Chapter 1
The glow of the screen was the only thing lighting Lee Jiwon’s small apartment. The clock on his desk had already passed midnight, but he hadn’t noticed. His playlist had ended hours ago, yet his cursor hovered over a random video thumbnail on Nutube.
The title didn’t mean anything to him at first. Just another trainee video, probably one of thousands. Still, he clicked. Maybe out of boredom. Maybe because the thumbnail caught the faint curve of someone’s smile mid-dance.
The music started – soft, slow at first, then sharp and precise.
Minjun moved like he was breathing through the rhythm itself. Every turn, every breath carried quiet control, like he’d poured his entire soul into the movement.
Jiwon leaned forward unconsciously.
He’d been through this once – the endless practices, the late nights, the unspoken comparisons. He knew what it meant to dance like that. To fight against exhaustion and still smile for the camera.
But this… this was different.
Minjun didn’t smile for the camera.
He danced like the world didn’t exist beyond that room.
And for the first time in a long while, Jiwon’s chest ached.
Something inside him – the part that had gone silent years ago when he quit, started to hum again.
By the end of the video, his hands were trembling. The replay button glowed at the corner of the screen, waiting.
He pressed it again. And again.
The same song. The same boy.
The same heartbeat pounding louder each time.
He laughed quietly to himself, half in disbelief. “What the hell am I doing…”
He didn’t know why that video felt so personal – like it wasn’t just a performance, but a confession.
The next morning, the rain hit Seoul’s streets in thin, steady lines.
Jiwon stared at the company building’s glass doors, his reflection staring back – tired eyes, messy hair, hesitation written all over his face.
He hadn’t planned this. He’d just searched up the company name in the video, found their open audition notice, and before he could second-guess himself, sent an application.
Now he was here.
Inside, the hallway buzzed with noise, nervous trainees stretching, laughing too loudly, the faint echo of music from the practice rooms.
Jiwon felt completely out of place, like a shadow among lights.
When his name was called, he stepped into the audition room with numb feet.
“Name?”
“Lee Jiwon,” he said softly.
They asked him to dance first. His body felt stiff at the start, each movement awkward and unsure. But as the music swelled, something inside him cracked open.
Halfway through, the hesitation faded, a strange clarity. He remembered the way Minjun had moved in that video: calm, honest, real.
Jiwon stopped trying to impress anyone. He just moved – sharp and sincerely.
When he finished, the room was quiet for a moment before one of the judges nodded.
“Thank you. You may go.”
Outside the door, Jiwon exhaled shakily. His heart felt too heavy, too alive.
Days turned into weeks.
Jiwon tried not to think about the audition, convincing himself he probably failed. He went back to his part-time job, pretending the urge to dance hadn’t come back.
But every night, he’d catch himself replaying Minjun’s video again – just once, he told himself, though it was never just once.
Two months later, when he had almost given up on hearing anything, his phone buzzed during a rainy evening.
An email.
For a moment, he couldn’t move. The glow of the screen blurred through the tears he didn’t even realize had formed.
He didn’t know what kind of person Kim Minjun really was. But if his presence could make Jiwon move again, even for a second – maybe that was enough reason to start over.
