Second Try Idol

Stepping onto the stage and hearing the first cheers was always exhilarating for me. The anticipation and excitement embedded in those cheers and the audience’s curiosity about who was performing, what they were wearing, and the performance they would deliver, infused me with a delightful tension. Watching a stage that I was unable to join became an increasingly bitter and regretful experience for me.

“It's starting. Wow, I'm getting nervous too... What should I do? What should I do, hyung?"

I longed to be up there. I was physically able to go up. I was not injured, and it would feel right to be on stage.

“This feels really odd."

Watching from the sidelines was not enough, so I exaggerated my reactions for the camera. Despite my spirited attempts to disguise my disappointment by waving my hands at Su-Hwan excessively and talking a lot, I couldn’t hide my true feelings. Even Reina, Callia Lawrence, and the director offered me consoling words.

“It would have been great to be there with them, Hyun-Woo."

It was then that I managed to show a truly somber expression on camera. “Yes... I really wanted to join them. I feel incredibly sorry for the members."

Reina approached playfully and draped her arm around my shoulder. “You will be up there soon. Let's watch the members perform. Hyun-Woo, do you want something to drink?" she asked, handing me a yogurt drink.

“...Thank you. Oh, it’s from Korea."

Sipping the yogurt and being comforted by those around me made me feel momentarily like a child.

The members’ performance unfolded smoothly. My solo part was entirely taken over by Jin-Sung, who performed brilliantly in his own style as the main dancer despite his initial anxiety backstage. His nervousness disappeared once he was on stage.

“Wow, Jin-Sung is doing well. To think he's this good after just one day of practice?"

“He’s truly talented. I am always impressed by his talent."

While the intense choreography slightly diminished the initial desperate vibe of “Chronos,” Jin-Sung's charisma enhanced the performance and elicited a better audience response than mere replication would have.

From the start, the performance was captivating and successfully captured the audience's attention early on. Unfortunately, the most iconic part of the “Chronos” choreography where I was pulled backward had to be omitted. Apparently, no one else could replicate it properly.

Afterward, the members took turns handling my parts across two stages and performed them admirably.

“They did really well," I commented as I gestured toward the members while facing the camera. “Wasn’t their performance fantastic?"

- Yes, they did well.

“This is Chronos. Ladies and gentlemen, these are our members," I announced with pride and prepped with the production team to join the stage.

I warmed up my throat while listening to the members. A renewed wave of regret washed over me, prompting me to nervously bite my lip. I thought to myself that I could have performed today. The stage lights were bright and the breeze was cooling. There wouldn’t have been an incident like yesterday’s.

Of course, after yesterday’s turmoil and my collapse, being kept off the stage was inevitable due to everyone’s concerns. But still…

Joo-Han pointed toward the backstage area and called out my name as the introduction of additional members concluded.

“Hyun-Woo, it's time for you to go on stage."

“Okay!”

As I made my way to the stage, I looked at the members with a wistful expression. They simply smiled joyously to welcome me. The audience, who was satisfied with the earlier performances, greeted me with tremendous enthusiasm. On that dark night that was illuminated only by the stage lights, I could see the audience holding drinks and merchandise while enjoying the electrified atmosphere.

“Hyun-Woo, how does it feel to stand on stage and see this?"

“Wow, honestly, I’ve been wanting to get up here. To see it from this perspective... Everyone, it’s an incredible experience."

My attempts at English were met with cheers. Phones were capturing every single angle of us from all directions, and Rings cheered us on. The atmosphere was liberally spirited. As the audience marveled at us, I took a moment during Joo-Han’s song introduction to really look at them.

People holding colorful plastic cups started entering the front row of the audience seat while having lively conversations. Goh Yoo-Joon informed me by whispering, “Look, those are Alectroz’s people."

