Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: This Life is Space Star 7
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“Sorry, but I’m a bit slow on the uptake. I can’t quite grasp what you’re getting at.”
“So...”
Seo Ri-hyuk hesitated, searching for the right words.
“It means don’t give up.”
“Ah, got it?”
“If you’re going to quit midway or suddenly bail, then just leave now. For everyone’s sake.”
At this point, curiosity piqued.
What exactly had happened two years ago when those two trainees left and debut fell through that one was on edge and the other full of wariness?
Or maybe it was because I’d phrased it weirdly yesterday, saying I quit because of dancing.
Super defensive.
Hearing him say “for everyone’s sake,” it seemed the trainees had pretty good camaraderie.
Seo Ri-hyuk nodded toward Kim Bi-ju beyond the practice room window.
“Hyung might not know yet, but Bi-ju hyung spends over 13 hours a day holed up in the practice room. The other members are similar.”
I listened quietly.
“We’ve been living just hoping for debut all this time. If it falls through again, who knows what’ll happen.”
“So, if you’re gonna quit, do it now?”
“Yeah.”
I nodded readily.
“Alright.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll quit now.”
A bewildered expression flashed across Seo Ri-hyuk’s face.
“What?”
“You said if I’m gonna quit midway, I should.”
I replied nonchalantly, mumbling to myself about whether I should pack my bags now, and Seo Ri-hyuk’s expression turned urgent.
“No, I mean—”
“You want me not to quit, right? Isn’t that it?”
Seo Ri-hyuk seemed at a loss for words, then nodded.
I smiled.
With all my experience in mental standoffs.
Surviving among over a hundred trainees, this was nothing.
Of course, he might just be saying it out of worry for his hyungs and dongsaengs.
“So, you want me to stick it out and work hard?”
“...Yeah.”
“Got it. I’ll do my best. Looking forward to it from here on out.”
I extended my hand with a smile, and Seo Ri-hyuk shook it hesitantly.
“Then I’ll head back in.”
Seo Ri-hyuk blinked, tilting his head. Like he’d been dissuaded but wasn’t sure how.
Anyway. These kids have some real friendship.
Two of them saying the exact same thing—seemed like they looked out for each other a lot.
Well. I still felt like an outsider, so it couldn’t be helped.
Still, hearing “don’t cause us trouble later” straight up was a bit deflating.
But what could I do?
We hadn’t known each other long enough to build trust.
No need to rush—just focus on debut, and it’d sort itself out.
I gave Seo Ri-hyuk a smile and returned to the practice room.
“What’d you talk about with Ri-hyuk?”
“Hm?”
“Your face looked kinda serious.”
“Just chit-chat.”
Kim Bi-ju, who’d been watching me, smiled like he got the gist.
“Ri-hyuk’s a bit awkward with people. He says things that get misunderstood sometimes, so please understand, hyung.”
“Nah, he was nice and kind.”
Kim Bi-ju laughed at my “kind” comment, like it was hilarious.
Seo Ri-hyuk, back inside, brushed past me like the wind and settled next to Kim Bi-ju.
The wary gaze lingered.
Felt like bringing home a stray cat.
While lost in that thought, it neared 9 a.m., when lessons started.
Ten minutes to go.
The door swung wide open.
“Hyungs! I’m here!”
The booming shout, like a newborn’s wail, came from the youngest trainee.
Wang Ji-ho.
His unique speech stuck in my memory.
Entering high school next year, Wang Ji-ho was the textbook pretty boy.
Grew a bit more, and he’d be perfect for a chaebol heir role on TV.
That aside...
Similar height to Seo Ri-hyuk or Kim Bi-ju, but with a solid frame—had a feeling he’d catch up to me once growth spurts ended.
“Morning, Woojoo hyung.”
“Hey.”
“Oh, brought something for you, hyung.”
Rummaging in his pricey-looking Canada Goose padding, the maknae carefully pulled something out.
“You like chocolate?”
“Thanks, I’ll enjoy it.”
