The Dance Club Audition
Summer heat had arrived before I knew it at the dance club. The sweltering warmth pressing in through the windows and the incessant cicada cries made it all too real. I pulled my summer uniform out of the closet, slipped it on, and headed outside.
A familiar car was parked in front of the apartment.
"Hello."
I greeted the manager unni in the driver's seat and climbed into the passenger side. Our destination was Haneul Arts High School, where I attended. No way was I walking through this heat, so I'd specially asked her to give me a ride.
"Sorry for calling you so early."
"Don't sweat it. Whose pocket do you think my paycheck comes from? Oh, and here are those documents you asked for before."
She pulled a thick stack of papers from the glove compartment and handed them to me. Neatly organized A4 sheets included my activity log and excuse-for-absence forms. Official documents prepared by the agency.
To Haneul Arts High School —
Activity Report and Attendance Substitute Documents
for Student Kim Siyeon
With a whole month off school, I needed proper excuse forms. Luckily, the school knew about my trainee life, so submitting these official papers would get me through without suspicion.
I carefully tucked the documents into my bag. By then, the school building came into view outside the window.
"See you at the agency later."
I got out of the car and headed to class for the first time in ages.
Class 1-7 at Haneul Arts High School. A full month since I'd last been here, but the classroom didn't feel all that unfamiliar. I'd come in on weekends for movie shoots, after all. I glanced around at my classmates warily as I made my way to my seat.
Not many paid me any attention. But seriously, after a month away, this level of indifference? I knew I had zero presence, but I didn't think it'd be this bad. I figured at least one person would say hi.
As I sat there feeling deflated, someone tapped my shoulder.
I turned to see Ga-young standing there. But her vibe was totally different from usual. The girl who always stared me down was avoiding eye contact like crazy today. She'd glance at me, then quickly look away, fidgeting with her fingers. It was weirdly unfamiliar.
Why's she acting all shy? It doesn't suit her at all...
I tilted my head, and Ga-young cleared her throat awkwardly, placing a banana milk on my desk.
"You didn't eat breakfast, right?"
"...Huh? Yeah."
"Figured as much, so I got one. Don't go to class on an empty stomach—drink this at least."
"S-suddenly?"
I was dumbfounded by this uncharacteristically nice Ga-young. The girl who'd been dying to chew me out was being suspiciously sweet today. Anyone would mistake us for besties. What'd she eat for breakfast?
As I stared at her puzzled, she shuffled awkwardly back to her seat. I eyed the banana milk she'd given me with suspicion.
She didn't spike this with something weird, did she?
Thankfully, no signs of tampering—no opened lid or injection marks. I sniffed it a few times before taking a cautious sip.
"Mm... Tastes good."
Ga-young was peeking at me from afar, her face flushed bright red for some reason.
That's when a male student approached.
"Kim Siyeon, teacher wants you in the staff room. Now."
"Got it."
I had a pretty good idea why, so I headed straight there.
Opening the staff room door, I saw the teacher lounging in a chair, legs crossed, waiting for me.
"Hello."
"Siyeon, long time no see."
"Yeah. Here's the excuse-for-absence form."
I handed over the documents Manager Unni had prepared. The teacher flipped through them one by one, then let out a deep sigh.
"...Your activity log is pretty skimpy."
I flinched. It was a patchwork of flimsy excuses, so the log looked crude. But we couldn't fabricate anything—that'd be forging official documents. I couldn't ask for that.
I glanced at her nervously. "Will it not count as a valid excuse?"
"It will. But..."
She pulled out my student record and showed it to me. Every subject stamped with an F. And dead last in the school rankings to boot.
"With such a thin activity log, you won't get performance points. And your grades suck too, so if this keeps up..."
The teacher dropped a bombshell.
"You might have to repeat the year."
My mind went blank. Repeating a year was the last thing I wanted.
With trembling hands, I pleaded, "N-no, I don't want to repeat!"
"Then you'll need to boost your grades more than this. Think you can?"
"Well..."
My voice trailed off. With my entertainment schedule getting busier, raising grades was basically impossible.
The teacher suggested an alternative. "If improving grades is tough... how about joining a club?"
"A club?"
Not a bad idea. This was a specialized arts high school. Club activities linked to major performance classes counted toward evaluations. Submit a proper activity report, and I'd get those points. Plus, no time burden—regular clubs could even meet during class hours.
"Can I see the club list?"
"Of course."
She happily handed me a paper from her drawer. It listed school clubs neatly by category. I scanned for ones that suited me.
Lunchtime. I wandered the school, peeking into club rooms. First stop: dance club. To rack up results fast, I picked what I was best at. Sure, my familiar moves might blow my cover, but I'd improvise. Worst case, mimic another member's style.
I was confident copying dances.
I headed to the fourth floor. Club rooms lined the long hallway. The dance club room was...
"Where is it?"
I searched forever but couldn't find it. As I stood there blankly looking around—
"What're you hunting for?"
Ga-young popped up out of nowhere. She snuck up silently from behind, startling me.
"Wh-what are you doing here?"
"Just had some business. You?"
"I..."
I gripped the dance club recruitment flyer in my hand. She glanced at it and grabbed my hand.
"Dance club's not in the main building—it's in Building 2. I'll take you."
She led the way, holding my hand. I followed in a daze. Grateful for the guide, but did she have to hold hands? We weren't that close.
After showing me, Ga-young vanished again.
"Excuse me."
Dance club room. I knocked a few times and cautiously opened the door. Upbeat music poured out.
~♪
A female student was practicing choreography to the tune. Sleek yet fluid moves—not bad for a student.
Spotting me, she stopped the music and stared.
"Who're you?"
A bit aggressive tone. Her tie color marked her as a second-year senior.
I bowed. "Hello. I saw you're recruiting and came by..."
"Oh?"
She eyed me up and down with interest. Up close, her eyes had a sharp edge. First impression: kinda like a delinquent senior.
"Face is so-so, but your build's decent. Good proportions."
"R-really?"
"Ever learned dance?"
"A little. Just a bit..."
"Hmm, I see."
The second-year stroked her chin thoughtfully, then grinned like she'd had a great idea.
"You wanna join? Then pass my entry test."
"Entry test...?"
The poster said nothing about a test. Even if it did, that'd be the advisor teacher's job, not a student's.
This has to be BS.
But I played along. Gotta humor the senior.
"So, what's the test?"
"Mirroring dance."
"Mirroring?"
"Watch me once and copy exactly. Since you're new, 50% match gets you in."
She crossed her arms, smirking challengingly. I replied weakly.
"...Okay."
Annoying, but necessary for the club. I'd just half-ass it.
"One shot—watch close."
~♪
Music blared again. She demonstrated her choreo. I knew it—it was the new routine from our rival girl group, Lovely Pink's latest single.
"Phew. See it good?"
She finished with a satisfied look. I stood silent.
"What's wrong? Too hard?"
Not that. Just...
That's not how it's supposed to go.
Her dance looked plausible at a glance, but the details were off.