“Again,” Choi SongHua said for the 15th time that day.

The heat in the studio was thick enough that it was like dancing through honey, sticky and uncomfortable.

“Min-ah, your arms need to be raised higher. Hyeong-Jun-ssi, bend your legs more. Tae-Gyung-ah, you’re eyeline is all over the place. Junho-yah, your form’s too tense.”

If Hyeong-Jun had deigned to wonder whether Choi SongHua had been a drill sergeant in his previous life, no doubt would rest in his mind now.

To Hyeong-Jun’s disappointment, much like with the line distribution, his dancing for the title track only came in from his first line onwards, almost a full 2 minutes into a 4 minute song.

It was a challenge. It was fine.

He’d spent every available moment either practicing the choreography or prepping for the album recordings that they were scheduled to start with today.

Choi SongHua had made it clear that there couldn’t be a weak link when it came to exorcism, so Hyeong-Jun wouldn’t be one －if he could help it.

“I leave you alone for two weeks and you recruit a civilian and produce an album.”

The words from an unfamiliar voice almost made Hyeong-Jun trip over his own feet.

The others straightened and bowed. “Hello, Manager Shin,” the other four chorused and Hyeong-Jun hurried to at least bow his head in respect as well.

Manager Shin looked to be somewhere in his late thirties or early forties. His slightly round face softened features that would’ve otherwise been made too severe by the thin glasses perched on his face.

He approached them, expression dead-centre between kind and indifferent.

“So you’re the new recruit?”

Hyeong-Jun wanted to shrink away from the telescopic gaze but he nodded, fearful of appearing rude.

“Hyeong-Jun-ssi, meet our Manager, Shin Do, Manager Shin, this is Park Hyeong-Jun,” Lee Junho introduced and Hyeong-Jun hurried to repeat his bow and greet him.

“Good to meet you. You’re Park Sonham’s son?” The recognition of his father still surprised Hyeong-Jun.

“Yes, sir. You knew him?” Hyeong-Jun couldn’t help but prod, hoping his desperation didn’t reflect in his voice.

“Knew of him. It’s impossible not to at least know of each other when you run in our circles.”

“Manager Shin is aware of…well everything, shall we say. So he helps us manage both sides of things as needed,” Lee Junho added.

Oh? Even with everything he’d learnt so far, it was bizarre realizing how well connected this entire system of exorcists clearly was.

“Seems like we can manage well enough on our own,” Han Tae-Gyung said, only to wheeze out a laugh as he was elbowed in the ribs by Lee Junho.

“Oh, is that so?” Manager Shin’s voice held no inflection, unperturbed. Clearly Han Tae-Gyung’s antics weren’t anything new.

“Well I guess I won’t tell you that your concept photoshoot has been moved to tomorrow, they have to start with the hair bleaching as soon as possible, so we need to sort out the concept photos before that. They should have the photos ready for approval the day after the filming for the music video.”

The words hit Hyeong-Jun like a physical weight. He stared, heart unexpectedly gripped tight. Everything had been so contained－air in a bubble about to pop. Once the concept photos were put out in the world, the bubble would cease to exist.

“No, no, we love you Manager Shin, please don’t leave us,” Han Tae-Gyung said, and Lee Junho snorted.

“How was the funeral and everything?” Choi SongHua cut through the joking of the other two.

Manager Shin paused, eyes shifting to Hyeong-Jun long enough that Choi SongHua picked up on it. “He knows already.” Choi SongHua clarified dismissively. It clearly gave Manager Shin pause, but he nodded nonetheless.

“It was fine, they’ve concluded it was an accident. The daughter has already gone to stay with the grandmother and it doesn’t seem like she knows anything.” Hyeong-Jun tensed, mind snagging on the “concluded it was an accident” didn’t that mean that there had been doubt?

 “Um…” Hyeong-Jun started awkwardly. “Is there something that draws ghosts to…people like us?”

All eyes were on him. Hell. He should’ve just waited to ask one of them once they were alone.

“No, the only time they’ll specifically try and target us is during exorcisms and rituals if they feel threatened.” Yang MinHwan piped up and Hyeong-Jun nodded.

“Which is why, once the recordings for the songs are done, I want all of you to focus your energy on practicing your performance of the title track. We can’t afford to make any mistakes. The MV shoot has been scheduled for the 20th since they need enough time to edit it. We’re planning to have the MV launch 2 days before the performance.”

“Yes, sir,” everyone chorused.

***

“I cry for help but there’s no one around.” Lee Junho finished-off his section in the recording booth later that day. The notes had a gravelly quality but were still quite high.

“Wah, Junho-yah! You’re so good,” Han Tae-Gyung was clapping. There was a hint of teasing to his words but the sincerity rang clearly through.

“Really?” Lee Junho asked, voice heightening in surprise.

“Mn,” Han Tae-Gyung reassured as he tapped his pen on the notebook next to him. “Wanna hear it?”

“Sure.” Lee Junho nodded along in contemplation as he listened. “It’s fine.” He removed his headphones and looked through the recording booth window to where Yang MinHwan sat next to Hyeong-Jun, leg bouncing.

“Min-ah, are you ready?” Yang MinHwan shot to his feet, lyrics page clutched tightly in his hand.

His nervous energy as he exchanged places with Lee Junho set off Hyeong-Jun’s nerves as well. Almost his turn.

 Yang MinHwan’s lips pressed together as he placed the lyrics page on the stand in front of him and secured the headphones over his ears.

