I danced alone in a practice room – it must’ve been at least four in the morning by now.

The building was empty, and the usual bustling that sounded during the day had turned into a dead, cold quiet.

All I could hear was the thumping of his music and the squeaking of his shoes on the hard wood floor. For the last two weeks, I had been staying as long as I possibly could before going home, sometimes even opting to stay at the building and sleep on one of the couches since I was so exhausted and couldn’t work up the energy to go home.

I stopped dancing my routine and wiped the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve, breathing loudly. I needed to practice more – to show them I was perfect material to be an idol. Luckily, I had a big advantage over everyone else when it came to experience. We practiced all sorts of things, from singing and dancing, to have to behave to seniors, how to speak in shows, and how to make people notice you. In most things, I was above the other trainees, having had firsthand experience, but I didn’t want to let myself slack off. 

Because I needed this.

I hadn’t even seen Kang that much since the day I was accepted. I had dropped in maybe four times to do some work, and I was so lucky that Kang was being so flexible with me. He told me to drop in whenever I could to work, and I felt guilty for neglecting him, but I just needed a bit of an extra push of effort.

I had to be perfect. I had to.

My father’s life was hanging on the line, and that meant more to me then sore muscles and sheer exhaustion ever could. Tomorrow, we would have our fortnightly test in front of the judges. One in private, the other public so the other trainees and sunbae’s could get a good look at us.

I was completely confident with my dancing, but my singing… not so much. 

I was just hoping I could blow them away with my dancing so they wouldn’t take my voice into account. I guzzled down a bottle of water and turned to the mirror; I looked horrible. Dark bags painted under my eyes, and cheeks red as fire. But I needed to keep practicing, because if I did well enough, maybe they would let me sign a contract so that I was officially signed in with S.M. 

I warmed up my voice and tried again, my voice cracking. I growled in frustration and threw my bottle of water against the mirror, bouncing off with a follow thump. I had been trying to sing this damn song they gave us to practice all night, and I still couldn’t do it, so I tried again, and again, and again, but it wouldn’t work.

I didn’t want to do this anymore…

I wanted to go home.

I’d already tried hard enough, I’d done my best, so why couldn’t I do it? I slumped to the floor and crossed my legs, holding my head in my hands. If this was the best I could do, then maybe they were right. Maybe I only got in because of my connections. It would make sense. Because who would take on someone as useless as me?

I just wanted to give up.

The time had come for my test. My limbs were shaking in anticipation and anxiety. I knew I could dance well and blow everyone else out of the water. I’d been dancing all my life, so I knew I could do it better than people who had only had such a short time to practice, but my voice was still awful.

If I was a judge, I wouldn’t pick me.

The public fortnightly check up on our progress came first, and I was biting my nails as I watched everyone get up there and dance and sing – and I knew I had underestimated them. Some of them were brilliant. I had to stop myself from having a miniature freak out when I saw my dad and the super junior members go up and do their bit – and I thought they were all amazing.

I could see why they were so popular now.

Actually seeing them here was so much different from videos at home. When my dad sung, I had to stop myself from laughing. I could see where I got my terrible singing from. When he finished, he looked sad, then I felt a bit guilty for laughing. Not long after, it was my turn. My heart was thrumming in my chest, and my legs were shaky like jelly. Singing came first, and I knew that would be a big blow to my confidence – I wasn’t sure if I could dance properly after being so dejected.

I introduced myself and sang H.O.T’s Candy.

With one look at the audience and judges, I could tell they thought I was another dud trainee that would get kicked out within a couple of weeks.

I suppressed the urge to cry.

I looked over at my dad, and he wasn’t even looking at me. That stirred something inside me, both unpleasant and energizing. The music started for my dancing routine, and I poured my frustration into my moves, moving fluidly, popping, everything I had practiced. After I finished, and I was panting heavily, I smiled. I could hear people whispering, and even my dad was paying attention now.

I smiled at the judges, bowed, and sat down, feeling a renewed sense of pride.