#midas:accepted

001: profile.

legal name: oh rihan birthdate: november 13, 1995 age: 29 hometown: seoul, south korea occupation: sodapop's stylist

002: interview.

001. have you always wanted to work in the entertainment industry? what were you doing before this?

“sort of? i had thought about it as a kid, as i imagine many people do, but nothing concrete came of that. i always knew that i wanted to do something in the arts, though - i’ve always liked reading, drama. for a while i got really into fashion history.

i went to university and then worked for a while as an editor at a fashion magazine. in the end, someone i had worked with ended up at ydh and recommended me, and i had already done an internship during my studies that gave me the necessary foundation for the work. my experience writing about fashion has been very helpful, because it allows me to look at my work with a more critical lens than before. i’ve been enjoying being on the other side of the divide, so to speak. a creator rather than a consumer.”

002. what do you think is the most important quality to have when working with idols?

“self-assurance and the ability to listen. sometimes, the creative direction you’re given might not be what you’re most comfortable working with. you need to trust yourself to be able to present something deserving of the stage every time, and you need thick skin and accept criticism when it’s fairly given. the final jury will always be the fans, but you speak to different teams giving input on the creative vision of the group. achieving consistency without overdoing the same looks isn’t as easy as i hope to make you think.

of course, i’m always willing to let the idols themselves give input in the process. their contributions may not always end up being considered, but a little goodwill goes a long way.”

003. where do you see yourself in five years? do you see yourself advancing in this field or do you hope to pursue another career?

“i’m happy where i am right now, and i’d like to stick with sodapop until the point comes where the focus in their careers shifts towards individual activities. but this doesn’t mean that i’m set on staying in this field forever. as a child, i imagined myself as an art curator, and that’s still something i’d like to explore. the work i’m doing right now is a good fit for this point of my life - i enjoy keeping busy, the pressure of it. but it’s not something i can see myself doing for another ten, fifteen years. by that point i’m hoping to pursue whatever calls to me at the time, and i’m eager to see what shape that’ll take.”

004. what are your biggest inspirations when working with your artist? does your work with them line up with your own taste?

“if you had asked me ten years ago, maybe i wouldn’t told you something different. these days, my own taste and the way i style sodapop don’t exactly align, but that doesn’t mean i don’t enjoy my output.

it wasn’t this way when they debuted, but now i’d say my biggest inspiration are my idols themselves. over the past few years i’ve gotten to know them more, i’ve learnt what works not just for the company but also for them. of course, there are always going to be decisions made that are unpopular, but we’re all working towards the same goal in the end.

i have a background in visual arts, and i get inspired when i visit my mother’s gallery and look at the new pieces on display, when i walk around my neighbourhood and see what people are wearing on the street. and it’d be a lie to claim that i’m not influenced by what other stylists and designers are doing. there are so many talented people in this industry.”

003: background.

01.

the first time they had met, rihan’s mother tells him, he had barely been only enough to crawl. he’d made his way halfway across the playmat towards her when they’d decided that he was the child they wanted to raise and love for the rest of their lives: the second son, third and final of the set.

when asked, rihan would say that his parents are comfortable, meaning: rich enough to buy a three-story house in seoul and send their children to expensive international schools. as the youngest, rihan is given the most leeway, signed up for activities like theatre and photography classes instead of piano and sports. later, at the charity galas his mother attends, she’ll look indulgently at her son over the rim of her glass and tell whoever she was talking to that we’ve always known he’s an artist.

02.

it is therefore a foregone conclusion that rihan will be indulged when he presents his plan to study design. already used to traversing the world on his own after his boarding school stint in england, rihan finds himself happy in paris at the tender age of seventeen, too young still to sign his own apartment lease. the first few months in the city are spent at a family friend’s apartment. sticking around pays off later: one of the women he laughs with over white wine and oysters recommends him to a cousin working at a renowned fashion magazine, and rihan lands himself an editorial job his resumé wouldn’t warrant right after graduation.

03.

