#id.fantasy

[idolizenews]

FANTASY’S SORA STARS IN LG Q6 CF

1. [ + 1,678 , - 131 ] Sora? I can only see Ji Euntak when I see her now ㅋㅋ Ah.. I really can’t wait for another episode of Goblin...  2. [ + 1,324 , - 107 ] Midas is really shoving her onto my TV every chance they get, huh? ㅋ 3. [ + 1,059 , - 74 ] As a dreamer, I’m really so proud of Fantasy lately ㅠㅠ This summer I heard Sunny Summer playing everywhere I went ㅋㅋ And Sora’s doing so well in her drama, and now this with LG? So proud... let’s keep rising, Fantasy!! 4. [ + 732 , - 43 ] Midas is really pushing her and Fantasy hard lately aren’t they? The perks of a big company ㅋㅋ 5. [ + 518 , - 49 ] Ah... but I just finally got the iPhone X... 

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON FANTASY’S LEAD VOCAL HYERIN…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 22 SKILL POINTS: 17 VOCAL | 05 DANCE | 00 RAP | 08 PERFORMANCE

INTERVIEW

hyerin is a living doll first and anything midas wants her to be second: innocent, kind, and sincere—a can do no wrong kind of puppet.

trainee days spent isolating herself as the quiet, hardworking girl is buried under rigid lessons and rules of thumb on how to construct a new layer of skin to stitch around herself. years of crying behind closed doors and missing home is replaced by a fresh-faced girl who laughs at everything, smiles at everyone, and bounces back with enthusiasm after a fall—sunshine in ecstatic motion.

from practice room to the bright stage, midas sinks their claws into a lost girl with stars in her eyes and molds her into something whimsical and ethereal. they take all the broken parts of her that seep through the cracks and tell her to bury it behind a radiant smile. creates a mask for her to wear by exploiting all the mismatched parts of her that make her who she is: the dazed look of a dreamer, the seaside accent that still roils under seoul’s modern cadence, her restless hands, the purity of her lilting voice.

they take all that and slip onto her the delicate skin of a humble fairy princess with a heart of gold and a thousand watts smile.

in the eyes of the public: she is quiet and endearingly awkward. she’s all blushing cheeks and shy smiles, unable to make eye contact for long. she’s muffled peals of laughter hidden behind small hands and eyes creasing into half moon crescents. sometimes, she’s softly uttered words of praise, advice, encouragements to her faithful fans on instagram live or a whole chorus of a newly uploaded acoustic cover sung in a voice almost too soft to hear above the strum of her guitar, gratitude embedded in three minutes of heartfelt lyrics and shining eyes. to the world, hyerin is someone fragile and in need of protection. almost too good for the world. almost too untainted and pristine. (almost too good to be true.)

from her shy, almost bumbling attempts to interact with and befriend fans and fellow idols alike to her occasional variety show appearances where she’s the perpetually reticent girl hosts have to subtly prompt and prod for answers to their questions about her trending airport fashion, her faithful fansites and fancams in 4k depicting her pristine and perfect on stage (not a hair out of place, her smile perpetually stitched on her face. never faltering. never wavering), growing up pains, childhood in busan, her lingering accent.

there’s always a bit of lasting unconventionality hidden in those moments when they ask about home, about family, about transitioning from the carefree, quiet life on busan’s sandy shores to the pulsating thrum of the big city with its too fast pace and perpetual anonymity.

how did you survive, they ask. i didn’t. hyerin wants to confess. i adapted. i changed, is what she says instead.

and it’s the truth. midas takes her hand-me-downs and thrift-shopped dresses and replaces them with sponsored one pieces with the tags still on them, shiny mary janes in place of worn converses, her sea salt-scented braid of hair is combed and styled in soft waves tumbling down her back and smells of peaches, her unruly tongue fixed under an iron fist to master the straight-laced way of seoul-speak.

she’s made to rid herself of all the things that make her her.

every night, she goes to sleep; her face scrubbed clean, the skin of her good girl persona somewhere on the floor. every morning, she wakes when the sun rises and pulls her skin back on, pats her face dry of tears, and presses two fingers to the corners of her mouth, pushing up until a small dimple forms on her cheek. there, transformation complete. operation hyerin is a go.

every day is a vicious cycle. it’s walking on eggshells and pretending someone else isn’t living beneath this suffocating skin, wallowing in years of self-deprecation and the perpetual ache of longing (for something, for someone, for the taste of home—wherever that may be).

midas thrives on how easy it is to break her and fit her into a mold of their design, how quickly she can give away her free will for a promise of an adventure (of life never being dull, of living a dream). it’s easy to take a lost little thing in need of guidance and shape her into something otherworldly, push her onto a gnarly road and tell her to simply go straight to find her way back home, to where she needs to be.

but if one were to ask where she’s needed, she thinks of her old childhood home in busan, the pale yellow paint peeling on patches on her ceiling, the glow-in-the-dark wallpaper brittle and gathering dust. thinks of being waist-deep in the sea, thinks of halmeoni in her spongebob apron and a carrot as her makeshift microphone, thinks of her father somewhere (surviving, thriving, happy—she hopes), thinks of her mother and her work-roughened hands and the small shoebox apartment tucked in the tiniest corner of a heartless city.

if one were to ask what it is han saebyul (not jung hyerin) wants in private, watch her freeze, her smile slipping just slightly off her face—like a deer caught in headlights. watch her eyes, those sad lonely eyes, well up in tears she won’t let spill. watch her closely and carefully as her body seems to curl in on herself—as if the weight of the world is suddenly looming on her shoulders. watch for the tremor when she speaks, fingers twisting at her sides, voice impossibly soft and fragile: i don’t know…no one’s ever asked me before.

and no one has. no one cares what han saebyul wants. no one cares what jung hyerin wants either. midas simply takes and so do her fans. everyone breaks off little pieces of her; pieces she willingly gives because she can’t say no—until there’s nothing left for her to give. nothing left for anyone to take.

all that remains is the hollowed out shell of a girl drifting aimlessly, her heart never here or in one place, her mind lingering on faraway places not yet traveled and the sound of ocean waves crashing on sandy shores like a neverending siren’s call.

BIOGRAPHY

hazy beginnings.

despite being born to hardworking parents living on budgets and the ticking of a clock, han saebyul grows up a free-spirited daydreamer, often associating the world and the people around her in streaks of color and a symphony of sounds. her childhood consists of sand between her toes, sea salt in her hair, ocean-soaked dresses, and the sound of tinkling laughter.

her four seasons of growing up on the sandy shores of busan goes a little like this:

spring: an almost brand new knee-length dresses made of white lace her mother buys from a thrift shop at a discounted rate, sunflowers and daisies dancing in the wind, chasing butterflies, and flower bookmarks pressed into the pages of a journal.

summer: ripe with music, her spread eagle on a blanket and sunset golds streaked across her face, the drone of cicadas, cherry popsicles, the whir of electric fans, knee-deep in the sea, her mother calling her name off in the distance.

autumn: a waterfall of warm colors, halmeoni’s cozy handmade sweaters with the sleeves hanging past her fingertips, gingham skirts and leggings, pumpkin pies, spiced lattes, a night sky filled with paper lanterns and the glimmer of stars, father’s phone ringing off the hook in the middle of the night; every night.

winter: soft pink mittens and oversized pea coats over chunky sweaters and chunkier scarves made with love, homemade hot chocolate, footprints in fresh snow, one hand clasped in mother’s hand; the other grasping air, perpetual cold; lingering emptiness.

distorted middle grounds.

she’s seven, wide-eyed and curious, watching a master chef work her magic. it’s halmeoni in a soft yellow dress and a spongebob apron around her waist singing deulgukhwa hits and humming along to joo hyunmi and patti kim. it’s little saebyul perched on the counter by the fridge singing right along in a game of monkey see, monkey do.

early evening always starts with the swell of a sobangcha song, halmeoni wielding a carrot under her chin and saebyul’s little face crinkling up in peals of laughter. in the living room, her parents smile indulgently, hands busy tucking unpaid bills under week-old newspapers and balls of colorful yarn. and ends with saebyul curled in halmeoni’s lap, both hands clutching her parents’ sleeve in her sleep.

days and nights like these are normal—until they’re not.

one cold night in december, dinner prep is a somber affair. the radio is turned off and secondhand vinyls gather dust—buried under boxes full of knick-knacks and memories. there’s no halmeoni twirling in the kitchen, no tongue-in-cheek adlib to the latest hit trot song, no laughter.

home is quiet. empty. and little saebyul aches with the feeling of missing someone no amount of singing or wishing could ever bring back.

-

thirteen: she learns to make friends with an old guitar she buys off a neighbor moving to the big city, learns to strum awkwardly, clumsily; a cacophony of sound. it takes a full four seasons for her to learn to love the vibrations of nylon strings beneath the pads of her fingers. learns to put herself back together singing acoustic covers and soft little ballads with her face turned up to the stars. puberty comes and goes with her seated on the rickety steps of her porch, strumming nostalgic chords to the ghost of her youth.

her parents say nothing as they watch her from inside the house, smiles wilted, wistful, watery.

(there’s a million and one things their daughter could be, should be, and hurting, cradling sadness and turning grief into old-timey blues shouldn’t be one of them.)

they leave her be when she starts going to the market in the sticky heat of summer, guitar strapped to her back, playing for small crowds and neighborly regulars. from dusk to dawn, saebyul fixes a soft smile on her face as she strums and strums and strums, voice light and whimsical as she sings requests as a thank you for listening.

she comes home with a straw hat full of notes and red fingers, knowing full well it’s not enough to make up for this month’s expenses. so saebyul ventures back out again, haunts local farmer’s markets and side streets, the sandy beaches during tourist season, trying to make the most of a life that seems to pass her by too quickly, too quietly.

-

sometimes, she tells herself that when she sings something inside of her heals. as if the soft blue notes become a makeshift stopgap measure filling up the gaping hole in her chest, easing the perpetual emptiness, soothing the ache—the want—for a different life.

sometimes, when she closes her eyes, saebyul pretends she doesn’t hear the sound of her parents fighting, the front door slamming, and her mother’s muffled crying.

sometimes, when she lets herself sink in between lyrics about a dreamer wandering away in search for herself—for an adventure—saebyul swears that some day it could all be possible.

interludes.

family is four. then, three. then, two.

home is no longer sand in between her toes and the ocean clinging to her skin, but the veins of seoul—harsher and all concrete jungle. it’s rough corners pulled over steel edges and soon, the dirt roads she used to bike down back home is replaced by honking taxis and the congestion of too many strangers.

home is now a shoebox; a cramped one bedroom apartment overlooking a dirty alley on the outskirts of seoul.

