This Life’s Universal Superstar

Chapter 4

Lemon Entertainment

Dancing had always been the one skill I could never master during my six long years as a trainee, thanks to my poor motor skills. But what if I could conquer it? I had lost track of all the debut chances that had slipped through my fingers. Many times, trainees who joined the company after I had would debut before me. And when I finally made it to the debut lineup, I was cut—all because of my dancing.

It wasn’t just getting dropped from TNT that made me give up on my dream of becoming an idol. The main reason was my dancing. But now, if I could overcome that… To find out, I decided to repeat the experiment I had just done. First, I filmed myself dancing as I normally would. Then, I watched a choreographer’s moves on MeTube and recorded myself again. When I reviewed the results, I could hardly believe my eyes.

No way. It worked?

What I had hoped might happen had actually come true. Even though only a minute had passed between recording the two videos, my movements had drastically improved. I was completely speechless. It felt like watching stars fall from the night sky—distant and surreal. The one thing that had always held me back, the reason I had been cut from the debut team, my biggest regret… It was suddenly gone. It felt like a dream.

My legs gave out, and I sank onto the cold winter sand, feeling the chill seep through my jeans. I just sat there, blankly staring at the night sky. Stars scattered across the vast darkness, and a half-hidden moon peeked from behind clouds.

I ran through the day’s events in my mind. I had saved an elderly man, seen that action movie in the hospital, gotten interviewed, and then come here to test this strange new ability. None of this was a dream. At first, I had doubted it, thinking it was impossible. And yet, the more I tested myself, the more certain I became. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I had somehow gained a new ability. It felt almost like a superpower.

I was so astonished that I started laughing. I laughed to myself for a while before brushing the sand from my jeans and getting back on my feet. Dancing was no longer an obstacle. I told Seokhwan I was done with the idol life, but even after leaving TJ Entertainment, I hadn’t been able to let it go. I had continued auditioning, only to be rejected every time.

The judges would start off smiling at my looks and voice, only to frown at my stiff, robotic movements. When they heard I had trained for six years, they would shake their heads. They probably thought that if that was the best I could do after six years, more time probably wouldn’t change anything.

Things were different now. Dancing was no longer a barrier. Which meant… I could try again. I could dream of the life I had given up—the path to becoming an idol. Maybe this time, I might make it.

***

“Hurry up and eat before the meat burns.”

“Huh? Oh, right.”

I snapped out of my thoughts at Seokhwan’s urging. The barbecue restaurant he had chosen was a popular spot in Eunpyeong-gu, a place I had always wanted to try during my trainee days but couldn’t afford. It was almost like he knew. I took a bite of the perfectly grilled rib eye, savoring the smoky, juicy flavor that only charcoal-grilled beef could deliver. Seeing my satisfaction, Seokhwan gave me a sympathetic look as he held the tongs.

“If anyone saw you now, they’d think I hadn’t fed you for days. Slow down. No one’s going to take it.”

“Aren’t you here to take me away, though?”

“Huh? Why would you think that?”

“Well, you ordered five servings of A5 marbled rib eye at 50,000 won each without batting an eye. This isn’t coming out of your pocket, and you mentioned the company card earlier. So… This isn’t just a personal meeting, is it?”

“Look at you, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Here, open wide.”

As a thank-you to my generous “sponsor” for the night, I wrapped a grilled slice of meat in a lettuce leaf and held it out to him. He chuckled.

“So if I were here to take you away, would you let me?”

“Depends.”

I glanced at the menu.

“If you throw in an order of steamed eggs, I might consider it.”

Seokhwan laughed and promptly added steamed eggs to our order.

As we enjoyed the meal, the steaming pot of soft, fluffy eggs arrived. I scooped up a spoonful, blowing on it to cool it down, but then I noticed Seokhwan watching me closely. He hesitated, then spoke carefully.

“By the way, are you all right?”

“With what?”

“The college entrance exam. I read in the article that you’d been studying for it since your military service and were a top scorer on your practice tests.”

“I’m not thrilled, but what can I do? I can’t change what happened.”

“Still, it must eat at you.”

“Not really. I’m kind of used to it,” I replied with a smile. “My life has never gone the way I planned. If my life had gone as planned, I’d probably be famous across Asia by now. Sure, it’s a shame to waste all that studying, but there’s no point dwelling on things I can’t fix.”

“Diamond-strong mentality, as always.”

“I’d say it’s more like gold. Not pure gold, though. More like gold with some impurities.”

Seokhwan laughed, shaking his head.

“What did your grandmother say about all this?” he finally asked.

“Oh…” I shuddered, recalling our talk from a few hours ago. “Let’s just say she called me every animal name in the book. Do you know what a chinchilla is?”

