at first sunmi suspects the assembly of sorts to be concerning the rumours going around. maybe they’ll know who the whistle blower was and she’d be able to give the dickhead who cost her cousin his seat in a debut group a piece of her mind.
(admittedly she and blake had always been pretty decent as cousins on opposite sides of the family. even if celeste and blake were never the “two peas in a pod” you’d expect from certain cousins, she’d still kick someone’s ass on his behalf with zero hesitation.)
everyone is buzzing with their own theories. sunmi is bored, legs and arms crossed as she gazes at hyun bin taking the stand. she’s supremely unimpressed with this display but she’s sure the ceo pays no mind to individual expressions of his prisoners before him.
sunmi stares blanky, fully expecting the man to first start talking about their past fellow trainee. instead he speaks of ‘so-called’ lack of activity. the wording of his speech is what causes sunmi’s expression to twist into scorn. ‘so-called’ when he’s been more than aware since two and a half years ago when sunmi had brought up the inactivity the first time. and this past contract renewal when she brought it up again. it wasn’t ‘so-called’ or ‘supposed’ or even ‘alleged’. it was very plainly inactivity. no suspicion or hypothetical about it. nova has done nothing towards debut in her years of being here and she’s beyond angered that hyun bin seemed to have taken it so lightly as if there aren’t people who their livelihood depends on this.
to make matters worse, this dramatic ...man (for sunmi’s lack of more respect terms) leaves the stage in the middle of his speech. sunmi rolls her eyes openly now, knowing this only spells trouble. unsurprisingly, her hunch was right.
it took this man four and a half years for him to still default to a “debut project” in order to build a debut group. as if there aren’t several of them that had been there for 3 years in the very least. as if he didn’t always have the option to release a trio or a solo or something this entire time. he may have claimed that other companies were rushing to make groups but hyun bin was taking his sweet ass time and it was backfiring. she immediately felt like the project was fucking stupid.
there was nothing special about it beyond the fact that they were going to be imprisoned for three months. it wasn’t even being televised so it’s not like it would provide any hype or help to the project group. sunmi can’t help but scoff because they all seemed awfully proud of themselves: with the dramatic transition from ceo to coaches, from the dramatic late addition of admittance that it was for both male and female trainees. there were many aspects of this that came off as unnecessary showmanship. it only depleted sunmi’s opinion of nova further.
(she now officially regrets ever wanting to be in nova. she would much rather be a kt rookie at this rate and even that seems just as pointless as being a supernova debut project trainee.)
they’re dismissed and as people are filing to throw their hat in the ring sunmi pauses. if she doesn’t attempt then she resigned herself to two more years without reason. it would be a waste. knowing nova, an opportunity like this may not come for 6 more years. sunmi didn’t have that kind of time. a part of her is completely sure that she’s going to regret this in the end one way or another but she knows she has to attempt.
so along with everyone else who too eagerly signs their name, sunmi adds her own. the minute she walks away a rock settles in her stomach. she knows she wouldn’t like this in the end.
First thing in the morning after arriving at NOVA entertainment, you receive a message to go to the main office right away. You make your way over and, upon arrival, are called into the room before you even have a chance to sit down. Hyun Bin awaits behind his desk and nods toward the empty chair across from him with what might be the smallest hint of a smile. The seat next to yours is already occupied by a contract lawyer that might be familiar to you now, after previous time spent in this room over contract papers. She smiles a bit and nods by way of a greeting as you take your seat.
“I know four years is a long time to train,” Hyun Bin acknowledges, folding his hands in front of himself and looking directly at you. “You’ve worked incredibly hard in that time, and I don’t want you to think that effort has gone unnoticed. Everyone here at NOVA, myself included, is grateful for your dedication to the company.” Despite the nature of the words, they lack warmth– as formal as always.
“There’s no need to drag this out,” he says. “There’s no need to waste four years of everyone’s time by parting ways now. I’d like to offer you another two-year contract with NOVA entertainment, and more chances for success under our company.” With that, he doesn’t say another word. He simply slides the papers of your new contract toward you, along with a NOVA Entertainment branded pen, and waits expectantly.
four goddamn years.
that’s how many years she’s spent in these halls. that’s 8,760 hours -- 8,784 hours if you include the leap year of 2016, which adds another day. that’s 527,040 minutes which is over 31 million seconds. in all, it’s a long fucking time. and in those 31 million seconds plus that she’s spent in nova’s hallways, she’s felt herself slowly dissolve away bit by bit. she’s nothing but dust floating aimlessly in nova’s hallways, put together in small clumps in stolen moments only to be eventually blown away again by the overwhelming sense of failure and regret. 31 million (plus) seconds and what are her crowning achievements in nova other than being the longest female trainee?