“i hate it.” this isn’t home.

“give it a chance.” please, i’m asking.

saebyul swallows back a sigh because her mother is trying. her mother is tired. her mother is hurting. she knows. she knows.

so she’ll try, she tells her with a barely there smile etched to the curve of her mouth. we’ll try.

(maybe if she says it often enough, it’ll make it true. make her believe it.)

-

high school is a circus and, sometimes, she finds herself center stage. an unwilling spectacle. her accent is the only thing she has left of home and her peers mock her for it. turn her into the punchline of inside jokes and over-the-shoulder remarks about a bumbling seaside girl who doesn’t belong. she’s not ashamed, but it hurts just the same.

it’s hard to make friends when people choose what they want to see, so a loner she becomes by default. by choice. keeps to herself, minds her business, and makes herself a new home on the rooftop and the empty bleachers in an emptier field. she has her guitar and her ocean of sounds. starts spending more time with her head down, hair in a loose braid, writing the world and the people she watches and meets down in the pages of secondhand leather-bound notebooks.

at home, all alone while her mother toils tirelessly away to afford sending her off to a school that suffocates more than it cultivates, saebyul locks herself in her little corner of sanctuary. imagines what it feels like to be kissed, to be fucked. thinks of calloused hands and soft curves alike. wonders if wanting to feel love so viscerally is too much of a sin when her sheets are wet and her skin is flushed a soft pink.

maybe, just maybe, she wants to know what it’s like to drown in too much love.

-

“you have a pretty voice.”

it’s rooftop prince. only this time, they meet in the middle of the soccer field. it’s saebyul with her guitar in her lap and a curious tilt of her head, one hand shielding her eyes and feeling like she’s looking at the sun. blinded, she looks away. a little embarrassed, a little flattered. it’s been a long time since someone has complimented her, after all.

“why do you sing?”

so i can heal. one day, some day.

saebyul smiles and turns her face up to the sky. “because it feels like i’m home.”

-

she’s two days shy of her sixteenth birthday when she wraps herself in a chunky sweater and a soft scarf stitched with halmeoni’s love and makes her way to a quiet corner in hongdae with her guitar strapped to her back. braves the bite of an impending winter with numbed fingers and a voice that carries.

she starts with lee moon-se, sobangcha and joo hyunmi, hesitant and almost stuttering as she tunes her guitar with nimble fingers and her heart in her throat. somewhere, somehow, she hears halmeoni telling her to be brave as she plucks strings and closes her eyes, petite body swaying to the ebb and flow of a bygone song. with halmeoni in her ear, she lets the world fade away, pays no mind to the small gathering of an audience finding their way to the nostalgic croon of an old soul.

she comes awake to the sound of applause and a case full of clinking coins and a tiny pile of notes. she thanks everyone for their time and sets off to trudge home with her earnings, the want for early christmas shopping with her mother on the tip of her tongue.

she’s pulled from her afterglow by a tap on her shoulder and whirls around to a man in a suit, all coiffed and perfect, voice velvety smooth. her early birthday gift is an invitation that’s too good to be true.

-

her mother is apprehensive. she’s heard stories about the life of an idol. doesn’t want her daughter to live life under perpetual scrutiny, robbed of her youth, and always struggling to catch up to changing times and new trends.

“you’ll have to give up everything.”

“not everything.“ not you, she means to say. never you.

“you won’t be scared?”

“i won’t.” impending goodbyes has her losing her grip on the impression of a budding city girl society has pressed upon her, slipping back into the soft drawl of dialect and settling right at home in the wake of her desire to chase after a flimsy dream. like this, she’s doe-eyed and wears the heart of a dreamer, curls around her mother like she’s five years old and afraid of the dark.

“i guess this means my baby’s all grown up now.”

am i? doesn’t feel like it. saebyul swallows back a sob and presses her face to her mother’s neck.

goodbye shouldn’t have sounded so definitive. so painful.

not-quite endings.

her coming of age gift is the day fantasy’s lineup is announced.

her mother remarries six months later. family is now: her, her mother, a stepdad, and a new baby brother the ripe age of three.

-

the day she debuts as fantasy’s hyerin is the day she stops being han saebyul.

(because han saebyul is the sunshine girl who looked at people like they hung the moon and the stars. because han saebyul is tousled hair and tinkling laughter in the middle of the sea. because han saebyul is made of old songs and picture books, flower crowns, and grass stains.

because han saebyul is the kind of girl easily broken and taken advantage of.

because han saebyul, naive and kind, has no place in a world full of backstabbing and desperate survivors trying to make it to the top.

so, she creates herself a persona—someone quiet and unassuming, who seemed unlikely to stab you in the back than she is to hold you while you cried. someone who always seemed a little dazed and absentminded; her gaze faraway, her voice a whisper.

someone like halmeoni—all soft around the edges, always so poised and graceful in her mannerisms (from her mysterious little smile, to the tilt of her head, to the way she walked and talked), her voice a balm to her soul.

she takes all the things she loves most about her and creates a persona in her grandmother’s shadow.

from han saebyul to jung hyerin, she goes from being her parents’ morning star to the bright luster of jade—timeless and nostalgic; a flawed replica created in tribute to the person who showed her how to embrace and love the world and everyone in it.

like this, hyerin is born to weather all the storms saebyul does not have the strength to handle on her own—just like halmeoni had been there, once upon a time, to hold her hand while she dusted the dirt off her knees and got right back up to face the world.

because hyerin (her name)—not saebyul—is the only thing she has left of halmeoni and she’d be damned if she lost that too.)

-

it’s the same day her father calls for the first time in years. when she picks up, all she hears is his rumbling laughter, sounding much fuller than it had in their rickety old house filled with the scent of spices and long-time struggles.

“are you happy, my star? how’s it feel to be on stage?”

like i’m flying. like i’m dying. says, “are you, daddy? are you happier now?”

“…yeah, i guess i am, byulie. i think i am.”

“that’s good. that’s all i ever wanted—for you to be happy.”

(means, i miss you so much it hurts. will you come home? will you come back? do you miss me too?)

“i’m proud of you, my star. be good. keep shining, dad will always be by your side.”

don’t lie. don’t lie. don’t lie, she thinks as she cries silent tears and thanks him for everything. for the moments of happiness when she was but a child too curious, too naive, too loving for her own good. for the lifetime of loneliness and always getting left behind when things get too hard—too tough—for people to stay.

“i’m always good.“ always. then and now.

-

two years into this dream and she realizes her voice has stopped being her own, shaped by midas and molded into the image of a good girl with a pretty voice. realizes she’s signed her youth away as dreams of singing on stage with just a microphone and her guitar are replaced by short skirts, sugary sweet lines, and a sense of something sacred being stolen from her.

she’s forbidden from ever bringing up opportunities to pen lyrics for her group. rebuffed at every effort about a possible solo debut in the future where she can sing about a girl who’s just trying to find her place in the world.

the answer is no almost every time. sometimes, if she’s good—when fantasy charts well, when she makes headlines for listing so and so as her ideal type or she’s captured collecting fan letters and humble fan gifts to and from music show recordings and at crowded airports—she gets a backhanded maybe.

most times, she’s told she needs more clout. more popularity. more traction. you’re still young, they say. you have time.

usually, it feels like a slap to the face when hyerin’s told to do as they say. no complaints. no whining. just pure obedience. know your place, hyerin-ssi. this isn’t your home. there are rules here and you are expected to follow them to the letter.

so she does. clamps her mouth shuts and sings what she’s given. dances as she’s practiced. smiles as she’s commanded.

all the while, hours spent in the dead of the night writing lyrics that read like poems, like stories of a thousand lives not yet lived in her notebooks are laid to waste, buried under rejection after rejection in the bottom of a box full of remnants of her childhood and reminders of a home away from home.

like this, she muffles the cries of a girl homesick for a place she’s never been, sings and dances like it’s the only thing that matters and pretends she’s happy.

pretends it’s all she wants.

pretends it’s enough.

[idolizenews]

Poor girls..... ㅠㅠㅠ Can you believe how hard they worked? They really had so much stress lately because of their nebulous position...and the subunits... but isn’t Sunny Summer really a game-changer for them? I hope with this stage you can all see how hard they work too...I’ll admit I’ve really stanned them for a long time but.....

Midas should take better care of their artists.... Aroon got sick on Produce Project and Olympus is always overworked. They should make sure Fantasy is taken care of too, Midas please protect our girls okay ?????? They’re finally rising!!!

Anyway, if you haven’t already, please listen to Sunny Summer~ ♡

POST RESPONSE | [ + 476 ] [ - 9 ]

1. [ ㅇㅇ ] Ah the poor girls, that’s so hard... they really kept going so strongly even though their pride must have been hurt too 2. [ 판타지드림 ] ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ they really did their best despite everything and kept on smiling, how can they be so resilient? they’re really such professionals.... 3. [ ㅇㅇ ] I hope no one was really hurt, right?? Midas, make sure to get them proper care if they were injured!!!    – As if Midas ever takes care of it’s artists ㅋㅋ

[idolizenews]

‘GOBLIN’ CONFIRMED TO START SHOOTING, FINAL CAST LINEUP REVEALS FANTASY YOON JIYEON AS JI EUNTAK

1. [+ 1,829 , - 534 ] ㅋㅋㅋㅋ It's true when they say life is all about making connections, look how easily she got such a big role... Midas and Jungah’s sister, why wasn’t I born like that too? 2. [+ 1,608 , - 394 ] Why can’t all you idiots just wait until it starts airing before you talk sh*t ㅋㅋ Later if it turns out she’s good, you’re all going to come back like hul, but isn’t Yoon Jiyeon so much better than her unnie? So pathetic 3. [+ 1,476 , - 267 ] I’ll watch anyway because I was looking forward to this drama, but.. another idol... what a shame... I guess I’ll just believe in the director  ㅠㅠㅠ 4. [+ 1,113 , - 184 ] You roaches never bother actually watching anything before commenting on idol’s getting roles, do you? She was honestly good on A Korean Odyssey. Good luck Sora, I can’t wait!!      -- But wasn’t her role an idol trainee or something? Of course she was good at that, she’s an idol~~ 5. [+ 874 , - 100 ] It’s true what they say about actresses having different auras, huh? ㅋㅋ Just comparing her to her unnie is proof, no wonder she had to become an idol first ^^

[idolizenews]

FANTASY SUBUNIT NIGHTMARE MAKES COMEBACK

1. [ +1,527 , -182 ] Wow, but isn’t their vocal amazing....wow their visuals too 2. [ +1,169 , -123 ] Oh!!  ♡ This is much more than I expected?? hul its really good 3. [ +841 , -87 ] But doesn’t this suit October really well? Aren’t they the only ones brave enough to challenge this concept? Midas really knows how to push the boundaries.

