AURORA’S JIYEON POSTS A QUESTIONABLE SELFIE IN BED WITH IMPERIAL’S JUNSEO THEN QUICKLY DELETES IT. MIDAS HAS STATED "JIYEON AND JUNSEO ARE GOOD FRIENDS, SHE WAS JUST VISITING HIM AFTER SHE FOUND OUT HE WAS SICK”
1. [ +4,721 , -201 ] Hul look at her messy hair and his tired eyes ㅋㅋㅋㅋ Bye bye Aurora~ Bye bye Jiyeon~~ At least we don’t have to see her acting anymore~ Please, just keep playing around with that thug from 99 and let real actors take their rightful lead roles back ^^
-- Seriously I agree, I’ve been getting so sick of all these actor-dols with actor disease, first Sooyeon, now Jiyeon? ㅋㅋㅋㅋ Look at all of them dating and making a mess of their groups like this, companies should start to ban acting and make them focus on their idol careers
2. [ +3,595 , -181 ] Wow.... as a borealis I’m so f*cking pissed off... Midas invested so much into her and it was so obvious she just kept using the group as a stepping stone to become an actress and she’s really going to throw that all away like this and drag Aurora’s name down with her???? F*cking crazy, just leave the group already
-- I feel bad for all the other members in Aurora ㅠㅠㅠ They were already losing to Honey and barely started gaining traction with Jiyeon’s acting and Dahyun’s recent Hit the Stage performance but now... this is really the final nail in the coffin ㅠㅠ
3. [ +1,978 , -102 ] 99 is really just a company full of thugs ㅋㅋㅋㅋ First POIZN, now Imperial, seriously crazy ㅋㅋ How do any of them still have fans?? Are you fangirls all blind? Wake up, all your idols are dating like this behind your back while saying i only love our fans ~ on vlive and instagram ㅋㅋㅋㅋ
-- At least 99 usually just admits everything, what does Midas think we all are with this explanation? ㅋㅋ Sick... yeah, sure, I snuggle up real close to my friends too when they’re sick so I can take all their germs from them instead ㅋㅋㅋㅋ So dumb...
SURPRISE TEASER ANNOUNCES IMPERIAL TO COME BACK NEXT WEEK
1. [+ 1,915 , - 532 ] ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ Hey 99 you really think we’re just going to forget about that KD kid like this? Stop trying to cover it~ Just kick him off~
-- I’m so tired of having to tell everyone the police found nothing... he didn’t do anything..
2. [+ 1,689 , - 427 ] F*cking annoying, I missed them so much but this feels rushed and now all the comments are about POIZN ㅠㅠㅠㅠ
3. [+ 1,205 , - 342 ] It’s almost been a year since Imperial’s last comeback and this is how they’re doing it??? 99 is so obvious....
4. [+ 886 , - 107 ] I don’t care about anything else, I’m excited to get more music from them, lets ignore everything else imps and just keep streaming when the song comes out!!
-- ㅋㅋ That’s what 99 wants you to do, stupid
5. [+ 493 , - 82 ] Everyone’s talking like they’re so disappointed or want to boycott and not listen when it drops, but I bet my life it’s going to top the charts anyway ㅎㅎ
1. [+ 1,851 , - 372 ] The song is one thing, but what is the choreography ㅋㅋ F*ck I bursted out laughing when they started flopping around
2. [+ 1,569 , - 258 ] I feel so bad for them, you can tell this was so rushed.. they’ve been cleaning up poizn’s mistakes since debut, it’s totally bullsh*t
3. [+ 1,036 , - 121 ] Every day day every every day ~~ Isn’t it so catchy though?? It’s a perfect song for summer
4. [+ 767 , - 97 ] Ah I really missed them so much ㅠㅠㅠㅠ Your imps will keep streaming!! Let’s do well Imperial! ♡♡
5. [+ 410 , - 65 ] Just like I thought, everyone acted angry and still went off and listened to it anyway ㅋㅋㅋㅋ This is why 99 keeps getting away with everything you fools
LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S MAIN RAP, LEAD VOCAL SON JIYONG...
IDOL DETAILS
STAGENAME: N/A
CURRENT AGE: 26
DEBUT AGE: 21
TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 19
COMPANY: 99 Ent.
ETC: this member is known for their work with lyrics and production.
IDOL IMAGE
he’s an eccentric paradigm.
jiyong is full of a youthful gleam, charming and saccharine but also wickedly sinful. it’s a dichotomy between two opposing characteristics that somehow suits his boyish image. the way hard-hitting raps spill from his mouth to the timings of his cheesy winks that arouse excitement from the crowd. 99 entertainment composes him in a way that’s unforgettable. they want him to shine enough to burn the mirage of his beaming, playful grins, and his half-lidded sultry stares into the minds of those who take a glance at imperial. just enough to keep them hooked onto the taste, yet never completely fulfilled by the portion; their affair with the rapper further evolving into a heated addiction. his image is one of a tease, someone who stands out in a way that brings the audience crawling back for more.
loud laughter and charming habits are part of this persona that helps him appeal to younger fans who see their high school crush in his mannerisms, but also the older adults reminiscing their passing youth. with his aggression stifled to appear as power instead; his obsessive drive conducted into the disposition of passion, he’s just a reckless romantic making love through the design of various lyrics and slanted stares. jiyong can just as easily be the mischievously, enticing performer as he can the boy-next-door. the pattern of inky designs sprawled on his skin serving as a suitable accessory to his bright smiles; something a little bolder to counteract all the sweetness. he could make anything seem okay.
people tend to gravitate towards him, feeling as though they know him. he gives away just enough information to build those gentle connections and just enough distance that his conversations follow the likeness of a person who is wholesome and genuine. jiyong is a quick-witted, enigmatic performer who never runs out of things to say.
he is a desire, previewing the rare hints of thrill with the flash of a pearly smile, curved like a cocky promise, bright with the hues of a faux cheekiness. he’s got an approachable expression, one that is attentive, full of comfort, yet he’s also dressed as a risk — a temptation to indulge. like a sigh, a soft ache. jiyong induces sensations of anticipation and yearning that never see their end. it’s like falling in love, or falling in sin — none can tell. all that remains is a blur of cascading moments; glimmering in hues of an effervescent youth, and devilishly frisky smirks. they only see the side leaning beyond the curtain, one that dares them to inquire further with the promise to be cherished.
IDOL HISTORY
1.0
trust is raw and vulnerable. their father displays it bluntly, unveiling the directions and avenues it unwinds into, displaying the safety and ease of restraining yourself from its reaches. he basks in an asylum of silence; physically near, yet thoughts and emotions cast off into the distance. he employs this method of convenience in raising his children — a laid-back stance — hardly present. after all, life is about selfishness; taking what your greed desires, and both boys flourish under that insistent mantra.
they find their father in intervals; bits of hope and passion stitched together, smoking a cigarette in the suffocating space of his recording studio. it’s an obsessive hobby, like his work. his business hasn’t been profitable for years, yet he remains bound to it like religion, bringing his children into its worship.
it’s where the essence of jiyong is forged; a fixation with words contrived. his formative years are forged by scarce memories of smoke and a heavy, exhausted voice guiding the inherited trait to the forefront of his personality. a focus is spent on poetry, on lyrics, and on the weight of certain words: how to say more than enough with much too little. two children grow up attuned to the sense of music in its complex existence and lonely absence. it’s something they experience often, but never well enough.
