The E in the S-Rank Gathering
Han Gyeowool pressed the sticker labeled with the letter E, her agency affiliation, and her name onto the chest of her black super-cropped tee, then stepped carefully in front of the panel. Bowing at a perfect ninety degrees toward the cameras encircling her, she straightened to find that the staff member who had guided her—Yeo Hanna—had already vanished. She was left alone, surrounded by dozens of lenses.
“…Hello. I’m Han Gyeowool.”
Her timid greeting received no reply. Whether the staff were worried about noise during filming or had simply decided on that concept, Gyeowool couldn’t tell.
“…Should I just go in?”
She was fidgeting, gauging the mood, when she finally gathered the courage to step forward. At that moment, three trainees appeared from the opposite hallway.
“Wow, is this the photo-call spot? They set it up really well!”
“Whoa, look at all these cameras. Yujin, is that a camera too?”
“Yujin, don’t touch that!”
Gyeowool glanced at the stickers on their clothes. A, A, A. All three of them were A-rank. She assumed they possessed talent far beyond anything she could compare herself to. Only people with that level of confidence could wear those letters.
The E on her own chest suddenly felt unbearably shameful. She shrank a little more.
“Oh, someone got here before us?”
“Where’s she from? …Two Bear Entertainment? Never heard of it.”
“Yujin, how much could you possibly know about agencies to be saying ‘never heard of it’ like that?”
“I can still talk even if I don’t know. Ignorance isn’t a crime!”
“Whether it’s a crime or not, people will immediately realize you’re uneducated.”
They chattered like a storm even while walking the short distance to the panel. Gyeowool felt a dizzying sense of autumn—three of them at once. Regardless of whether she liked or disliked that kind of person, being around people with such overwhelming extroversion made the battery inside her body feel like it was draining with a loud zzzzaaap.
And she realized that if she stayed in this den called the entertainment industry, she would have to meet hundreds of these human energy balls.
‘Aaaah, Taeyang-nim, help me.’
But he couldn’t follow her here. This was, unfortunately, a battlefield she had to navigate alone.
While two of the trainees bickered, Gyeowool stood frozen, unable to respond. The trainee with a short bob and model-like proportions spoke up.
“Girls, at least greet the other trainee first.”
“Ah, shoot!”
“Ugh, Yujin, of course it’s you.”
“No, Garnet, you forgot too!”
“Enough! Think about the fact that we’re on air!”
After calming the atmosphere, the girl looked at Gyeowool and counted them in. The three trainees rearranged themselves and bowed with crisp precision.
“One, two.”
“Hello! I’m Han Sora from Neulbom Entertainment.”
“Kim Yujin.”
“Garnet.”
The cameras captured the three of them and Gyeowool, who reflexively bowed at ninety degrees while looking flustered.
“We used to be active as a three-member group called Counter. We released one mini album and filmed two music videos—we were quite busy.”
“And then we flopped.”
Han Sora sighed as she spoke.
“…Yujin, please behave while we’re here.”
“But Sora, I’m not wrong, am I? If we’d succeeded, we wouldn’t be here. So that girl probably already knows we flopped!”
“Still, we have fans who believed in us and cheered us on. How do you think they’d feel if we called ourselves failures?”
“Ah, shoot!”
“Ugh, Yujin, of course it’s you…”
“Hey! Garnet! Let’s spar. Follow me to the rooftop, you jerk.”
“Get your mouthpiece ready. You know joint locks are banned between us, right?”
“Please, you two! This is being filmed. If you really want to fight, fight me!”
“The Beast Han Sora is unbeatable…”
“…Agreed.”
Carried away by their wave of words, Gyeowool belatedly remembered she hadn’t introduced herself and bowed in return.
“Ah… Hello! I’m Han Gyeowool from Two Bear Entertainment! Please take care of me!”
“Wow, Han Gyeowool. That’s an impressive name! Is it a stage name or your real name?”
“It’s my real name!”
Kim Yujin nodded.
“Oh, your parents have great naming sense. It’s simple, sounds pretty, and easy to remember—perfect for an idol name. That’s probably why your agency didn’t bother giving you a stage name.”
“…But is it polite to comment on someone else’s parents’ naming sense? How would you feel if someone said your parents had good naming sense?”
“…Uh, thank you for the compliment?”
