FLD Ch 18

At that, the guy who had been throwing around familiarity with everyone since earlier looked at me as if this was the question he’d been waiting for.

“I’m nineteen!”

“Oh, me too.”

And then, one by one, the others started stating their ages.

“I’m twenty-one.”

“I’m twenty.”

While a pile of information I wasn’t particularly curious about accumulated, Han Sehee finally spoke, “I’m twenty-two.”

I replied, doing my best not to show how pleased I was, “Looks like I am the oldest, then. I don’t plan on throwing my weight around just because of my age, so you don’t have to feel uncomfortable.”

It would probably make me seem more likable if I added one more line here. After a quick calculation in my head, I added, “Let’s all work well together while we’re filming.”
A half-hearted cheer followed.

“Wooo.”

“Wow.”

As the brief, awkward applause died down, the choreographer who would be leading our team arrived, and full-scale practice began. After that, Han Sehee responded reasonably well to a few people who were trying to be friendly, while diligently following the choreographer’s guidance. As for me, it wasn’t that I was unprepared because I couldn’t dance at all, just that I hadn’t had the environment to practice properly. My fundamentals were still there, so I quickly caught up with the pace. About two hours in, only Han Sehee and I had completely memorized the basic group choreography.

“Alright, then, Sehee and Youngwon, step back for a bit. Everyone else, come forward. Especially you, Woosik. Watch closely, understand it properly, then follow along.”

I silently cheered at the opportunity of being left alone with Han Sehee in the back, but nothing as special as I’d hoped actually happened.

“…”

“…”

With the lesson still ongoing in front of us, it wasn’t like we could talk loudly, and it felt a bit rude to interrupt the brief chance to catch our breath. Still, if not now, who knew when I’d get another chance to speak to him? Thinking I had to do something, I looked at Han Sehee. Han Sehee, too, lifted his head and looked back at me quietly. Surprisingly enough, it was Han Sehee who spoke first, “Um… I saw you during the rank evaluation before. You’re really good at singing.”

And my response to that precious first exchange was idiotically simple, “Yes.”

Yes? Yes, what? I wanted to grab myself by the collar and shake some sense into me. But nothing else came out. Han Sehee was looking at me. He spoke to me. Why? Those pointless thoughts tore through my head, and in my effort not to look flustered, I stiffened my face into a blank expression and answered curtly. What is wrong with me? Objectively, I wasn’t the most sociable person, but I wasn’t this clumsy either. Yet standing in front of Han Sehee, words refused to come out, and my heart kept racing. I’m not blushing again, am I? I subtly checked my reflection at the edge of my vision, pretending not to look. Thankfully, my complexion was unchanged.

The problem was that “unchanged” meant I was still wearing a cold, unreadable expression that didn’t look particularly friendly.

“Ah… it was really cool….”

Perhaps he misunderstood my response as a sign that I didn’t want to talk, because after that, Han Sehee said nothing more. I, too, seemed to have turned into a fool, unable to think of a single natural thing to say. Clenching my fist inwardly, I fixed my gaze on the other members practicing. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Why did I give such a stupid answer back there? I needed to get a grip. I had to leave some kind of better impression.

Ah, my head hurts.

While that was happening, the coaching for the stragglers ended and group practice resumed.

“Okay, Sunhyeok comes forward here, good, Sehee goes back! Yes, that’s it. One-two, ta-ta-tan. Stop here, then move back together….”

Thanks to having built up my stamina in advance, the practice wasn’t particularly exhausting. The movements were big and looked intense, but the difficulty itself wasn’t that high. If you’d lived the trainee life at all, shouldn’t you be able to pick this up within a few hours? That thought crossed my mind, but once again, the only ones who actually demonstrated it were Han Sehee and me.

“Sehee and Youngwon, and Gyuwon too, step back. Everyone else forward. Woomin just needs a bit more polishing.”

