101 - Upki Girl

< No One Came Out > “What the heck, following them all the way here was pointless then.” Riya grumbled, furrowing her brows upon being told that no one besides participants could enter the studio. It was as if Yona and Honi had walked into a trap; looking anxious, Riya twirled her hazelnut ponytail around in circles as she whimpered. This brat is kinda cute today. “Bbaem, could you pull some strings, please?” “What can I do? Besides, we'd need the production staff here to do anything.” I was just as bewildered as she was. After shadowing Manager Kim Sang-in for about a month at the broadcasting station, I had gotten to the point where I could handle tasks independently, but this was my first time encountering such a situation. And it wasn't just me. In front of the studio, besides myself, Jang-woo, Aliya, and two stylists, there were other company staff milling about as if they too had been shooed away. Not a single member of the production staff was in sight, as if it had all been planned from the start. “Bbaem, could this be a hidden camera prank or something?” Riya shot me a skeptical look. Ever since the prank in the emergency room, the Up & K-girl members had developed a nervous suspicion, often fearing hidden camera pranks. “No, it’s not,” I assured her before checking the cue sheet again, though I’d already done so multiple times, in case I’d missed something. 1. Introduction Cipher ― Freestyle (beat by DJ Hello) 2. Mentor Performance ― Jakteu, Dante, Jugari, Sojak 3. Mentee Performance . . 8. Mentor & Mentee Teaser Shoot According to the schedule, the “Introduction Cipher” should currently be shooting inside the studio. But why would such a simple freestyle introduction require so much secrecy that not even managers were allowed inside? Managers and stylists are generally treated like shadows unless there's something extraordinary going on. Something must have changed. “Judging by the fact that their mics are on, looks like filming started straight away?” “Yes, seems like it.” “Mr. Lee, can you set up Aliya’s chair, please?” “Oh, yes. Here you go.” “Thank you, thank you.” While Jang-woo set up Aliya’s personal chair, I eavesdropped on the conversations of other company managers. They were just as bewildered. Without any prior notice, they were busy checking the cue sheet and asking questions among themselves. “Excuse me, but has today’s schedule been modified?” “No, there was no such notice.” “Right? I thought I might have missed something.” “Could it be that they changed things without informing us?” “With PD Joo Dong-sung, anything's possible…” “Maybe they’re trying to avoid spoilers?” I casually chimed in and inserted myself into the conversation group. There was no downside to getting to know managers from other companies. Beyond sharing information, knowing hip-hop label managers could be beneficial in this current golden age of hip-hop, when we might need a track or a feature later on. A guy wearing a New York Yankees cap responded to my comment. “I don’t think it’s spoilers… My guess is they’re keeping managers out early to produce some devil’s edit moments, so managers can't intervene.” A big guy with a sparse hairline who seemed about my age lowered his voice to counter. “I’m not sure… PD Joo can create enough controversy even with just edits, he doesn't really need to do things like this…” PD Joo Dong-sung, a veteran producer at the music-centric channel 'B-Music' and the director behind ‘Girl Crush’ broadcasts, is known for his ‘devil’s edit,’ cleverly splicing footage to painstakingly recast the image of participants. He’s so notorious that after any show he directs airs, those who fall prey to his devil’s edits inevitably end up criticizing the production team on social media, protesting that their intentions were misrepresented and it was all due to poor editing by the crew. Even though participants sign contracts acknowledging the broadcast content beforehand, they come forward to clarify when the scenes exceed their expectations. Despite knowing this, so many people appear on Joo Dong-sung's programs because it brings attention to their names. His style of directing is what helped cable TV programs compete with network broadcasts in the same time slots. Some people even appear expecting the noise marketing, being more desperate for recognition and buzz than their pristine image. However, in our case, we signed up without even considering the devil’s edit. Why? Because Yona and Honi are beyond worry. The devil’s edit doesn’t ensnare just anyone; there needs to be some substance to highlight in the first place. Participants who end up as targets could be those who caused offense to the crew with poor behavior during interviews or shoots, or those with dramatic personalities or inadequate skills. But with Yona and Honi, there’s no chance to offend with their behavior, and since both speak little, they'll hardly become