2.0
it’s in his last weeks of high school that 99 entertainment greets him from the blue. initially, it’s a scouting call, yet his prisoning hobby finds a home in the career of a songwriter first. his youth is malformed, direction disjointed, but they fix that. they guide the rush of words that litter his pages and plague his mind. they turn shrapnel of ideas and mold them into solid concepts. jiyong slowly discovers his footing as a proper songwriter and a home for his musical ambitions. though it can hardly be called that. at that point, it’s an evolving obsession — a habit too hard to quit. there’s beauty in the arrangement of words, but what he writes still holds a bitter edge.
they don’t feel like him, and it’s been hard to tell that for a while, but it’s the kind of style 99 appreciates — the blatant honesty and insensitivity of his perspective. for a year, he’s left alone doing just that, yet what 99 wants and what jiyong needs are two different things, and they persuade him into the field they’d originally wanted him as. he joins a line-up of competitive, experiences trainees, thirsting for the chance he’d formerly denied.
it’s not that he’s unprepared — though he is, it’s that there’s obvious, lacking regard for the profession when he begins again, and the resentment that stems proves itself too difficult to ignore. he feels it creeping along his spine, digging inwards, sitting in his lungs; an inherent phantom swallowing the air he attempts to breathe. he isn’t accustomed to the company of scrutiny or the stares of spectators picking him apart for the skills in which he lacks.
prior to this, what he was was good enough for 99, but now he is the unworthy contender, unfairly picked while the rest were vetted through auditions and a long history of harsh evaluations. a combination of anger and anxiety follow him in every step. as his muscles are molded into the rhythm of dance, as the dissonance of his voice is battered into a pleasing style. yet jiyong continues in the endless pursuit. he’s never known how to quit.
2.1
the survival show is a slap in the face. jiyong’s doubtful in knowing if he desires this, but then again, he doesn’t digest passion like others; only dismissing his ambivalence as a hindrance attempting to undermine his resolve. by the time the results are announced, he’s an exhausted carcass; a shell cleaned hollow for public expectations and demands to fill. it’s part of the transition. investing bits and pieces of originality, sacrificing time and habits, all for the hope of a greater return and a rewarding reception.
he trains as the final installment to a boy-group; the unanticipated intruder; a thief that robbed others of their chance. in the archaic judgment of a man, he’d be one becoming; boy made machination. he may not be of others to possess and command, but he is also not his own and that fact begins to gnaw on him. the lack of control, the weight of unity and collective burden of individual mistakes — all wear him down faster than the criticisms.
jisoo reminds him it only gets better, but there’s a mass that is dragged by idols — a lie of perfection to be repeatedly told for the sake of consistency. it’s a skin-deep mirage to disguise the flaws that come with his character. like the fact that he’s riding on the back of a boy-group success to attain a solo career. even under the pretty make-up and the charming smiles, jiyong’s presence in the industry is littered with shifting fault lines.
2.2
when his brother passes late into the following year, the worst is brought forth in jiyong. self-destruction becomes his clingiest companion, and while he’s been its prized subject for years, it grows tenfold until he’s a vacant vessel with only misery as cargo. he tortures himself with the details of the death, forging guilt where there should exist none. it’s no surprise that among his other habits, he falls into rhythm with melancholia as well.
jiyong barely knew him. he spoke too much, yet his words never crossed the distance between them. he wasn’t as good with them as their father. he was more like their mother — saying too much in attempts to compensate the trembling discordance in the air. filling it with more insecurity than draining it of the crippling tension hanging in the walls of their paper home.
a tether he holds to the industry snaps and jiyong finds himself directionless. the feeling of powerlessness draws the reigns tighter around his neck, and his inability haunts him. still, he insists on carrying his burdens alone, confined to the walls of work as he tears into melodies, adding more to his schedule. as time passes and the routine of their dazzling life dulls into a mundane chore, he relies on this drive to keep him awake throughout their idol reign.
it’s tyrannical how he works, sights always settled on something more; greedy and obsessive, his tragic flaws fuelling his future successes. his personality is distorted between what is and isn’t authentic, and the dilemma of the blurring dichotomy boils under the surface of his gleaming smile. he ignores it. maybe he’s never known who he is, maybe it’s a knowledge he lost with his brother or something he’s yet to discover. but, upholding his charming facade is what’s currently convenient, so he folds into it and continues, bound to it like religion.
LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S LEAD VOCAL PARK HOJUN…
IDOL DETAILS
STAGENAME: Adam
CURRENT AGE: 26
DEBUT AGE: 22
TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 18
COMPANY: 99
IDOL IMAGE
You are too pretty to be a bad boy.
Hojun never kept his sordid history from 99 Entertainment. It would have been foolish, considering they would have uncovered it anyways. He grew up with scuffed knees and bruised knuckles. He was not a gangster, but he was leading down that path before he decided to become an idol. However, his face never quite fit the profile of an Iljin, which was probably why no one ever took him seriously unless they saw the kind of damage he could do. It was a mark of pride for him, to be the toughest kid in the room. He had to be to survive.
It seemed natural to him that they would market him as a bad boy, as the tough one. Instead, they decided to go in a different direction. POIZN had enough bad boys for their entire company. They were not looking for that anymore. They needed him to be sweet, approachable, someone who could sell posters and make girls daydream about marrying him. They didn’t need someone who looked like him to be closed off.
Since he started training, Hojun was forced him to clean up his act. They focused on the clean cut aspects of his past, such as his attachment to his mother and the fact that he grew up singing in the church choir. Hojun was forced to smile and have people call him “honey” and “cute”, despite the turning in his stomach. He brought pastries to training practices and learned to flatter. He held doors and carried heavy packages. He became a little prince, just like they wanted. Playing the game helped gave him a sparkling clean reputation, making him perfect for comedic roles. People preferred being around this version of him much more than they ever did the real him. Only those around him in his off time are privy to his temper, to how easily he can break that facade of a good little boy.
IDOL HISTORY
Hojun was born to Park Ha-yoon, a hairdresser from Hongdae. He supposed he had a father, but his mother never mentioned him and he never bothered asking. He assumed if the man really wanted a relationship with him, he would have shown up long before and taken them out of poverty. Instead, Hojun was forced to watch his mother complete shift after shift at a job where people ridiculed her for never continuing her education.
His mother was a devout Christian woman, which meant Hojun had to spend his Sundays with a god who had clearly forgotten them. But he went. It made his mother happy and Hojun could never deny her something so simple, especially when he was a difficult son to have.
School was difficult for Hojun. He was an easy target, especially with his short stature at the time. The day he finally drove a fist into his tormentor’s stomach was the best day of his life. He went from being the one having his lunch money stolen to taking it from other kids. However, his sudden penchant for violence put a strain on his relationship with his mother. She didn’t raise him to turn into a gangster. He was supposed to be the one to attend a university, to make better choices than she did.
