#famedcrowned3

how has your designated house / lifestyle been during the trip?

“i’m grateful we’ve been able to reap the rewards of our ranking last round. but having the private chef too would have been nice.”

your live finale performance is tomorrow. tell us all of your thoughts and feelings right now as it approaches.

“my thoughts are solely on keeping myself in top shape physically and mentally to be able to give everything i have for our stage. i’m sure the other members are the same.”

what has been the most challenging part of preparing for your group’s performance?

“since coming to the lakefront, we’ve had a restricted period when we’re able to practice. that has been the hardest thing.”

what is the biggest strength of your group’s planned final stage?

what are your thoughts on your group’s original song for the final round?

“destiny is a song that shows our vocal strength and our bare charisma without stage gimmicks.”

what has been the biggest challenge in rehearsals so far?

“because our performance of destiny is so stripped back musically and conceptually, the biggest challenge has been making sure to put enough power and expression in the song to make the kind of impact i want us to make for our final stage.” 

what is your prediction for your final ranking?

“number one! anyone who says anything else doesn’t have the confidence needed to win.”

after seeing the first two rounds, which one group do you consider your biggest competition?

first listen, and the song sounds just like anything else. a cacophony of loud noise, jarred melodies and fast paced dance schemes. the first look at the choreography imposes the same boundaries: cacophony of loud noises, only this time with the right footprints to fall in tandem with it all.

it’s all about preparation, as her company would say. professionalism defined by how fast she can pick up the cues and the subtle gestures, catering her facial expressions in the process upon the first scan. but hindsight tells a different story: she’s no strong dancer, nor does she have anything remaining of her energy when the light in the sky tells a different story.

it’s that time of day, some number on a clock. yet, there’s no sun in the horizon to remind her what time it is. figures, they’re just a collective vessel of overworked humans, catering towards one goal. so, she just marches right into the studio — nothing more than a bare face, unkempt hair brought down by a beanie and the paper of lyrics in her hand.

she scans the paper, the little marks etched into the words. diction, emphasis. pull of the melody — that much professionalism, she can manage. her head dips down low as she swallows formalities to the producer in charge, the stereotypical ‘how’s the song?’ ‘good — can’t wait to record.’ as she places her belongings, throwing them across the lived-in couch.

and when she steps into the recording room, it’s no longer a sense of home. it’s a contemporary piece of complacency — one where she’s stepping into the pre-made notions, and expectations to deliver.

first recording, she falls flat. her voice barely able to keep a key in the chorus — she pauses. takes the headphones off, hanging it by her neck. “this note is too high — wouldn’t it be better to give this line to kiana or suji? they can hit it easier than i can right now.”

halt to the music echoing through the headphones, and the producer’s voice enters. “but kiana and suji are booked up, and one of equinox’s strengths is the vocals that each member can hold on her own.”

a second thought, and she’s the afterthought. no schedules lined up, or maybe it’s dissuaded by gold star’s demand — either way, she holds her breath still, exhaling a sigh. “i’m a lead vocal at best — you’ve picked the wrong person.”

it’s one of those days. rehearsals, filmings — all the same shit at this point.

it’s the lackluster appeal of the waiting rooms, and how he’s exhausted all the lives on the phone game keeping him afloat. the blue light of the screen now presenting more harm than good when he blinks once, twice. only to shed a tear (a reminder, he’s forgotten to blink in the past ten minutes because he’s so engrossed in making the perfect turn on kart rider).

so, he tends to the hallways. but even that loses his appeal when he’s on his sixth bow, nodding his head to some blank faces, presumably idols, he’ll probably forget when this shit’s all said and done.

his head’s still wired, heart still jolted awake from the two iced americanos he’s downed earlier. (another reminder that he ought to cut back on the coffee, but what’s self destruction without a bit of substance?). 

last resort calls, and he finds his body walking past the hallways, turning a corner and into the uncharted ‘backstage’ fever of too many stylists losing themselves to the ferocious timing of stage and the pounding echoes from the current group on stage. gyujeong should leave, at least, that’s his branding. the i-don’t-give-a-fuck mantra, and an aura of middle fingers up. yet, he doesn’t.

