I spent two days holed up in my room listening to the disk I had been given. Final mixes, studio tracks, instrumentals, the whole deal. Regretfully, I did not have internet access, so I was unable to research their previous concepts, but I made do with what I had. I turned my columns of one word notes into full-fledged reports on each of these guys. There was potential there, but if I was going to commit to a long-term project, I needed to be sure I could produce a great track to make my time worthwhile. At the end of the second day, I scheduled a meeting for the next day with just myself and the six performers. I made it very clear that I did not want any member of management present. Luckily Jellyfish Entertainment was at my mercy, so they didn’t have grounds to object.

Once everything was settled, I sat back on my small twin bed and sighed. I was tired. This was a tough call. On the one hand, these guys were talented, for sure. They were a diverse group of six that had a lot to offer, but was this a market that would even accept this type of collaboration? Would there be any success here? If it was successful, what then? Would this see the light of day in America? Did it even matter? All of these questions plagued me. At the end of the day, I needed to follow my gut. I resolved to give these guys one more chance to win me over that next day. Do or die, as they say.

After a night of restless sleep, I woke several minutes before my alarm. After preemptively silencing it, I sat up, once again staring at my notes. It certainly could not be called reading; I could recite just about every word from memory by now. I was simply taking in the thing itself, that piece of paper that could honestly affect seven careers. My own could be affected by this decision as well. What if I spent six months over here? Would I fade into obscurity back home? Would a comeback be impossible? Yet more questions I could not answer. I took a deep breath, attempting to clear my head. Once I was up and ready, I made my way down to the lobby of the building to inquire after the location of my meeting.

The young Korean woman at the front desk informed me that my meeting with VIXX would be in the dance practice room upstairs, coincidentally just a few doors down from my room. When I turned to go back upstairs, I froze as I watched the six members of VIXX file out of what appeared to be a conference room  and head for the same stairwell, presumably to head to our meeting. It did not escape my notice that they had been outfitted with the same armbands as before. As they approached, Orange leading the way, they noticed me. Graciously they bowed in turn, each saying something to the effect of “I anticipate working with you,” as they passed by. That is until Yellow, at the end of the line, stopped in front of me. His armband was in his hand, and he looked at me with those sharp eyes of his. His hair had been bleached to an alarming shade of bright blonde, a striking contrast to the all-black outfit he was wearing. After an awkward moment of glaring, he shoved the armband toward me.

“My name is Leo,” he spoke, his voice was quiet and softly musical, but he still managed to sound forceful, almost violent.

I was visibly startled at the display, and I stared dumbfounded for a moment at his outstretched hand that offered the yellow fabric. Was he offended that I color coded them? I had a feeling that explaining at this moment was not the appropriate time or place. I nodded pensively, making a dramatic showing of crossing out ‘Yellow’ from my notes and writing ‘Leo’ largely above it. I finally looked up into his face. He looked smugly at my notebook, nodding in approval. Suddenly, I gave him a warm smile, and took the hand before me. It was his turn to be startled, as he flinched at the contact. I held firm however as I spoke to him, “It’s very nice to meet you, Leo. I look forward to our meeting.”

As he did on stage a few days before, he fought hard not to meet my gaze. His determined look was gone, as this was certainly not the response he had been expecting. He seemed unable to speak, so I took the armband and released him. Like a wild animal finally released into the wild, he took off immediately, slinking away. As I watched after him, I couldn’t help but notice the back of his neck burned red. Anger? Embarrassment? Waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs was Red, looking delightfully amused.

 “What did she do to you?” I heard him tease. Leo responded, but I could not hear what was said over the sound of my own laughter. I couldn’t help it. The poor guy- he was trying to stand up for himself, and I respected that. But it was too funny to see him so unaccustomed to such direct behavior. He was going to have a hard time adjusting to my American manners if I was going to stick around here.

“Oh, Leo,” I called again. He stopped, but didn’t turn. I continued, “You didn’t have to dye your hair the same color as your armband!” I heard Red roar with laughter as he rushed up the stairs after Leo, who had took off the moment the words left my lips. I could practically feel his seething from where I stood. I looked down at the innocent piece of yellow fabric in my hand. What a silly thing to be so upset over, but for some reason, I chose to slip it into my pocket as I made my way upstairs.