“Can’t have your blood sugar drop during practice.”
Didn’t know the brand, but it looked expensive imported stuff at a glance.
“Hey, Wang Ji-ho.”
Seo Ri-hyuk’s eyebrows sharpened.
“Why not me and Bi-ju hyung?”
“Oh, sorry.”
The maknae grinned brightly.
“Rushed out today and forgot yours.”
Then he munched happily on the chocolate from his pocket.
No share for hyungs, but mine’s here?
What a quirky character, I thought, taking the chocolate. Then I asked Seo Ri-hyuk, staring at it.
“Want some?”
“No!”
Kim Bi-ju smiled at the panicked reply.
“Ri-hyuk, why reject so desperately?”
“I’m always like that, hyung.”
“No way, since when?”
Wang Ji-ho and Kim Bi-ju teased the one playing it cool.
Seo Ri-hyuk’s ears turned red.
Thought he was the prickly type after warning me off, but turns out he’s the group’s punching bag.
Gauging the team vibe from these interactions, I asked the members.
“Isn’t there one more?”
“Who? Oh, Jung-hyun?”
Kim Bi-ju glanced at his watch, frowning to himself.
“This kid late again?”
“Well, it’s not the first day.”
“Jung-hyun hyung’ll be here soon, Woojoo hyung.”
Jung-hyun probably meant the tall, handsome trainee from yesterday.
Graduating next year with Bi-ju.
From the chatter, he was often late.
9 a.m.
Right on the dot, the door clicked open—but it wasn’t another trainee, it was the dance trainer.
“Hello!”
We stood and bowed; the teacher gave a casual greeting.
He looked exhausted and prickly, face screaming “my life’s hell, don’t bother me.”
The dance trainer yawned.
“Sit. Too annoying looking up.”
Surveying the room, he said.
“Thought you’d all be grim from year-end evals. Why so bright?”
“We’re debuting, sam.”
“Ugh, you kids debuting? End times. World’s ending.”
“Why, sam? You always said we’re the best.”
The trainer shook his head at Kim Bi-ju.
“That was then. If you go out with this skill claiming to be my students, you’re done for. Got it?”
“If anyone asks, we’ll say we’re Joo Ye-hyung sam’s students.”
Laughter shared only by those with history spread.
I just stood there blankly.
“Anyway, one, two, three... Wait, where’s Kim Jung-hyun?”
Then, distant thundering footsteps like a herd approaching.
Where’d I hear this?
Lion King, when Simba’s dad dies?
Click—
The door nearly splintered open; the trainee rushed in, panting.
Joo Ye-hyung shook his head.
“Chaos. Total chaos, Mr. Kim Jung-hyun.”
“Sorry!”
“What’s the excuse today? Overslept again?”
“Aaack...!”
Kim Jung-hyun writhed as the trainer pinched his side; others laughed like it was routine.
“Sorry. Was feeding my hamster and lost track.”
“Yeah, hamster’s priority.”
“Yeah, it wouldn’t eat today, so I stayed till the end... Aaack!”
His sturdy, reliable face shattered some image I’d had.
Kim Bi-ju beside me laughed at my expression.
Scolded for lateness, Kim Jung-hyun tossed his bag in the corner and sat right behind me.
Still panting in my ear.
“Hey.”
I smiled back at the deep voice’s greeting.
The trainer, shaking his head at Kim Jung-hyun, seemed to remember something.
“New face, hand up.”
I raised my hand.
“You all introduced?”
“Yeah.”
“No need then.”
Nodding, Joo Ye-hyung eyed me closely, like appraising.
“Still handsome as hell.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“Thanks for what? I hate good-looking people most.”
Stunned, I looked around—everyone but me giggled.
Just his character, apparently.
Mid-joking, as Joo Ye-hyung moved to lesson progress, the maknae raised his hand.
“Ji-ho, what now.”
“Sam, we skipping that? New trainee’s here—initiation rite.”
Seo Ri-hyuk nudged his shoulder, glancing like “he quit cuz he can’t dance.”
