JERS 10

Chapter 10

By any measure, Lee Ji-woo’s weak point was dance. Of course, her introverted personality—close to social anxiety—was also an issue, but that was judged to be only a temporary condition.

“When she was little, she used to get along well everywhere, acting cute and all.”

It was just that repeated failures and conflicts with her parents had made her afraid to leave the house. Ji-woo’s innate disposition itself was extroverted.

“Good, you’re doing well! From there, it’s not one-two, three-four like this—do it one, two, three, four. Like this. Let’s bring it out just a bit more.”

“Yes…!”

Judging by how quickly she grew close to the trainer we’d managed to attach to her after much difficulty through an old connection with Gippeum Entertainment, my thinking seemed right.
At first she struggled because of her stamina, but later, perhaps realizing the necessity herself, she even started running every morning.

“What if someone recognizes you?”

When I asked out of concern, she said she hadn’t met anyone who recognized her yet, sounding a bit embarrassed. In the meantime, her stamina and physique steadily filled out, and her clothes quickly started to feel tight.

“Do people normally grow this fast…?”

By the time she passed the internal second round of evaluations without incident and was selected as a final participant, she had grown three centimeters—making the submitted profile outdated. It wasn’t just that she’d gotten taller; her formerly hunched posture had been corrected through exercise, making her look taller overall.

“I should ask them to revise this quickly.”

I hurriedly contacted the production staff to update her profile, and before we knew it, the first broadcast shoot was right around the corner.

“All right, that’s it for today. There are only two sessions left now, so try practicing on your own and tell me next time which parts feel the weakest.”

“Yes!”

“Oh wow, you even answer well. Filming is soon, right?”

At the trainer’s words, Lee Ji-woo nodded, her face flushing red.

“Don’t worry too much. You’ve really improved a lot. You won’t get criticized for lacking skill when you go, so don’t worry.”

The results of the special training—which Kwon-hyung had tried to dissuade me from because it cost too much—were a success.
In group lessons, it felt like she barely kept up and showed no effect, but once we switched to one-on-one sessions, her skills began to rise in no time. Moreover, the trainer was the type who never held back praise and boosted confidence, so they worked well together.

What Ji-woo needed was a sense of achievement. She simply lacked belief in herself—that she could do it, improve, and move forward.

“See? From the start… she was talented by nature.”

In just a few months, Lee Ji-woo looked completely different from the days when she had holed up alone in a trash-heap of a studio apartment.
So much so that recently, after finishing morning practice and going to eat at a nearby restaurant with the trainer, she almost got asked for her number.

“Um… do you happen to have a girlfriend?”
“What?”

She’d kept sneaking glances our way, so I thought maybe a fan had recognized her and even considered signing an autograph—but the sudden request for a phone number made both the trainer and me struggle to hold back laughter.

“P-please don’t laugh….”

Ji-woo herself was mortified, but it was a positive sign in its own way. If she’d looked the way she did a few months ago, people wouldn’t have asked for her number—they would have treated her like a weirdo and run away.

“What if our Ji-woo gets street-cast like this?”
“No way. I won’t let her go until the contract period ends.”

I said it jokingly, but I meant it. Of course, I’d be grateful if she stayed even after the contract expired, and I’d support her future path even if she left…

“Right now, you’re our company’s hope.”

True to those words, we were pouring every resource and all our manpower into Lee Ji-woo. Even then, compared to the support from other companies… honestly, it was barely more than a shoestring agency—but since we really were a shoestring agency, there was nothing we could do.

“Our Ji-woo, you can do well, right?”

At the trainer’s question, Ji-woo hesitated briefly, then nodded, her face turning tomato-red. She still looked shy, but her complexion was no longer pale and drained like before.

“I’ll do well, so don’t worry too much.”

When I added a smiling comment, she covered her face with both hands, which was pretty funny.

Finally, the day of the first shoot arrived. I personally drove Lee Ji-woo to the set.
The filming was a two-night, three-day training camp. On the first day, they did the grade evaluation, then divided teams by grade to practice filming a group PV. On the final morning, they filmed and then dispersed.

“How’s your condition?”

When I briefly stopped the car in the parking lot and asked, Lee Ji-woo hesitated slightly before answering.

“…I’m fine!”

Her energetic reply was reassuring. I didn’t know how long that momentum would last, but still.
In any case, the result would be either this or that. Even if she got a low grade, it would only be a bit disappointing—not a failure. She would meet new people, experience a new environment, and learn from many more things.

“If it gets so hard that she’s exhausted beyond endurance, then I’ll help her.”

The grade evaluation results were scheduled to be sent that evening to the guardian contact information each participant had submitted.
The grades were five levels: A, B, C, D, and F.

They said that the next evening, top-ranked participants would be given a special phone-call privilege. If Ji-woo made it into the top ranks, I wondered whom she would use that chance to call.

“I’m getting ahead of myself already.”

In the end, all I could do now was wait. I absentmindedly stroked the dust nestled in my arms.