“Good grief…”
Just as a swear word was about to burst from Garnet’s mouth like a pure exclamation, Han Sora shrieked in panic.
“Aaaah! We’re on air, you two!”
The cameras recorded the entire farce. Gyeowool had a feeling this scene would make it into the broadcast, even if only briefly.
Apparently satisfied they had secured enough footage, one of the writers instructed them to walk down the central hallway. As the four of them walked awkwardly together, Kim Yujin spoke.
“The staff here don’t talk much, do they? They don’t even explain things properly.”
“You’ve never done any broadcasting besides music shows. How are you evaluating them like some veteran with tons of experience?”
“One music show is enough to be a veteran here. There are trainees who haven’t even debuted yet.”
“…Hmm, that’s actually convincing?”
Garnet suddenly grew curious about where Han Gyeowool fit in and asked.
“You said your name is Gyeowool, right? Have you already debuted?”
“No, this is my first schedule.”
“Hmm… I see. You must be really nervous.”
Resting her chin on her hand, Garnet nodded and looked at Gyeowool.
“How old are you?”
“Yes. I’m sixteen.”
Kim Yujin’s face lit up.
“Whoa, you’re just a baby! We’re all nineteen!”
“Hey, don’t speak casually without permission!”
“Ah, shoot! Then, Gyeowool-nim, would it be okay if we spoke casually?”
“That’s not what asking permission means, you idiot! This is a workplace—we should all be polite!”
“No, tell me what rhythm I’m supposed to follow!”
As Garnet and Yujin started bickering again, Gyeowool cried out in alarm.
“I’m… I’m fine with casual speech!”
“She says she’s fine, so that settles it.”
“…Do whatever you want.”
Yujin smiled brightly.
“You were nervous because it’s your first time, right?”
“Ah, does it show a lot?”
“No, it doesn’t show on your face. Actually, you have such a strong-looking style that I thought you’d just devour everyone here. If we’d met in a classroom, I would’ve run straight to the school store and heated up a pizza bun as tribute.”
“Yujin!”
“Ah, what now?”
Gyeowool’s cold, sharp facial lines, deep eyes, and natural blonde hair probably made her first impression rather intimidating. She guessed that Yujin had been about to say “delinquent” but had softened it as much as possible.
“Then how did you know I was nervous?”
“You wrote E on your self-assessed rank sticker for your first schedule. That tells me exactly how you feel standing here.”
Even Garnet, who had been quietly observing, agreed.
“Well, Yujin’s right about that. Honestly, you haven’t been a trainee for very long, have you?”
“…No, you’re right.”
“Garnet! Saying that might make Gyeowool-nim uncomfortable.”
“Being inexperienced isn’t wrong. Neither is admitting it. You just learn a lot while you’re here.”
“Still, people’s feelings don’t always work so rationally.”
As Garnet and Han Sora began debating, Yujin suddenly slung an arm around Gyeowool’s shoulders.
“Hey! Don’t worry too much! Your big sis will take care of you. You’re lucky an industry senior is being this nice to you.”
Though the words were considerate, Yujin, Garnet, and Han Sora all clearly saw Gyeowool as a clumsy beginner. From that shared gaze, Gyeowool felt the reality of her current level.
This was a space where professionals passed through. Not the small practice room where only three girls danced and sang. In that tiny room, she couldn’t even become the best—her singing barely kept up with Autumn, her dancing barely kept up with Summer. Here, she was nothing more than a tiny insect.
‘Team Leader Seon. I don’t think I can pull off a reversal. I’m just a beginner, like they said. …I’m sorry.’
She hadn’t seen the stage yet, but thinking about the aura and confidence those three exuded, Gyeowool felt that even if she tried her best without deliberately looking bad, she would only become a laughingstock.
She didn’t mind becoming a laughingstock herself. But the thought that she couldn’t live up to Taeyang’s expectations was unbearably sad.
If Seon Taeyang had known the direction of Gyeowool’s thoughts, he would have reacted like this:
‘No, the fact that you can even keep up with world-class geniuses like Autumn and Summer means you’re a genius too, Gyeowool! That tiny practice room is a gathering place for S-ranks! And you’re keeping up with both of them!’
Unfortunately, the Seon Taeyang who could point that out wasn’t here.