A number of adults tried to save Hojun from himself. He developed a variety of skills from humoring them, particularly his mother. He joined the church choir, wrote in journals, took up hopkido, baked enough cakes to feed a small nation, and volunteered at several organizations. None of it helped. He continued to get into fights and skip class. He never had a crew, as no one took him seriously with his sweet face, but he developed a reputation all on his own. When he turned sixteen, Hojun was kicked out of school. He refused to talk about the incident that lead to his expulsion. His mother was heartbroken, but they managed to find a school to take him. He finished his education there and eventually graduated.
There weren’t many potential avenues for a former Iljin. Hojun was working at a food counter at the mall when an agent approached him and invited him to come to open auditions. He had never considered a career as an idol. It was too fanciful, too unrealistic for a boy like him. He wasn’t untalented, but his experience was limited to gospel songs and not so holy songs he made about his teachers in the bathroom. They earned laughs, but he doubted that was what the industry was looking for. Still, he went to the audition and to his surprise, he made the cut.
Hojun’s mother was supportive of her son’s new career path. Perhaps the training would give him the structure he needed to finally kick his bad habits. Hojun was unprepared for the intense toll training would take on him. He quickly learned that 99 only wanted the illusion of a bad boy, not an actual one. POIZN had given them enough trouble already, even though they had barely debuted. With such a recent boy group, it would be a long time before Hojun went anywhere. He needed to shape up if he ever wanted even a prayer of debuting. During that first year he nearly left eight different time but his mother was just so proud. It was the longest period of time he ever kept his nose clean and she loved bragging about how her son was going to be an idol. For the first time in his life, he realized he could make something of himself.
Despite his distrust of authority figures and his lack of team spirit, Hojun learned how to act as was expected of him. He learned to speak properly, respectfully. He never mentioned his expulsion. He reserved his temper for his off time and if he ever did anything illicit, he was certainly never caught. However, the rumors of his past followed him around. Hojun denied it as was expected of him, but every once in a while they would pop up and act like a thorn on his side. Playing game has paid off for Hojun though. After four years of intense training, he found his opportunity.
Hojun’s vocal skills where not as strong as they could have been (nor was his dancing), but his false persona and pretty face made him the perfect choice for their new group. He was also a stubborn bastard. With the finish line finally in sight, nothing was going to get in his way of a debut. He met every one of their challenges. The survival show was emotionally harrowing, but he was used to struggle, having been in it his entire life. Through every grueling training session, he reminded himself that this was his only option. If he failed, all that was waiting for him was his disappointed mother and serving fast food for the rest of his life. It didn’t matter whether the group got along or not or whether he had to spend the rest of his life pretending to be a saint. He would do anything to get out of trainee hell.
Debuting came and went with much less fanfare than he expected, particularly for something he had waited so long for. Imperial might have gone on to make excellent sales and was praised frequently, but every headline was focused on POIZN. Harboring some resentment for the bad boys (since they were the reason he could not be one himself and was stuck doing agyeo) and eager to promote Imperial outside of their music, Hojun began to search for other avenues. He was never going to be as involved with the production process; it went far above his head and their sound was never quite him. While becoming known for his cuteness was not exactly his life’s goal, if he had to play cleanup crew for POIZN, he was going to do such a thorough job, no one would remember them. Hojun picked up a few variety spots, mostly focusing on silly shows that seemed to lead to embarrassing himself, but made his fanbase happy. However, he truly did not strike gold until he started picking up commercials. He was used to using his fake image to sell himself, why not use it to sell other things? Sell out or not, he finally had the recognition he craved, though most of the commercials had ridiculous plotlines and involved him acting like an idiot. Unfortunately, the extra attention occasionally makes rumors of his past pop up. But who is going to believe such bad things about a boy as sweet as him?
LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S MAIN DANCE, LEAD RAP NA JUNSEO...
IDOL DETAILS
STAGENAME: N/A
CURRENT AGE: 26
DEBUT AGE: 21
TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 14
COMPANY: 99
ETC: this member is a vocal/rap soloist and is involved in the lyrics/production of their songs
IDOL IMAGE
to be written in ink is to become immortal.
na junseo is the last to sign his contract. as ambitious as he is, he’s also careful and cautious, painfully aware that this might be his only chance. he’s already been passed up for a line up once, and he’ll be damned if he’s wasted seven years on nothing. he’s always played a role: the black sheep, the hassle of a younger brother, the hooligan son, the crazy street dancer. now he adds: the tsundere. chic. the face of the group. if there was one thing that was clear about his position in the group, one that hung over the table as the ink of his signature dried: he was to be committing his loyalty, and life, away to 99 entertainment. to imperial.
the charade is easy to maintain.
na junseo was blessed with a visual that draws people in, makes them look back on the streets, gush over him behind his back. he looks cold, a jaw that’s too sharp paired with doe eyes and a muscled body. at first, fans think he’s just an ice prince with stunning visuals. the type of male lead in a drama with a cold heart. it isn’t until he begins to appear on multiple variety shows that his duality shows. it’s clear that he’s still the male lead in a drama, yet he’s the one who lets out a smile that’s blinding and a personality that pulls you in deep. he’s charming, in the masculine way that leaves people flustered. he’s comedic, constantly telling overly exaggerated stories that cause others to call him out on it throughout fits of laughter. he’s friendly, clinging onto his members and posting idols from every group on his social media.
the public is quick to fall in love.
then, in true duality, a flip switches. on stage, he’s a completely different man. calculated movements, revealing clothing, cold stares and haunting smirks. it’s a persona so carefully constructed that he can’t dare step out of line. the most that there’s been is dating rumors attached to his name, but it never reaches a point to where it’s harmful to his image. in fact, it only adds to his appeal, has people wanting to see if the male is able to be snatched.
in the five years as an idol, he’s known for an almost perfectly clean image.
one day, the perfect mask might crack.
is immortality a blessing or curse?
IDOL HISTORY
“the school called again, said you were dancing around in the halls instead of being in class,” it’s accompanied with a tired sigh. “this is the fourth call this month,” there’s a pause, the sound of hushed words and then a dish being thrown into the sink, maybe the thought to give up, the reality that words didn’t matter because nothing would change, “just, go to your room and do your homework. please.”
-
the still of the february sun setting into the night brings na junseo into this world, a winter baby with a terribly cold heart. he’s every parents dream, healthy. and maybe that was the problem, that he didn’t need to be taken care of or watched over like their other son, that he was the type to be easily forgotten.
he’s seven years old when he learns the feeling of running away. it’s freeing. he spends most of his nights escaping out of the small window in his room, running himself tired until he reaches the neighborhood park. it isn’t safe for a kid to roam through the unprotected streets of daegu, his mom would have a heart attack if she ever knew, and it wasn’t anything special, just a sandbox filled with broken down swings and rusty bars to swing on - but he had seen how a group of guys got together each night to dance their bones tired, the sounds of american music that he knew nothing of as their background and a love so deep. he can’t ask his parents for dance lessons, knew that the hole in the wall restaurant his parents ran didn’t make enough to fill a closet of toys, knew any extra money went to his brothers hospital bills, so instead he saddled up with the teenagers at the park. they taught him to dance, took him under their wings. it’s when he first learned to fly.
twelve years old comes with hormones, puberty resting in his bones and ready to spill into his blood when the time comes. it also comes with fights, against his brother and others who try to push him around for dancing. he was never one to tighten his lips, even to those older than him. he was never one to take a beating, always ready to swing back.