“She even brought up chinchillas?”

“I’m telling you, my grandma could make a new zodiac with the animals she brought up. If she weren’t family, I’d consider suing.”

“She’s probably just worried about you.”

“I know.”

That was why I felt guilty. She was getting older, and I was her world. I felt like I had let her down.

“Let’s change the subject. This is ruining my drink.”

“What drink? You’re having cola.”

“It still counts.”

“Since when does cola count as alcohol?”

“It’s bad for you but makes you feel good, so… close enough.”

“I’m the one drinking soju here. Why are you the one talking nonsense?”

I downed my cola, letting out a satisfied sigh. Alcohol didn’t sit well with me. The moment I took a sip, my face would turn beet red, and anyone could tell I was tipsy.

“Cheers,” I said, raising my glass.

We clinked glasses and I took another bite of meat.

“So,” I began.

“Yeah?”

“What’s the real reason you wanted to see me?”

I liked Seokhwan as a person, but business was different. As much as he was a great guy, he was still a professional in a competitive field. He wouldn’t have reached out and bought me steak just for a trip down memory lane.

“There’s got to be more to it. Wanting to catch up after seeing my face online was just an excuse, right?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But?”

“You’re a lot more famous right now than you think.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No, really. In terms of public recognition just today, you’re probably up there with most mid-tier idols.”

“Stop flattering me,” I said, waving him off.

Just then, someone approached our table.

“Excuse me?”

“Huh?”

I turned and saw a young woman in her twenties, looking at me with bright, eager eyes.

“You’re the Hero of Galhyeon-dong, right?” she asked.

Hero of Galhyeon-dong? Hearing it out loud was so much cheesier than reading it. I could feel my face heat up as Seokhwan tried to hold in his laughter.

“Yes, that’s me. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Wow! This is so cool!”

She broke into a wide grin.

“I saw you online today. I can’t believe I ran into you here!”

“Oh, right…”

“You’re even better looking in person.”

“Thank you.”

“Could I take a picture with you?”

“A picture? Sure.”

For a moment, I felt like a celebrity. Just before she opened her camera app, I noticed her phone’s wallpaper—a photo of 60, a popular idol boy group.

So, she’s a fan of idols.

After we took the picture, the woman asked if she could post it on social media, thanked me, and walked back to her table. I noticed her family sitting nearby, and it looked like her younger brother had taken the college entrance exam that day. Judging by their cheerful mood, it seemed he had done well.

“I guess my face is out there now,” I muttered.

“Starting to believe it now?”

“A little.”

“So, you want to know why I asked you to meet today?”

I nodded.

“I wanted to talk to you about coming back to the industry—”

“Not interested,” I cut in before he could finish.

Seokhwan blinked, taken aback.

“At least let me finish the sentence, will you?”

“Let me guess, you’re going to suggest acting, aren’t you?”

As I dipped a piece of medium-rare rib eye into some sauce, its juices mingled with the oil. I took a bite, savoring the rich, tender flavor of the premium-grade beef.

“TJ said the same thing when they dropped me. They told me being an idol wasn’t the only path. They said I should try acting instead, that my looks could take me far.”

“Do you really hate the idea of acting?”

“No, it’s not that,” I said, pouring soju into Seokhwan’s glass. “It’s just that whether it’s acting or singing, it doesn’t matter as much as it used to. But something strange happened today.”

I explained how, after slipping on the ice while helping the elderly man with his cart, I had somehow gained a strange ability—the power to instantly replicate any movement I saw. To test it, I tried everything from punches and kicks to gymnastics, breakdancing, and even idol choreography. There didn’t seem to be any limits to what I could copy. The dance skills that had held me back for six years were suddenly no issue. With that obstacle gone, I felt like acting no longer had to be a backup plan.

“I haven’t fully decided yet, but I’m thinking about giving the idol path another shot.”

“Now? After all this time?”

“Some people debut at twenty-five. I’m only twenty-one, so it’s late but not impossible.”

“So… You’re dropping the college entrance exam?”

“I’m still thinking about it.” I scratched my cheek, feeling a little awkward. “Like I said, it’s not set in stone. I haven’t completely given up on the exam, either.”

“You’re saying you still want to be an idol, right?”

“Huh?”

There was something strange about the way Seokhwan was looking at me. His eyes were practically glowing. I tilted my head, confused.

“That’s great, Woojoo,” he continued.

“What is?”

“If you want to be an idol, then join our company.”

“Wait, hold on.” I raised my hand to stop him. “Where did that come from? Weren’t you going to suggest acting?”

“When did I say that?”

“Huh?”

“You just assumed. See, this is why you should let people finish talking.”

