The sun had barely risen, but Kim Chong-kook was already up, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His eyes were swollen, but something inside him felt clearer than it had in years. The weight hadn't vanished, but it had shifted—finally carried by his own hands.
He dressed carefully. A plain hoodie, black jeans, and the scuffed sneakers he'd danced in for years. Nothing fancy. But today wasn't about looking the part.
It was about becoming it.
"Eat something," Seokjin said, handing him a sandwich.
Kim shook his head, nerves strangling his appetite. "I'll eat after."
Seokjin didn't argue. Just patted his back, hard enough to hurt a little. "No matter what happens, you walked through the door. That's more than most people ever do."
Mapo-gu. A small building sandwiched between a nail salon and an old gimbap place. No signs, no crowds. Just a single sheet of A4 paper taped to the glass door: "Trainee Auditions Today – 10AM."
Kim hesitated outside for a moment, gripping the plastic sleeve with his demo CD. His hand trembled .
Then he stepped inside.
The fluorescent lights flickered. The lobby smelled like cheap ramen and floor cleaner. A woman behind the desk glanced up from her phone. "Name?"
"Kim Chong-kook."
She handed him a slip. "Eighteen. Wait in the hall."
The hallway buzzed with quiet tension. Around him, young boys—slimmer, more polished—stretched in practiced ways, whispered vocal warm-ups under their breath. Designer sneakers. Perfect skin. Confident eyes.
Kim sat in the corner.
He didn't stretch.
He didn't warm up.
He just breathed—slow and shaky.
And waited.
When his number was called, he stood on legs that barely felt solid.
The audition room was colder than the hallway. Sterile. Three judges sat behind a folding table. One typing. One scrolling. One sipping an iced americano with a straw. None looked up.
"Name?"
"Kim... Kim Chong-kook ."
"Age?"
"Twenty-one."
Finally, the judge with the iced coffee glanced up. "Bit late to be auditioning, huh?"
Kim swallowed hard. "I started late, but I've been training myself for years."
The man hummed. Not impressed. Just... neutral.
"Vocal or dance first?"
"Vocal," Kim said.
He placed his phone on the small stand, started the instrumental track. It was a ballad he loved—one he used to sing in secret when he was supposed to be memorizing maths and science formulas.
The first few notes shook.
But then came the verse.
He forgot about the room, the judges, the cold. He wasn't singing to impress. He was singing because it was all he had left to give.
When it ended, the silence hit like a slap.
"You've got a nice tone," the iced coffee judge said. "But zero control. Any formal vocal training?"
"No, sir."
The judge behind the laptop sighed. "You'd be 22 before training ends. Do you understand how behind that is in this industry?"
Kim's shoulders tensed.
"And your dance?"
He nodded. "Yes, sir."
The track played. He danced. Not perfectly. His foot slipped once. His timing was off at the start. But every step carried years of longing.
He danced like he needed this.
When it ended, he stood in silence, sweat dripping.
One of the judges finally spoke. "Thanks for coming. We'll contact you."
He knew what that meant.
Outside, the wind was sharper now. The sky gray.
He walked for a long time. Nowhere in particular. Just away.
He found a bench near an alleyway and sank into it. The city buzzed around him—so alive, so unaware.
His phone buzzed.
[ 1 New Message - Seokjin ]
"How did it go? Want me to bring home some tteokbokki?"
Kim stared at the message for a long time.
Then he typed slowly: "Didn't make it. But yeah… bring tteokbokki."
That night, they sat on the floor, eating from the plastic container.
Seokjin didn't say anything.
He didn't need to.
Kim ate in silence, but his eyes stayed wide open—not with sadness, but with thought. The sting of rejection was real, but it was different from before. This wasn't the kind of failure that crushed him.
This one... shaped him.
"I'm gonna try again," he said suddenly.
Seokjin looked up.
"Good," he said, chewing. "Because I already bookmarked three more audition posts."
Kim stared at him.
Seokjin smirked. "You didn't think I'd let my little brother quit after round one, did you?"
Kim laughed—quiet, tired, but real.
This wasn't the end.
It was the very beginning.