it’s laughable in the most pathetic of ways.
hyun bin’s face isn’t a familiar one. she only sees his face on this day, every two years. which means this is the second occasion she’s meeting with him. it’s technically the third, since two years ago he briefly called her in to suspend her but she doesn’t really count that. when she enters, she almost expected to give hyun bin a scowl. she truly didn’t care for him. instead, sunmi greets with him a small bow and a stoic face. resolved. anhedonic. almost....eerily calm for her. she hums in acknowledgement. it could also be taken as affirmation. four years is a long time. that’s enough time for someone to graduate high school, enough time for a new born to grow to walk, talk, dress themselves and feed themselves. it’s a fuck ton of time. she doesn’t like to think about it.
it takes every fibre in sunmi’s being not to scoff in her ceo’s face. i don’t want you to think your effort has gone unnoticed. it has. she has four years of nothing to show that it has. she hasn’t gotten so much of a nod in her direction from the man. even now he’s in his stoic professional persona. even now she can’t even get something that’s more personal and not regurgitated to every trainee that steps into this office to resign a contract. it’s the disconnect that she hates. he doesn’t care how well she does. he doesn’t care if she broke her arm. he wouldn’t care if she slipped or fallen down the stairs because she’s sure that within the hour hyun bin would have a replacement for her. that’s the kind of man he is.
“four years have already been wasted,” she points out as he slides over the contract. it’s the first she’s said the entire time. she didn’t even interrupt him which is a surprise coming from her. “four years in this company and there is nothing that i am proud of coming out of here. i have spent hours and hours in these halls making myself better, trying to show that the ‘nova brand’ is of high calibre by making myself so and instead i lost myself. i lost my passion. i started to hate coming here. i started to hate that this is all i do. it’s been four years and i won’t even be able to see my siblings grow up. i’ve missed their birthdays already. i have never wanted to give up on being an idol so badly until i came to nova. not even sphere was so hard to overcome.”
she grinds her teeth, exhaling hotly through her nose. tears brim her eyes but they aren’t of sadness. they’re of frustration. “i grew up....wanting so badly to be where i am now. i grew up watching idols on stage. when i was little and when my mother was still alive, i would beg her to put on mbc and sbs to let me watch idols dance. i loved jewelry and i always thought that nova idols were of a different level. so diverse. of all companies, i grew up wanting to be here the most.” and now she hates it here. these walls became a prison. this building became symbolic to feeling her fade away.
“in the first mgas, when you thought i wasn’t good enough for nova, i was in sphere and i hated it so much. for a long time i thought something was wrong with me because i was rejected from the company that i wanted to most. but in sphere i found my passion. i was trying new things. i started to find myself there and i never even considered a company like that. and here?” she shakes her head. she sniffles before continuing, ignoring the box of tissues on the desk. “you’d think that i would flourish here. instead i feel my spirit draining and my heart growing heavy with contempt. i don’t know if nova is my path anymore. i just....don’t feel anything when i come here. and if i do feel something, it’s hot bubbling anger and resentment.” and it just builds and builds.
there’s no separation of older (or talented) trainees from the rest. they’re all doing the same routine and doing the same exact evaluations. there’s no hint or bone thrown their way. four years of the same routine, the same recycled evaluations. sunmi grew tired. it was often that she got through her days on autopilot. it was a heavy strain on her mentally and emotionally.
“there are too many moments where i think i should have never come here and not enough that make me understand why you even bought my sphere contract to keep me here. what use am i if i do nothing but waste away in your practise rooms? i know you don’t see it like that because you’re the ceo, you’re busy with running the company, you have no spare time to think about the trainees that jeopardise their health to be good enough in your eyes. and you’re professional, sajangnim, you are. you don’t let any of us see how you truly feel about any of us. but that’s why i don’t find any pull to stay. if i leave i don’t think i would care how you would feel ultimately. that’s what’s lacking. i don’t feel like i need to make you proud or prove myself to you. not anymore.”
she slid the contract back to him. “hold this. i’m still not sure if i’m signing this. i need more time to think if being in nova is worth it. if spending six years in a company that’s actively done nothing with anyone in the last two is even worth it.” it was then that sunmi paused to wipe her tears. “i will only take a day or two at most, sajangnim but when i come back with my decision, if i choose to stay, i would like only a one-year contract if possible. it may be a lot to ask but staying for two years seems to be too much. i don’t think spending six years at a company is fair to me when i’ve already spent one year elsewhere. five years as a trainee is a long time but seven is even more brutal. please take it into consideration.”
she bowed her head in acknowledgment to the lawyer. she rose, straightening herself and bowing now to hyun bin. “thank you for your time. have a nice day.”
