Page 11 of Idol Prize
A sharp, three-note chime echoed through the dressing room's speaker system—the official summons from the producers. Leo let out a long, theatrical sigh and met Andy in the middle of the room. "Showtime, I guess." Around them, the nervous chatter in the dressing room died as everyone started grabbing their water bottles and heading for the door.
Leo blew out a low whistle as he and Andy followed the crowd into the soundstage. The space had been completely transformed. The risers, removed and replaced by a colossal, tiered structure of pristine white, curving platforms, stacked like the layers of a sci-fi wedding cake, ringed in pulsing blue and purple lighting strips. A mammoth, curved screen flowed behind them, displaying a looping video of undulating neon stripes as the world’s largest screen saver. Sharp, intense light beams swept the stage from the mounted rack high above as the lighting techsdid their final system tests. In all, a stage meticulously designed to showcase all one hundred of them in a single, breathtaking shot. Andy was highly impressed and deeply intimidated, immediately mapping out the best camera angles, the spacing, and the marks he’d need to hit.
The dance mentor, Hwa Young, struck a commanding pose at the base of the structure, hands on her hips, assessing each of the contestants in turn with a single, impeccable eyebrow raised. She held her place until the last contestant was in position before raising the microphone in her hand.
“Listen up,” Hwa Young said, her crisp tone echoing through the space. “For the duration of this rehearsal, you’re all mine. I created this choreography. It’s my art. If you make a mistake, if your angles are sloppy, if your energy is weak, you’re not just failing yourselves. You’re disrespecting my art.” Her eyes narrowed. “I demand perfection. Do not disappoint me. Positions!”
The sound hit first. The sharp, percussive thump of a hundred pairs of high-tops slamming the floor at the same moment, a small army marching to an electro-pop beat. Andy listened with his bones, executing each move with laser precision, always wary of Min Jae mirroring his motion three feet to the left. All the while, Hwa Young forged them into a multi-dimensional machine. She drilled them without music, calling out the counts like an army officer. "Five, six, seven, eight! One! Hit! Two! Hold!" She’d stop them mid-motion, striding through the ranks to adjust the angle of a wrist by a single degree or the height of a knee by an inch. Then, the music would explode, and the machine would roar back to life, until Andy’s quads were on fire. For the first time since he’d landed in Seoul, he felt at home.
Finally, Hwa Young clapped her hands, the sound ringing out like a gunshot. The music cut off. “Good,” she announced, the single word of praise landing like a blessing. “That’s enough for the group formations.” She paced in front of the stage, herexpression intense. “Let’s move on to the killing part. Light up the center pair.”
Andy practically saw stars as the spotlight momentarily blinded him. He glanced at Min Jae beside him, a wall of ice against the fire. They had no chemistry. Worse. They had no connection. Andy doubted he could pick Min Jae out of a crowd yet. But the guy said he knew his part. That would have to be enough.
Andy’s eyes finally adjusted enough to see Hwa Young lift the microphone to her mouth. “Ready?” He nodded. “Okay. Scrub the track back to an eight count before the bridge.” The bassline from the end of the second chorus pumped through Andy’s veins as Hwa Young tapped her foot and the music swelled. “And, five, six, seven, eight.”
Andy launched himself into the killing part choreography. A rapid-fire sequence of mirrored moves into a sharp turn, pushing off each other’s backs, followed by a series of intricate, syncopated arm movements that brought them face to face. Andy executed every step with the flawless precision he’d drilled for hundreds of hours. His lines were clean. His timing was perfect.
And it was completely dead.
Andy wanted to scream. The space between them was a vacuum, cold and empty. He was a dancer. Min Jae was a dancer. But they weren’t partners. Andy tried to catch his eye, to force a connection, but Min Jae’s gaze was fixed on Hwa Young. The tension was all wrong. There was no fiery, electric energy. Only stiff, awkward formality.
“Again!”