When I reached the dance practice room, I was surprised to find them all sitting on the floor. As I entered the room, the idle banter stopped, and they all stood and bowed, introducing themselves as VIXX again. I grimaced and waved my hands in frustration, “Stop, stop,” I insisted, watching their faces fall in confusion. “Look,” I started, “IF we’re going to work together, we have to treat each other like equals, okay?” They all defaulted to looking towards Orange, who looked like a deer in headlights. He stammered for a moment, so I continued, “I’m not asking you to drop all your habits right away, I’m just saying that I’m a musician, you’re all musicians, and we’re coming together to make some good music. I’m also American. If you’re going to work with me, I’m going to be honest and blunt with you. I’m not some fragile girl who will blush and giggle. I laugh loudly, I curse, and I’m not going to spend an hour to look pretty while we’re working.”

There was a long and heavy silence. Maybe I had come on a little strong there, but I was getting frustrated with the formalities. Finally a voice came through, “You’re pretty no matter what you do,” is certainly not what I expected to hear. I raised my eyebrows at Purple, the offending individual. He gave me an exaggerated wink.

“I guess I don’t need to worry about you, at least,” I muttered under my breath with a little sigh. The exchange managed to ease the tension in the room.

Orange smiled again, and gave a nod instead of a bow, “We will do our best,” he stated, though still very politely. It was a start.

“Okay then,” I began again, pacing in front of them, notebook in hand, “before I lay some American honesty on all of you, let’s start over. I am grateful that you all humored me with your colored armbands the other day. I was not given your names, and this helped me keep track of you throughout your choreography,” I paused, looking pointedly at Leo, who just as pointedly looked at a particularly interesting spec on the ground. Unable to repress my smirk, I continued, “My name is Mira. I come from the United States, and if you guys impress me today, then I will have the pleasure of working with you on your next concept.”

I had decided it was time to learn their names. My decision was imminent, but I figured I didn't have time to get attached in case it didn't work out. Out of courtesy I approached Orange first, and extended my hand to him. He was clearly unaccustomed to shaking hands so readily, but his hesitation was short lived as he took my hand. “My name is N,” he stated confidently with a bright smile.

“N?” I clarified, “Like the English letter N?” I asked, supressing a little chuckle.

“Yes,” he said firmly, his smile spreading as I laughed.

I looked around at all of them who were stifling laughter themselves, “Alright, then,” I said, “All of you who have stage names will have to introduce themselves properly sometime.”

“So will you,” a familiar soft voice spoke up quickly. Leo, of course, would be a stage name as well.

“So I will,” I repeated, “it’ll be a trade then.” I turned back to N, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, N.”

I replaced ‘Orange’ with ‘N’ on my notes as I stepped to the side, finding myself face to face with Red, whose dimpled smile greeted me just as eagerly as his already outstretched hand. I took it as he spoke, “My name is Hongbin. Lee Hongbin. I’m the only one brave enough to go by my real name.”

“The only one?” I clarified incredulously.

“Hey!” Green piped up from down the line, “I do too!”

“It doesn’t count, you shortened it,” Hongbin dismissed him quickly, dropping my hand in order to dismiss the pouting Green.

Instead of being shooed, Green stepped forward, cutting in line to take the initiative to greet me, “My name is Sanghyuk, but I just go by Hyuk.”

I quickly replaced ‘Red’ with ‘Hongbin’ and ‘Green’ with ‘Hyuk’ on my notepad before shaking the young boy’s hand. “Well it’s nice to meet you both,” I nodded to both of them before looking expectantly to the remaining three. I wasn’t surprised when Purple approached, giving a dramatically low bow.

“It is an honor to meet you, Mira,” he said, taking my hand and placed a gentle kiss on my knuckles. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help but smile some. “My name is Ken,” he introduced, yet again giving me a flirtatious wink. I heard a mix of exasperated sighs and stifled laughter from the rest of the group. This appeared to be normal and expected behavior from this Ken.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, too, Ken,” I gingerly withdrew my hand from his grasp as I spoke, holding his gaze as I replaced his corresponding color with his name. I finally tore my eyes from his to look to Blue, the young man whose armband was not nearly as vibrant as his hair.