Hyun Bin listens as you speak, expression unreadable as always, and he only gives a small shake of his head to indicate any displeasure. “Training is never a waste in my eyes. It’s a shame you feel otherwise,” he states. “I think about the trainees under this company more than you know, but you wouldn’t know the time and discretion it takes to put projects together that are worth investing the time of my trainees into. Many of you are not ready for something like that, either, and here in NOVA teamwork is important. It’s not about a single person being ready for opportunities, especially when it comes to debut.”
He looks down at the contract, still on his desk, and then back up at you, purposefully. “I’m not going to waste my time trying to win you over, Sunmi-ssi, and if you are no longer dedicated to NOVA, you should not waste mine either. You may take the time you need to think over this decision, but I am willing to invest another two years of my time and resources into your growth here. If you aren’t willing to give me the same, then I am not willing to give you another year here.”
“Even though I don’t like to hear it, training can be how you explained. That’s the case for many trainees, so what about that makes you feel like you’re a special case, especially since I took you off of Jiyoung’s hands and gave you the chance here?“ It’s clearly a rhetorical question, but one he poses anyway.
“Good day, Sunmi-ssi. I look forward to hearing your decision.”
hyun bin is a heartless man. sunmi knows this and she doesn’t know why she expected an actual response from him. he’s a robot in human skin. he’s incapable of showing emotion. she actively has to repress the urge to let her face twist into a scowl. instead she sits there with her arms crossed, the corners of her lips curved into a slight frown.
hidden, her nails dig into her palms a bit to repress the dismissal and emotional negligence she felt. it’s just like a higher-up to spoon feed this idea that they care too and they’re trying their best to make it smooth for them but god damn she wasn’t even talking about herself. she quite plainly said for anyone in nova but of course he would see it as nothing more than her being selfishly impatient.
(although sunmi feels she’s completely justified in being impatient at this point. especially after seeing all of her friends debut one by one. she knew she should have left for royal survival. she’s an idiot for being too checked out mentally to do it.)
she doesn’t feel like a special case. that’s the problem. nothing that’s happened in her time in nova made her feel as though it matters whether she stays or goes. the only ones who truly matter are the others and her pure refusal to outright abandon them. she’s seen the pain in hugo’s eyes at the mere tease of it, the resignation in wendy’s, the panic in jungwoo’s — the only people who seemed to care if sunmi stayed weren’t the board or their ceo. it was the trainees, the only people who would be directly effected.
he wouldn’t even grant her the year she asked. because it was always his way or the high way, right? she wouldn’t be allowed the freedom to just be given a year because lord knows she’s tired. he didn’t even give it a thought. why would she want to spend another two years in this god forsaken prison? everyone was miserable here. including herself. why would she even stay? but then she thinks back to everyone’s reactions to her contract renewal coming up and she feels the tug in her heart. the pull to stay.
sunmi should be used to be putting others before herself at this point, right? that’s what a leader is supposed to do.
right?
she comes back the next day. she lets his assistant know in the beginning of the day that she would be up later with her decision and to organise some time for them to meet. just enough so he could collect the lawyer that needed to be present. when she’s called up, she goes calmly.
she doesn’t have words to exchange when she sees him. she doesn’t have some grand speech of why she’s pulling the contract towards herself with a glare or the way she quickly signs it, pressing the pen down a little too hard at first. he doesn’t deserve an explanation. above all he sure as hell doesn’t deserve her talents anymore.
two more years she signs her life away. she slides the contract back over to him, jaw set. “if we find ourselves back here in this exact situation in two years: my frustration with nothing having happened for anyone — not only myself — then don’t even bother offering me a contract. i’ll be taking my leave. six years is more than enough time to do something.” she bowed her head. even if she was beyond annoyed, she knew she couldn’t be disrespectful.
“oh, and i’m taking four days of my vacation time to spend christmas with my family. i’ll be back the 27th.” she walked to the door, mindful not to forcefully swing it open or slam it shut when she exits. “happy holidays, sajangnim.”
sunmi hadn’t expected to be bumped with doing a contemporary stage again like she had back in sphere. although looking at everyone else, it made the most sense for sunmi to do it considering she was the most experienced. she was a little disappointed, however, because she would have loved to do a hard hip hop number. maybe next time.
truth be told, it was nice to practise an unfamiliar dance style. sunmi didn’t normally make it a habit to do a contemporary piece so she was a little out of practise. it was a nice refresher and practises seemed more challenging this way. it was an added bonus to have fun to refresh her memory with huidong by her side as well. neither of them were primary contemporary dancers so they were on the same boat when it came to the concert. it made for a lot of funny memories.