 Hyeong-Jun forced himself to focus back on his own lyrics, gripping at his earring to stop his hand from shaking.

“You can start when you’re ready,” Lee Junho took his place next to Han Tae-Gyung to look over their progress.

Yang MinHwan breathed out, but the tension in the air remained undisturbed.

“Grime, dirt and dust around me－”

Yang MinHwan’s voice broke. He stopped.

“Sorry.” The word quivered in the air. he bowed his head.

Choi SongHua leaned over and pressed the button to speak through the recording booth sound system. “Take your time, Min-ah.”

The room was silent.

“Okay.”

Hyeong-Jun closed his eyes as Yang MinHwan ran through his vocal exercises again before restarting.

“Grime, dirt and dust around me,

In the distance a bird’s cry－”

His voice floated on air, lightly brushing against Hyeong-Jun’s ears. 

“Takes me back to what I’ve lo-ost 

There’s no hope left.” 

His voice dipped lower on the second half, feeling quite final.

“Ah, Min-ah, I want you to keep the same tone for the first three and only drop down on the last one. And try and stretch out the ‘cry’ in the same way you’re stretching out the lost. The two need to be stitched together as if it’s one sentence.” Lee Junho instructed before singing the lines as an example.

Yang MinHwan nodded.

“Grime, dirt and dust around me－” Yang MinHwan cut off again. Hyeong-Jun’s heart spiked in response.

 “I’m just gonna practice outside for a bit,” Hyeong-Jun told one of the assistants before easing open the door and exiting in a moment of silence.

The time Hyeong-Jun had to wait for Yang MinHwan to finish his section, stretched out and flitted by. Hyeong-Jun startled when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“They’re ready for you, hyung.”

Hyeong-Jun looked up to find a pale Yang MinHwan in front of him, his hands white-knuckled where they gripped the bottom of his t-shirt.

“You okay?”

Yang MinHwan gave a silent nod but it was too hastily done to ring true.

Still, he accompanied Hyeong-Jun back inside and Hyeong-Jun bowed his head at the staff members before walking into the recording booth.

“You ready?” Han Tae-Gyung checked with him and Hyeong-Jun nodded, strangely reassured despite their rocky start.

“Hope so,” he mustered as he secured the headphones over his ears and placed his pen and paper on the stand.

“You can go when you’re ready.”

Hyeong-Jun took a deep breath and leaned slightly closer to the mic.

“Reborn, you’re a-live 

Yes, reborn you’re a-live 

That’s the offer you want, but won’t give anything right?  

Bargain if you dare to try, 

I try to warn, words and wind 

Carry on no hope survive 

Cause now all you get is strife”

Hyeong-Jun breathed out at the end of it. Overly aware of all the places he’d had too much speed and where he’d been too short of breath.

“Wahh－ Hyeong-Jun-ssi, so good!” Han Tae-Gyung’s exclamation surprised Hyeong-Jun enough that he lifted one of the ear cups of his headphones. Had he heard wrong?

He startled as, without warning, his own voice played back in his ear.

The lines sounded less awkward than Hyeong-Jun had feared.

“Do you think you could go even deeper?” Choi SongHua asked and Hyeong-Jun heard a burst of laughter in the background.

Hyeong-Jun pressed his lips together to keep from following suit. “I can try.”

“Great－” there was still laughter in Lee Junho’s voice when he chimed in. “Try and slow down the speed a little at the start and then you can speed it up again in the second part. Use the opportunity to breathe between the first and the second part.”

“Okay.”

Lee Junho nodded once they were ready again.

“Reborn, you’re a-live 

Yes, reborn you’re a-live 

That’s the offer you want, but won’t give anything right?”

  Breathe.

“Bargain if you dare to try, 

I try to warn, words and wind 

Carry on no hope survive 

Cause now all you get is strife.”

“Yes!” Hyeong-Jun barely had time to wonder whether or not he’d done okay before the exclamation came from Lee Junho. “That’s so much better than the mock-up!”

“Really?” Warmth bloomed in Hyeong-Jun’s chest.

“Yeah. Let’s take one more for safety. Is there anything you wanna try before we move on to the second part?”

Hyeong-Jun was about to shake his head but the movement snagged on a thought.

“Maybe just one thing?”

Yang MinHwan and Han Tae-Gyung looked curious. Lee Junho nodded. Choi SongHua wore another one of his peculiar expressions, but Hyeong-Jun tried not to feel discouraged.

“Bargain if you dare to try, 

I try to warn, words and wind 

Carry on no hope survive－”

Hyeong-Jun started again, following the same approved pattern before he leaned slightly closer. 

“－cause now all you get is strife” he whispered in his most practiced ASMR voice.

Hyeong-Jun leaned away immediately covering his mouth to keep from accidentally laughing even as he regretted his decision.

“Um, sorry about that,” he leaned back into the mic, guilt and embarrassment mixed in his voice as he dared to look toward the sound booth window.

All he was met with was the shocked expressions from the other four.

“Was it that bad?” Hyeong-Jun joked awkwardly to break the tension.

“No.” Yang MinHwan blurted. Hyeong-Jun looked to the others for confirmation and saw Han Tae-Gyung clap Choi SongHua heavily on the shoulder. Hyeong-Jun cringed in sympathy.

 “Yeah, no that was good, we’re definitely keeping that.” Lee Junho agreed so matter-of-factly it only served to embarrass Hyeong-Jun all the more.

“Think you’ll be able to manage that during the performance? Cause if so, we’ll get fans in no time,” Han Tae-Gyung joked.