Page 6 of Idol Prize
A tidal wave of applause, shouts, and whoops crashed through the performance hall as the Pr1ze logo, with a 1 instead of the letter I, flashed on the screen. Si Woo let it ride before turning to the dais. “But you won’t be doing it alone. You’ll be guided, judged, and pushed to your limits by our incredible panel of mentors!” He introduced each of the career-making–or breaking–mentors with natural flair as they took their seats, sharing words of genuine admiration with pop superstar and vocal mentor Riki, before teasing the stoic rap mentor, Cipher, about cracking a smile, and complimenting the dance mentor, Soh Hwa Young, on her sharp, intimidating style.
Si Woo gestured to the man in the center chair. “And finally, the one making the ultimate decisions. The legendary producer and director of SCG Entertainment, Choi Jin Woo!”
Director Choi leaned into his microphone, a broad, almost goofy smile on his face. He didn't look like the rigid, corporate villain the uninformed might have imagined. If anything, he looked more like a proud, enthusiastic uncle. “Skill is a tool,” he said, his warm voice booming through the soundstage. “And talent is a gift. But I’m not looking for tools today. I’m looking for sincerity. I’m looking for an artist who’s not afraid to show us their true, desperate heart!”
Andy grinned, chuckling as more cheers rose up from the contestants. “He’s good,” he whispered to Leo.
“It’s a persona,” Leo whispered back. “But, yeah, it’s a good one.”
“The words of a true kingmaker,” Si Woo continued. “Now, what do you say? Should we get started?”
Andy cheered and applauded with everyone else, easily caught up in the auditorium’s surging energy. Balanced on the edge of his seat, he practically floated off it as the performances finally started. For the next hour, he watched as contestant aftercontestant took the stage. A younger contestant named Jung Tae Woo unleashed a massive, power ballad cover of Raven Wild’sYou Put Me Through It. His voice was incredible, but the strain in his neck and his lack of control were impossible to ignore. Andy wasn’t surprised when the vocal mentor, Riki, praised his power but then tore into his technique.
A cocky dancer, Song Dae Hyun, performed a blistering hip-hop routine full of impossibly complex moves. “That guy’s been trying to start dance battles since the hotel,” Leo muttered under his breath. Hwa Young’s critique was brutal. “You have great skills, but I don’t believe a word you’re saying. Right now, you’re just a technician, not a performer.”
A pair of brothers attempted a duet cover of DAZ3’s first hit,Critical Mess, possibly to earn some favor using a song by the previous Dream Boy Project winners, a group Director Choi produced himself. They were awful, but so charming and earnest that they got the loudest applause of the day so far.
The nerve-wracking cycle sorely tested Andy’s emotional equilibrium. A burst of talent, followed by a clinical, often harsh dissection from the mentors. Anxiety, which would briefly subside into awe, only to come roaring back. He fought to keep from wiping his hands, slick with sweat, on his pants as his heart beat hammered in his chest.
While it had been hours since Andy had seen the set list, he knew he’d have to be going up soon. But his breath still caught in his throat when a PA holding a tablet approached his row during one of the commercial breaks, waving him over.
“Knock ‘em dead, Sacramento,” Leo whispered as Andy stood and made his way out to the aisle.
Andy joined a handful of other contestants being led backstage, where he was presented to yet another PA with a tablet. No, he realized, as they lifted a wireless mic pack from the table behind them. A sound tech.
“Name?”
“Andy Kim.”
The sound tech found Andy’s name on the tablet’s screen and nodded. “You’re doing XTC’sRandom Geography. Live vocals, yeah?” Andy nodded. “Handheld mic or earset?”
Andy had struggled endlessly with that choice when he rehearsed. The handheld made for better vocals, but the earset freed up both his hands. “Earset.”
The first performers to go after the break were already onstage by the time Andy had been fitted with his in-ear monitors, earset mic, and a new wireless pack. Then someone led him and the remaining guys in his group to a space backstage where they could watch the performances on a monitor. Andy did his best to ignore the flock of cameras circling them, focusing instead on the monitor with the others, sharing his genuine reactions with the strangers beside him as if they were the best of friends while trying not to let his nerves show.
