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Chapter 3
Even in a different body, the morning still came as always.
7:00 a.m.
I was on my way to the practice room.
According to Cheong’s memories, she always came here at this hour.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she would open the practice room door, clean it, and practice.
Before long, the other trainees would start arriving as well.
And today was no different.
Except the atmosphere was.
Today was the first day of filming for Make a New Color.
There were currently fifty female trainees under Colors.
But among them, only twelve had been selected as debut candidates.
Out of those twelve, only five would debut.
The remaining seven would have to start over from scratch and continue chasing their debut dreams.
And I knew seven of those twelve.
Because those seven were the ones who debuted.
The five members who debuted as Still Blue, and the two who debuted later.
The other five never debuted at all and ended up pursuing different paths.
And among those seven who did debut, only two managed to survive in the industry for ten years.
Three members of Still Blue disappeared after just one year, and another left the entertainment industry within five years.
That was just how this business worked.
So many people disappeared that it was impossible to keep track of them all.
The biggest problem was that it happened so often everyone thought it was normal.
Even though it wasn’t.
Well, that’s that.
“The atmosphere’s pretty intense.”
Maybe because filming started today, everyone looked stiff as a board.
Understandable.
It probably felt like the day of the college entrance exam for a high school senior.
Though…
Not a single person greeted me.
Only a few months ago, Cheong had been a trainee at another agency.
But after getting cut from that company’s debut lineup, she’d transferred to Colors, which had been looking for a main vocalist.
So she barely knew the trainees here.
Just because you belonged to the same company didn’t mean you had to be close.
I casually sat in front of the mirror and started stretching.
Gotta loosen up first…
Huh?
…Why is everyone staring at me?
“Um…”
Someone called out to me.
Not even by name.
Just “Um.”
Either I was so insignificant they didn’t even know my name…
Or they hated me that much.
Neither possibility was particularly encouraging.
“That’s Baekyoung unni’s spot.”
…Wait, people had assigned seats in the practice room?
Without making a fuss, I moved over.
There was no reason to start conflict right from the beginning.
Especially not with Seo Baekyoung.
Click.
“Baekyoung unni!”
“You’re here, unni?”
“Good morning!”
Speak of the devil.
It was Seo Baekyoung.
She was the trainee who had been at Colors the longest, and she was essentially everyone’s dependable leader.
She’d survived here for nine years.
Everyone believed she was guaranteed to debut.
Maybe that was why.
Unlike Yoon Cheong, Seo Baekyoung received greetings from everyone.
After casually acknowledging each of them, she walked over to me.
Apparently it really was her seat.
She quietly stared at me for a moment.
“Didn’t expect this.”
“…What do you mean?”
“You always sat in the corner.”
Plopping down beside me, Seo Baekyoung began stretching too.
“So filming starts today and suddenly you’re pretending to be proactive?”
Ah.
I understood now.
“You can do whatever you want. Just don’t drag everyone else down again. Like last time.”
She hated me.
No…
Not just her.
Everyone in this practice room…
Hated Yoon Cheong.
This was bad.
Even though I’d inherited Yoon Cheong’s memories, they were only broad, fragmented recollections.
If I had to summarize her life in one phrase…
She was a complete loner.
For some reason, Yoon Cheong had chosen to live without a single friend or close teammate.
From what I could tell, she was afraid of people.
It was a vicious cycle.
She feared people, so she kept her distance from them.
The more she isolated herself, the more afraid of people she became.
And because she was afraid of people…
She was naturally terrified of performing on stage and standing in front of cameras.
Yoon Cheong always practiced alone.
Where no one else was around.
So no one knew how hard she worked.
People only saw the results.
…The result of freezing up the moment a camera started rolling.
During individual evaluations, it wasn’t too bad.
But group evaluations were a different story.
“Are you kidding us right now? So what if you can sing? Your dancing doesn’t match anyone else’s!”
For group evaluations, everyone had to practice together.
They needed to coordinate formations and harmonize their vocals.
But outside the mandatory group practice sessions, Yoon Cheong always practiced by herself.
Maybe she was afraid of people.
But naturally, the other trainees couldn’t see it in a positive light.
“She’s seriously so selfish. Guess she thinks as long as she debuts as the main vocalist, nothing else matters.”
And if all that solo practice had produced great results, maybe it would’ve been worth it.
Instead…
The results were disastrous.
“You can do whatever you want. Just don’t drag everyone else down again. Like last time.”
So Seo Baekyoung’s reaction wasn’t exactly unreasonable.
She’d been on the same evaluation team as Yoon Cheong just recently.
The important thing was…
“That won’t happen anymore.”
“…!”
From now on…
Things were going to be different.
“…Then that’s good.”
Seo Baekyoung looked genuinely surprised for a moment before calmly replying.
She wasn’t the only one.
The trainees close enough to hear my answer all looked shocked.
