"
Kwon Gihyeon hastily clamped a hand over Song Wooju's mouth.
"Shh!"
A brief silence.
And then—
"Pfft."
The whole room burst out laughing at once.
Nobody needed it said out loud to know what he'd been about to add.
That at least it would be better than my outlandish choreography.
I leaned against the wall and watched them.
Looking good.
There was no longer any need for me to butt in.
In fact, if I so much as shifted in my seat—
"No!"
"Stay back, hyung!"
"Hyung, you're supposed to be arranging the song!"
They'd assumed I was about to join the choreography session and panicked on the spot. Eventually they even dragged chairs and floor cushions over from every corner of the practice room.
"Hyung, sit here."
"Get comfortable while you work."
Absolute rule: no standing up.
The practice room buzzed with noise. The dead atmosphere came back to life.
"Hey."
Ji Dongseok called out to me.
"You're not gonna dance with us?"
"Ah, hyung……! Seongwoo hyung has to arrange the song. He's busy!"
I shrugged.
"What? You liked my choreography that much, huh—"
"……Never mind."
"You heard the kids. I've got a song to arrange."
"Yeah. That's probably for the best."
Laughter erupted.
And of course, I let out a quiet sigh of relief at my own successful scheme.
* * *
Two hours later, I called the team back together.
"I've settled on a direction for the arrangement."
Music flowed out of the laptop speakers.
"There's no proper equipment right now, so it's rough, but give it a listen."
A familiar melody — but the mood was different from the very first second.
Instead of the original's light synth sound, a crisp guitar riff teased the ear first. The drum beat came crashing in far more powerfully, too.
Their expressions shifted by the second.
At first, everyone just looked taken aback.
Then their bodies started responding. Kwon Gihyeon tapped his fingertips against the floor in time with the beat, and before anyone noticed, Ji Dongseok was bobbing his head.
The dance-position guys weren't the only ones moving — even the shy ones were swaying tentatively along.
"Whoa—"
A short gasp escaped Song Wooju's lips.
Then came the chorus.
The moment a variation unlike anything in the original kicked in, all four pairs of eyes went round.
"Hyung, what was that just now?"
"It's like a completely different song!"
It was a flow that kept the refreshing feel while still leaving room for the punch of a live stage.
"Well? Do you like it?"
"Is that even a question?"
Ji Dongseok sprang up from his seat.
"Dude, how did you do this in two hours?"
"I love it. Seriously."
"M-me too."
"Hyung, the part right before the chorus where the guitar comes in — play it again!"
The whole atmosphere had flipped. Now they were the ones begging me to restart the music.
"The choreography would slot right in here."
"Hold on, I just thought of something amazing."
Song Wooju threw out an idea on the spot.
"If we move across the stage like this, it'd sync perfectly with the guitar riff?"
"Love it. Let's try it."
Nobody held back anymore. They just threw themselves into it.
The moment the guitar riff started, they charged forward, and just before the chorus the formation spread out naturally.
"Oh—"
This time, it was me who was impressed.
Choreography nothing like the original. And yet it fit the arrangement shockingly well.
So this is where the seed of him becoming a choreographer was planted.
"Wow, Wooju."
"Wh-what do you think?"
"You're genuinely great at making choreography."
Song Wooju scratched his head for no reason at all.
"It's all thanks to you, Seongwoo hyung."
Then he added one more thing.
"I'm sorry for suggesting we just do it like the original."
"Nothing to be sorry for. You did well — that's what counts."
Thank goodness. These kids figure things out on their own.
Otherwise I'd have had to channel my inner Yu Seong-ah and play the tyrant all over again.
And so, in that high-energy atmosphere, the choreography practice began.
……And as predicted, the problem was me.
"Hyung, do this part like this."
"Like this?"
"No!"
Song Wooju had done the wave smoothly, but my body sent separate signals to every single joint.
"This hyung, seriously."
Song Wooju let out a sigh.
"If you weren't on this team, we'd really be in trouble."
Wooju, believe me — that's exactly why I came to this team.
With dance skills like mine, if I'd ended up on the sporty team with all the acrobatics, or the sexy team where I'd have to channel something like a writhing earthworm, I would've woken up in a hospital bed.
"Still, we need to nail down the unison parts."
There was a quiet steel in Song Wooju's eyes.
Huge progress.
"Obviously."
After nearly two hours of practice, my legs wobbled even when I stood still.
"W-wait, break time……"
The moment I flopped onto the floor first, the rest of them dropped like dominoes.
"Water. Water……"
I shuffled out of the practice room like a zombie, filled a cup at the water purifier, and downed it in one gulp.
So this is what it feels like to find an oasis in the desert.
Just then, a cautious voice came from behind me.
"Hyung."
"Yeah?"
It was Kwon Gihyeon. I tilted my head, a paper cup still hanging from my mouth.
Does he need me to move?
I shifted aside for him, but he didn't touch the water. He just lingered.
"What's up?"
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
"Did what?"
Kwon Gihyeon gave me an incredulous look.
"That choreography earlier."
"Ah—"
I took another leisurely sip of water.
"On purpose? Are you doubting my choreographic genius right now?"
"Huh?"
Which only made him press harder.
"It wasn't real, was it."
"What wasn't."
"You laid the board out on purpose, didn't you?"
Persistent. So persistent.
I played dumb right to the end.
"Who knows~"
"It was."
Kwon Gihyeon shook his head slowly.
"You're honestly a little insane, hyung."
Despite his words, the corner of his mouth was creeping upward.
"So from now on, if you come up with an idea, say it right away."
I snorted and thumped his shoulder.
"Before I have to make choreography again."
Kwon Gihyeon burst out laughing, looking horrified.
When I got back to the practice room, Ji Dongseok and Sung Junwoo were already sprawled out in the corner.
"Hyung, should we head in now?"
I picked up my laptop.
"Ah, I'm stopping by the studio first."
"N-now?"
"Yep."
When I asked what the problem was, they answered with awkward laughter.
"Nothing, it's just — you're going to sleep there?"
"I don't think so."
Though honestly, part of me did want to drag a bed into the studio.
"I just need to be able to build things the second an idea hits."
Song Wooju laughed like he couldn't believe it.
"Wow. You really are a producer, huh."
I waved a hand vaguely.
Not yet.
It was too early to be impressed.
Because the real thing was only just beginning.