breaking the traditional ties of cooping himself up in the waiting room, he stands. his arms crossed over his chest, and his fingers inherently tapping along to the bottom-lined bass of the track. the song’s catchy, he’ll give it that. pessimism tells him all songs are catchy when they’re the foundations of companies hoping to instigate an addiction upon consumption. realism glues a different picture — one where he’s still tapping his fingers, his head bobbing along to the traces of ‘so bad’ weaved in the lyrics.

figures, crowned has done wonders on a dead-beat soul like his. keep him in the show’s antics long enough, and he’s fallen face first into a catchy rhythm he wouldn’t be caught dead acknowledging in real time.

how has your designated house / lifestyle been during the trip?

“luckily, as a result of our ranking for the second round, we were able to start off the trup practicing whenever we wanted. that’s not a luxury that wasn’t granted to most, so i’m relieved by that. unfortunately, after losing the song lyrics competition, we’ve been moved into a different house where we aren’t afforded the same privileges.”

your live finale performance is tomorrow. tell us all of your thoughts and feelings right now as it approaches.

“i hope that audiences will see and understand the message in our finale performance, and i hope they’ll say that it represents polaris well since i and the other members worked hard on it.”

what has been the most challenging part of preparing for your group’s performance?

“we were preparing for a comeback at the exact same time we were preparing our stage, so that meant we had twice the work to do. luckily, ‘basquiat’ and ‘dynamite’ are very different songs, so i didn’t have the problem of ever confusing the two in rehearsals.”

what is the biggest strength of your group’s planned final stage?

what are your thoughts on your group’s original song for the final round?

“‘basquiat’ is a song i helped to write for polaris and it was chosen as our finale song. in ‘basquiat’, i hoped to capture our various different charms we’ve shown since our debut, as well as our individuality and our determination for the future.”

what has been the biggest challenge in rehearsals so far?

“our performance is very intense. it’s not too different in intensity from some of our recent stages of ‘on’, but it has a slightly different energy to it that makes it more exhausting, in my opinion. i’ve had to work on preserving my energy to carry both my vocals and my dancing through the song.”

what is your prediction for your final ranking?

“i never feel comfortable predicting our result, but, of course, i hope we can show a strong enough performance to win.”

after seeing the first two rounds, which one group do you consider your biggest competition?

there’s a mutual understanding that exists. a sort of leeway into consideration for those hidden in the back.

it starts with one flick of the lighter, the flame shielded with the palm of his hand. the way his shoulders curve like another layer to shield the wind. a concession to light the cigarette of the staff member’s before his own — after all, the same rounds in the same circles stir an unlikely friendship throughout the course of filming.

“how’s your day been?” it’s the same small talk. fruitless when gyujeong knows, it’ll only be a matter of hours before they cross paths again. still, it still beats the silence and crouched over covertness he’s attempted in the beginning.

one inhale, and he stares into the small closed area. the two intern makeup staff, holding cigarettes like secrets as they turn the other way upon eye contact. figures, nobody wants to make eye contact when this realm becomes a hush hush lips sealed matter of formalities. he shrugs, casts his gaze away to another corner, smoke in thin air.

“honestly? kind of hard — they wanted us to follow some idols exploring. but they also wanted to capture a moment that didn’t seemed staged, despite the producers setting it up.” 

it’s why they work here. because the honesty he can’t get on set translates into the same beat-up mentality revealed behind the scenes. chung gyujeong’s no saint, but he certainly isn’t a devil when he taps the end of his cigarette, sighing. “yeah? i imagine your job’s a lot harder than mine.” 

sympathy, at least what he can muster out. it’s the inability to step out of the warped perception of only-self when he’s set in front of the cameras. 

(he takes another drag.)

“no, i think yours is harder. i can at least smoke freely — doubt you can smoke outside of these secret designated areas.”

now, that’s one form of humor. the dark comedy of irony eliciting a chuckle and a standstill shake of his head. probably the first time he’s laughed today, but then again, it’s only breaching noon.

gyujeong turns towards the staff, nodding. “you got that right.” another inhale. “whatever side of the camera you’re on, either way — it sucks.”

“that’s why we’re all turning into chain smokers. at least, the company doesn’t have to directly kill us.”