“Thank you for everyone’s effort. Some of you have been with us for five years. For those of you who have been here for that long, if you have not debuted by the end of this year, we will be moving you over to our sister company to see if they might be able to help realize your dreams further. So, please don’t feel discouraged if it doesn’t work out today,” Assistant Park announced.
President Min stood next to her, expression inscrutable.
The room was silent, the air sticky with nervousness.
Hyeong-Jun grimaced. His heart thudded at the thought of having to move or train for even more years before he debuted. This was the company where it had all started…no, he wouldn’t move, he wouldn’t need to.
“We’ll be taking on one boy group and one girl group for WSM Entertainment.”
Hyeong-Jun blinked and glanced over at where Mr Choi was still standing. No mention of Magpie Entertainment. Had he decided against picking any of the trainees － why was Hyeong-Jun surprised?
The other man’s dark eyes scanned the room and Hyeong-Jun looked down to avoid meeting the intimidating gaze.
They started with the girls and the space was soon filled with excited whispers from their side of the room.
“Sangthong, Por,” Hyeong-Jun’s head jerked back up and Por stiffened next to him before realization hit and he let out a breath of relief. Hyeong-Jun patted Por’s shoulder in congratulations as his gaze locked on Assistant Park again.
“Nam Gu-won.” The trainee, a fantastic dancer, let out a loud sob of happiness from the other side of the room.
How many people would there be in the group? Hyeong-Jun couldn’t remember them mentioning anything.
“Dong Il-Sam” Hyeong-Jun watched through the mirror as Dong Il-Sam, well-known for his rapping, pumped the air in quiet excitement.
A hand clamped on Hyeong-Jun’s shoulder and a disoriented glance to his left revealed Mark looking back at him. Was he giving reassurance or seeking it?
Regardless, Hyeong-Jun didn’t have it in him to reassure anyone right now, not even himself.
With everything he’d experienced, this had no right to feel as scary as it did.
Another person whooped in excitement and Hyeong-Jun realized he’d somehow missed an announcement.
“And the final person for the boys group-”
His lungs burned with the lack of air but he couldn’t inhale, transfixed.
“Kang, Mark,” The hand on Hyeong-Jun’s arm tightened then released, leaving his arm numb － or was it his whole body?
Sound muffled out as a mix of disappointment and dismay flooded through the room in a murmur.
“Okay, for the boys and girl’s who didn’t make it, you can stay behind for feedback, the new groups, you’re welcome to head home. Get to bed early, prepping starts at 5 AM tomorrow morning.” President Min cautioned.
Mark clapped him on the shoulder but there was hesitation in the touch, as if he wasn’t sure where he stood with Hyeong-Jun now.
Hyeong-Jun swallowed and reached up to squeeze his arm reassuringly in return.
“Congrats.”
Mark’s brows furrowed but he nodded nonetheless before following the rest of the successful trainees out.
Hyeong-Jun turned to look back at the desk where President Min surveyed the room. Then starting from one side; President Min addressed every person separately, running quickly through all their strengths and weaknesses as if he was reading off a grocery list.
It was enough to lure anyone into a false sense of boredom.
Hyeong-Jun kept his head slightly bowed, counting out the planks of fake wood within his field of view.
But his name never came. He looked back up, confused to realize that President Min had indeed skipped over him.
What?
The realization anchored his attention.
For a brief second, the impulse to call attention to it seized him, but he held back.
“Park Hyeong-Jun,” his name sounded like a death sentence.
“Here.”
“Please stay behind for a moment. Everyone else, thank you for your work.”
Hyeong-Jun bowed his head once more, refusing to meet all the eyes he could feel boring holes into him as everyone left.
The screeching of a chair cut through the air as even the staff member who’d managed the speaker got up and left.
The scratch of paper was the only thing in the silence, before the door closed with a solid thud.
Only Hyeong-Jun, Assistant Park and President Min remained.
Hyeong-Jun’s stomach shrunk with fear.
“Ah, Hyeong-Jun-ah, well done with today’s performance,” President Min said.