He approached me, his face friendly and approachable. From his smile I got that instant feeling that the two of us would get along just fine, and I felt myself relaxing as he held out his hand naturally. “Ravi,” he stated simply. His voice was deep and rich, and his smile was amazing. I don't think think I had seen teeth quite that white and perfect.

“A pleasure, Ravi,” I replied as I took his hand and shook it once. “I really like your getup right now,” I added with a smirk as I eyed his outfit. He was wearing cargo shorts, long striped socks, and tan boots. With his blue hair, he looked lifted out of the early 90’s.

“They say I’m the fashionable one,” he replied with a lazy grin. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Finally, Leo was the only one left. He still refused to look at me. I glanced to Ravi out of concern, but his face held no surprise. “Ah, yes,” Ravi began, “this is-“

“We’ve met,” I interrupted. “Leo,” I greeted simply.

Leo met my eyes for a fraction of a second, then his impossibly dark eyes left mine again as he bowed, “I apologize for earlier,” he said softly, sincerely. He was clearly embarrassed. I guess I couldn’t blame him. He made a big show out of casting aside his color and giving me his name when I was about to do that on my own anyway.

“It’s fine,” I dismissed, stepping back, letting it go for now. Leo was a strange one. An uncertain mix of aggressive and shy. I resolved to figure him out, but now would not be that day. I had finished replacing all of the colors with proper names as the boys cast off their offending pieces of fabric. “Alright, well for my last observation, your manager told me you would be filming your dance practice video today. I thought I’d sit in so I could watch you all up close this time, if that is alright with you, of course,” I added that last bit hastily. I would have to meet them partway on this whole customs and courtesies thing for now.

“Of course,” N said proudly, “we will do our best.”

And they certainly did their best. I’m glad I was able to sit in as they focused all of their efforts on the choreography without having to control their breathing or energy for the sake of singing. I had to admit I was impressed, even if there were some awkward transitions. Once the camera was off, the boys were catching their breath as I gestured for them to sit.

“Now,” I began, “are you ready for my feedback?” They were all clearly apprehensive. With no idea what my opinions were, they seemed to be dreading it. But one by one they all nodded. “Good,” I opened my notebook and spread out the many pages of notes I had, as I heard the boy’s murmur amongst themselves at the extensity of my observations. “Ravi,” I decided to just go down the line in the order they sat in on that first day, “sometimes your raps are off beat. Not in a good syncopated sort of way, but as if you’re outpacing the beat a little bit.” I paused to gauge their reactions. Ravi himself seemed to be listening intently, but the other boys started to fidget some; they clearly were not expecting such direct negative comments. I continued, “And bro," I began, laughter on my voice as I shook my head lightly, "we really need to work on your English pronunciation. English is my first language and I was confused what you were saying at the start of Voodoo.” I was rewarded with a coy smile from Ravi. At least he was taking it in stride.

“Ken,” I moved on directly, and saw Ken smile confidently, “you need to work on your vocal precision.” His face fell, the cockiness gone in an instant. I felt a little bit bad, which went against my whole objective judgement thing, but seeing him deflated was surprisingly heartbreaking. I coughed quietly once to clear my throat as I continued, "When faced with successive short notes, you try to hard to add your vocal color to them, and you lose the beat," I clarified quickly. “Your belts were sometimes a little off, and you seemed unsure of what vocal tone to use.” I finished the last sentence quickly, hoping to end his apparent suffering. I looked to Hongbin, whose face was already downcast, accepting his face. I chewed on the inside of my cheek for a moment, trying to gather my words in the most concise way possible to keep the sufferring to a minimum. “Hongbin, you sound very uncomfortable in the tenor ranges. Your voice is very strained and sticks out.” He didn't really react much, so perhaps this was a criticism he had heard before. I decided to keep it short, running through the rest of my notes quickly. “N, when you sing live, you often start your runs a bit on the flat side. Practice your cues so you come in on the right pitch," I crossed the note off of the page as I said it before continuing. "Hyuk, I feel like you haven’t figured out what kind of singer you are yet. You sang too much in your head on Eternity and it sounded out of place. And Leo,” I paused, surprised that he was actually looking at me, as if he were actually listening intently. Maybe this was something he actually cared about. I was thrown off for a moment before I shook my head to continue, “When you harmonize with Ken, I feel like it’s less of a harmony, and more of a battle. You need to know when it’s his turn and when it’s your turn and adjust your voice accordingly.” I took a breath, now that the hard part was over, “At least I hope that even if we don’t work together, you can take my criticism and work to improve yourselves.”