“why can’t you be more like your brother?” his mother sighs. it seems to be all she can do these days, at least when it comes to him. she dips the cloth into alcohol and presses it against the cut on his cheek. he had skipped school once again, went to attend a dance festival around daegu, and his father hadn’t been happy about it when he found out. “dancing is a hobby. your studies, your manners, those are more important.”
he dances his bones tired, sweats throughout every pore, each night until the morning sun peaks through the ground. his sleeping schedule is horrible for a thirteen year old, his ranking drops, the once top five of his class is now leaning towards double digits, and he begs his teachers to not call his parents, but that’s unavoidable when he can’t bother to make it to class.
“what do i have to do to make you go to class?” his mother begs one night at dinner. “please stop all of this dancing foolishness.”
the grip on his fork tightens but he doesn’t fight back. simply nods, mutters out an apology.
the bruise he gets is nothing compared to the drowning feeling when he sees deadbolts on his window.
-
silence wraps around the dinner table. he can see his brother trying not to laugh, disbelieving of the words that had shocked the room. he can see the anger in his father’s eyes, the familiar sight of a clenched jaw paired with furrowed eyebrows, the same face he makes every time he feels a bit more disappointed with the child he was given. and he can see his mother wrapping her hand around his father’s wrist, the smallest of smile on her lips, as a way to protect and comfort her second born. and there is a fraction of a second where he thinks that maybe he should take back his words. that maybe he is making a mistake. but he doesn’t. instead, he stares into his mother’s eyes. they’re getting a bit glazed, fearful, but he doesn’t waver. at fourteen years old he’s the boldest he’ll ever be. even if he’s fucking terrified inside he won’t let that show to his family.
“an idol? you auditioned to be an idol? you want to be an idol?”
another piercing laugh comes from his brother. his fingers curl into a fist.
“yeah.”
this time he hears a scoff from his father. his eyes never leave his mother’s.
“why?”
“why not?”
his father lunges for him across the table. his mother’s scream bounces off the walls. his brother stills, stares.
this is how the dam breaks.
it breaks with: his father staring at him with disgust written all over his face. with: forgetting everything his parents sacrificed so he could do well. with: spitting on the future they had hoped for him. with: knowing he would never measure up to those expectations. in the end he would just let them down. better to do so miles away than here. with: this house never feeling like a home.
it breaks with: his jaw stinging, a bruise blooming from the punch, eyes bare. with: his parents and him on different sides of the table, so far apart that even if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to reach out and grab them. with: waiting for his parents to disown him, waiting for his father to kick him out once and for all. for his father to call him ungrateful, an excuse of a son. with: being fourteen years old and, scared. scared. scared.
he says: i’m good at it. that’s why. i’m good at dancing. i might not know how to sing or how to rap, but i can dance. i can learn the other things. i will learn the other things. i love to dance, and i’m good at it, and whatever you guys do, or say, doesn’t matter because i’m leaving anyways.
he doesn’t say: i did this, i chose this, because i’m not sure there’s anything more to me than dance. i don’t know how to do anything besides dance. he doesn’t say: it’s good money. it can be good money. i can help you guys pay off your debts, and i can be more than just your hooligan son who dances in the hallways at school. he doesn’t say: i’m scared. i’m so scared. and i need you both to support me. i need to know if i fail i can come back and you both will still love me. he doesn’t say: please love me. just this once, please love me.
on a frozen night, that is how the dam breaks. he packs up his entire life, stuffs a grainy black and white photo into his pockets, and leaves behind everything. he makes a new life at seoul. it’s lonely, it’s frightening. he finds himself missing the smell of his mother’s cooking, and the way his older brother would slap at the back of his head when he arrived home from school as a form of greeting, and he misses the way his father would silently place more food on his plate at dinner even if his face remained cold. daegu wasn’t home but neither is seoul, and now he has to wonder whether he’ll ever find a home or if it’s just a foreign concept he’ll always crave.
the years pass. he wishes, and wishes, and wishes. he’s bright eyed and an idiot when he joins his first company. midas, the golden touch. but all he felt was a darkness and multiple stabs in his back. he quickly realizes there is never a time to rest. there’s: sleeping in the dance studio. there’s: saving up money to buy a hot meal instead of convenience store ramen. there’s: never being enough. there’s struggle. his trainers say that it’ll make a beautiful story some day. his gut twists at thinking of having to endure hell for a story. fuck stories, he thinks, it has turned into an entire series of novels. midas is particularly hard, almost like a weight on his back that won’t let up. he knew this coming in though, thinks he can tough it out. was told promises of debuting with their upcoming boy group if he just worked a bit harder, rapped a bit quicker. it was nothing new, the feeling of coming up just short from enough, but he was determined. in the end, he leaves. it’s easy to escape a place that feels a little too much like the home he once ran away from. 99 entertainment, the scandalous. it’s not a good career move, they tell him. i’ll make it one, he replies. there is still the the remnants of the broken dam, the pieces forging a hole in his being. his trainee years are spent wearing his body down, praying for more even if he isn’t sure what that more is. if it’s making it with midas, or moving to 99, or a survival show, or debut.
-
then he debuts as a soloist. he doesn’t think it should be him. tells his company to reconsider, that the other members would do a better job. there hasn’t been a break out moment for him, not really. at least the others contribute to the group, produce and write. all he’s done is look pretty and go on a bunch of variety shows even if there’s no substance there. but it isn’t a conversation, it’s an order. he’s going to be the soloist for the group and if his members hate him for it, well he has to suck it up and not let that show on camera. and he’s expected to write his own stuff. the others can do it, they press, you should be able to as well. it’s a warning. don’t disappoint. he’s forced to write down his truths into songs and hand them over to the company. he’s expected to go on variety, he’s expected to bring in money, he’s expected to play the role they’ve given him.
the first song goes okay. it isn’t instant success, though how could he expect it to be when imperial still hasn’t reached that point either? the group comes before his solo career, he’s made that known well enough that the next year he doesn’t release anything as a soloist. when he finally does release another single, this one feeling a lot more secure, it’s a different reaction. he’s grown a large following, variety appearances out the door, credited on the last two comebacks, and more people tune in to his comeback. it makes his ceo smile, the shareholders smile, his manager smile so he figures he’s done well. keep a good image, make sure the public likes you, his company says, and you can continue to succeed.
it’s what he wanted, isn’t it? he’s just lying to himself, wearing a mask for the world to see.
there’s never been a way to differentiate who he is apart from his job. he isn’t sure who he is anymore, if there even is a him to be. he isn’t sure if he is more than his concept, than his group, than the money he makes. he isn’t sure if it’s worth it. there is a blurred line that he is close to crossing, the one that lets go of na junseo trying to find his way back to the neighborhood park. maybe one day he’ll learn.
LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S LEAD VOCAL, LEAD DANCE LEE YOUNGMIN...