[idolizenews]

Honestly, even as a fan, I was worried about her being cast as a lead for Goblin but ha... she really proved me wrong ㅠㅠㅠ Seriously, didn’t she improve so much since A Korean Odyssey?

And the drama itself is just so good ㅋㅋ I really can’t stop watching, it’s too addicting..

Anyway, thank you our pretty Sora for proving me wrong, I’ll reflect on my thoughtlessness from now on ㅋㅋ Everyone, please tune in for the special episode of Goblin after the last episode airs!!! 

POST RESPONSE | [ + 221 ] [ - 35 ]

1. [ ㅇㅇ ] I’ll be honest, I was one of the people that thought she was casted because of her sister and because she’s in Midas but... wow, wasn’t she good? I can only think of Ji Euntak whenever I see her now ㅋㅋㅋ 2. [ 판타지연 ] As a dreamer I’m so freaking proud of her and all this praise she’s getting lately ㅠㅠㅠ Thank you for recognizing her talent OP!!! Jiyeon fighting!! Let’s keep rising!! 3. [ ㅇㅇ ] But really, didn’t the goblin and grim reaper have more chemistry than the main couple? ㅋㅋ I’ll admit I was really shocked at how well Sora acted though~

[idolizenews]

Fantasy and Olympus filmed together for the SPAO collab and wasn’t it so fun? I think they were really cute together don’t you? Honestly it’s sad we can’t see Olympus and Fantasy interactions more, I know Midas wants to be careful but... whats wrong with pretty kids filming together? 

Anyway wouldn’t they be really cute together, I think? She’s really so fresh and pretty and cute and Kwon is so~~~ handsome! Please date, this unnie supports you!!

POST RESPONSE | [ + 634 ] [ - 99 ]

1. [ ㅇㅇ ] Ah I’m going crazy you f*cker is this a joke? As if Kwon would even look at that nugu, the level is too different. Let him do his work in peace, do you think this was anything but a job for him?  2. [ 지연탁 ] Yah is this an anti post ?? Do you think this is funny? Sora and Fantasy are finally climbing up and you want to drag her down like this? She already has to try and grab Nightmare by the collar, don’t make up bullsh*t!! Sora fighting, we support you  3. [ ㅇㅇ ] What a sly fox.... did you see how she was looking at him? Does she think she’s important because of one viral fancam and some drama role? As if she’s on Kwon’s level... 

[idolizenews]

But seriously, hasn’t everyone seen this clip of her closing ment on their final Idol Room appearance for Navillera promotions by now? ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ

“I’ll save you in my heart” ha.. isn’t she crazy cute??? 

Our quiet Bae Mina said she thought of this aegyo specifically for all the fans who support Fantasy ㅠㅠ What an angel... 

POST RESPONSE | [ + 398 ] [ - 9 ]

1. [ ㅇㅇ ] Yes, pease save me in your heart Mina, I’ll save you in mine too ㅠㅠㅠ I really hope this gives her more confidence to show herself more during their next promotion now that she keeps topping Pann with this clip ㅋㅋ 2. [ 내 아모르 ] Hul I’m so proud of our pretty Amor ㅠㅠㅠ People that weren’t even Fantasy fans before keep asking me about her now after seeing that clip ㅋㅋ Ah, but seriously... Navillera era is legendary now isn’t it? Let’s keep rising, Fantasy!!! ㅠㅠ 3. [ ㅇㅇ ] Honestly, I’m not a dreamer but wowow she’s crazy pretty and has such cute charms... I think I’ll go watch their music videos now ㅎㅎ

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON FANTASY’S  LEAD RAP, SUB VOCAL AMOR…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: ## DEBUT AGE: ## erase if trainee TRAINEE SINCE AGE: ## SKILL POINTS: 00 VOCAL | 00 DANCE | 00 RAP | 00 PERFORMANCE SECONDARY SKILLS: ERASE IF NONE

INTERVIEW

TICK —

— Coming in muted tones of ivory and lavender, yet disguising thunder in her enigmatic obsidian stare; she’s a vixen who arises as everyone’s dream girl. Cerulean sky looming above, her cheeks blossom with roseate hues, delightful and innocent, the projection of a seraph in her coffee rondures and the feminine curve of her petite nose. When she speaks, saccharine and sophisticated, sweet words spill from her parted, plump lips, light like a breath, entrancing like the opalescent wings of the fae or a tail of an alluring siren. They believe for a moment that all she appears as is a facade, too good to be true, though it’s evident to those who approach her when the spotlights of her stage are dimming behind, greedy to purloin the virgin heart resting bare behind her ribcage, that she’s real. She’s the embodiment of honeysuckle decadence and a shockingly, flawless energy orbiting her pellucid auras. Though, don’t confuse her sweetheart features to be all that delineates her face in melting vibrancies and soft sighs; carnality lurking in the ogling attention of her audience. —

When deciding on the appropriate stage name, they bring forth all that’s appealing about Mina that they can trust her to preserve, meshing what’s already there with their own biased expectations. They decide all that should be highlighted, that suits the natural character of her timid personality and gentle grace. There are several options for a stage-name that’d best depict the image she’ll represent, the brand she’ll vend to the masses, but love strikes kindly to the ear, suits the rosy blush that dances from the apples of her cheeks to the tips of her ears in a flattering, modest hue. Compassionate and kind, she holds elegance in her calculated strides, in the neat presentation of her bows and interactions with all who approach her.

Mina’s meant to appear as a delicate definition of love and its ethereal class. She’s timid, yet when spoken to her responses are engineered, mellifluous tone wooing those who engage with her. With a voice as angelic as hers, it’s easy to fool those who engage with her into believing that she’s a talented vocalist, unmatchable power and glamour in the tune of her melody. Although the truth is anything but that, it makes for good press, and in return, it makes for a good profit. (It’s never mattered what she can truly do, so long as her audience is fooled into believing otherwise.)

‘AMOR’ is immediately decided, rolling off the tongue in a sophisticated fashion, the exact kind she’s been instructed to sell. Grins light, never too harsh, whimsical laughter soft and airy, bouncing in the air at a pleasing frequency to hear, not a single flaw in sight. It’s intimidating at first, how her auras are so serene and calm, drawing people in with the promise of a comforting recluse, an allure of a dainty butterfly, though once in orbit the hesitations are settled. A lullaby to her presence, a charming beauty defining her performance, how could anyone ever question the benevolence woven between the umber shades of her ellipses?

After all, she turns her shortcomings into strengths, shifts defects into intended progression, and conceals faults with an incarnadine smile and tender half-crescent gazes.

Isn’t that what love is?

— TOCK

— A monstrosity hides in her onyx stare, and while it’s true that her charismatic performance before enchanted fans carries offstage, her intent is always narcissistic, calculated in a manner that proves perilous to those who land under her spell or who dare to step onto the path she greedily marks as hers. She’s not completely good-hearted person despite coming from roots of innocent intent, not anymore. Yet, no one would ever believe such atrocious remarks when her being is infused with perfection and purity, when her elegance dances away from the mic, back to the dorms, to the vacant alleys she sometimes intrudes. All her blinded paramours would utter the same: she’s a darling, charming and polite with a keen eye for detail, no roguery prevailing in sight. Adorning a voice as soft as benevolent, velveteen nights, a melody to her light steps as she twirls with a magma ambiance haunting her gaze, and a glint of a Machiavellian in those chestnut orbs; she’s everything to idolize and more. —

Love is more than a pretty piece of art to stare at and admire, to wish to seize and make yours out of selfish need, desperately wanting to consume all virtue, all roots of its treacherous essence. It’s a deceptive weapon, cunning and killer to those who dare and challenge its possession and steal it from its unending reign. It’s written down as a fault by the most benevolent poets throughout the years of time, and defined not by the joy it exudes but by the joy it robs, leaving pain as a parting present.

Yet, while all of that is true, even for the young woman who embodies pure love in her step and graces the stage with a smile to remember, these facts lay hidden, carefully disguised under her cheery visage. While it’s the reality that haunts her, that sleeps with her in bed, Mina would never make the daring mistake of letting the faults of amor shine through the damned perfection she’s obliged to sell.

It’s a heavy weight to bear, to lie and fake through one performance after the next when she wants to rest easy for a moment, approach before the audiences a little more honest in the reality of her existence. It’s not what they think, it’s not real, though, nothing thus far has been genuine; all constructed with an immaculate blueprint design ensuring the most success and net-gain from their feminine, girly acts. She may be sweet, kind, enigmatic and gentle in her sophisticated presentation, but sometimes it feels so fake that she wonders if she’s the only one who can see through the faux charm of it.

Don’t they know? Love isn’t constantly saccharine and stunning, isn’t always a stellar performance, scintillating among the stars. Sometimes it’s a reminder of what can’t be touched, attained, what can never be yours, and as an idol rising up the popularity charts, it’s a wonder how long they’ll believe her act when they can’t ever get near enough for contact. A fragile thing, when broken she’s a mess of shards daring with a glint, ready to dig in and feed on the crimson within. A damaging, scarring memory, an aching cessation to all where there’s beauty.

This is what love is.

BIOGRAPHY

PREFACE - 5 years old

Panning solemnly across the universe in shades of pink and precision, glory borders nebulas and awe kisses the enthroned jewels of the sky in an eerie artistry; stars bask in the meaningless definitions pressed to their rogue outline, and they don’t question the immoral stance of it because they can’t. Though lurking on the opposite end of a systematic spectrum, collocated with demons and gods, rests a young girl in Seoul’s crib with caramel auras and winsome laughter, and she’s able of questioning every design heaven’s finest architects have devised. She’s got the ability to inquire it all, the whites of her eyes dimming under shadows as the horizon of dawn’s greeting is pulled by the tar sky, slumber looming over her, yet too entranced by the web of worlds she’s intrinsically strung up to sink into her soul. It’s why despite the passing hours and the contagious lull of sleep, she eases steadily aboard her twilight memories, dragging from their depths the taste of a scorching hell, drawing above her on the oak pillars a consummate design of the fate she desires.

