Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: This Life is Space Star 6
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‘You dance pretty well, don’t you?’
Seon Wooju was twisting his body this way and that, perfectly in sync with the beat of the electronic music.
Even at a glance, his skill level was anything but ordinary.
It wasn’t at an insane level.
But as they say, from one you can tell ten. With just a few months of investment, he had the potential to reach the level of an average main dancer.
‘His flexibility is a bit lacking, though.’
Was it because he’d taken two years off from practice? His flexibility had suffered as a result.
Some movements that should have been fluid came out a little rough.
However, flexibility was something that could be fixed with stretching, so CEO Park Gyuho gave him a passing grade on dance as well.
It was truly the skill of a sixth-year trainee.
‘He’s this good, so why was Manager Yoon making such a fuss?’
Turning his head in puzzlement, CEO Park Gyuho looked toward Manager Yoon Seok-hwan, who was seated at the edge.
His eyes were wide open.
It was the expression of someone who’d just run into a ghost.
‘No way.’
Manager Yoon Seok-hwan’s pupils shook violently.
Who was Seon Wooju?
He was the kid known among TJ Entertainment’s trainers as Log or Robot.
A trainee with great vocals who’d been cut from debut because of his dance skills.
‘Should I be thrilled about this, or what?’
Seeing the guy he’d cherished like a little brother dance so well made him happy, but honestly, he was stunned.
What was happening right in front of his eyes was something he’d never even dreamed of—something he’d thought impossible.
Seon Wooju was the guy who’d stay up all night every night because of his poor motor skills, only to get failing marks on dance during monthly evaluations and mope about it.
For the person to change so suddenly like this.
He felt pleased, dumbfounded, and on another note, his heart ached like he was watching a child he’d raised all grown up.
‘If his dancing improved this much over two years, he could’ve at least given me a heads-up.’
The three weeks of needless worry left him feeling deflated.
Soon, the freestyle session ended.
Seon Wooju, panting in the middle of the practice room and wiping away his sweat, caught his eye and flashed a grin.
That damn cheeky kid.
Manager Yoon Seok-hwan clapped inwardly as he glanced around the room.
‘He passed.’
He could tell from the looks the judges exchanged, even without words.
The audition was a pass.
Thinking how the world had all sorts of wonders—like people cheering over Seon Wooju’s dancing—Yoon Seok-hwan smiled.
* * *
After the audition, I signed a contract with Lemon Entertainment.
For three months, to start.
It included a clause allowing either side to terminate at any time if desired, and automatic renewal if there were no issues.
CEO Park Gyuho brought up debut.
“June next year?”
The debut schedule was set for June 2014.
It was almost December, so we had about half a year left.
“The investors are up in arms. It’s been two years since we let trainees go, so now they want results.”
“I’m fine with it, but are you sure? The timeline’s a bit tight.”
“It’s okay. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll grab the investors by the pants legs and beg if I have to.”
CEO Park held out his hand with a laugh.
“So don’t give up—just work hard. Got it?”
“Yes. I will.”
“Lessons start tomorrow since it’s your first day. Want to meet the others today?”
“Right now?”
“You’ll see their faces anyway, so sooner is better, right?”
“Yes, sounds good.”
I gladly accepted the offer.
He was right—better to get face time with people you’ll be around sooner rather than later.
The basement practice room.
After CEO Park entered first, I took a moment to straighten my clothes. When he beckoned me in, curious gazes followed.
The moment I saw the four trainees, I froze for a second.
None of them had ordinary visuals.
I didn’t know about skills yet, but they all had this inexplicable aura.
Two with tall frames and strong lines—one handsome, one pretty boy vibe.
And one with a youthful face that screamed ‘actor material’ the instant you saw it.
Our gazes tangled in the air as we sized each other up.
“Introduce yourselves.”
CEO Park said with a smile.
“This is the friend who’ll be practicing with you starting today.”