IDOL DETAILS
STAGENAME: N/A
CURRENT AGE: 24
DEBUT AGE: 19
TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 18
COMPANY: 99
SECONDARY SKILL: Photography
IDOL PROFILE
NICKNAME(S): youngyoung, little tiger, simba.
INSPIRATION: when he was younger, youngmin used to watch music shows and fell in love with music. his first dream was to be a solo-ist, but he shifted to being into an idol group in his teenage years. he was inspired by the old, legendary idols such as gemini and power.
SPECIAL TALENTS:
knows how to draw very well.
knows how to cook and is well known for it.
can hold his alcohol very well - always the last man standing.
NOTABLE FACTS:
born and raised in imjado, only left the island once and it was when he went to seoul to try being an idol.
knows how to fish, used to do it with his grandpa and sell it in his store.
made the news due to his good looks, back when he was a teenager in imjado.
IDOL GOALS
SHORT-TERM GOALS:
for the time being, youngmin is completely focused on imperial and in achieving newer and higher things with them. he doesn’t like the way his group is stuck in this mid-place: not really up there, but not completely in the bottom, the way success is there but not really, not properly. youngmin wants them to be on the level of olympus, atlas. he dreams of a hit, of something that makes them memorable, of a breakthrough.
LONG-TERM GOALS:
his long-term goal is for imperial to become a group known as a legend. to reach the top with them and, hopefully, that when they come to their end they do so gracefully and while still doing well. he wants imperial to be a household name, a group that not only 99 would be proud, but the whole country. and of course, youngmin also wants things for himself. he wants to be more well known, he wants his name to get out there. though he still doesn’t know what path he’d walk just yet.
IDOL IMAGE
youngmin had the perfect image for an idol and the weirdest for 99.
his scouting had little to do with talent, and he knew it from the start. even though he looked the part, sort of, youngmin had never been dull. he knew that his front door for the idol world would be his visuals, and he took his opportunity well.. he was good enough in the way most kids can be good enough with practice. lots of it, in his case, but whatever. 99 wasn’t his first choice, he tried for midas three times, but when they scouted him of course he said yes. even if he looked like an odd one out in 99, his lines too soft, his smile too genuine. 99 most of the time went for kids who looked like they could break things, not that they could be broken. and youngmin very much like he could be broken.
and maybe that was their whole idea back when they approached him in the streets of hongdae, right after youngmin left his shift in the restaurant he was working. they wanted to get someone who looks fresh, young, naive. someone who can smile and makes things better just by doing so. he can do that, he thinks and people have told them that. he’s had clients in the fish shop back in imjado and clients in this very restaurant tell him that very same thing. and 99 thinks so too, and that’s what matters. so they put him into their new group, maybe trying to balance out poizn’s image, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t care even if he is unprepared as hell at the height of his nineteen years of age, he still goes and does as he’s told. he laughs at jokes, he looks pleasant. he acts stupid, innocent. they want him to go deep into the whole country boy’s image, someone who doesn’t know how the big city works, someone who gets lost while walking around the streets, someone who needs his members to know things. and fans latch to that image easily, love him for it. you’re so cute youngmin, they’d say in fanmeetings and youngmin would smile, proud. happy. he doesn’t care much that his image is not the most flattering.
at first.
he pretends, then. pretends he doesn’t know things, pretends being dense for laughter. sure, he had never been the smartest boy in the bunch but he’s not this stupid. and the whole thing grows worse. fans talking about him talking with girls, making it look as if he doesn’t even know how to talk to one. it starts getting on his nerves. the whole angel young thing, the whole making him look like some stupid boy even as he grows and grows. so he tries showing other sides of him. he posts his pictures on his instagram, he acts more serious in their varieties. he is a man, not a boy. not anymore. and like that, his image also shifts a little.
youngmin is still the pleasant, country boy next door. he still smiles bright, he still looks kind - overpolite, always. but from the little brother, youngmin turns into that childhood friend that grew up too much before you noticed. a hidden sensitivity that doesn’t seem out of place - a taste for arts that he shares with fans, for books that he recommends in his instagram account. and that mixes with pictures of his dog, pictures of his childhood - “look at me, the fish was bigger than me!”. from a square-like smile full of hope and giddiness he goes to sharp angles, a raised head, a simple lift of lips. and sometimes it’s like people can’t know when and where he’s a shallow pond and where he becomes the deep sea. good. youngmin doesn’t know that himself too.
IDOL HISTORY
imjado boy debuts in newest 99 entertainment boygroup imperial
lee youngmin was already well known around the island of imjado. grandson of the owner of the local fish store at the southern side of the island, many people knew him as the tall, tan kid who helped his grandfother around and always smiled politely at everyone. what they didn’t know was that that simple, harmless boy had big dreams for himself.
“he was always smiling very brightly. such a nice kid,” mrs. choi byunghee told us, one of the usual customers of the shop, who had interactions with the boy several times. “you could see he was too good looking to become a fisherman.”
the dream of being a singer started when he was very young, his grandfather told us in an exclusive interview. since the age of five, youngmin could be seen mimicking singers he saw on tv. He also enjoyed singing around the house, dancing to his own self-made choreography; or whenever accompanying his grandfather in his fishing journeys.
“he always had a very nice voice,” mr. lee jongyul told us, youngmin’s grandfather. “but he was supposed to take over the shop, and we didn’t have money to help him out. so i’m sure it was a very difficult situation for him…”
it was mr. lee jongyul himself who started helping youngmin to achieve his dream. the boy dropped out of high school and traveled to seoul all by himself to achieve his dream. "those were hard times. me and my wife are old, but we tried our best to make ends meet and support him in seoul. he also worked a lot. he worked very hard. all of us did,” jongyul says, with a tired smile. “but to see that smile on his face… it was worth it”.
“grandpa!” youngmin whines as he looks up from the newspaper, his grandfather’s face wrinkled up in a very proud smile. “god, you’re cheesy.”
“they wanted drama, youngmin,” his grandmother says, placing both hands on his grandfather’s shoulders. she always took his side, so he rolled his eyes, “your grandpa did what he had to do.”
the old man keeps smiling proudly, as if what he did was something to be very proud of. “they liked the interview very much, just so you know. so much that i even got calls from deoul’s newspapers too…”
youngmin gives him a look. “grandpa. behave.”
“what?” he says, looks at his wife for support. “see? he wants to be the only one who is famous. you know what? i can tell them that story of that time you almost killed yourself trying to show me a dance move while we were out fishing. you remember that, sookja?“
"i remember,” his grandmother sends him a grave look, “you scared me to death. arrived all soaked up and shivering.”
youngmin just laughs, tries to change the subject. when they start reminiscing they never stop. “you watched the stage, grandma?”
“of course i did. all of you looked very handsome but you’re the most handsome of them, all my friends also said so. i-”
“yeah, yeah. that’s all very cool and dandy. but what about the money?” a voice cuts them off and Youngmin looks back down the table. he almost had forgotten his father was also there in the kitchen with them. ever since he arrived his father had scarcely said a thing to him, which wasn’t much of a surprise or a disappointment. youngmin didn’t expect anything less. he knew his father wasn’t happy with him, the same way he knew his grandparents’ overkill of joy and pride had a lot to do with them covering up for him. youngmin almost feels sorry for them. as if he wasn’t expecting his father to be like this. as if he didn’t know this would be exactly how he’d be treated. when he debuted he didn’t even send a text, a call, nothing.