Gazing upon the galaxy with her twin stars, it was predestined that she’d be charmed by their illuminating glory, arms resting against the windowsill, attention held still by the twinkling orbs in the distant blackness. They’ve paid mind where her parents haven’t, and as the arguing outside dims into the background, she indulges in the conversation with the radiant nebulas curved towards her grasp, wondering when she can be just as bright and beautiful, just as lucky to be gazed upon. The desire starts off with innocent manners, a young girl struggling to make her cries heard as shes swept under the crumbling chaos of her parent’s infidelity. A daffodil yearning towards the golden tendrils of sunlight yet wilting under the shadows of an unfortunate fate. It begins with a gentle tidy, a sweet song, a young dreamer wanting to make it someplace nice, wanting to be loved and given care to.

Though, beautiful things don’t last so long without being corrupted in some form, without being tweaked until synthetic perfection. Unreal to touch, too ethereal to exist. She’s only got these moments before time fades and hands her over into the next phase of her life, and this small amount is, numbered, limited, insufficient to all she’s yet to understand and learn. Of the allure of twinkling stars out in the indigo, of the heartfelt love of the glow-in-the-dark shapes scattered across her ceiling, messily. A reminder of a past where her father had cared for her once.

Mina refuses to give up.

The odds have always been against her, but it’s never dulled her incentives or kept her from reaching forth, fingers eagerly attempting to kiss the edge of the illuminant orbs nestled in the tar grip of space. She’s always been quiet, timid, obedient, but it doesn’t keep her from latching onto fierce motives, an unwavering determination to fuel her proceeding actions.

In an offset silence with the chirp of a bird fluttering in the meadow, the sound of a bustling city never absent, and between paling shades of pink, Mina makes a home under the light hues, in ivories and creams, in an image of a dream she seeks.  

CHAPTER ONE - 6 years old

Shes of cirrus of smoke, their fashioned design of hell bearing the chance to blossom a disdainful fruit she tastes and grows addicted to. Their name is greed and they engulf all opponents like the effervescent idols painting the screen of her television and delving between the layers of her daydreams. They build a home among the many artifacts she designs, an idea sprouting, fated to come to fruition for all the wrong causes, from the impacts of cupidity that dare to steal all titles. Giving way for flying galleys to roam her mind while tracing the pattern of constellations with her ebony gaze; her charm is weighted and intoxicated by the glare of midnights exhaustion. Mind so vast, it’s limitless, it’s the actuality she engineers a home in, deriving from the ground a foundation cozy for her momentary stay. Lilith blossoms in an unwelcoming promise, arising with its prosaic entry, the call of a deafening failure familiar to its unruly patrons and weak-minded gems.

She imagines through the gentle ministrations of her mother’s fingers, that not only does she weave ebony strands together to keep them in place, but also twists in some hope, some love, some semblance of a normal, affectionate touch. Yet, it seems to her that all traces of anything sweet are guarded behind a set of pearly teeth, locked behind, never to be uttered. Mina’s never complained, she’s never been allowed to, and glancing in the mirror, she focuses her gaze on the older woman’s visage, tarnished by the stress of work that digs into the fine lines scattered across her forehead and beside the edges of her narrowed ellipses. She’s always been a remarkable beauty, with an amber stare and raven hair curling at the edges, now pinned into a stagnant bun behind her head. Attire matching, black and mundane, strict and formal.

Despite the shabby apartment she’s been raised in, her mother’s never lacked in her fancy clothing that depicts — to others — a lifestyle grander than the two bedroom setting Mina knows as home.

There’s no peace here, no serenity. The delicate call of a bird outside is a lie attempting to mask the grave reality that befalls the family of three when the sun dips under the horizon and speckled stars bear witness to the drama unfolding in their living room. It’s no accurate compass guiding spectators into a comfortable scene where a husband loves his wife, and two parents adore their toddler with the big brown eyes and adorable giggles.

Frankly, giggling is rare. It’s done alone as Mina amuses herself with the same old toys.

She doesn’t mind.

Her lips part to utter fragments of the bright wishes she holds, wanting to discuss and share, hoping to draw more than an hmm, and a nod from her mother’s distracted presence. Hoping for a little something that’d encourage the young girl, bless her porcelain face with a grin as bright as the thousands of stars settling outside one night to the next. However, her words are cut short before they can fall from her lips when her father steps inside, another night spent outside, a frazzled look adorning his features.

Mina’s eyes fall as her mothers harden, an accidental yank to her braid before she’s pulled away entirely, the young girl left sitting before the mirror, staring at her reflection.

Acceptance will come soon, she hopes.

It won’t.

CHAPTER TWO - 7 years old

She’s hardly approached the marmalade dawn of her birthday before chaos invites itself into her heart, and her parent’s facade slips, their agony rushing forth, their infidelity drawing bold in shades of crimson and azure, of ash and salt. The making of a wilted daffodil is set into play. Delicate fault lines shift with the silent shudder of wings and her universe slips through her nimble fingers; lithe figure plunging between the crevices her parent’s finality has created. She falls through their horrors, and nothing but a distant cry is heard by the howling winds of an incoming east wind. This end plucks her from her childhood fantasies and sets the corruption of her innocent beliefs into motion. Greed comes faintly before it sets strong, and envy lights as a horrid enigma in the pit of her bare stomach; her taste for greatness is still the same, but her cravings have dulled into a wicked notion. She’ll do anything to make herself worthy.

A part of her has always known that the way she lives, the methods her parents have taken in raising her, are not normal, are not acceptable, but instead of objecting their upbringing, criticising their poor attitudes, Mina sits quietly. It’s not her nature to be loud, to yell and whine. Unintentionally  — or perhaps with a perfect plan — she’s been made into an obedient daughter who listens to their demands and follows the strict instructions of their laid out orders, telling her what to do, how to act, what to avoid, and how to exist entirely. She’s their creation, albeit, a mistake, but of their construction nonetheless, and whatever they will from her, they’ll get, because that’s how it’s always been. Despite the obvious difference between her reality and others, this is her normal, and to stray from it is more terrifying than their critical scoldings and narrowed glares.

She’s endured so much so far, she can do handle a little more… Or a lot.

Her eyes are balanced on the stranger invading her home with a sinful glance and provocative motions that make her glance away with disgust rolling through her stomach. She’s not dumb, quite the opposite actually, and Mina understands that faith, fidelity, and fairness have been long discarded in the union binding her parents together. She knows that they’re not doing what they should, but instead acting upon what they want.

The word ‘cheating’ is added to her definition early on, alongside ‘affair,’ and other numerous curses that a child of her age shouldn’t bear witness to, yet their trio has always been an unorthodox one. Despite feeling how wrong it is, realizing it’s not okay, her memories litter of scenarios where things have followed similarly. It’s not alright, but it’s just how things work around here. It’s just how her world stands.

She’s never been wanted, she understands that as she stares at her father’s drunken figure hanging off of a woman that nowhere near resembles her mother. Go to your room, the same four words uttered, angered glare narrowing when she doesn’t work quick enough. Get out of my fucking sight.

They don’t want her.

No one does, but maybe one day she can change that.

CHAPTER THREE - 9 years old

Time is still young on the life that spans before her, and she’s yet to understand that the fading hue of aureate twinkles is not because she’s succumbing to the inevitable and mundane act of sleeping, but because they’re drawing further away. Those dainty dreams leave her in a fit of pique as she nears the age where imagination becomes insanity, tearing through her viscera with countless butterflies; fluttering wings drilling on at a nauseating velocity, making her twin stars see nothing but a grey haze. It was a menial job for fate to conclude due to the faint carvings those hopes had been inscribed upon; passion having barely begun before it tittered away in a maniacal morning, leaving her under twilight forever with no stars to chase. Fingers dizzyingly point to the speckled ceiling above, their ambiance having dulled over the years as the fault lines of her reality continue to threateningly reverberate.

She’s never really paid attention to attaining hobbies or focusing on them, of course, extracurricular activities are always promoted throughout the school, but she’s used to the routine she’s been confined to. Leaving early in the morning for her studies, coming home on time to finish homework. It’s a fundamental cycle that reminds Mina her parents are watching, and while it’d feel too restricting for some, to her it serves as a reminder that they care enough to pay attention. That they don’t want her getting lost or abducted or veering off into a path of drugs and other illicit activities under the harsh influence of her peers. As if her classmates can scare her more than her own mother and father.

Singing is something she’s always loved while watching the screens on her television, listening to the radio as she works on another project, sometimes even daringly singing along when left alone. Finding amusement in her barren settings is necessary if she’s to someday succeed and make it into the real world; the city outside her window loud and calling her name through its twinkling lights and bright displays. Mina wants to be a star, bright and shining so strong that all who glance her way see her. Though, she’s never properly considered the possibility of becoming a different star, one that prances across a stage, one that sings into a microphone and charms fans with the flick of their fingers. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it’s rested as a haunting thought cast aside, a passion abandoned in the busy realizations of her torn home and the hostile situations unfolding inside the paper walls.

She forgot that she’d ever truly wanted it. Lost in the world fashioned by her parent’s lack of loyalty and love.

Silently, Mina bends the rules just a little and joins the school’s choir.

CHAPTER FOUR - 10 years old

She’ll remain hard-headed despite the obvious decline of destiny’s support in her race to an overtly joyous life, her fingers still curling around the ending tendrils of her childhood fascinations. There are no more prayers to be heard, and in between the sapphire shades of her bedding and the indigo atmosphere peering through her blinds, a thunderous confession sets fire to it all at last. Her mother bore a child of ill fortune that’s cursed to a fate of pride and inundated by faux beauty. The carcass of a doll, a raven in a caged cell, a glimmer of obsidian lurking behind lilac; these are what will define her waking moments, the pressing chill of an end to her spine, the poised perfection of her eternal artistry tainted with the viridian tones of a damning drive. Her mothers made a monster shielded behind ivory, yet she doesn’t even notice.

She’s not bullied, teased, or bothered. Mina’s ignored, cast out from the attention of all her peers, though perhaps it’s her fault for hiding behind a veil of thick bangs, drowning in clothes a little too big for her. No friends or foes, no one to tell her pain to, no one to argue with. It’s never been like her to act passive aggressive anyways, but it dulls her mundane life further nonetheless, and she finds herself questioning what she’s truly looking for. The cycle of school work and her magnificent grades are sure to take her far.