At his words, we awkwardly bowed to each other.
While bland greetings like ‘Hello’ were exchanged, the CEO pointed them out one by one.
He’d just started naming them, but honestly, I couldn’t keep track of who was who yet.
One calm-looking trainee raised his hand.
“CEO, I have a question.”
“Yeah, go ahead. Bijoo.”
“You said he’ll be practicing with us, so this is that guy, right? The member Executive Director Jo Kyu-hwan said he’d bring in...”
“That’s right.”
“Really brought in by Director Jo?”
As the CEO nodded, a strange atmosphere rippled through the trainees like the tide.
How to describe the way they looked at me.
Like people finally receiving a long-awaited package after all that teasing wait.
The tall one asked.
“So we’re debuting?”
“The schedule’s roughly set. A&R and management are in meetings, but think around June next year.”
“Wow—!”
The one who looked like the maknae let out a yell without thinking.
Then he shouted, ‘Hyungs! We’re debuting!’ and they all hugged and cheered each other on.
The CEO smiled at the sight.
I felt like a scarecrow plopped in the middle of it all, but I smiled watching the festive trainees.
I knew exactly how they felt.
After two years of waiting with debut canceled twice, it was understandable.
For trainees, debut wasn’t just about going on shows.
It was a single ray of light in an endless tunnel.
How could they not get excited?
No matter how much people around warned that the outside world was harsh and not to expect too much, the mood was sky-high.
That’s what debut meant to people racing through the tunnel.
The moment you glimpse the end after so long, your heart races, you grin for no reason, and you want to hug everyone you meet.
I empathized with them.
“Kids, calm down now.”
When the CEO pulled out his card with a laugh, the trainees who’d been chattering happily fell silent.
They looked at it like it was Excalibur.
Under the practice room rail lights, the CEO’s head and corporate card gleamed.
“Since a new trainee joined today, let’s have a welcome barbecue at that place nearby.”
Cheers erupted boisterously.
Hearing it, I quietly smiled.
All in all, a good vibe for a first meeting.
* * *
The first day wrapped up with a meal to break the ice.
Proper lessons started today, the second day.
I arrived at the practice room and flipped on the lights.
7 a.m.
Lessons began at 9, but I’d come two hours early on purpose.
To make up for lost practice time.
My current state was sorely lacking.
Having slacked for two years, the road ahead was long.
I lightly warmed up with splits and connected my smartphone to the speakers via AUX cable.
-Cold Brown: See You
A track blowing up the recent Billboard charts.
R&B genre with standout dance performance.
It was the performance video from this morning’s subway ride on Mitoob.
Soon, moves I’d never have dreamed of flowed smoothly from my body.
The wave.
Multiple segmented motions combined into a ripple, passing from arm to arm.
Now I understood the whole process.
Not just mimicking—it was like I instinctively knew the principles behind it.
Amazingly, this ability applied to singing too.
Understanding and mimicking muscle movements.
Vocal cords were muscles too, apparently.
In fact, before the audition, I’d recovered 60% of my original skill thanks to this. At this rate, reaching debut-ready level in a month wouldn’t be impossible.
Click—
After sweating it out with dance and groaning through a three-set split routine, the first trainee opened the door.
Pale skin, neat features.
Staring at him made you think of a gentle deer.
Kim Bi-ju, I think. Probably.
Yawning nonstop to fight off fatigue, Kim Bi-ju spotted me and broke into a bright smile.
“You’re early, hyung.”
“Morning.”
“Up early for the first day?”
“Yeah, didn’t want to be late on day one.”
A clear laugh rang out.
From observing him over yesterday’s meal, this mild-mannered trainee had a very calm personality.
Kim Bi-ju sat right next to me and started stretching.
I marveled at his legs splitting straight like a crane’s.
Insanely flexible.
Was he the main dancer?
Every move was somehow soft and elegant, fitting the group’s best dancer.
As I admired inwardly, Kim Bi-ju caught my eye and smiled.