“All right, my bad.”

He grinned, then pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to me.

—Yoon Seokhwan, Department Head of Lemon Entertainment.

My eyes widened.

“Department Head? You got promoted?”

“Not really. It’s more like going from a senior role at a big company to a director position at a smaller one.”

“Still, congrats. Lemon has a good reputation.”

Lemon was a mid-sized agency with a solid track record. They had started managing actors but had recently moved into the music industry, launching a successful girl group.

“Scarlet’s with Lemon, right?”

“Yep.”

Scarlet was a popular four-member girl group that had taken the industry by storm last year, quickly making a name for themselves as a talented, highly skilled group.

“We’re working on a boy group project now. Why don’t you come in and audition?”

“You’re serious?”

Seokhwan nodded.

“Of course. Would I be treating you to this expensive steak just to joke around?”

“You remember I got cut for being a terrible dancer, right?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“How could I forget?”

“And you still want me to audition?”

I looked at him, still skeptical. He chuckled and shrugged.

“When I was sent to talk to you, the first thing I brought up was your dancing. Even I was worried I’d be setting you up for disappointment again. The higher-ups didn’t care. They told me to bring you in regardless.”

“Higher-ups?”

“Oh, right. I guess I haven’t mentioned that part yet.” Seokhwan took a sip of his drink before continuing, “Do you know the songwriter Cho Gyuhwan?”

“Of course. Anyone who studies composition knows his name.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty famous.”

Cho Gyuhwan was a genius songwriter with a catalog of hit songs nearly everyone could recognize. Although he was young, he was rumored to make millions in royalties annually.

“Well, he’s now the production director at Lemon Entertainment. He’s basically the CEO’s right-hand man, overseeing everything from casting to producing. Scarlet was his project too.” Seokhwan paused briefly, then went on, “He’s… Well, he’s an unusual guy. They call him ‘The Fortune Teller.’”

“The Fortune Teller?”

“He has an almost supernatural knack for spotting hits. He’s got a 99 percent success rate for choosing songs and projects that become major hits.”

“That sounds… kind of hard to believe.”

“It’s true!”

Seokhwan rattled off a few stories. Supposedly, Cho Gyuhwan had once pushed for a song everyone thought would flop as the title track. He even insisted on casting a Lemon actor in a minor film he claimed would be a hit, despite everyone’s doubts. The song shot to number one overnight, and the actor became a box-office star with a million-ticket movie.

“I heard most of these stories from others, but I saw him cast Scarlet’s members myself.”

The members of Scarlet, known for their skill, had all been scouted similarly. Cho Gyuhwan would spot a promising face around Hongdae and make an offer on the spot. Sometimes he even handed his business card to high school students he noticed on the subway. Then, like magic, Scarlet went on to dominate the industry as the top rookie group of 2012. Seokhwan shook his head, as if reliving those moments.

“Anyway, Director Cho wants you to join Lemon’s new boy group.”

“What?”

“It’s exactly what I said.”

I stared at him, trying to process this.

“Yoon Seokhwan.”

“Yeah?”

“Be honest with me. This boy group you’re asking me to join… Things aren’t going too well, are they?”

“Huh? What makes you say that?” he asked, incredulous.

“No agency adds a new member last minute unless something has gone wrong. If they’re recruiting now, it means there’s an issue with the group.”

Seokhwan’s offer was tempting. I’d be part of a boy group produced by one of the industry’s most successful producers, who specifically wanted me. But big opportunities rarely came without hidden strings attached. Whenever a huge chance appeared, one had to wonder why it hadn’t been claimed already, especially when it was being offered to someone like me, no longer a trainee but just a college hopeful.

“Well, I wouldn’t say there’s an issue, but…” Seokhwan scratched his nose. “It’s a bit complicated.”

He explained the backstory. Lemon’s original idol project had focused on a boy group, not Scarlet. While Director Cho was occupied producing Scarlet, the management team independently prepared a seven-member boy group. Then, things went sideways.

One trainee with a bad attitude clashed constantly with the others and was eventually removed from the team. That alone might have been manageable, but then, just as they thought things were back on track, two more members quit right before their debut. Worse, it was just after their debut profile photos had already been taken. This left the remaining four members demoralized. Two years had passed with the project in this state.

“At the beginning of this year, once Scarlet had established itself, Director Cho took over the boy group project.”

“And?”

“They restructured the group to five members. They’ve held tons of auditions, but no one seemed to meet Director Cho’s standards. At least… not until today.”

Until today? Could he mean…?

“When we were having lunch, I noticed him watching the TV with a strange look. Your face was onscreen, and he wouldn’t look away. When I asked what he thought, he said…”