The only difference this time was that one more person joined us in the back. Other than that, nothing much changed. Gyuwon made a brief attempt to talk to Han Sehee and me, but since the rest of the group wasn’t progressing smoothly, silence quickly settled again.

I shouldn’t make him feel burdened. If I act friendly for no reason and get labeled as someone burdensome, it’s over. With that thought locking up my head, I felt lost, unsure what to do.

Meanwhile, practice was gradually coming to an end. Once today was over, the next step was morning practice, then moving to the team shoots, right? And after that, the 77-member group cut. So there would be another chance to meet again, but….

As I was mulling that over, the instructor brought the three of us who had been resting back into the formation. I quietly stood up and returned to my starting position.

By the time the practice that had lasted almost the entire day finally ended, it was already night. Since the production team had rented the practice room for the whole day, they provided lunch boxes for dinner, so things ran later than originally scheduled. At this rate, the next team practice before filming would probably get eaten up again by babysitting the weaker members. A few trainees were at such a serious level that there likely wouldn’t be time to coach me, Han Sehee, or even the others who had kept up fairly well.

‘So does that mean the three of us are basically on our own now…’

A good idea suddenly occurred to me. Of course, he wasn’t bad as he was, but there were areas that could look much better with just a bit more refinement—the way he finished his fingers mid-movement, the angle of his leg lift during turns. If those details were tweaked slightly, the performance would read much cleaner on screen.

If I pointed these things out to Han Sehee and the final footage turned out well, it would benefit him too. Wouldn’t he form a better impression of me for helping him look better? It was the kind of thinking I was used to, always asking people with an eye I trusted to tear my work apart mercilessly whenever I lacked confidence. Bowing my head to people who could give proper advice was a hundred times better than releasing a half-baked result into the world.

Having reached that conclusion, I spent the rest of the practice watching Han Sehee’s movements through the mirror with a hawk’s eye. This could be lifted a little higher; that could be adjusted… As I mentally listed everything one by one, practice came to an end.

“Alright, everyone, good work today. See you on Wednesday~.”

The choreographer let out a long sigh and dismissed us. The moment he did, I called out to Han Sehee as if I’d been waiting for it.

“Excuse me.”

This won’t look weird, right? Trying hard not to show how tense I was, I called out to him. As he was about to leave the practice room with the others, he turned around and said, “You can just talk casually.”

I replied immediately, “No, I can’t.”

That would look too familiar. And honestly, I didn’t think I could handle that level of closeness yet. Han Sehee flinched slightly, looking surprised, then nodded awkwardly.

“Ah, okay….”

He lifted his head and looked at me, as if asking what it was. Thinking I shouldn’t waste any more of his time, I got straight to the point.

“I noticed during practice that there are a few things that might look even better with just a little adjustment. Would it be okay if I pointed them out?”

Han Sehee’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, then he nodded, “Ah, yes. I’d appreciate it if you did….”

Good. Hearing that he’d appreciate it put me at ease. See? The talented ones are always ready to accept feedback.

Even though he was destined to land a heavy blow to the back of my head in less than half a year if I did nothing, his raw potential was so solid that he didn’t look offended at all—if anything, he seemed slightly receptive. I gathered my courage and spoke.

“First, when you’re waiting during the intro, your right knee sits a little higher—it’s probably a habit. Some people pay close attention to things like that, so try engaging both legs evenly and matching the height. At the beginning, when you sing ‘the brightest star is,’ the angle of your arm lift is slightly high; it’d look better if you lower it just a bit.

During ‘your heart,’ you’re not fully extending your hand either—if you straighten it all the way and bring your thumb in like this, it looks much cleaner. When you do ‘Shooting star!’ your shoulders rise, which I don’t think is intentional; keeping them down will make your proportions look better. And at ‘the one who chose me,’ your fingers don’t fold cleanly—if you tuck your thumb in and make a neat fist like this, it’ll read much more naturally on camera.”

Here, I paused briefly to take a breath, then continued.