“Sir?” Well done? Clearly not, not if he was here instead of with the final groups.
“You’ve improved a lot over the last five years. I remember how you begged me to give you a chance back then.”
Nails bit into palms. “I appreciate all your effort, sir.”
“Yes well, it’s the least I could do for your father.” President Min cleared his throat. “That being said, this is as far as I can take you.”
“Sir?”
“Your dancing was decent but your presence on stage was lacking.” It couldn’t be, today had been his best day.
Hyeong-Jun nodded.
“And unfortunately your voice,” Hyeong-Jun froze. “Our market is currently focused on light and breezy music which you just don’t fit into with such a low range. I suggest trying to work with a different company.”
Only years of training kept Hyeong-Jun from reaching up to his own throat.
“Not to mention your age-” President Min was on a roll now. “- even if you wait one more year, you’ll be 24, which means you will have to serve your military service within the timeline of the contract. It’s something the company just can’t afford to account for. I’m afraid neither WSM nor our subsidiary will be a good fit for you. So I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
Hyeong-Jun looked from President Min to Assistant Park. President Min’s face had a plastic look to it. Obligatory pity － practiced.
“Thank you, for everything,” the words fell in the wide open space between them.
Crumbling mask in place, Hyeong-Jun bowed his head, turned, and left.
***
Hyeong-Jun’s audition song stared back at him from the home screen of his music app － his most replayed song.
The elevator doors dinged and Hyeong-Jun entered as he thumbed mindlessly away from his playlist to the recommended, the old favourites, the recently viral.
An unknown number popped up on the screen.
Hyeong-Jun paused.
A scammer? But what if it was Assistant Park? Maybe President Min had changed his mind?
“Park Hyeong-Jun speaking,”
“Mr Park, this is Detective Seo from Seoul Police Department, we heard you were a witness to an incident that occurred two days ago?” An older male voice came through the speaker.
Hyeong-Jun’s grip tightened on the phone, his breath halting in his lungs.
The elevator door pinged again.
Hyeong-Jun jerked. The door opened. “Yes,” he barely managed as he stepped out.
“Would it be possible for you to come in to answer some questions tomorrow?”
“Oh…yes of course, officer.”
“Thank you very much. You can just ask for Detective Seo when you do arrive.” Hyeong-Jun gave a rapid nod before realizing that the detective couldn’t see him and hurried to confirm instead.
He stared at his phone in shock once the call ended. ‘I Can’ by Karina mocked him from the top of the recommended list.
His legs were weak.
He wanted to sag on the floor, right there in the middle of the reception area.
“Park Hyeong-Jun-ssi1,” The calling of his name slowly penetrated the fog in his brain enough for Hyeong-Jun to glance around.
A hand lifted in the air caught Hyeong-Jun’s attention.
None other than Choi Seonghwa walked towards him, eyes unmistakably focused on Hyeong-Jun.
Even hurrying towards him, the other man still looked put together.
Hyeong-Jun could only clench the hem of his sweat-soaked t-shirt and wait.
“Sunbae-nim2,” Hyeong-Jun greeted when they were close enough for Choi Seonghwa to hear.
Choi Seonghwa grimaced slightly but nodded and held out a can of coffee. He’d had two cans hidden in one hand. “Could I talk to you?”
Reflexively, Hyeong-Jun wanted to point out that he already was, but he bit his lip instead as nervousness burned away the last of the haze.
He found himself taking the proffered coffee and following Choi Seongwha.
The walk out of the small building that housed WSM Entertainment to the neighbouring park, was short. Colour decorated the plants surrounding them, the sweet scents of various flowers saturating the heat of the day.
“Is everything alright, sunbae-nim?” Hyeong-Jun asked tentatively once both of them had settled on a nearby bench.
“Your father was Park Sonham, wasn’t he?”
Hyeong-Jun froze.
No one ever recognized him as Park Sonham’s son. Was it an accusation?
Choi Seonghwa’s face showed nothing as he stared ahead.
“Yes…why?”
Finally, Choi Seonghwa looked at Hyeong-Jun, studying him like he was looking for something.