‘…Did she take some kind of medication because filming started?’
‘Just leave her alone. Quiet people are scarier when they suddenly snap.’
I can hear you, you know.
Well, anyway.
Now…
The real beginning starts.
Make a New Color.
A survival program to debut a new girl group under Colors, one of the five major entertainment agencies and famous for producing successful girl groups.
Out of twelve trainees…
Only five would debut.
Four would be chosen entirely through viewer votes.
One would be selected by the judges.
Voting took place every two weeks.
But only the final vote determined who debuted.
Which meant even if you ranked first in the initial vote…
It meant nothing if you failed to finish in the top four at the end.
Of course, there was another way to debut even without making the top four.
Catch the judges’ attention.
There were four judges in total.
Kim Mogyeong, a company director and producer.
Do Heeyoung from Grayish, Colors’ flagship girl group now in their twelfth year.
Kang Sunhwa, Colors’ head vocal trainer.
Jo Wonho, Colors’ head dance trainer and choreographer.
I knew every one of them from my previous life.
…That didn’t mean I knew them on good terms.
No one would be eliminated during the show.
Instead, popularity rankings would be announced every two weeks.
The judges would also announce an MVP for each mission.
The trainee ranked first in popularity and the mission MVP would receive advantages in the next mission.
Meanwhile…
The trainee ranked dead last—twelfth place—would receive a handicap.
And throughout all twelve episodes, Yoon Cheong never escaped twelfth place even once.
Then, in the end…
She debuted through the judges’ selection.
That was how it was supposed to happen.
Not anymore.
Not long afterward, cameras and various broadcasting equipment began filling one side of the practice room.
A man who looked like the producer stepped to the front.
“Alright, today just practice like you normally do. Just do whatever you’d usually be doing.”
…Normally, the twelve of us wouldn’t even be sharing one practice room.
I looked up at the producer.
A familiar face.
Producer Oh Baekyung.
The problem was…
He wasn’t familiar in a good way.
“Talk to each other, too. You know? Just go with the flow.”
This was bad.
“Don’t be fake just because the cameras are rolling.”
He was infamous for evil editing.
…Well, he was famous for something else too, but that wasn’t important right now.
Naturally, the more provocative the footage, the better it was for the TV station.
In a competitive survival show like this, if contestants got into a fight…
That was pure gold.
They’d stretch a five-minute argument into material for three whole episodes.
The problem was the contestants’ images.
Trainees didn’t have fans yet.
They didn’t have established public images either.
That meant the image formed in the early episodes would stick with them for a very long time.
So in the beginning…
The smartest thing to do was stay quiet.
“Cheong.”
Then why was she calling out to me now?
“Our first group choreography practice… is it finished?”
Seo Baekyoung had apparently finished warming up.
She deliberately asked loudly enough for everyone to hear.
She was definitely trying to create some screen time.
“Our group choreography isn’t exactly easy. I was worried.”
The first performance on this show was the Group Dance Stage.
It wasn’t really a mission.
It was simply the introductory stage used to present the trainees.
About four minutes of performance before moving on.
Basically, a first impression.
The problem was…
The choreography was surprisingly difficult.
The original Yoon Cheong could barely handle it.
And I’d only seen the choreography for the first time twelve hours ago.
“Ah, I’ve been practicing, but it’s definitely not easy.”
Stay humble.
Always stay humble.
“Really? Which part’s giving you trouble? I’ll help.”
…I get it.
I know exactly what role you’re aiming for.
The cool, dependable older sister.
“Oh, then… would you mind taking a quick look? Just the chorus section.”
Might as well play along.
“Of course.”
Seo Baekyoung readily agreed and stood up.
“Show me once first. I’ll point out anything you should fix.”
Look at that.
In an instant, all the trainees’ attention shifted toward us.
“I’ll play the music. Just dance the chorus.”
Yoon Cheong.
A great singer.
An absolute disaster at dancing.
If things continued like this…
She’d make a complete fool of herself in front of the cameras.
They’d probably use it in the preview with captions like:
“A trainee whose very first appearance is already in danger…?”
In other words…
She’d begin the show branded as the weak link.
“Ah… I don’t think I’m good enough yet…”
“It’s okay.”
“We’re all lacking somewhere.”
“Then…”
I smiled brightly at Seo Baekyoung.
“Would you mind dancing next to me?”
“Huh?”
“You’re so good, unni. If you dance beside me, I think I’ll find the rhythm more easily. It’ll make me feel a lot more confident.”
Seo Baekyoung’s eyes widened slightly.
She clearly hadn’t expected that response.
But after only a moment, she nodded.
“Sure. Why not?”
She probably figured there was nothing for her to lose.
“Then, if we’re going to dance anyway… how about we don’t just do the chorus? Why don’t we start from the beginning?”
Damn that Producer Oh.