when it came to the concert, she had her hair tied up into a sleek ponytail. she usually didn’t tie it up on account of how much she hated how she looked with her hair up but it was to suit the dance. her hair flying about as she did twists and spins with huidong wouldn’t bode well. with a contemporary dance she didn’t have time to flip her hair back.
it was nice to be doing something on stage. something that’s not hiding your face because your company didn’t want to show your faces yet. this was public for people to see. it made it that much more exhilarating to know it was duo stages for all of nova performances. that means attention would be more likely to be drawn on both of them rather than divided if they had performed together as a company like the other companies were doing.
there was a pang of jealousy (as there always was) seeing the debuted groups perform their songs. people that sunmi knew were a little more recent in terms of training. the nova trainee found herself having to look away before the anger swirled hotly inside of her. she didn’t want to perform upset. she’d only end up crying due to the melody choice for her and huidong’s performance. it wasn’t long into the other group’s performance that she moved away and stayed entirely back stage. she couldn’t avoid the sounds of their songs and voices but at least she didn’t have to see it.
it did sullen her mood considerably, however. she needed to have a quick pep talk; an unintentional one since huidong wasn’t aware that it was one. anything to be able to keep her mind off of the disgusting jealousy that reared its head so unexpectedly. a quick joke or two about his banana hammock (and hui scolding her that the trainees might overhear) left her laughing and smiling enough that it was easy to put those dark emotions away. before she even realised, it was their time to perform. she was in better spirits. the nova team seemed to burst with nerves and excitement. sunmi remained calm and quiet. she was always calm before a performance. nerves didn’t get to her.
sunmi had learned a long time ago that the only reason she should be nervous is if she doesn’t believe herself to be capable to deliver a good performance. being the perfectionist she was, she’d die before she allows herself to be mediocre with dance. so sunmi was never nervous. she was always ready.
sunmi was excited for this assignment. meeting such prominent dancers in the community was always a great opportunity. she was in awe from the very beginning (and a bit smug, honestly, it was about damn time for nova to recognise her as one of the best dancers). every session in the studio left her feeling rejuvenated and excited. it was the stark opposite to her normal days in nova. it felt like she finally had a purpose.
of course being an assistant to a well-known choreographer wasn’t a complete pay off; it was still something, at least. nova was the company known for dancing. it made sense for them to conduct something like this. for the longest, sunmi hadn’t even given thought to who she’d might see in her classes. she was just focusing on doing a good job.
as an experienced dance teacher, it was easy for her to digest the moves and be able to teach it to others properly. there’s a difference between being a talented enough dancer that you have wisdom to share to being an experience teacher who knows how to teach people who learn differently. she knew she wouldn’t have much difficulty helping out in her classes as long as students were willing to learn.
sunmi hadn’t thought about the very likely possibility of a fan approaching her during or after class. in fact, after spending so much time hidden away in nova, sunmi began to forgot she even had fans. never mind her public performances as a sphere trainee: she had her own very successful youtube channel and following established.
momo, the girl’s name was. she had caught sunmi’s eyes several times throughout class. momo was a talented dancer. she definitely was no stranger to the skill and absorbed instructions easily. she didn’t struggle nearly as much as those who didn’t grasp dances quicker. while others struggled, momo excelled. sunmi was impressed, to say the least.
having the younger female approach her for an autograph was heartwarming. she hadn’t been expecting it. she’s never given some thought that even now she could have impact on people’s lives. momo was proof that she did. as the other scurried away, she couldn’t help but beam with pride. the smile didn’t come off her face for the rest of the day after that.
the key to this dance was visuals. nailing the look, expressing the facial expressions and executing the already made choreography perfectly. she had spent days practising, hoping to let the message come across soundly. she repeated the mantra in her head that this was obsessive love and not genuine, real love. this was infatuation. this was unhealthy. this was dangerous.
it helped her get into the zone.
she went with a red outfit in the end although toying with the idea with adding white to it as it was another colour mention in the lyrics. however she settled with a black two piece set underneath. because it was love (red) that was unhealthy underneath, when you took a good look at it (black). it was a simple outfit she’s had for a while. it was nothing too dressed up and was probably something she’s had since new york because lord knows she doesn’t gain weight if ever.
the thing about this song was that sunmi was going to throw in a twist of doing the entire song herself. singing and rap. but, because of the layers of the song and lyrics, sunmi does have to rely on the back tracks during certain parts or for a few seconds between. it’s nothing too bad. her vocal control and ability to sing and dance without being winded keep her from doing 90% in back audio.