Mina’s competitive drive and strive for greatness and success has kept her at the top three of her grade, and at this rate, she’s certain to make her way into some top universities. Perhaps even slip out of the design of her parent’s crude existences and pursue serenity. Yet, the idea has her hesitant, uncertain. She’s not willing to chase a degree, doesn’t feel the burn of passion in studying anymore. It’s a surprise she’s made it so far with her competitive spirit dimming with every year that passes.

Mina’s all chubby cheeks and rounded edges, no dainty elegance in sight, only a girl panicked of the hostile world around her that never spares a second to judge every flaw she holds. That’s unforgiving and ruthless, and a part of her wants to dominate, to rule, to be on top where her parents can gaze upon their missed chance and hold a regret in their gaze alongside approval.

Attention is rare, and for the longest time, she wants to keep it that way, dancing between threads of melody and harmony in a careful silence, but when picturing herself in the position of the idols she gazes upon, she can’t help but wonder otherwise. Singing along, a gentle ambiance setting the mood of her room into lilac hues, she questions the possibilities more, wishes for a chance; curious to see if she can cease it if it arrives, curious to see if she can become something more than a girl locked in the four walls of her room.

Her father opens the door and yells at her to shut up.

Mina ducks her head and resumes her studies, but it’s too late for him to stop the innocent ideas blossoming in her mind. She found hope in a place that offered none, and to ruin her small attempts and pure-hearted dreams takes more than a few thunderous scoldings.

Once she begins, she’s unstoppable, and with a new target shaping into existence with every added thought, Mina sets her aim.

CHAPTER FIVE  - 11 years old

They reside in silence; two ghosts meeting only for the bare necessities of decisive measures, otherwise shifting away in their isolation, a lacking regard for their teenage daughter whose dimmed wishes of settling a spot in the limelight still keep her motivated enough. Her arduous efforts will not disperse themselves into a faltering design of failure, though she’s learned by now to slim her fantasies into mere inches and keep them concise. It’s the fault of her parent’s lascivious habits, their concupiscent minds that yearn after the catering service of other men and women who can please them better than the riveting drama cooking up in their home. It’s the fault of the galactic designs spread countlessly across her bedroom ceiling that made her believe hope was a force no evil could reckon with or penetrate through to spoil. She’s always surmised fallacious fairytales quite easily, and now it taunts her with half-hearted dreams and a soured look curled in the almond orbs of her reflection; harnessing a heated hellfire through the glares of rebellion; blithe disdain towards the realm she resides in.

There’s a shift, she should notice it, but instead, Mina ignores it as she does most things, turns her gaze the other way, attention resting on the food scattered across her plate in their various colors while her parents yelling blends into the background. She’s drowning, but she surrenders, the cerulean tide reaping in the fallen glory of her virtuous intentions as she turns towards shadows, almond orbs narrowing into an exhausted glare.

The drama is endless, the mindless arguing no longer fazes her as she sits at the dinner table, waiting for an end, knowing better than to expect the absurd reality where resolution is reached. Neither of them ever back down, and she can’t recall a time when they’d agreed on anything when they’d cooperated, compromised for the sake of her, their young daughter seated beside their heated forms.

Things have always been this way, and she’s learned to accept the curse placed on her world long ago. It’s not a shocking sight, it’s just another night in their cozy residence, just another day, another passing moment. To focus on its hideous design is a baseless decision she’d never make, knowing full well if she were to think about the details of their arguments, allowing herself to care too much, that she wouldn’t last a second.

All she has to look forward to is the choir, something that’s grown to become a priority in her schedule, slowly rising to the top to dominate above her other concerns. Singing is all there is that keeps her hopeful of something better ahead. Dreams so rich in color and loud in their frequencies that she can’t imagine a world where she isn’t chasing them. She’s meant for this, determined to accomplish success when she comes from a place where there exists none.

Over the years she’s established a presence, a name in the group, but her persistence in growing stronger and hope in making it far can’t make up for all she lacks, and it’s obvious in the hesitant glance of her teacher that she’s hardly the best. Mina’s nothing more than average, another background piece strengthening the skills of her fellow classmates as they proceed with angelic tunes matching their serene auras. Hers is corrupted by envy and disappointment. Its evident that she’s not cut out for this, that what she’s attempting to seek isn’t easy in her orbit, but calmly she settles her nerves and begins again.

Mina has endured things worse than this. Where she could draw peace in a house of chaos and unending madness, she’s confident that she can also fulfill her desires in a world of rejection and merciless competition.

CHAPTER SIX - 12 years old

Her presentation, the light rubescent facade, remains consistently immaculate in its design through the years, and it’s an astonishing miracle despite the disrupted haven she’d blossomed in. Alabaster soul slowly beginning to be decorated in variegated colours of plum and prune, the advancing devilish corruption fading into her marks as a permanent scar; sins swiftly settling atop her skeleton, shaping her further into a porcelain shell. Something else is born in the seconds of her unfurling hesitations. She turns disgraceful appellations onto herself and lets the foreshadowing of fates planned demise take control of the concluding hours of her virtue. Through the jagged edges of her violent quotes, she finds her negativity fuelling her drive, a dark matter she once swore to never touch now intertwining with the lines on her palm and sinking beneath the smooth flesh.

She shouldn’t have indulged in those negative thoughts, their toxicity intertwining with her viscera, crawling out in a gasp, in the salty tears that kiss her pillowcase holding dreams barely put together. Revenge is bitter, it’s harsh, a failing last option, but she takes up its offer nonetheless and schedules herself for a day of a silver-shaded success. Defying fate and destiny is what she’s always done, and there’s nothing stopping her from trying to clasp onto the whimsical dreams stuck to her ceiling except for her parents. Though, at this rate, she’s willing to stand against them too, portray her voice loud and clear. After all, with this, she could make them proud of her, allow them to shoulder pride as their daughter conquers her dreams and crosses into a different reality than the one they endure day-to-day.

Seated before their bored and rather annoyed stare, Mina proceeds in asking a favor for the first time. She’s never requested for anything, fully aware of their financial situation and too scared to demand that they put her first to open her mouth with desperate pleas and irritating whines. Unlike other families, there’s no casual air between Mina and her parents.

She’s only known tension.

You want what? Her gaze falls as her father engages his imagination with the possibility of his quiet daughter making it onto a stage with a fierce and commanding attitude. He laughs in her face, humorless, no real joy in sight, while her mother rolls her eyes and stands up from her seat. Waste of my time. Their words and attitudes sting, and whether or not they notice the embarrassing shade of rosy hues decorating her cheeks and the fallen tears trailing down her flesh, they remain stagnant on their judgment. Blatant disregard for her innocent intent, or the curl of a devilish toxicity darkening her amber hues. Uncaring towards the poisonous tones that soak into her skin and sink to her soul, marring her quintessence with a dangerous obsession, addiction, ceaseless stubbornness. Let her try, she’ll never make it, her father utters when Minas races away.

She can’t do anything.

CHAPTER SEVEN - 13 years old

She flourishes into the reincarnation of Lady Macbeth, and the entire world rests under the looks of the ill-fortuned king her selfish intents will slay. The grip of a stubborn destiny finally sets loose when a few abortive attempts later she’s allotted a position to settle her score with fate’s tenuous war on her piteous dreams. It hardly comes easy, scintillating stares setting her nerves on fire, judging her third audition with the breach of a galaxy swarming above, ready to cave downwards and consume her candor mind once more. They seem to notice, at last, the undying command nestled in her determined ellipses; the former rejections never ceasing her will. It seems like an apology the world has bestowed upon the curve of her heart when she steps forth to be charmed by the Midas touch and turned to gold, rewarded for her passionate pursuit, but adversity always lays mere steps ahead. It’s a familiar companion; singing to her old lullabies, striking her with a toxic comfort she’s grown to embrace, dwelling evermore in its russet tint.

It takes her longer than she would’ve liked, taking more auditions, more tries at a rare opportunity, more pleading and reasoning to finally be accepted by a company, MSG no less. Giving up has never been an option. She’s got too much to show, too much to prove. The expectations are high, demands even higher. It’s evident to her that they pride on the neat presentation of all their trainees and aim to build an empire with their faces as the propaganda to steer millions of fans into their profits. Strict and serious, her world has never been any different, and while there’s a worry that her parents will change their mind, drag her back into that room full of numerous wishes, she attempts to keep her focus on what’s next instead. Mina didn’t spend the last years of her life to come this far only to blow it, though, as she’ll later find, her time hasn’t come just yet, and she’s got more left to prove elsewhere than here in her current company.

She’s a step closer than she’s ever been, and with practice, with her resilience, she can make it and finally embody the enigmatic protagonist of her dreams, becoming the childhood hero she’s always envisioned. A star on stage, a performer with talent and hard work showcased in her steps and strong vocals, someone so bright that her parents choke on their lack of faith with widened eyes, spectating her glory.  

That’s not a desire meant for her to complete, and she can tell herself that it’ll arise soon, that her stubbornness, undying greed, and fierce passion will lead her into the hands of success, but what’s true is that she’s destined to be nothing more than a sub-par vocalist. A barely decent girl from the capital city of Korea with a bright attitude and mesmerizing essence, a radiance in her big grins and practiced congeniality.

Held captive by her selfish tendencies, she makes more enemies than friends. Ticks off everyone she meets with her shy attitude and nervous antics that drive to annoy those who regretfully settle next to her. However, Mina isn’t here to create bonds and build relationships, she’s come with a set purpose, and she won’t quit until she’s achieved it.

Perhaps that’s where she goes wrong. Misdirecting her stubbornness into fueling an unhealthy obsession, never realizing once that what she gleefully calls a dream has become a nightmare instead.  

She doesn’t want this, but she won’t ever refuse to accept that truth.

CHAPTER EIGHT - 15 years old

Calloused inches of her ignite from the dry bouts of a feverish competition while she makes her mark in a practiced indication, certain to call some impressed remarks. No longer locked in blissful reveries or losing her attention to their starry essence, she still remains susceptible to the death of her last schemes for success, and it comes in the manifestation of an erstwhile rival. Hypnotic stare and she’s crowned congeniality, her cordial mannerisms, dainty aura and striking vocals taking her far until she’s dragged herself atop the final pedestal after three years of brutality. Nails red and raw, sweat lining her dismayed features. She debuts in 2016, hardly an ounce of excitement buried in her onyx orbs. The once enigmatic fury burning in her bosom, threatening to burst due to the multitude of desires she couldn’t contain, were now left vacant, lock and key destroyed and all her earnings robbed.

