The heavy bass of some upbeat track reverberates through the mirrored practice room as the song draws to its end.

Drenched in sweat, Jieun collapses on the floor, the only noise to be heard being her labored breathing. Tears well up in her eyes at yet another failed attempt at the routine her choreographer had assembled for her and the group of female trainees in her age group. A couple of the girls have obviously been recruited into YG for dance because their skills are inarguably beyond comparison. The other girls are at least making steady progress as they continue their rigorous training.

But Jieun’s a different story. In fact, she’s beginning to believe that she’s physically incapable of moving her body in ways other people can. Her dancing just doesn’t seem to improve, even though it’s been eight months since she’d joined the company as a trainee.

It’s a rarity for YG trainees to be picked straight off the streets, since they prioritize the hunt for talent over the “idol look,” so hardly any of their artists have been scouted. But Jieun had been invited in for a personal audition by President Yang himself after he’d stumbled upon her busking on a crowded street in Hongdae.

He’d sat her down for a discussion on how she’d discovered her love for music and performing.

Yang Hyunsuk sets down his cup of coffee and leans back in his chair, folding his hands across his lap and looking Jieun in the eyes across the table, patiently waiting—but still urging her not to waste time—for her to begin her story. She squeezes her hands to assure herself that she doesn’t have to be scared of him; he’s a high-profile man, and he won’t do anything to hurt her unless he wants his company to run into the ground.

“I, uh…my family has always struggled with money,” she begins awkwardly, her face flushing as she discloses her family’s less than ideal financial situation. “We’ve never been very well off—my dad works two jobs after being laid off from his law firm and my mom used to operate a laundromat before it went bankrupt—but our…our circumstances became worse when my mom was diagnosed with cancer three years ago.”

YG clucks his tongue in pity.

“Thankfully, the tumor was barely in its early stages, but my dad had to pick up another job to pay for her treatment.”

“What does he do?” YG asks. “If it’s personal, you don’t have to specify.”

“He doesn’t do anything bad; he’s a night cleaner at the Seoul Performing Arts Center, an English tutor for several neighborhood students, and now he’s also a delivery man for a Chinese restaurant.” Jieun’s usually embarrassed to tell people what her parents do for a living, but it just pours out of her easily in front of YG. Once you open the gates, they’re difficult to close.

He nods in understanding.

“Keep going.”

“I also have a younger brother who’s in his second year of middle school.”

“Who pays his tuition?”

“Our dad.”

“He pays for the medical bills and both your tuition fees?”

Jieun shakes her head in shame. “I’m taking a leave of absence from high school so he won’t have to work another job.”

“And you perform in the streets to help earn some more money?”

Jieun nods.

YG hums thoughtfully and begins tappin