targets. They’re also not the type to get misunderstood because of their expressions, like Seowon. “Ah, this is nerve-wracking…” “I'm still quite anticipative, though. Even if it's a devil’s edit or whatever, the viewership is guaranteed.” “That’s true.” Some managers, having stepped out of the building entirely, lit cigarettes and continued chatting. Jang-woo and I didn’t smoke, but we joined in the conversations to build camaraderie, blowing out cold breath instead of smoke. “How long do you reckon today’s filming will take?” “There are a lot of participants, so I’d say it'll definitely go over 12 hours.” “I’m predicting over 16 hours. We haven’t done any rehearsal for the competition pieces. With thirty-two participants, oh boy.” “That’s true. Why did they push rehearsals back?” “Waiting over 16 hours only to get eliminated would really…” “We don’t care if we get eliminated as long as we get ample screen time.” After listening to the conversations, I realized there wasn't much new information to glean. I was already aware of everything discussed. Having put a name to a few faces and exchanged greetings, Jang-woo and I headed back inside the building. Aliya, who had been chatting with the stylists, gestured to me. “Bbaem, there’s a camera over there. Looks like they're filming.” Aliya pointed to a corner on the ceiling. What I thought was a CCTV camera was actually a broadcast camcorder. Looking around, I noticed several action cameras positioned from various angles—it was a wonder I hadn’t spotted them sooner. “Oh? There’s another one over there.” “It seems like we've been recorded this whole time.” “Looks like it.” The cameras weren’t likely installed just to capture managers' reactions. The reason for the hallway cameras became clear within a few minutes. —Clunk! About 20 minutes after the studio’s thick soundproof doors had closed, a blonde participant emerged. She wore a name tag on her chest that read, ‘Nessi,’ which she hadn’t had when she entered. A female VJ followed her out, teasingly thrusting a microphone in front of her. “Nessi, who did you face off against?” Face off? Had the battle already begun? It seemed so. Through the briefly opened door, I could catch the echo of fierce rap and the intermittent gasps of onlookers. —“…Sugar, my foot. Just get out! If you don’t, go fight your fake courage!” —“Wow!” “Could you give us a comment?” The amateur-looking girl responded to the repetitive interview requests with visible irritation. “Ugh, I don’t know. Don’t film me; I’m done.” “Why? What didn’t you like?” “They said it was an introduction freestyle, so what is this? They should have warned us! They're making fools of people…” The VJ chuckled as though expecting such a reaction, scratching his head. “Well, everyone had the same time to prepare, so it was fair.” “I hope ‘Girl Crush’ crashes and burns! Let’s see how well you guys do with this madness! Motherfucker!” Nessi kicked the promotional panel for ‘Girl Crush’ in front of the entrance with her boot and flipped the camera the bird before storming off. I wondered if Aliya, who was next to her blinking in awe, was heard when she said, “Wow, she's seriously cool…” When our stylist manager hushed her, Aliya defended her admiration. “Why? I genuinely think she’s cool. There are so many cool women here.” Aliya was the only one visibly excited. The rest of us, including the managers waiting both inside and outside the entrance, wore expressions of solemn resolve. Everyone must have realized that the filming wasn’t following the cue sheet. Inside the studio, a battle presumed to be a diss rap contest was unfolding rather than the anticipated introduction freestyles. Less than 20 minutes into shooting, the first elimination had occurred. Whatever the rules were, it appeared to be a process of determining 16 winners and losers this way. This implied that their artists could be next. Having to wait through a 16-hour recording was harsh, but having to leave within an hour was undeniably worse. As expected, following the departure of the first blonde to be eliminated, more contestants began trickling out. They were released from the studio one by one, each venting their disappointment or anger. “What the...?” “Wow, this is ridiculous…” “Ugh, so irritating…” The manager wearing the Yankees cap had his trainee come out as the fifth eliminated. She looked to be in her mid-20s, older than most trainees, and her name was ‘Sugar.’ Her expression, fiercely intense like a coiled cobra, was hardly sweet. Wait a minute, Sugar? “‘Sugar, my foot. Just get out! If you don’t, go fight your fake courage!’” That was the line I faintly heard earlier when the door was ajar. Sugar wore a tight black leather outfit that accentuated her impressive figure, yet the star aura she exuded was flimsy, like see-through bean sprout soup. “What happened?” her manager asked, to which she replied, aggrieved. “You know the application forms we submitted?” “Which ones? The ones from the start?” “Yes. They gave each of us a random one and told us to diss battle the person whose form we received in five minutes. We had to include their name and participation reason in eight bars. If you can’t do it in five minutes or fail to counter the opponent, you’re out. I did it, but I got eliminated in the judgment.” “And who’s judging?” “The mentors were inside. They're taking turns.” Finally, the rules were out in the open. You had to produce an eight-bar diss rap in five minutes for a battle, with instant victory or defeat. A growing line of two or three defeated contestants were waiting past the door, thankfully Yona and Honi weren't among them. But I was concerned. With their personalities, could they diss someone they met for the first time? After spending weeks practicing introduction cyphers and performance tracks, adapting to suddenly changed rules might be mentally overwhelming. Both have a crisis management skill over 80 on their info cards, but… “Bbaem, six have been eliminated so far. Ten more to go.” Riya was keeping count of the eliminations. It seemed only those expected to fail were getting eliminated. Although some appeared to have a star aura, none who lost so far exhibited it. “Who did you battle, Haneul?” Finally, a familiar name came from the seventh eliminated participant, Haneul. “Yeon-hong?” That meant Honi advanced! Jang-woo and I couldn't openly display our excitement, so we shared a discreet high five. Aliya also rejoiced, waving her arms with the stylists. “How do you feel about it?” the VJ asked. “Of course, I'm not happy. I prepared a lot…” Haneul replied. “But you’re okay with the results?” “Yes, Yeon-hong was better than me.” “What would you like to say to Yeon-hong, who won?” “Congratulations. I hope you win it all.” The VJ tried to provoke a negative reaction, but Haneul was composed, accepting her defeat gracefully and leaving the building. Wow, Honi can diss; that's impressive. I immediately reported the news in our group chat with the company staff and the Up & K-girl members. Me: [Honi made it to the finals] BagelKiwi: [Congrats, congrats. Our main rapper deserves it!] Director Yeom: [What about Yona?] Manager Kwak: [No news on her yet] Aliya: [There are so many cool ladies here, I'm so happy!] Elegant Seowon: [Is there anyone cooler than you?] Aliya: [Nope. To me, Seowon is the truth] Elegant Seowon: [Who do you like better, Yona or me? Answer in three seconds] Aliya: [For boobs, Yona; for butt, Seowon] Elegant Seowon: [No two-timing!] BagelKiwi: [Speaking of boobs, what am I ranked?] Aliya: [Get lost, Padded!] BagelKiwi: [Hey, who's calling me padded? People might misunderstand if they hear that. I’ve never known padding!] Manager Kim Sang-in: [Um… Let’s keep chatter in other chats. This group is for business-related discussions…] BagelKiwi: [Manager Kim Sang-in is so old-school. Ending sentences with double dots—such an old man vibe!] Elegant Seowon: [LOL, Yuna, ease up on the facts] Aliya: [Agreed. So old-fashioned, like beyond old-fashioned] Manager Kim Sang-in: [Ah, seriously… I don’t deserve this kind of treatment…] Director Choi Hun-min: [LOL] Director Kim Hyun-dong: [Yuna, you’re too much] Director Yeom: [Seowon, Yuna, are you not practicing?] BagelKiwi: [I already did] Elegant Seowon: [Taking a short break] BagelKiwi: [About to start again] Elegant Seowon: [But I’m hungry] Aliya: [Oh! Only one more to go! The 15th person just came out!] Riya, still keeping count of the eliminated contestants, announced the news even while watching the chat. “Really?” “Yes! I've been counting! Only one more left.” Yona hadn't been mentioned yet as someone's opponent. Reaching the round of 16, it's on a different level than the round of 32, more like the World Cup. Making the round of 16 means being noticeable enough to get mentors' attention, potentially working with the best in the industry. If both Up & K-girl members advance, they’ll capture even more buzz. Conversely, if they’re eliminated, they’ll head home without even showcasing their competition tracks, all because the production changed the rules as they pleased. Honi, commendably, kept practicing at the dorm. Meanwhile, Yona, shy as she was, hadn’t shared her work, not even with the members or me. Only our rap trainer, Beacon hyung, reviewed it. I'm eager to hear it. Riya, looking tense as well, stood up and came closer to me. With the 15th person storming out cursing, the studio doors finally opened for the 16th time. Every one of our staff's eyes zeroed in on the entrance. —Clunk. As soon as a silhouette appeared, Riya squeezed her eyes shut. “Bbaem, I can’t look! Are they out yet?” “Yes, they are.” “It’s not Yona, right? Right? Right?” “Well, it’s…it’s Yona.” “Oh no…” “…just kidding. You can open your eyes, it’s not Yona.” “Kyaah! Really?” Yeon-hong and Yona both advanced to the ‘Girl Crush’ finals. < No One Came Out > End