“I hope you do well, huh?”

As if in agreement, the dust let out a tiny kiing sound.

Then that evening, a message arrived from the production staff.

[We would like to inform you of the grade evaluation result for trainee Lee Ji-woo of Gippeum Entertainment.
Evaluation grade: A]

“Wow…!”

I’d expected at least a C, but I’d never imagined an A.
The result exceeded expectations, and despite the late hour, I jumped up from my seat.

It was almost a shame that the only people I could share this good news with were the temporary trainer and Kwon-hyung. I even called Ji-woo’s mother despite the potential rudeness, but the call didn’t connect. Although I’d already been entrusted with guardian authority, my mouth tasted bitter.

“I should keep this a secret from Ji-woo for now.”

I just hoped her training would continue smoothly.

Another day passed with my heart in my throat, and then the night of the second day came.
A call came in from an unfamiliar number—an internet call starting with 070. It looked like spam, so I hesitated briefly, then answered with a faint hope.

“Yes, hello?”

Answering turned out to be the right choice. The voice I’d been waiting for overflowed with barely contained excitement.

—Um, CEO, it’s Ji-woo…!

We weren’t that far apart in age, but because of the company’s share structure, I was the CEO, so she addressed me that way. Hearing how hard it was for her to hide her joy, the corners of my mouth curved up as well.

“Oh, you got the privilege? You’ve already been informed of the evaluation result—good work.”

As soon as I spoke first, it was like a dam burst and Ji-woo started pouring out words.

—Huh? You already heard!? I wanted to tell you first, so I practiced really hard! They said you could only make a call if you practiced well! I—I was worried you might be concerned….

“Haha, it’s fine. It’d be a lie to say I wasn’t worried at all, but you prepared so diligently, Ji-woo, so I knew it would go well.”

It was still too early to pop champagne, but it was certainly a forward-looking achievement.
With an A grade, she’d rank near the top of the 공개 participant list and be heavily featured in episodes 1 and 2—the most crucial time for gathering fans. It was more than enough to make her face known.

—Yes, I was really worried…! But when I thought about what you said, I didn’t shake that much and did well! I showed them the dance just like the routine I practiced! I don’t know how the editing will turn out, but… my roommates are nice too!

The way she rattled off updates, as if there were a time limit, was cute and amusing—just like a kid her age.

“You got close with the trainees in your room?”

—Yes…! Ah, there are eight of us in the same room. Everyone’s from different companies, so we talk at night and it’s fun…!

I wasn’t sure all seven of the others were really that fun, but… at least she seemed to be getting along fine. I replied with a quiet smile.

“You’re not uncomfortable, or lacking anything you need?”

Just as I was thinking that even if there were, she wouldn’t be able to say it with the cameras rolling, Ji-woo suddenly blurted out—

—Ah, the meal times are strict, so I get hungry at night…. And you can’t get seconds, so I wish they’d just give us more rice….

“Oh.”

She actually complained about that? It was the kind of complaint only a real kid could make, and I had to lower my head onto the desk to keep from laughing out loud. Holding back my shaking shoulders, I replied,

“Okay, I’ll see what I can say. I’m glad you seem to be doing well.”

—Yes! Other than that, everything’s really fine!

It seemed the time limit was up, because Ji-woo hurriedly hung up. I was relieved she was doing better than expected, but a new worry surfaced.

“She’s not treating this like some kind of school trip, is she?”

At its core, an audition program is competition.
Her results were so good that she seemed overly excited, and I worried—what if she got maliciously edited, or conflicts arose among team members? She was soft-hearted and weak in situations where many people attacked her… I hadn’t expected such a good grade, so I was caught off guard.

“When she gets back tomorrow, we’ll need a little reality check.”

She didn’t need to be fiercely competitive, but she did need to draw some lines.
No matter how friendly everyone seemed, once the camp ended and they received their first report card—the rankings—the sense of crisis about elimination would set in.

“The real problem comes after that.”

Would Ji-woo be able to endure the process of hurting and being hurt in order to climb higher and survive?
Helping her through that process was my role—to let stress roll off, to be considerate of others while still walking her own path.

I wanted to show her that there was a way to succeed without excluding or hating others.

It didn’t take long for that concern to become reality.
After returning from the two-night, three-day camp, Lee Ji-woo’s expression was so gloomy it was as if she’d lost the whole world.

“It doesn’t look like she’s just tired.”

I got out of the car, loaded her luggage into the trunk, and the moment the car door closed, I asked straight out,

“How was the filming?”

At my direct question, Ji-woo flinched, her shoulders jerking, then she barely composed herself and answered,

“Ah, it was good…! I got a long one-shot too…!”

That meant the filming result itself wasn’t the issue.
Then the cause was obvious.

I asked again, bluntly.

“Did something happen during filming?”

At that, Lee Ji-woo couldn’t lift her head.

“So something did happen.”

Yes. I’d expected this.
This was exactly why I’d been standing by.