every point move of the choreography (the sniffing of the wrist, the “c’mere” gesture, the pumps) just that much sharper and that more aggressive. she wanted to show that she wasn’t joking around. that this song is her actually trying to track the scent of her loved one.
towards the end of the song, however, she switched it up. instead of using the audio to be the adlibs in the back, she used it to sometimes be the foreground singing while she did the adlibs herself. it wasn’t like that for the entirety of the song; she often switched to whatever would suit her voice best.
she will say though: this evaluation made her pay a little more attention to lyrics and how the connect to concepts. they usually tell a story but it’s often overlooked by people just thinking it’s another comeback. it also left her a little intrigued. should she debut in a group, what would their concepts usually be?
sunmi is not a model by any means. she had classes years ago. took some workshops on how to pose and stuff. the best she could do was taking mirror selfies for instragram pictures or snapchat. she isn’t the most comfortable with people taking a picture of her unless it’s a friend and they were planning poses. she realises this (all too late, mind you) is going to be especially difficult considering she’s now going to be an idol.
she never gave it much thought before because she was mainly focused on fansites. who would typically take any picture they can get. she can be doing the most mundane things and a fansite with a good eye would capture it. they were mostly off guard photos so she wouldn’t need to worry about it. but modeling? she completely forgot about it. the minute they’re readying for the jacket making for the album she wishes she was a little bit more comfortable with all of this. was she the only one struggling with this? she wasn’t sure. some of the others seemed to pick up on it a bit faster than she did.
in order to forget her discomfort, she leaned into her team a little bit. this was an area where she wouldn’t be able to do much leading. she wasn’t an expert by any means and she’s clearly not the type to focus on pictorials and photoshoots despite it being a routine for an idol. focusing on her members not only calmed her down but made her feel more comfortable. she catches herself smiling more than once, watching them support one another with cheesy faux flirtations thrown each other’s way to boost morale. she finds herself doing the same: giving compliments and making the others feel more at ease.
it’s a more playful environment. while sunmi struggled a bit with what “look” to go for her pictures, she sees that everyone has their own way of going about things. hearing kaeun or meiqi praise the other members and say things that make everyone laugh: it brings sunmi to be a little more playful during her own photoshoot at times then maybe go for a little more mature and sexy. the vibe changes and she feels....surprisingly good about it after a photo rotation.
the leader thinks to herself about how lucky she is to have her girls. for everyone to support one another and spread smiles. if it weren’t for them, she’d probably do terrible at her photos. she looks at the others fondly, a small smile on her face. she has to thank them for everything some day. they were the best group to ever have.
sunmi feels lucky this way. ironically enough, she feels lucky to have her group.
because she’s the leader of and*roma, sunmi would also be the “speaker” of the group. she knows that interviewers would mainly throw the questions to her, as is customary for groups. of everyone, she had to be the most prepared. sunmi liked to think she was good at avoiding verbal traps set by people but who knows how that goes down in actuality. she’s never been in an interviewing session before beyond the two shows that required it. even then her replies were mostly strategic. it depends on what they do with the footage. even the most carefully crafted answers could be used against them.
“how long have you been preparing for debut?”
immediately sunmi knows she can’t say too many details about behind the scene stuff. her responses have to be surface-level that give off the appearance of being deep. “i’ve been working really hard on being good enough for fans. it’s been a long time but the main thing is that i’m here now and i’m ready to show my talents from training on stage.”
“what do you want your group to be known for?”
simple, sunmi just wanted to be remembered but that was too simple of an answer. “i want my group to be remembered for our power stage presence and versatile sound.” that a little less basic and more heartfelt than the examples they had given her earlier. something to spice it up a bit and sound more genuine. “we want to be known specifically as and*roma. we know from now on that every time we have a comeback, we’re trying to top what we did before. hopefully we established an ‘and*roma’ sound.” something that was uniquely them while at the same time exploring different genres.
the ideal type question was one that catches her off guard. when the interviewer asks, “who is your ideal type of guy?” sunmi almost chokes. it isn’t a man, she wants to say but she knows she can’t. for the sake of heteronormativity, she plays along with it. “i personally like guys with a strong intellect and a good sense of humour. i like having meaningful conversations but also being able to joke around.” of course she knows in a real interview it would be pressed upon. for the sake of the evaluation, the interviewer passes on.
she gets notes to try not to be so automated. a lot of her responses are. it’s to save face and make sure nothing she says could be used against her. it’s hard because clickbait articles are rampant on the internet always. sunmi takes the notes in mind. she has a while before and*roma gets any type of interview anyways. she’ll be ready when the real deal happens.