“Why are you looking?”
“You seem super flexible.”
“Maybe ‘cause I’ve danced since elementary school. Got better at it, but my height stalled.”
He made a sad face like ‘Tragic, right? and I smiled back.
“Don’t worry. You’ll grow more.”
“I turn twenty the month after next, hyung.”
“Huh? Didn’t you say you were all high schoolers?”
“Me, Junghyun—that tall one—we graduate next year. Maknae’s just starting high school.”
The tall one must be the slightly rough-edged member. His boyish look had me pegged at seventeen, but he was holding up well.
We chatted idly while stretching, but after just one meeting, awkwardness lingered.
The kind of convo like ‘Wow, you’re handsome’, ‘Nah, you are .
As the talk paused.
While I grunted failing at a split, Kim Bi-ju quietly spoke up.
“Woojoo hyung.”
“...Ung?”
“Back when you were at TJ Ent. You said you got picked for debut group but dropped for dance, right? Yesterday.”
“Yeah.”
What’s he getting at?
“Bit out of left field, but this time... I really hope you debut with us.”
“Huh?”
I was baffled.
“What do you mean?”
“CEO said June next year. Half a year left—prep’s gonna be brutal. Dance might stress you out bad.”
“Could be.”
“But don’t quit midway, okay?”
“Got it.”
“You never know with people’s hearts. If it gets tough, tell me.”
Kim Bi-ju said earnestly.
“If you feel like you can’t, I’ll buy you food. Or... listen to worries. Don’t worry—just say anytime. If dance is too hard, I’ll stay up all night helping.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember that.”
He was so serious I thought it was something big, but hearing him out made me chuckle inwardly.
He’s scared right now.
The trauma of two prior last-minute member quits canceling debuts was etched in his head.
He feared I’d bail like before.
Plus, hearing yesterday I quit over dance made him desperate from his perspective.
He wanted debut, but if the last addition left, trouble.
Maybe I misspoke yesterday.
I’d summarized my trainee history briefly, but it must’ve sounded misleading.
What to tell him.
Can’t say superpowers fixed my dance.
“...”
Maybe embarrassed after saying it, Kim Bi-ju stretched with a sheepish face.
Seeing that, I smiled for no reason.
Click—
As we stretched silently, another trainee arrived.
Padded coat, beanie.
Pretty boy like Kim Bi-ju, but different vibe.
If Bi-ju was warm spring, this was chilly winter. Unlike the calm, neat Bi-ju, he had an arrogant prince aura.
Super standoffish.
Seo Ri-hyuk, right? This one stuck.
His sharp impression lingered from yesterday’s meal.
Turning eighteen next year.
I greeted the earphone-clad schoolkid type, but he just nodded curtly.
As I blinked, Kim Bi-ju whispered.
“He’s always like that.”
“Pretty cool guy.”
About 170 like Bi-ju, but great proportions.
Sleek build, intellectual face.
Leaning against the wall listening to music quietly, he glanced at my stare then ignored it.
Prickly one.
I ended up talking to Seo Ri-hyuk when I stepped out to the hallway for water from the dispenser.
“Hey.”
Turning, sharp eyes met mine.
I replied with a smile.
“My name’s not ‘hey,’ it’s Seon Wooju.”
“Oh.”
“If my name’s too awkward, ‘hey’ works fine.”
Soft smile, gentle tone.
Experience told me with prickly types, soft delivery but strong content.
Otherwise, they walk all over you.
“Seon Wooju hyung, right?”
He said ‘hyung’ like it pained him.
“Got something to say. Got time?”
“What?”
“Something I couldn’t say yesterday ‘cause no time.”
I blew on the paper cup to unfold it, filled with water, and nodded for him to go ahead.
His pitch-black eyes fixed on me.
“Yesterday, you—hyung—said you quit being a trainee over dance.”
“...”
What are you guys, the telepathic brothers?