Mina’s tries not to question the meaning of her participation in the practices and rigorous training cycles while under MSG’s constant watch. Doesn’t dare to step into the uncharted waters of hesitation, guilt, and doubt. She’s done enough damage by turning her dreams into an ominous obsession and to add onto her burdens with the inquiry of her talent in comparison to others, especially when she’s mildly aware of the truth hiding under, is not an option.

There’s already immense competition, beautiful girls with beautiful manners and equally as beautiful voices that power over hers no matter how much she tries to stand out. She can’t let her own flaws be the cause of her downfall when she’s only got one chance to succeed. Still, those pressing thoughts are louder, clearer and rushing forth instead of being caged at the back of her mind. After what she’s done, why does Mina deserve to debut?

(She doesn’t.)

Focus on yourself, she nods, listening to the instructors. What matters is your own progress, and delving into self-doubt is where you’ll find yourself failing.

She has a lot to reflect on, she’s done a lot of wrong things, and while there’s no real way to truly cheat when it comes to training, she’s not in the right for helping spread the fire of rumors leading to the downfall of her fellow trainees. It’s a callous world, she excuses. Sometimes there are certain things you have to do to succeed, but none of it justifies her behavior, and she still treads uneasily. She didn’t trust her efforts and allowed the negative scheming to plague her mind, attention drifting from her lessons to the sneaky lives of other trainees.

No matter how much she works on convincing herself that she did what she had to, Mina still can’t sleep at night, and it seems she’s failed the teachings of her instructor, giving into doubts every night, waking up with a heavy mind. Her progression slows with exhaustion on an obvious display. It’s evident to everyone but her that what she’s working for isn’t giving her joy, that she’s got no excitement or real passion in her drive.

Honey’s line-up is finalized, and she’s left behind once again.

This time Mina doesn’t fight it, she has no right to, and gathering her will, she attempts at her goal once more, this time, with Midas in sight.

Her father’s prediction is louder than ever.

CHAPTER NINE - 17 years old

They have yet to discover the toxic tinge adorning her loose posture, or the shine of Persephone resting elegantly in the shadow of her desirable silhouette, painted black, shaped delightfully, swaying in music like wisteria in wind. She’s yet to recognize the difference in her own constellation, still too focused on her languid movements and the need to hone her silver voice into gold to realize the patterns of destruction weaving through her inky mind. Decrepit institutes are born of the violent stance of her authority, an evanesced honor defused in the perspicuous instructions from the dark. The glare of moonlight perches itself through strands of her midnight hair, and she’s left operating clandestine plans in the desperate efforts to maintain what she’s received, to keep the balance of it all steady. An impending destruction is promised, though her barren mind refuses to be incarcerated by its rising fear through the act of pitiful submission.

Hostile, harsh, everything dark hides behind a pink facade. She’s still not that good of a vocalist, but it doesn��t hinder her solo dreams, not even when they train her for rap. After all, she’ll do anything to shine brightly, anything to become that star on the ceiling, because maybe then her parents will notice her and regard her with a love she’s missed her entire life.

Her footsteps are loud against the flooring as she treads down another barren hallway. Mina’s nerves are bundled together, an anxious fold growing incessantly in the pit of her stomach as she predicts the countless outcomes of her summoning. They’re all negative. Ever since she endeavored onto the path of a desolate, dark world, seeing reality through the lens of a broken perspective, her entire world has tilted on its axis and turned bleak. Nothing has looked so genuinely sweet no matter how much she tries to combat the bitter with beauty. She’s the one who invited the demons inside, who let them scourge her mind with an impatient tick and rob her of all that was clean, neat, pure and untouched. Devilish thoughts have burrowed a home in her mind, and all she sees are the same repeated words of failure, the ones she’s felt throughout her life.

She can’t do anything.

Always ten steps behind, always the last, always the least. Emotions can be faked, joy and hope can bear a weight on her shoulders, jammed in like unfit puzzle pieces that she can force herself to believe otherwise. Optimism is the curse she now projects, the drug she injects into her veins as if it can truly satiate the horrid pressures of her lonely existence.

A smile curves into the thin line of her lips, incarnadine tinge decorating the flesh in an appealing fashion.

To be deserving means to look such too, doesn’t matter if, in the end, the feelings don’t match or the inside mutters otherwise and she truly isn’t suitable of all she’s trying to obtain. It doesn’t matter what Mina thinks. Midas has spent years teaching her carefully of what’s important and what can be discarded and she’s known since she signed the contract and stepped forth to be molded into their imagined design that her opinion holds no significance. No one cares what roams her mind, so long as she keeps all the tainting pessimism off the happy expressions drawn onto her face and disguises pain with perfection.

When she’s revealed the good news, informed of making it into the line-up of their upcoming girl group, Mina ignores the surprising rise of dread choking her up and expresses the tears as cries of joy and relief. Thank you so much, I’m so honored. Bowing full ninety degrees, her gentle nods express a gleeful acceptance of all they tell her.

They don’t teach her how to sing or rap or dance.

They teach her how to act.

CHAPTER TEN - 20 years old

The kiss of fate was never meant to strike perilous at all, perhaps through its numerous hurdles, it was devising for her a sign that she could decipher when glancing upon the heavens another faithful night. Perhaps through the numerous turbulences, all it was wishing to promise her was safety from the net of fame and the destructive construction of the fatal industry. In conclusion, all that the world wanted to do was to save her from her own rapturous claws before she plunged too deep into the design of her fairytale fantasies. Give her an awakening where she sought after a truth beyond the stretch of idol enchantment. To gaze into the sordid expressions resting in her childhood bedroom where innocence wasn’t granted security and she shifted from wide orbs of undying curiosity into narrowed gazes of vehement hostility. Now pressed to the core of hell, it’s far too late, and her nectarous purity continues to bleed her desolate.

There’s a certain limit to patience, though it seems that when it comes to waiting for her parents, Mina’s got an unending source of it. Day after day, hours passing, weeks melting into months that shift into two whole years, she still stands, waiting, hoping that maybe they’ll finally come around this time and see what she’s accomplished, finally regard her presence with a glee they’ve never given her before. Though, she’s always left disappointed, clutching onto the ending tendrils of her ragged fantasies and the half-hearted pleas she prays to something among the scintillating stars who watch her shoulders fall. There’s a certain amount of hope one can hold, a meager of faith they can cling to, yet, again, whether it’s an obsession or a desperate need for affection, she holds onto it readily. Never ending. There are shadows adorning the contours of her face, yet the glow of her practiced radiance is still brightening — blinding.

She calls her parents once again, glancing back anxiously as the girls get ready for another stage, shooting a pleading look towards her manager who sighs, discontent with her attempts, yet kind enough to allow her a few more minutes. The number you’re trying to dial — and she’s back where she’s begun. A disappointed look highlighting her features, distress imprinted in another eager effort. Perhaps they’re busy making their way over, or perhaps they’re already here, settled in the crowd somewhere and she just can’t see them. Perhaps they’ll answer now; seconds are counted, minutes always matter, anything can happen, anything can change.

There’s no answer.

Her motivation doesn’t cease despite the obvious explanation of their blatant ignorance towards her hard work and accomplishments. It’s okay, I’ll try harder, I’ll be better. One day they’ll see me.

They won’t.

I’ve proved them wrong.

She hasn’t.

[idolizenews]

MEMBER’S SURPRISE FAREWELL

1. [ + 1,412 , - 170 ] Hul right when they’re gaining steam, what are they going to do ?  2. [ + 938 , - 267 ] Did anyone even know who she was anyway?? Good luck at school ㅋ 3. [ + 817 - 37 ] What about the subunits? Will they continue as a duo? 헐...

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON FANTASY’S MAIN VOCAL SOYEE…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 22 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 18 SKILL POINTS: 18 VOCAL | 05 DANCE | 00 RAP | 07 PERFORMANCE

INTERVIEW

With a soft, round and cherubic face that holds onto the image of childhood youth and innocence that, even with age, doesn’t go away is the basis of Soyee’s branding. She was placed in Fantasy for that sole reason. Her vocals were good, amazing even, but in the idol industry that didn’t matter. You could have the strongest vocals in the world, but if you didn’t have the look, you weren’t fit to debut. Soyee was two for two - good vocals and the a face that could make even the angriest of people smile. That was what Midas wanted. Soft, sweet, pure. Much like the name of the group they placed her in, they wanted her to be a fantasy. The perfect image of the perfect girl. Just as easily as she can be seen as a fantasy, she can be seen as nightmare. As soon as she sheds the white dress and white shoes of Fantasy’s cover up and dons the black garb that is Nightmare’s facade, it’s like a completely different person. Dark and mysterious. A deep intensity in her eyes that leaves the audience wondering what kind of secrets she’s hiding behind those brown eyes of hers. The switch between Fantasy’s Soyee and Nightmare’s Soyee is one that catches everyone off guard. Unrecognizable, the only thing the two of them share being the same face. Not the youngest member, but not the eldest either, Soyee is stuck somewhere in the middle. She’s the quintessential middle child. She doesn’t get as much attention as the youngest members or the eldest members, and she’s okay with that. She doesn’t mind being put on the back burner during variety shows. She’s a singer, nothing more, nothing less. Although that has started to garner her some complaints. Netizens are beginning to accuse her of being stuck up and arrogant. ‘She thinks she’s too good to for variety shows now?’ ‘I knew that I never liked her.’ ‘Ugh, she’s a stuck up bitch.’ Midas has begun the process of trying to soften her off stage image with the public, wanting them to love her just as much as they loved her Fantasy persona. They been booking her for more variety shows in hopes that it will gather more positive feedback for her from the public.