“What?” Hyeong-Jun held the can closer to his chest, a barrier.
“No－ I just… I have an offer to make.” Hyeong-Jun almost dropped his coffee, but luckily Choi Seonghwa seemed equally as surprised by his own words.
It almost looked like he regretted them.
Hyeong-Jun waited.
“I’d like to offer you a position on my team. It’s currently a four member group and we’re planning on debuting in two months time, so the schedule is tight,” Choi Seongwha finally said.
Hyeong-Jun’s fingers grip tightened on the can in shock.
“Ah!” He jerked slightly as hot coffee spilled over the edges, over his fingers and onto his pant-leg.
“Sorry, sorry.” Hyeong-Jun hurried to put the can down on the ground, fingers still dripping with coffee. His cheeks burned.
He could feel Choi Seonghwa’s shocked gaze on him. It did nothing to help his embarrassment.
Could he just spontaneously combust?
A tissue appeared in his line of sight. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
Choi Seonghwa nodded stiffly.
Silence stretched as Hyeong-Jun mopped at his jeans.
Had he ruined it?
“Unfortunately there are some things that you need to know before you sign.”
He wasn’t put off?
“No, sir, it’s okay I’ll work hard. You don’t have to worry about me.” Hyeong-Jun rushed to say but Choi Seonghwa gave a slow shake of his head.
“There’s more to it than that,” Choi Seonghwa seemed to weigh his words carefully. “Do you remember what happened two nights ago?”
Hyeong-Jun’s mind immediately jumped to the night at the graveyard.
No.
He couldn’t be referring to that.
The graveyard. He was supposed to go there today with good news to tell his parents.
Choi Seonghwa couldn’t be talking about that － right?
He was watching Hyeong-Jun, expression grim.
Hyeong-Jun had to be misunderstanding something.
He clutched at the fabric of his still wet jeans. “I’m sorry, I don’t－”
Choi Seonghwa’s intense eyes caught his. “No, you do. You remember, I see it.”
Hyeong-Jun diverted his gaze and shook his head as if it would somehow make Choi Seonghwa’s words a lie.
“I was there that night. I saw you help that girl.”
Hyeong-Jun shrank back at his words. Images of teeth, of too many eyes－flashed through his mind.
“That’s impossible, the only other people there, were－”
Hyeong-Jun looked back at Choi Seonghwa to meet those knowing dark brown eyes.
Breath caught in Hyeong-Jun’s throat. “－you’re one of the people who helped us.”
Choi Seonghwa pressed his lips together, as if he was holding back. He nodded.
“But that’s impossible.” It was ridiculous even as he said it. Of course it was impossible. But out of everything that had happened that night, the two people who’d helped him should have been the least strange of it all.
Still, what were the chances of him just happening to find Hyeong-Jun at the audition?
And why would he risk asking Hyeong-Jun about it?
“How did you know it was me?”
“What?”
“I was wearing a mask, so how could you know it was me?” Hyeong-Jun demanded. Choi Seonghwa’s gaze flitted away from him at that and he stayed silent. “What happened that night?” Hyeong-Jun pressed on when it became clear that he wouldn’t answer.
“How much do you know about ghosts?”
A laugh exploded from Hyeong-Jun. He covered his mouth and coughed in a useless attempt to hide the outburst.
“Are you trying to tell me that what I saw two days ago was a ghost?” It felt at once absurd and as if he was stating the obvious.
Choi Seonghwa was of the same opinion, if the look he gave Hyeong-Jun was anything to go by.
“Do you have any other explanation for it?”
“I don’t know, mass hallucination?” There was a slight hysterical note to Hyeong-Jun’s words. The irony tasted bitter on his tongue.
He’d wished for nothing but for ghosts to be real after the passing of his parents. But the reality was a chasm apart from the comfort and connection of his mother’s ghosts stories.
“There weren’t any masses.” Choi Seonghwa said as if that was the most important point within all this insanity. “Ghosts are real. You really didn’t know?”
Hyeong-Jun snorted in disbelief.
Choi Seonghwa laced long fingers together as he watched Hyeong-Jun carefully.