A tug on his sleeve dragged Andy’s attention away from the performance. “Hey. You’re up next.” Andy gulped and nodded, letting the PA lead him to the stage entrance, where she gave his shoulder a final, firm squeeze. “You’ve got this.”
After filling his lungs and blowing out a long, slow breath, Andy stepped out from the darkness of the wings into the blinding white heat of the stage. The vast, empty space. The rows of his competitors, now a faceless sea of black tracksuits. The looming dais where the four mentors sat, their expressions stern and focused. For a split second, the anxious hum threatened to return. Then, his fear vanished, subsumed by the live-wire buzz of pure adrenaline. This was his sanctuary. The one place in the world where he was in complete control.
Andy straightened his shoulders and strode to the center mark on the stage, a genuine, easy smile spreading across his face. “Hello,” he said, his voice clear and steady, with no trace of the nerves that had plagued him all day. “I’m Andy Kim, and this isRandom Geographyby XTC.”
A few raised eyebrows and one knowing nod disrupted the judges' otherwise stoic expressions. A bold choice, performing that song. A dangerous one, even. With all the recent coming out drama surrounding XTC’s former leader, Woo Tae Hyun, covering one of their songs was a gamble. But it was his favorite XTC track, pulsing with a restless, hopeful energy he connected with on a primal level. It was a risk, but in a room of a hundred hopeful idols, playing it safe was the same as being invisible.
The first note of the backing track echoed through the hall, a familiar synth chord that felt like home. The driving bass line kicked in, and Andy moved. His voice, a clear, steady tenor, expanded through the silence of the hall as he sang the opening verse, his breath control perfect even as his body snapped into the first sequence of moves. He inhabited the choreography like a second skin. A sharp turn flowed into a liquid body roll. An intricate footwork sequence ended in a sudden, sharp stop, perfectly on beat. His movements were clean and precise, but with a looseness in his shoulders and a confident swagger that was all his own, with no hint of his former zombie creep.
Andy wasn't thinking anymore. He just felt the music, the story, and the burn in his muscles. He soared. Bright, flat lighting illuminated the mentors’ faces with perfect clarity. As he launched into the song’s powerful chorus, he lifted his gaze and made eye contact. He met Riki’s intense stare without wavering. He found Cipher’s loose, unimpressed gaze and held it. He clocked Hwa Young’s critical eye tracking his every line, and hit his mark with a defiant flourish.
Andy finally abandoned the anxious kid from Sacramento, stepping right into the role of an accomplished idol. He was a performer. This was his stage. The final note swelled, a powerful, sustained high note that he held, and held, before cutting it off into perfect, ringing silence. He landed in his final pose, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temple, the last beat of the song echoing in the vast, quiet hall. For a moment, there wasnothing. Just the sound of his heaving breath and the blood roaring in his ears. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. He stayed in pose, his muscles screaming, his mind blank.
A single set of hands started clapping, sharp and enthusiastic. Startled, Andy looked up, scanning the risers to find the source. Leo. He was on his feet, grinning, his applause echoing in the silence. A beat later, someone else joined in, then a dozen more, until the entire hall was filled with a wave of cheers and applause from the other contestants. Andy grinned with a profound, giddy relief so potent it almost made him buckle. He straightened up, performing a deep, breathless bow.
Si Woo let the applause roll for a long moment, a strangely satisfied smile on his face, before raising a hand to quiet the room. “Wow,” his voice boomed. “Andy Kim, everyone! A truly powerful performance. Mentors, let’s get your thoughts. Riki, we’ll start with you.”
Riki leaned into her microphone, her rosy-cheeked smile leaving no doubt that the vocal mentor was deeply impressed. “That was, without a doubt, the best performance we’ve seen all day.” Andy’s heart leaped. “You took a risk with that song choice, Andy. And you completely reinterpreted the choreography. You didn’t just cover the song. You made it your own. It was true showmanship.”
“Thank you, seonsaengnim,” Andy breathed, bowing again, a genuine, joyful smile spreading across his face.
“Hwa Young?” Si Woo prompted. “What did you think?”