“i think it’ll take a while for me to be paid, father,” he says, and his voice sounds tight. he ispolite, though. tries his hardest to be. he knows how upset grandma gets whenever they fight, “i’m still in debt because of-”
“then what is being a celebrity good for, then? i thought you’d at least be rich after all you put us through,” he says back and youngmin stays quiet. his will is to shout at him, to scream that he never did shit, that he never even sent encouraging words, let alone money. so who is he to talk shit? but he stays quiet. and he does so for his grandparents, but also out of a deep, unconscious sense of guilt.
because truth be told this is a story that goes far back ,way too far back, even before youngmin went to seoul. youngmin was born and raised in imjado by his grandparents until the age of sixteen, when he left to the big city. but there’s a reason why youngmin was raised by them and not by his own parents, both who were very much alive by then. and that was because when he was five, his mother sickness got worse.als was never something he knew how to deal with as a kid, it terrified him, if he had to be honest. and when she got too bad, too bad to get the support she needed in imjado, they decided to move to busan to she could get a better treatment. youngmin couldn’t go with them, though. his father was a high school dropout, the jobs he did get weren’t even enough to manage him and his mom. so youngmin stayed behind with his grandparents.
and he never blamed them for that, no. he always understood. he missed his dad sure, and he missed his mom a lot but youngmin was just a kid. he was more interested in staying in the place he always lived, with his friends, his island, his sea. even if he rarely got to visit his parents because none of them had the money for the travel, all of them always too short. for years they’d only see each other whenever his grandparents got the money to make the trip. and then, when things got worse and youngmin had to start helping in the shop, they didn’t see each other for years. the first time youngmin saw his mother again he was sixteen, and she was dead.
that was the worst day of his life.
he doesn’t like thinking of that day. the cold. the people talking to him, always the same thing: she’s better now, she’s not suffering anymore. youngmin wouldn’t know how much she suffered, he hadn’t seen her in so long… and then the look his father gave him. that was the worst part. his mother was dead and gone, but youngmin couldn’t even cry. his father had looked at him in a way that made youngmin’s skin crawl. his father went back to imjado with them, but he wasn’t the father youngmin remembered. and at the age of sixteen, he left to seoul and his father never spoke to him properly again unless to tell him that he should’ve gone see his mother more. that he didn’t even cry in her funeral. that he never loved her, cared for her.
and at first that had hurt youngmin, but one day he understood.it wasn’t that his father faulted youngmin, that he was disappointed about him not caring more about his mother. he liked to use that as an excuse for the way he treated him like trash, sure. about how he visited so little even after he moved to seoul, never listening even when Youngmin tried to explain how hard it was for him to make ends meet. how he had to work in a shit ton of part time jobs, how he was only accepted in a company two years after moving there, how even then they didn’t pay him and he still had to work even after training for hours and hours. he kept bugging him over it, still does. but youngmin knows - and has known for a while - that this has never been about his dead mother. maybe it was, once. when his father still lived and worked to keep his mother alive. but not anymore.
ever since he came back to Imjado, back to helping grandpa it became obvious why his father was so angry. it had more to do with the fact that youngmin was able to leave than anything else. that his grandparents helped him out, that he left that fucking island and the fate of being a fisherman for his whole life. he knows the story. he knows how hiis father was never able to, his own father never allowed it - the same grandfather who helped youngmin to achieve his own goals. his father’s dream was to go to college, to become a doctor. grandfather never allowed it. they said they didn’t have the money, and he was supposed to help the family. but his grandfather still helped youngmin, he still sent him money every month when he got accepted in a company. he still helped him out whenever the money youngmin earned from part-time jobs here and there wasn’t enough. His father never had that luxury, as he liked to call.
luxury.
luxury. as if it had been luxury. as if working like a damn horse had been so. as if auditioning for so many companies time and time again only to always be turned down was luxury. as if being scouted in the fucking streets, his hair smelling like smoke and fried meat had been all that cool. as if hearing the scout say “hey, we saw you there and thought you had the looks for being an idol. here is my card, you should go to our company and see if it works” was his dream. he worked his ass off but what got him where he wanted was his fucking face. try so hard for then it be that easy.
so truth be told, there was a time youngmin had felt guilty. he’d try to make it up to his father somehow, work extra hard in the shop whenever he visited, send them money whenever he could, gifts, anything. to be a good son, to be responsible. but then he got fed up and didn’t feel guilty anymore. how could he? his father called it a luxury when he lived in a tiny room in a basement, filled with cockroaches and mold. he called it a luxur the trainee life that he had, the extenuous training, the crazy schedules, the fear of never achieving his dream. he always said youngmin had it easy. easy. fuck him. it was never easy.
working several jobs, going from place to place, being kicked out, having to receive help from other people to be able to survive. and he had thought that once he made into some company he’d be fine, but no. 99 was hell. trainee life was a fucking mess. even if youngmin loved every sweaty, stressful second of it. even if he woke up every morning with his heart full of hope that maybe he’d go next, that maybe today he’d get a thumbs up, that maybe today he’d be the first one to get the choreography. he had hoped and hoped, and worked and worked. he had lost his teenage years. he didn’t date, he didn’t make friends. for years as a trainee youngmin had worked, and worked, and had dinner all by himself that consisted of instant ramen and water. and then he worked some more.
so fuck his father and his envy. youngmin made it, and if there’s two people he can thank they’re the ones in front of him, smiling.
“Iill be paid one day, dad,” he says, keeps his voice calm. the smile he manages to give him is almost genuine. see, father? i’m a good idol. i can even fake that i like you. “we’ll make it. my group is good. have you listened to the song?”
his father shrugs.
“he has,” grandfather says, “and he liked it.”
“you didn’t have many lines.”
youngmin keeps up the smile and maybe if he knew then how many times in the future he’d do the very same thing, he’d just never bother taking it off. that night he leaves imjado and goes back to seoul, to his dorm, to his new life. a debuted idol, his dream. and part of him is excited and part of him terrified. scared that it won’t be as he hoped for. scared that he won’t love his job as much as he had always thought he would. scared that his life won’t get better.
but it does. and it also doesn’t.
youngmin learns as time goes by that nothing is the way one plans. some things did get better, sure. he doesn’t live in a fucking basement anymore, and he’s not broke all the time. he loves the music his group do, he likes their image - which, he finds out, is actually sorta rare. he enjoys his job, or at least parts of it. youngmin likes singing, he likes dancing. he likes meeting his fans. and he also hates his fans, the clingy ones, the ones that follow him everywhere, the ones that send him threats about seeing him with this or that girl. and that’s also something he doesn’t like. the way his personal life feels trapped. he’s far too worried about is group, his image, he can’t fuck up. so he keeps to himself, mostly.
it’s a dog’s eat world and youngmin feels sometimes he’s not made for it. he’s not ruthless. he’s not ambitious like that. and at first that bugs him, until it doesn’t. he works hard, still. for his group, for their fame. for his grandparents, so they can have a better life. for his father, so he can shove all the money right up his ass. and for himself. sort of. yeah. though for that, he doesn’t care much.
LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S MAIN RAP SON JIYONG...
IDOL DETAILS
STAGENAME: N/A
CURRENT AGE: 26
DEBUT AGE: 20
TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17
COMPANY: 99
SECONDARY SKILL: Lyric writing
IDOL PROFILE
NICKNAME(S): N/A
INSPIRATION: jiyong was inspired by the performances of idol-groups while he was still a songwriter for 99 entertainment. he realized he wanted to be on stage to entertain instead of working behind the scenes, and wished to be as accomplished as the talented artists who came before him.
SPECIAL TALENTS:
acrostic poems
freestyle rap
impressions of some celebrities (style over tone)
NOTABLE FACTS:
jiyong’s older brother was a producer for a small company and introduced him to the idea of songwriting as a profession
he often carries a small notebook to write ideas in whether they’re general themes and concepts or lyrical phrases to later add to a song
since jiyong dislikes aegyo, his fans often buy him cute accessories during fan-meets to tease the idol
IDOL GOALS
SHORT-TERM GOALS:
his thoughts on imperial are always exchanged between feelings of pride and disappointment. he’s aware that he is riding on the back of this boy-group to gain solo success, and he doesn’t truly attempt to mask it. short term, he wants — no, needs imperial to continue to grow into an icon that can’t be so easily ignored by 99. then, he needs to set his solo musical career into action.
LONG-TERM GOALS:
jiyong’s presence in the idol industry is decorated with shifting fault lines, yet, regardless, it doesn’t halt his efforts in founding a strong career upon it. whether or not it is with imperial or alone, his focus is on constructing a stronger presence in the industry, one that is admired and constantly rewarded for fulfilling it’s expanding potential. he’s got his eyes set on developing his future musically with more to release, but also to grow into a household name through variety shows and other notable appearances. jiyong doesn’t see limits; he thinks his are endless in a greedy and aggressive outlook.
IDOL IMAGE
ABSTRACTION.
he’s an eccentric paradigm.
jiyong is full of a youthful gleam, charming and saccharine but also wickedly sinful. it’s a dichotomy between two opposing characteristics that somehow suits his boyish image. the way hard-hitting raps spill from his mouth to the timings of his cheesy winks that arouse excitement from the crowd. 99 entertainment composes him in a way that’s unforgettable. they want him to shine enough to burn the mirage of his beaming, playful grins, and his half-lidded sultry stares into the minds of those who take a glance at imperial. just enough to keep them hooked onto the taste, yet never completely fulfilled by the portion; their affair with the rapper further evolving into a heated addiction. his image is one of a tease, someone who stands out in a way that brings the audience crawling back for more.
loud laughter and charming habits are part of this persona that helps him appeal to younger fans who see their high school crush in his mannerisms, but also the older adults reminiscing their passing youth. with his aggression stifled to appear as power instead; his obsessive drive conducted into the disposition of passion, he’s just a reckless romantic making love through the design of various lyrics and slanted stares. jiyong can just as easily be the mischievously, enticing performer as he can the boy-next-door. the pattern of inky designs sprawled on his skin serving as a suitable accessory to his bright smiles; something a little bolder to counteract all the sweetness. he could make anything seem okay.
people tend to gravitate towards him, feeling as though they know him. he gives away just enough information to build those gentle connections and just enough distance that his conversations follow the likeness of a person who is wholesome and genuine. jiyong is a quick-witted, enigmatic performer who never runs out of things to say.
he is a desire, previewing the rare hints of thrill with the flash of a pearly smile, curved like a cocky promise, bright with the hues of a faux cheekiness. he’s got an approachable expression, one that is attentive, full of comfort, yet he’s also dressed as a risk — a temptation to indulge. like a sigh, a soft ache. jiyong induces sensations of anticipation and yearning that never see their end. it’s like falling in love, or falling in sin — none can tell. all that remains is a blur of cascading moments; glimmering in hues of an effervescent youth, and devilishly frisky smirks. they only see the side leaning beyond the curtain, one that dares them to inquire further with the promise to be cherished.
IDOL HISTORY
INCEPTION.
the design of trust is raw and vulnerable. their father constructs it impeccably, unveiling the directions and avenues it unwinds into, displaying the safety and ease of restraining yourself from its reaches. he basks in an asylum of silence; physically near, yet thoughts and emotions cast off into the distance. convenience is the method he employs in raising his children. a laid-back stance — hardly present. his role is vacant and memories with him are scarce. even under the chill of seoul’s winters, they’re more occupied with themselves than they are with each other. life is about selfishness; taking what your greed desires, and their life flourishes under that insistent mantra.
they find their father in intervals; bits of hope and passion stitched together, smoking a cigarette in the suffocating space of his recording studio. it’s an obsessive hobby, truly. his business hasn’t been profitable for years, yet he remains bound to it, like a religion, bringing his children into its worship.
it’s where the essence of jiyong is forged; a fixation with words contrived. his formative development is guided by puffs of smoke, and a heavy, exhausted voice. a focus is spent on poetry, on lyrics, and on the weight of certain words: how to say more than enough with much too little. two children grow up attuned to the sense of music in its complex existence and lonely absence. it’s something they experience often, but never well enough.
METAMORPHOSIS.
the world runs on ecstasy. it’s a drugged up organization that passes their days as seconds and he’s dragged by its pull, never able to find his footing or keep up with the pace. jiyong is seventeen, in his last year of formal education, and not worthy of the demand of mundane society. he’s got nowhere to go.
that’s meant to change, however. his brother is a producer working for a small company, and upon noticing the riches of potential in jiyong’s prisoning hobby, he suggests an idea that shifts the younger boy’s uncertain future into a ravaging interest. there’s a chance that jiyong’s affinity for lyrics and poetry can land him a job in the field they know too well. it’d be a prosperous chance to indulge the full expanse of his musical ambitions — thought it can hardly be called that. for him, it’s an evolving obsession, a habit too hard to quit. it’s all he genuinely understands and acknowledges; drowning between the arrangement and beauty of words. phrases chase jiyong in the dark, they cling to his mind until he’s a puppet of their sinister reign, forced to fulfill their ultimatum. his grades can’t compete, so they don’t.
his search ends when a company responds to his application at last. 99 entertainment greets him with security, and then it begins. his youth is malformed, direction disjointed, but they can fix that. they can guide the rush of words that litter his pages and plague his mind. they turn shrapnel of ideas and mold them into solid concepts. jiyong slowly discovers his footing as a proper songwriter there, yet the words he writes next taste bitter.
they don’t feel like him, and it’s been hard to tell that for a while. perhaps it’s because he was never meant to turn his hobby into a profession or perhaps it’s because of the new environment that demands socializing skills. he’s always known isolation. for him, solidarity comes with no risks. working alone is the only way to ensure the mistakes made are exclusively his, but there are other plans 99 has devised which he can’t foresee yet.
he wonders what more he can be, and those curiosities are answered with a startling opportunity; a tempting consequence stemmed from his rap recordings of several guide tracks. it seems as if his company has always held different plans than jiyong had intended, because, after only three months, he’s encouraged to join a line-up of competitive, experienced trainees, thirsting for a chance he hadn’t originally fathomed. there’s a rising tide on the horizon. jiyong has always worked to better elevate his career, and with his agreement of their decision, imperial appears somewhere along the swell of that wave as a glimmering chance for his greedy heart to chase.