“They’re spirits that had some kind of unfulfilled desire. Unfortunately, if they cannot make peace with those desires being unmet, those desires become dangerous in the afterlife.”
Hyeong-Jun could only watch Choi Seonghwa in morbid fascination as he recited it all like he was delivering a report.
“So, what? You really want me to believe that the thing that attacked us two nights ago was once a human?”
“That thing－” Choi Seonghwa bit out. “－used to be a kid, he looked like it when he approached you at first, didn’t he?”
Hyeong-Jun shouldn’t have asked. He’d tried so hard to forget about that vicious transformation.
“But he didn’t stay that way,” Hyeong-Jun said, the words his shield.
“No,” Choi Seonghwa grimaced. “He didn’t. If a ghost tries to escape a containment ritual, it can’t maintain it’s former form. They seem to forget what they used to look like,” the last part was said as if Choi Seonghwa himself was still speculating about it.
Hyeong-Jun shuddered.
“Why are you telling me this?”
There were secrets in Choi Seonghwa’s eyes that Hyeong-Jun didn’t want to know.
“The group you’d be joining isn’t a normal group, we use our music to pacify the spirits of the dead, I suppose you could call us exorcists. You were able to see that boy and control him with your voice even if it was only for a moment. It means you’d be able to do what we do as well, if you’re trained.”
“My voice?” So he hadn’t imagined that thing－the ghost, hesitating?
Choi Seonghwa nodded.
“That gun didn’t seem peaceful.” The words slipped out without conscious thought, a defense.
Choi SongHua stiffened. “That was a last resort.”
“So you’re telling me that all k-pop idols just happen to be exorcists in disguise?”
Shock flashed across Choi Seonghwa’s face. But did Hyeong-Jun imagine it or was there also a small uptick at the corners of his mouth?
“Not all, just some.”
“This is ridiculous. I can’t do this.” Hyeong-Jun shook his head and stood up only to pause as a thought occurred. “Why would you even tell me this? How do you know I’m not just gonna go blast this all over social media?” It was an empty threat but he needed something to hold onto, however tenuous it might be.
If there had been the start of a smile, it was gone again.
“Who would believe you?”
It was a punch to the gut, a simple truth.
“Please, think about it.” He held something out to Hyeong-Jun and Hyeong-Jun took it automatically. A business card.
A quick glance at it caught Hyeong-Jun off guard; Choi Seonghwa’s name was there along with contact details and the office address, but what surprised Hyeong-Jun was that his name was spelt the Chinese way as ‘SongHua’. For a moment Hyeong-Jun was distracted, wondering which Chinese characters his name might consisted of.
“How is the girl you helped?” Choi SongHua’s words pulled Hyeong-Jun back and made his hackles rise.
“Her name’s Eun-Ji. And I don’t know.” The words were cold. “If you’re really that concerned about her, why did you just leave her with me? I could’ve hurt her. You didn’t even think to check.”
Choi SongHua’s neck was red and he refused to meet Hyeong-Jun’s gaze.
Hyeong-Jun’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He seized the opportunity to answer it, an excuse to avoid the intense gaze still leveled at him.
“Mr Park?”
“Yes?”
“This is Detective Seo, we spoke earlier.”
Hyeong-Jun turned his head, as if that would offer a semblance of privacy. “Yes, sir?”
“We won’t be requiring you to come in anymore, sorry for the confusion.”
Hyeong-Jun’s mouth fell open slightly at the reply before he recovered enough to give a weak, “Okay, thank you officer.”
When Hyeong-Jun turned back, Choi SongHua was staring at him, a new interest in his gaze.
What the hell was happening?
He couldn’t do this.
“I’m not interested, thank you for the coffee.” Hyeong-Jun hurriedly stood up and left, hoping the chaos in his mind didn’t show through the cracks.
Footnotes:
- -ssi : is the most commonly used honorific used amongst people of approximately equal speech level
- sunbae-nim: a term used to address someone who is older than you in Korean. It can be used as a formal term of respect for someone who is your senior at work