BIOGRAPHY

January 2002 “Are you sure this is what you want to do, Soyee?” The eight year old stared at her reflection in the mirror, eyes taking in the long, dark hair that framed her round face. For as long as she could remember she’d had long hair. Hair that fell past her shoulders. Hair that she completely hated and loathed. She was constantly fiddling with it, pushing it back, pinning it up, pulling it up into a bun; anything to get it off of her neck and away from her face. It was a hassle for her, having to deal with the burden of long hair. A hassle that many other little girls would have seen as a blessing. She couldn’t count on one hand how many times the girls at her school or her own family members would stroke her hair, sighs of jealousy leaving their lips as they stared longingly at her long tresses. They could have it for all she cared. She didn’t need long hair. Especially not when she was out with her friends, playing ball or wrestling around in the grass. Not only did it get in the way, but it was a pain in her eight year old neck trying to get mud out of her long locks. She took a deep breath and nodded her head. “Yes. Cut it.” Her mother gave the hairdresser a look, their eye contact lasting for several seconds before she nodded. The stylist picked up the scissors and a chunk of Soyee’s hair. Her eyes closed as the almost silent snip of the shears filled the air, her shoulders sagging in relief. The hair wasn’t the only weight lifted off of her shoulders. ———– October 2006 It seemed as though it hadn’t stopped raining since the incident. The dreary sky and falling rain matched perfectly to their moods, almost as if God or whatever higher power up there was mocking them. Laughing at their pain. Their mother, ripped away from them far too soon, leaving behind two little girls and a man who needed her more than anything in the world. Soyee couldn’t even bring herself to cry. She had to stay strong for her little sister. They didn’t have a mother anymore, so she had to be the womanly figure in her sister’s life. That was too much responsibility to place on a twelve year old’s shoulders, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. Without her mother there, her sister became the most important person in her life. Her father was there, but with him busy with work all the time, it would just be the two of them. That was fine with her. She could console her sister on her own. She could take care of her sister. She would be the maternal influence that her little sister needed, even though they weren’t even two years apart in age, she would take care of her by any means necessary. ———– February 2007 “Shouldn’t you be using the boys’ bathroom?” Soyee’s shoulders tensed up at the sound of an all too familiar voice, a voice that she could go the rest of her life without hearing. Heo Hyerim was a girl that had made it her life’s mission to make Soyee’s life an absolute hell. She made fun of her short haircut and the fact that she was, as she so eloquently put it, one of the boys. It was frustrating not even being able to go to the restroom in peace without being harassed. “Don’t you hear me talking to you?” “I’m trying not to.” Silence stretched between them as the eldest Jang child continued to wash her hands, before cutting off the faucet and flicking them carelessly. “Are you finished?” She asked, turning around to face the other girl. Soyee had always been on the taller side, towering over all of her female peers and even standing taller than a good amount of her male peers as well. Hyerim didn’t seem to be fazed by her stature unfortunately. “I don’t know. Are you finished acting like a boy? I thought your mother gave birth to two girls, not a boy and a girl. I wonder what would she think if you saw you dressing like -” She couldn’t even get the words out before she was on top of the girl, fists pummeling forward at obscene speed. She could only see red, even as the nearest teacher dragged her off of a sobbing Hyerim. She didn’t do damage - at least not too much damage. A bruised cheek and a busted lip. Not enough to get her in trouble with the law, but definitely enough to get her suspended from school. ———– June 2009 It was a shame how quickly their father seemed to move on. It hadn’t even been a full three years since the death of their mother, and he had already brought in another woman to fill her spot. He had given her his last name and their mother’s spot in his bed. It made her sick. Not as sick as the actual woman made her feel. The woman treated her and her sister like the scum of the Earth. When she was a little girl, she never thought that she would end up living the life of Cinderella. Minus the fairy godmother, the glass slipper and a prince of her very own. All she was stuck with was heartache and a wicked stepmother. “You’re seriously making us leave?” Her voice was clipped and sharp as she stared at her father through the window of his car, her suitcases by her feet. Her sister stood yards away, already at their grandparents’ front door and being greeted by them. “Soyee-ah, you know this isn’t easy -” “Then why are you doing it?” Her eyes flickered to the woman in the car, and there she had her answer. “Right. Say no more. I used to think that the phrase blood is thicker than water was true.. I guess I was wrong.” She grabbed her bags and turned on her heel, marching towards her grandparents’ house. She hadn’t seen her father since. ———– November 2010 “I don’t.. You’re just a friend, Soyee. I’m sorry.” Embarrassment flooded through her system. How could she be so stupid? Did she really think that he had feelings for her too? She must have been reading him wrong. The smiles and laughs that they shared, they were all strictly platonic. He didn’t see her as anything more than a friend. That was always what she was. A friend. A pal. A buddy. “I mean, you’re like one of the guys, you know? I can’t date one of my buds.” That hurt even more. The fact that he didn’t see her as a girl was heartbreaking, even more so than the fact that he didn’t return her feelings. If that was how he saw her, then did all of her other guy friends see her in the same way? Did all of her guy friends think that she was just another one of the guys? Is that why they didn’t treat her like a girl? She was good enough to crack jokes and pig out with, but when it came to treating her like a girl, holding her books or giving up their seat so she could sit, they never did any of that. It was all starting to make sense to her now. “Right, I - I get it!” She plastered a fake smile on her face, shaking her head. “I was just kidding anyway man, come on. Me? Liking you?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Get real.” She reached out to punch him gently in the shoulder. “You hungry? Let’s go grab some kimchi and barbecue man, I’m starving.” ———– January 2011 The sound of tapping against a music stand filled the room, immediately causing silence to fall over the class. “From the top, class.” Soyee wasn’t sure how she had gotten roped into joining the school choir. It was something that she hadn’t really been interested in, but one of her close friends had wanted to join but he didn’t have the nerve to do it himself. Her being the good friend that she was, decided to swallow her own pride and join with him. As it turned out, she really enjoyed singing. The compliments she received on her vocal tone and color made her want to continue to keep singing. It was there that she developed a love of singing in front of other people. She had always enjoyed singing. She sang all the time when she was in the shower or when she was doing her homework. She sang so much that her grandmother would yell down the hall and tell her to “shut up with all that noise.” Of course, that only made her sing even more. Joining that class had really awoken a part of her that she hadn’t known existed, and for once in her life since her mother died, she felt true happiness. ———– August 2012 “Remind me again why I’m doing this?” “Because your voice deserves to be heard!” She had to stop letting him talk her into stuff. First choir, now auditioning for a music company? It was a bad idea, but she found herself saying yes and there she was - being dragged to an open audition call for Midas Media at eight in the morning on a Saturday. The line was all the way out the front entrance and wrapped around the building, a sight that made Soyee want to back out even more. “Come on, can’t we just go grab some bibimbap instead?” She whined, stomping her foot a little bit and grabbing the attention of a few bypassing people. “First of all, stop acting like a brat. Second of all, I’m not about to let you let that voice of yours go to waste.” She grumbled under her breath at his answer, crossing her arms over her chest. The line moved.. Slowly but surely. It wasn’t until over an hour later, almost two hours, that she was walking through the front entrance of the building, shoulders squared as she tried her damnedest to look as confident as possible, even though she felt like she could faint. She didn’t want to look easily intimidated. They wanted confidence and star power. She could give them that.. Right? “Jang Soyee!” It took her friend nudging her for her to realize that her name had been called, and she gulped as she stood up from her seat. Luckily her legs weren’t shaking like she thought they were, and she walked through the double doors to face the panel of label execs. “State your name, age, languages you speak and what you’re going to be doing for us today.” Her mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to find the words, but floundering helplessly. Their faces were blank, borderline annoyed as they waited for her to finally gather her bearings. “J-Jang Soyee, I’m nineteen years old, I only speak Korean and I’ll be s-s-singing.” Or at least she’d be trying to sing. ———– September 2012 Three weeks. That was how long it had taken for her to get a phone call from Midas. They wanted her. They wanted to meet with her and discuss a contract before signing her as a trainee. She couldn’t believe it. It seemed as though nothing good had happened to her over the past five years, but things were finally starting to look up. She was getting the opportunity to make something of herself, to prove to her father that he had made the wrong decision in choosing that woman over them. She was going to make her mother, wherever she was, proud of her. The meeting with the execs wasn’t what she had expected. “You need to grow your hair out. We need you in a girl group, not a boy group. And the way you dress. Don’t you own some dresses in your closet? No? You need to buy some. You’re a lady, it’s time to start acting like one.” That was a little harsh. Did she really look that boyish with her hair cut short? Were her clothing choices really that bad? She reached up to touch the short strands, before slowly nodded her head. “Oh.. Okay, I can. I can grow my hair out and change my clothes if that’s what needs to be done.” It seemed as though everyone wanted her to be something that she wasn’t. They wanted her to grow her hair out, they wanted her to be feminine. It was like she was in high school al over again, admitting her feelings to a guy that would never see her for what she was - a girl. ———– Present Almost six years since she’s been under Midas. Pushing three years since Fantasy’s debut. Soyee has been living a lie since the moment she signed her contract with Midas. After sealing the deal and signing her soul over to the devil, she started the process of changing the very fabric of who she was. The girl who once shunned long hair and donning dresses had to grow her hair out and replace her tattered jeans and hoodies with skinny jeans and blouses. Her short hair that had never reached past her earlobes since the age of eight now fell well past her shoulders and down her back. When she looked in the mirror, with all the makeup on her face, she could barely recognize herself anymore. She had given up who she was, all for the sake of other people. All so that she could sing. Sometimes she finds herself wondering if it’s truly worth it, but it’s not like it matters if it is or not. Even if it isn’t worth it, she’s stuck where she is. She’s stuck putting forth the image of herself that Midas constructed. An image that she’s become so used to donning that she’s beginning to lose sight of who she is. The scary part about that is, she isn’t really sure if she even cares.

[idolizenews]

FANTASY HOLDS COMEBACK SHOWCASE FOR SURPRISE SUMMER COMEBACK WITH ‘SUNNY SUMMER’

1. [+ 1,393 , - 281 ] But honestly, isn’t this the best summer song this year? Sunny summer ~~ The choreography is so cute and refreshing in this heat ㅋㅋㅋ   2. [+ 1,240 , - 200 ] Seems like all the other companies want to take Heaven’s summer girl group title from them for themselves ㅋㅋㅋ Who’s next, Jawbreaker? This one isn’t bad though? As expected of Midas class~  3. [+ 1,109 , - 152 ] Hul I wasn’t expecting another group comeback so fast after Navillera, I hope this means Midas is gonna stop with the weird subunit concept ㅠㅠㅠ  4. [+ 931 - 105 ] Honestly all the summer songs so far have been so boring... when is Heaven going to come back as a full group and show these groups how summer songs are really done ㅋㅋ 5. [+ 779 , - 58 ] Seriously isn’t their retro vibe always so cute? Ah I really keep falling for Fantasy with each comeback... let’s rise, Fantasy!!