001: profile.

legal name: doh kijung birthdate: october 5, 1995 age: 29 hometown: seoul, south korea occupation: sodapop's manager one

002: interview.

001. have you always wanted to work in the entertainment industry? what were you doing before this?

“haha—no. right after college, in all honesty, i was sort of directionless, bouncing around from job to job and industry to industry. my last job before ydh was managing a restaurant in seoul. then, through networking with an acquaintance who’s been in this industry for longer than i have, i ended up as a personal assistant at ydh. i worked my way up over the course of a few years, and by the time they were finalizing the lineup for sodapop, they chose me to manage them.”

002. what do you think is the most important quality to have when working with idols?

“flexibility. and i don’t just mean schedule-wise, though of course you are often expected to drop things and pivot at a moment’s notice. when you manage an idol group, oftentimes, you’re the only person in the members’ corner. and when you’re a manager for trainees and then freshly-debuted idols, some of whom are still in their teens—you’re often the primary older figure in their life and you end up seeing them more than their family members. of course, it goes without saying, if you manage a group within ydh entertainment, it’s expected that you answer to the company more than anyone else—i don’t pretend to do otherwise. even so, it’s important to keep an open mind, try your best to understand where the members are coming from even if their life experiences are vastly different from each other’s or even your own. it’d be impossible to foresee every possible outcome for every scandal or circumstance, but it’s how you handle those situations that often sets the tone for how it affects the kids emotionally and career-wise.”

003. where do you see yourself in five years? do you see yourself advancing in this field or do you hope to pursue another career?

“in five years? i don’t do that kind of planning. every five years i find myself somewhere where i wouldn’t have thought myself to be five years earlier. but perhaps that’s part of the fun—and hardships—of adulthood. i see myself healthy and happy—and that’s something i’m always actively working towards.” 

003: background.

trigger warnings: mentions of alcohol, injury

there’s a specific day that kijung thinks back on from time to time.

he’s sixteen, jogging out of the school gates with a box of milk in hand, when a woman in a crumpled suit hands him a paper business card and stammers out some words about whether he’s interested in having a career as an idol. kijung, in true high schooler kijung fashion, gives her a wink and a winning smile that has her blushing, and then tucks the card deep in his practice bag. he doesn’t spare it a second thought until years later when he’s going through his stuff from high school and finds it—edges worn, ink bloomed and blurry from residual pool water.

he thinks about that day when he’s two years out of high school, in a bathroom stall at his university, his thumbs jammed into the corners of his eyes, tears leaking from behind them no matter how determinedly he tries to stop them. his classmates are chatting loudly about dinner plans and how hot professor heejung looked during today’s lecture right outside his stall, and between that and his own stuffed nose, kijung has a headache. it’s not a matter of regret—at least not about becoming a celebrity; that was never in the cards for him in the same way becoming a horse handler or an astronaut never really were. but, at that point in his life, there’s a hard, bright line that slices through his life, effectively cutting his dreams short. there’s before, and there’s after. doh kijung was an athletic prodigy—until he wasn’t. and after, every choice he’s ever made in his life fan out before him like cards and comes into stark focus, every road untaken excessively re-examined to begin to understand—where did everything go wrong?

it’s the type of melodrama that plagues many people in their late teens to early twenties—the reality of a dream that ended much too soon. he clings onto that old dream for a long time—when he applies to college for sports medicine, when he attends his friends’ swim meets and keeps up with swimming news at the collegiate and olympic level—until he realizes that it’s only making everything worse. it’s like everything he does has teeth marks in it, claw marks from where he’s gripped too tightly for fear of losing something that he already has. he switches majors and graduates with a degree in business management, with decent grades but stellar references, and then lands his first job out of college, and then his second, and then his third—

is this all there is to adulthood?, he thinks, when he ends up at ydh entertainment, balancing a tray of iced americanos in one hand and a few binders full of concept notes tucked under his opposite arm. his coworkers are bemused by him, then slightly irritated, and then—begrudgingly impressed. and so he earns promotion after promotion, gliding up the ranks with ease.

