"NEXT is Mi Na Choi from the Seoul National University in South Korea, the piece she will be performing is an original."

I breathe in heavily as I make my way from backstage with my beloved cello in my hand. God I'm so nervous right now I might sh*t myself during this performance.

I bow before sitting on the chair placed exactly front center stage, and with another heavy sigh I begin to play. I wrote this piece myself so I'm confident that I'll perform well, I close my eyes as I become lost in the music.

I begin to think about what her smile might look like, how her soft voice would sound as she sings to me and how beautiful her angelic laughter would sound. I instantly become another person with this performance. 

Then one of the strings pop. 

Then I piss myself. 

The incessant buzzing of my phone on the night stand wakes me up from my nightmare, breathing heavily I place my hand on my chest as I try to calm myself down. I have an audition with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra in three months, and every other night I have that stupid nightmare of the cello strings popping and either sh*ting or pissing myself.

With a groan I reach over and pick up the phone which is still buzzing away and answer miserably. "Yes?" I run my hand over my face tiredly.

"Is this Choi Mi Na?" I sigh loudly with a groan, "I'm a representative from Starship Entertainment-"

I quickly interject, "I'm sorry you have the wrong number, this is a Chinese food place," I hang up in a flash then hit my head on the pillow with a huff.

It's been two days since I left YG and I've been getting calls left, right, and center from different agencies. How they got my contact information still puzzles me, it's not like my name is in the credits on all the work I've done.

I decided to keep my identity a secret for various reasons, too bad I failed at that. I sit up once again and yawn, with a lazy stretch I walk towards the bathroom with the intention of hopping in the shower.

I have the day off from both school and practice so I guess I might wander around Seoul until inspiration hits. I still haven't finished my piece for my audition so I'll need all the help I can get.

Oh great Ludwig van Beethoven and the ever benevolent Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, as of right now I'm praying for some blessings, or your talent. 

After my quick shower I got dressed in my favourite distressed jeans and one of my many sweaters. I shrug as I look at my hair in the mirror, then headed towards the door while humming a soft tune.

The few maids we have at the house bow at me as I pass by on my way to the kitchen. Grabbing both an apple and my cello, I exit through the back door with a little pep in my step.

Before I arrive at the main gate, my driver pulls up at my feet and