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON FANTASY’S MAIN VOCAL JOOA…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 22 DEBUT AGE: 20 SKILL POINTS: 10 VOCAL | 05 DANCE | 00 RAP | 05 PERFORMANCE

INTERVIEW

she’s never been a particularly outgoing girl, never one to draw extra attention to herself. she’s quiet, observes, knows everything that’s going on because of it.

so her company puts the fairy image with eunah. they took a look at her wide doe eyes and calm smile and thought that they could make her mysterious, pretty in the typical korean way. during her debut years she was known for her visuals, known for being more mature in her overall manner. but she was also instructed not to talk, as if she would anyways, given her preference to talk less and listen more. the fans (the little that fantasy actually had at the time) liked to say that she’s shy, liked to talk about her looks more than her personality because there wasn’t much to say for the latter.

the pitfalls of having typical korean features is that she’s supposed to act like the typical korean girl, the girl who’s your mom’s friend’s daughter, the girl that your parents want to introduce you to. of course, she has her own quirks — her face gets flushed when she’s embarrassed, she’s bad at lying, gets flustered easily — but it’s clear what they want from her. they want her to be elegant, to have that aura of a quiet, calm power. they want people to say that she’s shy, and then go on to talk about how she’s pretty.

but then again, she switches when she’s onstage. the push and pull of dark, mysterious jooa versus light, pretty, innocent eunah is what the public wants. she transitions, has a gap between her persona on camera and off, and the company has made sure that the gap is as wide as possible. it also comes into play when she’s promoting as a group in fantasy versus in the nightmare subunit, because it shows her versatility.

because of the image that she’s given, eunah is rarely ever put onto variety shows, and relies on her other members to keep up public interest in that sector. for her, she’s pushed more into cfs and advertisements, with a pretty face and a good body that’s fit for modeling, and a clean, trustworthy image that can sell products as long as they’re true to her squeaky, sparkling brand.

BIOGRAPHY

1. her existence is simple, not overstated. she’s as normal as they come. she goes to a normal elementary and middle school, comes home to normal parents in a house with a dog and a brother. she does what she’s supposed to do without questioning it, without ever wanting for something better because she doesn’t wish for more when she’s content. maybe not ecstatic, but content.

2. she’s goes to an open audition with one of her friends during her second year of high school, a classmate who wanted to go after classes. eunah had nothing to do, so she goes with her just to see how it is. she expects nothing, but maybe that’s why she ends up coming out with so much. at the audition, it’s not her friend who’s noticed, but it’s eunah who’s asked to come back by the staff midas media. this entire thing ruins her relationship with her friend, who doesn’t understand why it was her who made it, but it is what it is.

3. in the first few months into her training, the vocal trainers find a voice inside of her that can be harnessed into something more. she’s alright at dancing, picks up choreography well and makes it her own. she cleans herself well, matches up to the others and makes sure she blends in. she’s good at blending in, or at least she was at first. but her vocals make her stand out, and the trainers are excited.

4. she has a good tone, and good stability. but her high notes are what set her apart. they come easier for her than they do for most, and she likes the attention that it brings her. she doesn’t really like doing them (they feel a little bit like screaming) but she does it because midas tells her to.

5. when she debuts she gets slated as the main vocal, and she gets the lines that the wants, the high note that she knew she would get. she hates the song more than anything, but she grits her teeth and gets through it because at least she’s debuting. then the nightmare concept comes around and finally she can show her skills. they’re from practice rather than natural talent, but that doesn’t matter to the public as long as she has them.

6. she wants to do variety. she wants to talk to people, to show her personality and be able to represent the group. but the company decides soon enough that she wouldn’t be doing that. they have people already set to go on variety, and she isn’t one of them. they tell her she would be doing cfs, and she breathes a sigh. she wouldn’t even be acting, do they really not trust her to talk?

8. she hates it more than anything. she hates the way they look at her, the too short too low outfits that she’s forced to wear. she hates the padding in her bras and the disgusting expressions she has to give while on stage. she hates what they say to her, hates having to touch their hands at fanmeets. she feels like an object, but she doesn’t see a choice. she’s told to stay silent, to be shy and timid when that’s not how she wants to be. she wants to develop as a person, but apparently life doesn’t work like that in this industry.

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON FANTASY’S MAIN DANCE DAHYUN…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 22 SKILL POINTS: 03 VOCAL | 10 DANCE | 00 RAP | 07 PERFORMANCE

INTERVIEW

dahyun is a peculiar girl. the instant you meet her, you think something’s a little off, some screw needs to be tightened just a tad. she’s not crazy by any means, nor does she seem it. just… off. not all there. some might say her head is in the clouds, but that doesn’t take it far enough. she seems sweet and more than kind, but also maybe not the brightest. the words that come out of her mouth seem nonsensical and almost imaginary, like she’s living in her own world. like she can see something no one else can, and maybe that’s the case. or maybe she’s just not the brightest bulb in the bunch. her silly comments usually make her the victim of constant laughter in interviews and variety shows. the stupid one in fantasy, she’s seen the comments people leave. but she doesn’t hate it because she sees the comments people leave. they don’t hate it, and actually most like that she’s not some rocket scientist of an idol. it works for her.

the reason it works is because dahyun to the world is sunshine personified. at any event, in any backstage video, on any television show, her smile is blinding, but not forced. it’s easy and infectious, because she’s genuinely happy to be there with whoever else there is. she cares for the younger members to the best of her abilities, always showing skinship and urging them into the spotlight as well. since she was a kid, it’s been said she could befriend a tree branch if she wanted to, so hosts often love her. she makes them feel special and involved (and a little smarter) and seems to enjoy her time on any music show or interview. people gravitate towards her, fans lover her ‘unintentional aegyo; she has a way of making anyone she interacts with feel like a close personal friend. and

those who have grown up with park dahyun see the girl they’ve always known on the screen. when fantasy debuted, she saw girls scrambling to find who they were on-screen (and off-screen), but she never felt that panic. sure, this was midas, and they’d never let someone just ‘be themself’ on screen, but dahyun never felt forced to change who she was for the sake of the fans. they just wanted to… fine-tune her. tweak her, sand down any hard edges (they were few and far between and already sanded down a little), coach her less on what to say and more on what not to say. they encouraged the sweet parts of her, the parts full of aegyo and kind words to everyone. it fit fantasy, especially daydream.

BIOGRAPHY

dahyun grew up in an exceptionally loud household in busan. her mother, miju, was a school teacher and her father, junho, was a pediatrician. as made evident by their professions, both had always loved children which translated into their desire for a big family. growing up with four other siblings wasn’t exactly normal, and her parents encouraged the uniqueness of their situation. the couple liked to joke of their friends that they just kept trying until they had the girl they always wanted, which was the reason for dahyun’s four older brothers. the house was constantly filled with laughter, rough-housing, and music. the music was always dahyun’s favorite part.

her family liked to say that she learned to dance before she learned to walk. they put her in dance classes at the age of three, ballet & tap to start with. as she grew older, she began experimenting with more types of dance, finding the most joy in contemporary and ballet. dance became her one love in life, her passion, and her escape when tragedy struck the family when she was eight.

miju had cancer. stage four cancer. they hadn’t caught it soon enough (there was no history of it in her family) and it was aggressive. very aggressive. they’d be lucky if they had a year left with her. dahyun still remembered the tears, the yelling, the confusion when her parents told them. everyone was loud and angry, but she didn’t full comprehend what was happening, so she sat quietly, eyes watering ever-so-slightly, as the discussed what that meant for them.

the months to come were spent in and out of hospitals, talking to every doctor her father knew about what they could do. but in the end, the different doctors didn’t matter. dahyun’s mother passed eight months later, in october.

inevitably, the family dynamic changed. her father grew distant from her, despite her attempts at swallowing her own feelings to care for him, and spent more time at work or with dahyun’s brothers. it took a full year for him to come around and admit that she reminded him so much of her mother that it had been hard for him to be around her. but the family adjusted eventually, and grew closer after the accident.

dahyun had always been… unique. she never saw the world quite as everyone else did. in her eyes, there was a silver lining on every cloud and there was good in every person. she loved to talk and make friends, though half of what she said only made sense in her own mind. school was a struggle for her: while she tried hard to study and get good grades, she grew bored easily. there was so much more to the world than school and grades and math (especially math) and she wanted to be apart of it all.

so it was no surprise to her family when she decided to audition for midas at the age of thirteen. things were stable at home now, the family would never truly be over what had happened, but they learned to cope and continue with their lives. dahyun wanted dance to be her life, she knew it, and midas was the company, full of successful groups. dancing was her main draw, and her vocals and visuals weren’t half bad. she was signed and her life as a trainee began.

those who met her were under the impression that the hardships of a trainee life didn’t affect her, but that was far from the case. she spent nearly nine years as a trainee. nine long years of strict diets and schedules, of being locked away from the outside world. nine years of constantly being told she wasn’t good enough, despite a lifetime of training. nine years of being passed up for someone taller, someone smarter, someone more flexible or just generally more well-rounded. no person would be immune to that. it seemed every other day, she was finding somewhere private to cry, but she always made sure no one saw that side of her. dahyun was sunshine, not rain clouds. so she internalized her issues and plastered a smile on her face in public.

2016 was when her life took a drastic change. dahyun debuted as part of fantasy and the daydream sub-unit as a main dancer. the years of ‘not being the right fit’ were finally paying off. cute came easy to her. she was the youngest in her family, and while she wasn’t the maknae in the group (not even close), they liked to joke that she acted more like the maknae than the maknae actually did. she was always kind and seemingly innocent, which prompted her band mates (and often their fanbase) to act protective. fantasy felt like somewhere she belonged, and she hadn’t felt that in a long time.

[idolizenews]

FANTASY MAKES FULL GROUP COMEBACK WITH ‘NAVILLERA’

1. [+ 1,027 , - 283 ] Ahh the choreography ㅠㅠㅠ So good... as expected of Fantasy!! Let’s keep streaming, dreamers ♡  2. [+ 941 , - 156 ] The class of Midas’ producers~  3. [+ 865 , - 90 ] Not a fan, but I have to admit I love all their songs ㅎㅎ I still listen to Me Gustas Tu every spring and summer, and this one’s good too!! 4. [+ 613 , - 24 ] They should stop pushing the weird subunit concept and just keep releasing more songs like this, it’s ridiculous they only promote as a full group once a year... 5. [+ 32 , - 5 ] But don’t their group songs always sound like it came straight out of an old anime? ㅋㅋㅋㅋ I like it though, Fantasy fighting!!