his secret is this: he’s good at his job because he tries his best, yes, but he’s also good at being liked. he always has been: as someone who was once captain of his swimming team—an individual sport, one may say, but you win and lose as a team all the same—someone who was effortlessly popular in the way that student athletes tend to be, and someone who’s always basked in the light of winning. it comes into sharper focus here—at ydh entertainment, in this industry. here, “likability” is their greatest product, one they all but bottle up and sell—and kijung has the benefit of learning early on that that does not apply to just the talent. he tries his hand at anything the company asks of him, never turns down drinks from his seniors after hours—and makes up in wit and enthusiasm what he lacks in experience. not everyone likes him, but he learns to be pragmatic about that too. you can learn more from what people don’t like about you than from what they do. 

“kijung-hyung, how are you so good at this? winning everyone over—you could have been an idol,” an intern says, each word muffled due to having his face pressed into kijung’s shoulder after one too many drinks.

he could have been—it’s true. there’s a soft-edged, water-damaged business card somewhere in a landfill out there to show for it. but he never would have been. it had never been more than a passing thought for kijung, not when his knee still worked as it should, not when there was still another dream he was striving for, well within his reach. now, looking back, kijung can’t find it in himself to regret following his dreams for as long as he had.

someone more cynical than kijung could come to their own conclusions—that kijung is driving a minivan full of singers close to a decade younger than himself because he’s settled for helping realize someone else’s dream after failing to achieve his own. and that, with the hours that he works, he could have made more in the same amount of hours managing a pc bang or an emart. but while kijung doesn’t conflate sodapop’s success with his own—he’s grown to care for the members. it’s a fine line between maintaining a professional distance with someone while looking after them most hours out of the day, and when you’re literally sharing living quarters with your “coworkers”, the line is often blurred. if he leaves, ydh entertainment would undoubtedly find someone to replace him—but would they care as much as kijung does? how much should that even matter to kijung, when this job steals his sleep, his sanity, his time—?

001: profile.

legal name: ahn jinri birthdate: february 15, 1995 age: 30 hometown: seoul. south korea occupation: phaze’s stylist

002: interview.

001. have you always wanted to work in the entertainment industry? what were you doing before this?

“not necessarily. i didn’t grow up dreaming about styling idols or being backstage at music shows. i wanted to be a designer. clothes were always there, even when nothing else made sense. i started out doing hemming jobs for friends, customizing thrift finds, shadowing at tailor shops during breaks. back then, i thought i’d end up working in editorial or with a small brand. maybe running fittings for runway shows or making sample garments no one ever sees.

before ending up here, i floated between freelance gigs. i did retail, alterations, and assistant work. i put together mockups for brands that never credited me and styled student films for free just to build a portfolio. it was quiet work, mostly, but it taught me how to solve problems fast  and quietly. someone gave me a styling gig i thought would last only a couple of days, and i ended up picking up more. it’s stressful and unpredictable, but the clothes matter. not just as design, but as part of something larger. styling let me get close to the work without needing to perform. i like that. you stay behind the curtain, but you shape what people remember. there’s a kind of control in that. it’s not over the people, but the image. the feeling. that’s essentially how i ended up in the entertainment industry.”

002. what do you think is the most important quality to have when working with idols?

“in my field, adaptability is the most important. if you can’t pivot on demand, you likely won’t last long. schedules change last minute, concepts shift, the outfit that worked in rehearsal suddenly doesn’t under stage lights. you have to be able to think on your feet and make those adjustments. it doesn’t matter how perfect the vision may have been,  if it doesn’t serve the right purpose for the artist or the stage, you let it go and rework it until it does.

working with idols means constantly finding that balance between the concept and the person. what they liked last comeback might not feel right today, and that’s fine. the job is to make them look and feel like they belong in what they’re wearing, that the fit the concept the company wants,  and that means listening, responding, and staying flexible no matter how tight the timeline is. 

sometimes that may mean pulling an all-nighter to restitch something the team changed their mind about. sometimes it means undoing hours of prep because a silhouette doesn’t look right anymore. but if you panic and don’t work towards a solution, you slow everyone else down. adaptability isn’t just about changing things, it’s about knowing how to do it without slowing the operation.”