Alectroz and his dancers were the ones who had clashed in a cypher diss battle with Callia Lawrence during the rehearsal. They seemed to have come not specifically for our performance, but perhaps because they remembered the confrontation from earlier. I was certain they hadn’t come for our stage because Alectroz was still scoffing at us with his dancers.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I was sure it wasn’t anything nice because of the way they pointed at us with their cups and giggled exactly how Alectroz had mocked someone in a documentary I had seen before.

I leaned toward Goh Yoo-Joon and whispered in a way no one would notice, “Are they here to see how good we are?"

All the artists from America were mean. I thought I heard Callia Lawrence's almost scream-like swearing from behind, but I decided that was just my imagination.

“Then, let's start with ‘Parade.’"

After the introduction of the song, we adjusted our formation. The lights went out.

“Woah!!!" The gasps of the audience here sounded different from those of the stages in Korea.

Soon, the prepared video started playing from the screen behind us.

One of the biggest differences between street performances and large concert venues like this were the immersion factors, such as video and lighting effects that enhanced the stage experience. Even though it was just a montage of end-of-year performance clips, it was enough to make the audience curious about the unique atmosphere of “Parade.”

The screen showed a pastel-colored flower garden with someone standing in the middle. Lee Jin-Sung looked like he could be the ringmaster of a fantasy circus from a movie. He stared emotionlessly at the screen.

Throughout the video, a faint beeping noise gradually became louder until it abruptly cut off before it could become painful to the ears. The scene switched to show an abandoned workshop. The audience, who had been freely chatting and enjoying themselves, had now quieted down to watch the video on the screen.

The visual quality of the video had always been highly praised in Korea, and this was no different abroad. People everywhere appreciated beautiful and impressive sights. The time allotted for our performance was so short that the production team had to omit or edit most of the holiday stage footage. Except for Jin-Sung, only locations were shown instead of other members.

The mysterious yet somewhat eerie video ended with a leather bracelet falling from someone's wrist. It turned into a gold-framed pocket watch and shattered before gradually fading to black.

***

“What's their name again?”

“Chronos, Chronos! How many times do you need to be told?”

“...Do I need to remember that? It’s enough just to watch them once anyway.”

The director in charge of this festival's filming grumbled. Was Chronos so unknown that they came this prepared for such a stage? This was a production one might see at an awards ceremony, or rather, a rather rare one for this festival.

Unsure whether it was scorn or admiration, the camera director gestured to a staff member behind him. “Go ask the head director if they really intend to edit them out."

Famous artists weren’t invited to this festival just to rake in money. They also consistently delivered high viewership ratings on television each year. It was for this reason that the broadcast was pre-recorded—to prevent any mishaps—and, naturally, the Korean boy group Chronos was not listed among the televised artists.

‘This production might just attract attention,’ the camera director thought. Chronos’ performance was far better than performers who just drank and sang carelessly on stage, soliciting applause before hastily exiting. Even the previous two performances, which the members had hastily tried to cover up the fact that they were missing a member, had been decent enough.

However, the staff member returned shaking his head. “They said it will be edited out. They were annoyed by the question, saying it had an obvious answer."

“Ah, okay. Thanks for asking," the camera director said. He returned his focus to the stage. The recently shown video had perfectly matched his taste, so that had prompted him to ask again. He thought it could stir some interest.

‘After all, we haven't even seen their final stage yet.’

The previous two performances had not been carried out with full members, so he had no intention of broadcasting them even if there was a chance for that to happen. Despite a well-made video, the upcoming performance could still turn out to be a mess. Therefore, he blamed himself for not being more cautious.

The stage was dark, the audience was quiet, and the footsteps of several people on stage could be heard distinctly. A spotlight fell on the other side. There were six dancers and a platinum-haired guy kneeling at the center with his head lowered. What they were about to do was unclear, but the initial engagement was top-notch.

With the full ensemble including the last member, it remained to be seen what kind of performance the group would deliver and the capabilities of the last member.

The director, staff, and audience all focused intently on Suh Hyun-Woo. They waited for him to move. Moments later, the audience fully recognized the aura of the platinum-haired protagonist. The other dancers began to stir and rise like black smoke, matching the rhythm of the song.

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