Andy’s mind raced as they reset. It was him. He wasn’t giving Min Jae anything to work with. He was too stiff. Too in his head. If only he’d tried a more formal greeting in the dressing room, meeting Min Jae where he was at. But, no. He came on way too strong. Too casual. Too American.
Andy pushed harder the second time, digging deep to inject more energy, more charisma. It didn’t help. He could’ve been shouting in an empty room. Min Jae’s sharp sigh when the music cut off only made things worse.
Hwa Young had finally had enough. “No!” She stomped towards them. “It’s barren. There’s no soul. Do you even see each other there? It looks like two different performances happening at the same time. Again!”
They went again. And again. Each time, the chasm between them seemed to widen. Each time, Min Jae’s quiet huffing grew worse, shaking his head or defeatedly dropping his arms as they reset. After the sixth failed attempt, Hwa Young stopped the music again, swearing and throwing her hands up in exasperation. Andy stood and returned to first position, his arms shaking, a river of sweat on his brow.
“Hey, you need to relax,” Min Jae suddenly whispered into the ringing silence, not even looking over. “You’re a half-beat ahead of me on the turn. You should watch my shoulder, not my feet.” He finally glanced back, meeting Andy’s gaze. “Trust that I’ll be there.”
Trust? As if the ice king was anyone to talk about trust. Those were practically the first words he’d ever said to Andy without prompting. But the shitty part was that Min Jae was right. He didn’t trust Min Jae. He’d been trying to control the performance, to carry it all himself, to compensate for the distance between them. And Min Jae’s blunt advice meant he’d felt it, too. But he clearly wanted this to work as much as Andy, or he wouldn’t have said anything. A crack in the ice wall. “Okay.”
“Let’s try it one more time, seonsaengnim!” Min Jae called out.
Hwa Young chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before nodding. She raised a twirling finger, signaling to reset the playback. Andy counted down in his head as the end of the second chorus boomed. Six. Seven. Eight. Now. He lunged into thefootwork, letting his muscle memory lead him, trusting that Min Jae was doing the same thing. Six. Seven. Eight. Turn. Min Jae’s back was there, tight against his as they pushed off and spun. Andy found Min Jae’s gaze, locking on with almost magnetic force. And, then, they were one, arms thrusting and waving in exquisite harmony, hips swaying in perfect rhythm, until the final half turn. Andy dropped to his knees and spread his arms wide, trusting that Min Jae had already stepped behind him, arms raised to the sky.
“Yes!” Hwa Young called out. “Holy shit, gentlemen. That’s how it’s done. That’s how it’s done.”
Finally reaching triumph, Hwa Young excused Andy and Min Jae from the stage while she moved on with the rest of the rehearsal, focusing on the bottom third-ranked performers, who only entered for the final chorus. Andy rushed backstage, making a beeline for the bathroom. All the nervous energy buzzing inside him had taken its toll on his bladder. Once he’d finished and washed up, he returned to his dressing station to towel off and change. He desperately needed a shower, but that had to wait until he was back at the dorms. Leo, already back in his black track suit, stood at the station beside Andy’s, fixing his hair. He chuckled the moment he spotted Andy in the mirror.
“I gotta say, Sacramento, I was worried for you up there.”
Andy huffed as he stripped off his jacket. “Believe me, I was way more worried than you. Dancing with the ice king–”
Leo interrupted him with a quick, sucking breath. Andy looked up, confused, to see Min Jae’s reflection, standing behind him.
Leo nodded toward Min Jae in greeting before stepping away. “I’ll give you two lovebirds a moment.”
Andy and Min Jae stood, silently regarding one another in Andy’s mirror. Andy screamed inside. There was no way Min Jae had missed that ice king comment.
“Hey,” Min Jae finally said. “Great job–”
“There you two are!” The PA who’d taken Andy to his morning intro and interview session appeared between them. She held up a single finger, needlessly silencing them as she bent to speak into her headset mic. “Yeah, I’ve got them both. We’ll be right there.” She enthusiastically smiled as she looked up. “We need you for a quick reaction diary in Interview Suite B. Now, please.”
Min Jae simply shrugged and nodded.
