#id.interview

interview prompt (2/3), +3 skill, +3 experience)

After five years of working, waiting and wanting, Mijung finally found herself on the edge of debuting. It hadn’t been announced to the public yet just who 99 planned to debut in their mysterious new group, but privately Mijung and three others had been told that they’d earned the highly coveted spots in the coed group they’d been fighting over for months. Mijung tried to temper her expections, to keep from getting her hopes up. After the mess of MixedUp, Mijung knew better than most how a promise of debut can fall apart. Still, it was hard not to get excited. She’d been striving for this for so long and it finally felt within her grasp. All she had to do was keep pushing until she got to the finish line.

Mijung felt like she was cramming for a final test. Like everyone was. The training staff at 99 had never been lax, exactly, but it’d been common knowledge for years that the company didn’t plan on debuting a new group for some time. There would always be time to soften the rough edges later. Except, with the new, firm deadline, there was no more time to be had. Mijung and the others had to be ship-shape within only a few weeks. That wasn’t to say they were altogether far off of their goal — they had been chosen over all other trainees, after all  —  but each had their own faults. Faults that seemed glaringly obvious when compared to their otherwise perfect, shining veneers. Mijung’s, as always, was her personality. As if a month of intense training could somehow make her into a bright mood-maker, the 99 staff decided the best way to deal with Mijung’s problem was to constantly run through interview and variety scenarios. It was like a late night study session the day before the exam.

“Who is the single most influence person to your career?” One of Mijung’s coaches rattled off from a seemingly never ending list of questions. “Be it in a musical capacity or otherwise.”

Her sister. That’s the answer that immediately came to Mijung’s mind. Her entire career as a trainee was based on devotion to, and later spite for, her sister. But even Mijung knew that wasn’t an acceptable answer. Mijung knew from watching interviews of other idols (this was also part of their recent cram sessions) that many gave touching and elaborate answers about friends, family members or mentors that inspired them. Mijung didn’t have anyone like that and she knew that if she tried to lie and make one up, it would be painfully obvious. Instead, she would settle for a half-truth. 

“It’s hard to pick just one,” Mijung said, forcing a smile. “Any one of my sunbaes in POIZN, Imperial, Heaven or Celeste have been inspirations to me to keep working hard so that someday I could be like them.”

The answer wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough. They were never going to get perfect for Mijung, no matter how long they went at it. Not for this. The coach moved on. “Have you experienced a defining point in your career?”

Mijung struggled to keep the smile on her face. The answer to this, too, was obvious. “When I was on MixedUp, I...” Mijung had to chose her words carefully. The pain she still felt threatened to spill over. “....I think my time on that show taught me a lot. It’s bittersweet. I learned a lot and I try to focus on that, not so much the negatives. It’s regrettable that I lost a certain opportunity, but I’m stronger for it.”

“If you were given the chance,” the coach continued. Her answer must have been acceptable. “Would you do it all again the same way?”

No, of course not, Mijung wanted to scream. She’d have never gone on MixedUp. She’d have waited for the Produce Project and debuted there like Minyoung did. If she really thought about it, Mijung might have never even followed her sister to Seoul. She’d be comfortable in some dance company in Busan by now instead of having spent the last half a decade struggling to debut. This, of course, was the wrong answer. 

interview prompt (1/3), +3 skill, +3 experience) 

Mijung tugged at the hem of her shirt. The crop top she wore had been fine for dance practice, but it left her feeling bare as she waited for her turn in the “hot seat”. Mijung hated media training. She knew that she, more than most, needed it. But that was the problem. Mijung was both introverted and a perfectionist. Her immediate and obvious failures in the ‘public’ part of being an idol left deep cuts to her self-esteem. She’d been at 99 so long now, that Mijung was so used to excelling at everything. Everything but this.

“Mijung-ah, you’re up,” the media training teacher set, pulling Mijung out of her spiraling thoughts. Mijung hesitated a moment before getting up and sitting in front of her. It was all Mijung could to do look her in the eyes and force a small smile. It wasn’t very convincing, the look on her teacher’s face told Mijung that. “Alri”ght, you’ve done this before, so we’ll jump right in, shall we?”

Mijung gave a weak nod. She almost wished for the moment of roleplaying the newer trainees got, their teacher taking on the role of MC, easing them into the questions. But Mijung was a veteran. She knew the program. If anyone could benefit from being plunged in the deep end, surely it was Mijung, who still often stuttered her answers, five years into her training,

“Now please tell us: Is there something the public doesn’t know about you?”

Oh, they certainly weren’t wading through the shallow waters. A loaded question, right off the bat. Mijung had to physically force herself to not gulp. There were so many ways to get this one wrong. She could reveal something truly personal, but that would only set netizens’ tongues a-wagging. IF she said something boring, or obvious, she’d be labeled as plain, not worthy of being an idol. Mijung was frozen in thought until her teacher no-so-subtlety cleared her throat. 

“Ah, well, that’s a difficult question. After being on MixedUp, I would think that the public would know most of what there is to know. I think... I think I’ve mentioned it before, but I really dream of choreographing songs for my group. That’s a passion I have. Would that count?”

The teacher gave a disapproving look, but pushed on. “What an interesting answer, Mijung-ssi. What do you wish to show to the public? Your choreography? Or something else?”

“Oh yes, I’d love to show my choreography,” Mijung said. She was simultaneously grateful to be given an easier question and also disappointed in herself for so clearly failing. “Dance is my life. It has been since I was a little girl. I feel that through dance, anyone can express themselves in a pure and honest way. A way that words don’t always capture. I’d like to share that with the public.”

“That’s a lovely thought, Mijung-ssi,” the media coach said. Mijung hoped it was a genuine senticment. She thought it was. Or was that just wishful thinking? Either way, the coach’s tone had softened, her smile returning. “I have one more question for you today. Would you choose singing or dancing if you had to pick one? “

“Dancing.” Mijung’s answer was immediate. She didn’t need to think, even for a second. Perhaps she should have. Singing was such an integral part to her becoming an idol. If she wanted to dance, she could just be a backup dancer. But Mijung was honest to a fault, as always. “I enjoy singing, I really do but... I feel most myself when I’m dancing. It’s who I am. I wouldn't exist without dance.”