“What initiation? This ain’t 2000s variety.”
Grumbling, Joo Ye-hyung eyed me like something clicked.
“Oh, perfect timing. Come out and show some moves, new face.”
“Huh?”
“You can dance. Stimulate these kids—show ’em.”
Trainees looked puzzled at the trainer.
They’d heard I quit cuz I couldn’t dance, yet here he says I can.
Amid the miscommunication, all eyes on me as I stood.
“Kinda embarrassing.”
Trainer nodded to the floor.
“You all watch close. Dance line, motion flow. Kid from big agency—two years off, still nails it.”
Suddenly felt like a big agency star—burdensome.
Feeling their intense gazes missing nothing, I connected my smartphone to the speaker.
Song to show: Cold Brown’s See You, practiced this morning.
* * *
Kim Bi-ju was puzzled.
‘He can dance?’
Over dinner at the meat place yesterday, Seon Wooju had briefly shared his trainee story.
“Ended up quitting cuz dancing didn’t click.”
That worried him at first.
Vocals could be covered with AR help even if lacking, but dance shows starkly to the eye.
He’d panicked initially but decided to trust Executive Director Jo Kyu-hwan’s eye.
‘If Director Jo picked him, there’s a reason.’
To Lemon Enter folks, Jo Kyu-hwan was like a box-office guarantee in Chungmuro.
Midas Touch—everything he touched turned to gold.
Trainees trusted the genius composer’s vision.
But anxiety lingered separately.
Quit after six years cuz dance didn’t improve, and now pull a two-year-hiatus trainee to debut level in half a year?
Future looked bleak.
Then, an unexpected sight unfolded before the trainees.
“Whoa?”
Maknae Wang Ji-ho mouthed an ‘O.’
Clean dance lines.
No flashy tricks, just precise and clean.
‘How?’
Kim Bi-ju hand to mouth.
‘Not moves from someone off two years.’
Like a pro dancer right there.
All gasped in unison as Seon Wooju’s body moved dynamically to the R&B beat.
Maknae whispered to Seo Ri-hyuk.
“Wow, dances better than you, hyung?”
“Quiet, Wang Ji-ho.”
“Just facts—”
Chop to the throat; maknae coughed.
Seo Ri-hyuk, lips pursed, watched then noticed something off.
The two quiet hyungs.
No comment; he frowned.
“What. Why not deny it?”
Awkward smiles from the two.
Rain poured in main vocal’s heart.
Dance ended; Seon Wooju, like possessed, stopped and smiled.
Trainees clapped awkwardly.
‘Scammed.’
Kim Bi-ju squirmed, recalling his words, embarrassed.
Like giving a crumpled thousand-won bill to a scrap grandpa who turns out a conglomerate chair.
Deflating.
But relieving too—one worry gone.
“Alright, show’s over—lesson time.”
Joo Ye-hyung clapped to start.
Same as always.
But trainees’ eyes drifted elsewhere.
‘What.’
Seon Wooju absorbing every demo perfectly.
In one go.
Human copy machine—first wonder turned to monster-level shock.
Lesson over, Seo Ri-hyuk, sensing his spot shaky, asked.
“Uh, you good at singing too?”
“Nah.”
Heard him mutter “probably?” with a grin.
‘No way he’s good at vocals too.’
But main vocal’s hunch came true.
* * *
5 p.m. Vocal lesson.
Trainees circled the vocal trainer, eyes on one spot.
Seon Wooju calmly singing a ballad.
“Expression game strong. Like Yoon Chan-hyeok sunbae?”
“Better than Jung-hyun.”
“Hey, Kim Bi-ju. I’m a rapper. You find udon at a kimbap joint?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, really? Let’s grab some later.”
What kinda convo is this.
Amused, Kim Bi-ju glanced at Seon Wooju singing center, smiling.
First baffling, now pure awe.
‘Two years off and this good—what was he like before?’
Misunderstandings deepened unintentionally on day one.