"So that’s it, then,” Ken said sadly, face downcast. He moved to stand.

“Wait, wait,” I said quickly, waving my hands to signal him to stop. Did they honestly think I ONLY had bad things to say? “You’ve endured my hate so well; you don’t want to stay for your reward?” They all looked at me in surprise. “Come on,” I teased, “do you really want my bashing to be the only actual conversation we have?”

“No,” Hyuk replied sheepishly, breaking the silence, and I saw him try to hide his smile.

“Good. Then let’s get to the good part then, shall we?” I scanned their relieved faces before I started again. I began again, in order, "Ravi, I don’t normally like rappers stuck into pop groups like this, but you,” I paused, watching him fail to fight his growing grin, “you are fantastic. Your voice is musical, and your singing voice is great! Your low register harmonies are on point. Great job.” I threw in a thumbs-up for good measure, and I was rewarded with his grin widening, his eyes squinting along with it.

“Ken,” I started again, watching him lean in eagerly. This kid was clearly a er for praise, “The character in your voice is incredible. Your range and flexibility are great. I love your voice. Your pure solos in Voodoo were so expertly executed. Very well done.” Ken seemed to be inwardly celebrating, so I moved on, “Hongbin, I said you were uncomfortable in your register. I don’t actually think that’s a bad thing, and certainly is not your fault. I think we need to take you deeper. Your speaking voice is very smooth and low, and I think if we work on it, you could add some great low register singing. Your rap accompaniments are also great.” Hongbin took his morsel of positive feedback rather stoicly, a hint of a dimple appearing on his cheeks as he repressed a tiny smile. “N,” I paused, shaking my head in disbelief, remembering their performance, “N, when you are on pitch, you are on it like a hawk. Your voice is so pure and so direct. I think your voice is the perfect transition and harmony voice. You will be an absolute pleasure to work with musically.” N remained quiet, but glanced smugly to Ken, pleased. I turned to the youngest. “Hyuk, I am so sad,” I had to admit I enjoyed teasing the young boy, as his face fell at my comment, “I am so sad that you are so underutilized.” The breath Hyuk had been holding released do forcefully I thought he would fall over. I laughed before continuing, “Your falsetto is great! I think you might need to lower your register, too, and your live vocals are a little bit shaky. But we can work on it.” I suddenly realized what I had been saying, and I quickly added, “If we work together.” I looked over to the final member to find that he was trying even harder to look anywhere but at me. So he was totally fine with criticsm but wanted nothing to do with praise? “Leo,” I called, hoping he would give me anything, even a hint of a smile. But there was nothing. Just a straight face filled with tension.

“Uh,” the voice came from Ravi, “Leo doesn’t do well with compliments.”

Doesn't do well? What's that supposed to mean? I guess I was about to find out. “I see,” I continued, “well that’s too bad, because Leo, your voice is so precise. Your staccato rhythmic vocals in Eternity were genuinely impressive.” I might have been laying it on a little thick, but watching his head sink even lower was just too entertaining, so I continued, “And that part in Eternity where you just belt that sustained note. I love Ken’s voice, but you made him sound like an amateur when he attempted the same thing a few bars later. I only regret that your producers turned your volume down so low.” He covered his face as I spoke, “Your harmonies and adlibs were great, but I would love to work with you on your melody singing.” His head was actually on the floor at that point so I decided to stop there, fighting hard to repress the urge to continue my teasing. I scanned all of them, “Overall, I feel that you have three great tenors that can pull off some tight harmonies and three great low register singers to compliment that. You six are unique in your wide ranges and your group dancing was really fun to watch.” I was speaking quickly now, slipping into occasional English as I rambled to myself, almost forgetting I had an audience. “I want to try to have you guys come together in the choreography multiple times. At the beginning is easy, but let’s see if we can push that limit,” I paused. I couldn’t string them along much longer. I had made my decision several minutes ago. “Send me your best lyricist and we’ll get started.” The boys were stock still as I moved to stand, then all at once they exploded into a million questions.

“So you’ll do it?” it was N’s question that mattered most.