#solo .

[idgoeun]

anticipation

april schedule: debut showcase preparations ( +5 sp / +5 exp )

goeun sat on the floor of the dance studio, leaning her back against the mirror, tapping away at neon’s manager’s computer during their break. they had been practicing endlessly for the showcase, fine tuning each and every detail - from going over every inch of choreography to perfecting their charming personal variety introductions. she was exhausted, sweaty, and panting, and would soon have to get up, get back into formation, and try her best to not fall behind the other members.

one of the girls had left a water bottle on the floor for goeun, but she was focused on her manager (her! manager! her very own manager!)’s laptop screen. her individual teaser dropped just earlier, and although she had already seen it, edited and smoothed out to perfection, she wanted to see it now. she got a kind of thrill, a kind of terror even, at the thought of her face being out there, public. sure, she’d been on mickey’s clubhouse, technically making her a public trainee. but the audience for that had an average age of eleven, at best, and it wasn’t exactly the path to fame and recognition. seeing her teaser out there, on the @NEONofficial twitter account (their very own twitter account!), with the midas logo and the “all rights reserved” fine print in one corner making everything official official, legally official.

she opened up her picture, taking in the saturated pinks and blues meant to hammer in their name and concept. the numbers under the photo kept going up, already in the thousands in a short span of time. it was like goeun had predicted for the past six years, dreaming of what her eventual debut would be like. midas media had enormous company power and a long, storied history of successful artists - that meant all that had to be done to get some attention towards neon is announce them. now it was up to them to meet expectations, ideally exceed them, and take the industry by storm the way the artists before them had.

her name was called from the other end of the room, snapping her out of her daydreams and back into their practice. she forced herself up from the floor, her sore muscles complaining about having to go again after only a short break. goeun had always had a harder time with dancing - it didn’t excite her or interest her the way singing did, so it was only natural that it was harder for her to put effort into it. but at this point they had reviewed the choreographies for each of the songs that were lined up for the showcase so many times that it felt like second nature to her. the music would start and her arms and legs followed suit. it was exhausting, and the dance teacher always found some detail to nitpick, but for the first time maybe ever, goeun didn’t feel particularly nervous about dancing in front of a crowd and livestreaming cameras in under a week. she normally got a kind of mild stage fright, but for now all she felt was a thrilling excitement. this was six years in the making - it was finally time for her to get her due.

[idgoeun]

a long dream on a late night

workshop 01: new year showcase ( +5 sp / +5 exp )

in her time post-aurora, there has been one song, one concept the group did that goeun had secretly been envious of. she could have easily mastered their whimsical, daydream vibe - she had proven so much over her time training with them - but only one song really stood out to her as a big missed opportunity, as something she would have sunk her teeth into had she had the chance to debut with the others. 2016′s “closer”. it came off the heels of aurora’s first win; maybe that had something to do with it. but it must have been more than that, because the first time she heard it bells rang through her aspiring producer head. it was, simply put, a good song. 

so when midas gathered the trainees together and announced that they’d have to cover a senior artist for the workshop, goeun already had her choice set. plus, the chance to reinterpret it? what better song to pick than the one that’s been itching at your ears for years, begging you to toy with the arrangement, to get the opportunity you had been snubbed six years ago?

sitting in one of the practice rooms now, though, goeun realized that maybe an aurora song wasn’t the best choice. not because she didn’t know where to start - she already had a notebook page covered in scribbles, with ideas from better (alt rock cover) to worse (ska?), finally settling on an r&b arrangement that she could use to show off both her vocals and the production skills she’s worked so hard to cultivate. no, the process itself was going fine; great, even. the problem was aurora. when goeun excitedly pitched her plan to her producing instructor, they suggested that she reached out to the aurora members and get some pointers. by “suggested”, they really insisted. wasn’t there a rap she’d have to learn? (it was in the second, “reinterpretation” half; she was going to do away with it entirely and put in a new verse.) and wouldn’t goeun need help with the choreography? (she had been planning to learn the first half and hopefully get away with swaying behind her laptop and turntables for the second half.) besides, wasn’t she close to them, after having trained so closely together for so long?

goeun tapped her pencil on the page of her music composition notebook, feeling stubbornly hesitant. she had to do well on this showcase - if not for her pride or for her competitiveness, then for her now-six years of training that had to finally amount to something. she had to prove to the other trainees and to the instructors and to the company that she deserved to be in the predebut group; that with her on board, neon would be a surefire success. but was she going to willingly reach out to the people she felt the most awkward around, the most distant from?

she sighed, defeated. she pulled her phone out from her bag, turned it off airplane mode, and opened her contacts, scrolling through and feeling dread build up as she came across familiar names and scrolled past. she chose the lesser of the evils and carefully curated a message. “unnie,” her fingers tapped out, consciously avoiding the term “sunbae”. she wasn’t really fully obligated to use that yet, anyway, not until she’s debuted and in the public eye. “unnie, i’m preparing closer for the showcase, could you help give me some perspective if you have time?”

her finger hovered over the screen, then firmly pressed down on “send”. she turned airplane mode back on and leaned back in her chair, craning her head up to the ceiling, emptying her mind for now.

[idgoeun]

dream of snow

lottery 01: cf deal audition ( +5 sp / +5 exp )

goeun’s eyes felt dry. she imagined she probably didn’t look her best, with itchy red eyes and purple bags under them and dull, sad skin. she had stayed up all night reading over the sides for her audition, moving her lips around every word, practicing in the bubbliest voice she could muster. she had covered up the evidence of her long night to the best of her ability with layers of foundation and colour corrector and concealer, but as she stepped into the audition room she felt self-conscious of how the panel must have thought she was tired and ugly, how a face like that would make their product unsellable.

dark circles weren’t going to stop her from doing her best, though. goeun strode in and applied her most practiced, brightest smile, bowing to each of the people seated in front of her. “good morning, i am midas media’s trainee, jang goeun!” she made sure to pronounce each syllable clearly and crisply for their notes.

each of the judges continued to look at the papers in front of them. goeun glanced over and could make out a photo of herself on the page, the standard headshot midas took once a year. she looked much better in the photo than she did in real life. hopefully that wouldn’t make much of a difference, they’d take pictures of her for the cf anyway. it didn’t matter what she looked like in person as long as the photos came out nicely.

finally one of the judges spoke up, eyes still on the page. “goeun-ssi. have you ever gone skiing?”

“yes, of course,” goeun lied.

the judge’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, held her gaze for a moment, then flicked back down to the page, where they scribbled something. “the shoot will take place at star hill resort in namyangju. we’ll take shots on the hill, the chairlift, in the lodge...” he looked up, not at her but somewhere above and behind her head, and gestured with his pen. “we’re a luxury brand that older people usually buy, but we want young people to be interested in our new line.” it should be youthful and athletic, carefree, all that. understood?”

“yes, of course,” goeun repeated. would she have to ski for them? so what if she did? it couldn’t be that complicated, just point your feet downhill and go. right?

“alright. please feel free to read the sides. joonhyuk will read with you,” he said, gesturing at one of the younger panel members, probably some intern who was stuck doing the boring work.

goeun readjusted her grin into something softer, more natural. hopefully not so soft and natural that her tiredness became too obvious. she cleared her throat, and began.

the audition itself passed in a blur, and goeun was bowing her way out of the room almost as quickly as she had entered. it was only when she stood waiting for the elevator and caught a glimpse of her face reflected in the closed doors that she realized that she looked less tired, more refreshed than she remembered feeling when she had first arrived. her reflection disappeared when the doors opened; she straightened her back and stepped onto the elevator. this opportunity was a good one, and she had a good feeling about it.