COMPLEX.
there’s resentment. he feels it creeping along his spine when he is introduced as another trainee the rest must beat. it digs inwards, sitting in his lungs; an inherent phantom swallowing the air he attempts to breathe. jiyong isn’t accustomed to the company of scrutiny or the stare of spectators picking him apart for the skills in which he lacks. in their eyes, he was unfairly picked with ease while they were vetted through auditions and harsh evaluations. jiyong is the unworthy contender and it makes his blood boil in a manner he hasn’t expressed before. a sort of annoyed rage that only motivates him to work harder to genuinely become the threat they’ve assumed of him. intense hatred is an aggressive manner that seeps into his persona and it doesn’t let go.
there’s anxiety. he feels it in every step as his muscles are molded into the rhythm of dance, his voice ringing until sore and identity falling apart by its threadbare edges. jiyong isn’t a fan of surprises, and the survival show comes as one that is terrifying and daunting in style. the fact that the already ruthless competition will only grow harder has him drowning in a turmoil of nervousness. he’s uncertain in knowing if he desires this, but then again, he doesn’t understand passion like others, only dismissing doubts and uncertainties as hindrances attempting to weaken his resolve. as long as jiyong knows what he wants, passion and yearning are not an issue. he will take what he believes is his, another step upwards in his obsessive progress towards success and a fulfilling career.
by the time the results are announced and the final decisions made, the nineteen-year-old is an exhausted carcass that practices for things he doesn’t honestly desire. he’s technically won, but he doesn’t feel like a winner with his identity shaped into a youth born of sarcasm and a hungry appetite for competition. the demands of management and the expectations of the public build him into developing tendencies he’s unfamiliar with, but it’s part of the transition. investing bits and pieces of originality, sacrificing time and habits, all for the hope of a greater return and a rewarding reception. not all of it is manufactured or catered for a false presentation, but it’s fake enough to have his teeth grit and his gaze slant.
he trains as the final installment to a boy-group; the unanticipated intruder; a thief that robbed others of their chance. in the archaic judgment of a man, he’d be one becoming; boy made machination, boy torn up into a prophetic villain. theirs to own, theirs to control, but jiyong is too insane to succumb to their discrimination. their loss isn’t of his concern. however, the public differs largely from the trainees who’d exchanged bitter verdicts behind his back. they say it to his face, and he can’t conceal himself into the background. the idol definition printed him physically before an audience, and not just metaphorically as he’d intended. jiyong may not be of others to possess and command, but he is also not his own. that fact begins to gnaw on him. the lack of control, the weight of unity and collective burden of individual mistakes — all wear him down faster than the criticisms.
there’s a mass that is dragged by idols; a lie of perfection to be repeatedly told for the sake of consistency. he doesn’t understand the need to be so loyal to it, but they’re all hostage to the group and lifestyle regardless, no escape once they’ve been born to the world for its entertainment.
APOTHEOSIS.
when his brother passes in a car accident, late into the following year, the worst is brought forth in jiyong. self-destruction becomes his clingiest companion, and while he’s been its prized subject for years, it grows tenfold until he’s a vacant vessel with only misery as cargo. jiyong barely knew him, he realizes. he was someone who spoke too much, yet his words never crossed the distance between them to reach jiyong. he wasn’t as good with them as their father. he was more similar to their mother instead, saying too much in attempts to compensate the trembling discordance in the air, filling it with more insecurity than draining it of the crippling tension hanging in the walls of their paper home.
jiyong tortures himself with the details of the death. he’s always been a subject of obsession, so he drowns in this too, forging guilt where there should exist none, clinging to a stick of sadness that rests heavy in his lungs. it’s no surprise that among his other habits, he falls into rhythm with melancholia as well. for a brief moment, he feels regret in his choices.
glancing over, he spots his mother. she looks to be near destroyed by the weight of loss. it’s unfair. she was always unhappy. taking on the role of a parent who only loved work and made up for her absence with too many incoherent and drunken stories. normalcy was a curse for someone like her. the darkness haunting their home both ruining yet sustaining the desperate creature nestled within the confines of her skin. she wanted to be something, he knew that, but her mind was poisoned by the same amber hues she drank into midnight. her body only occupied with scars of a world that meant to maul her. he used to catch glimpses of her sometimes. there was dialogue whenever she looked over, a gleam of rare interest, but jiyong doesn’t remember it. that was too long ago.
when a sob trembles from her lips jiyong holds onto her. he does so tightly, fingers gripping her arms, trying to cling onto something, but she’s as lost as he is, and he doesn’t find anything secure to grasp onto.
jiyong feels directionless. the man that lead him here is no more, and the future that’d once seemed vast, despite its various flaws, now hangs uncertain once again with the departure of a member. nothing makes much sense and he retreats further inwards, choosing what’s convenient, liberating himself from the expenses of trust by binding himself to shackles of isolation and committing to nothing but his sole interests. he insists on carrying his burdens and sorrow alone, confined to the walls of work as he tears into melodies, adding more to his schedule. the routine stings, but in a manner that hurts just right, reminding him of his intentions and keeping his head inches above a river of defeat.
HAMARTIA.
selfishness is what keeps people alive. jiyong reminds himself that as he paves a future solely for himself. he’s still filled to the brim with feelings of melancholy and hints of guilt. they never leave. it seems that everything he comes into contact with has a way of sticking around, including the delusional fans that worship his name and the same three faces littering the dorm. as time passes and the routine of their dazzling life dulls into a mundane chore, he relies on his drive to keep him awake throughout their idol reign, planning out one goal after the next to conquer. it’s tyrannical how he works, never sated, never fulfilled, sights always settled on something more; greedy and obsessive, his tragic flaws fuelling his future successes.
jiyong’s only been getting smarter, wielding his act in a manner to impress, in an attempt to get closer to attaining the things he wants. a charming and clean public presence makes him a reputable celebrity to host certain shows. his background in songwriting and his skill in rap are great in assisting his focus for a solo. he’s resourceful, aware of what connections to keep and which to discard.
for him, an empty mind is a devil’s cavern so jiyong fills his thoughts with tasks to fulfill, never allowing himself to indulge in a break. it’s too risky that way. he can’t focus on unraveling what he doesn’t understand about himself when it’s a nuisance to his progress. his personality is distorted between what is and isn’t authentic, it can’t be pinpointed which parts of him are genuine and which were constructed for him years ago. the dilemma of a blurring dichotomy is what could boil under the surface of his gleaming smile if he gave into that confusion, but jiyong resists. he isn’t bothered to discover those facts. maybe he’s never known who he is, maybe it’s something he’s yet to find out or something he lost long ago. however, upholding his charming facade is what’s currently convenient, so he folds into it and continues to proceed, whether it’s with imperial or not.
he’s only twenty-four, but his ending was destined long before. he’ll end up the same as he was when it all started; buried in a potter’s field with all his pennies spent.