003. where do you see yourself in five years? do you see yourself advancing in this field or do you hope to pursue another career?

“i don’t really think in five-year plans. i’ve learned that staying in this field doesn’t have to mean staying in the same role. the job evolves as you do, and as long as the work feels honest, then i’m fine with wherever it takes me. i like the pace, the structure, the problem-solving. i like being close to the work without having to be in front of a camera. maybe in five years, i have more creative control. maybe i’ve moved into creative direction. i’ve always kept the idea of going back to design tucked in the back of my mind too, but i don’t see myself walking away from styling anytime soon. design still matters to me. it’s just not urgent right now. what i do know is that wherever i am, i’m going to be excellent at what i do. because i don’t do half-effort. and i don’t stay in rooms where my opinion’s treated like a footnote.”

004. what are your biggest inspirations when working with your artist? does your work with them line up with your own taste?

“my biggest inspirations are always the people in front of me. i can’t style someone effectively without understanding their vibe, their energy, what they’re about. it’s not just about the clothes at the end of the day, it’s about how they feel in them. sometimes it’s about interpreting their personality in a way that feels real but also elevated, so they look like the best version of themselves. and sometimes that means helping build an image they can live in without it collapsing. when the world thinks they’re falling apart, i dress them like they’ve never been stronger. and sometimes? that’s enough to flip the narrative.

as for whether my work with phaze lines up with my own taste… not always. some comebacks are easier than others, but it’s always a balance. the clothes have to serve the concept and the image the company wants. that means i’ll set aside my preferences when the bigger picture calls for it. but my taste still bleeds into the work regardless. it’d be in the cut, the texture, and/or the silhouette. i won’t let something i can’t stand be caught on camera. it has to make sense for the artist and the concept, but it also has to feel like something i’d at the very least respect.

ice on my teeth, for example, was more aligned with my taste. but even that had hours of detail work, last-minute changes, fittings that ran too long, arguments, instincts i’ve trained for years. the praise didn’t even matter. the fact that they looked like they belonged in the concept they were selling? that’s what mattered to me.”

003: image.

tw: brief mention of a death. [ 1995 ]

a hand-picked baenaet jeogori in ivory. the sleeves were long enough to cover her tiny hands, and the inside tag bore no brand, only a tiny stitched symbol. her mother had chosen it from a traditional shop, folding it carefully into a paper box lined with mulberry tissue. worn home from the hospital, wrapped in a beige blanket with a pale green trim.

the cold clung to the windows that morning. the kind of seoul winter that fogs glass and makes everything seem quieter than it is. inside, the room was still, half-packed. the nurse had just wheeled away the tray. the bassinet stood empty, except for the folded hospital blanket.

her mother held the box in her lap, unmoving. ivory paper, tied with a thin white ribbon. she had bought it months ago, long before they knew if things would be okay. she hadn’t told her husband. she hadn’t wanted to seem hopeful. but she had seen it in the shop window and she’d thought — this looks gentle. this looks like something that won’t fall apart if you love it too hard.

jinri’s mother dressed jinri slowly, her touch tentative. jinri’s father stood nearby with the blanket in hand. he didn’t know what to say since the doctor placed the tiny weight of the baby into his arms. he just kept glancing between his wife and his daughter, as if he was waiting for someone to tell him this was a dream.

jinri didn’t cry much. just looked around once with a slow, blinking sweep of everything, then closed her eyes like she’d seen enough.

they brought her home in silence. they didn’t want to disturb the stillness of her. jinri’s eyes were blinking slowly like she already knew something no one else did. the streets were icy. her father drove slower than he ever had. her mother kept one hand in the car seat, barely brushing jinri’s cheek.

the apartment was warm when they arrived. her mother had cleaned the week before, scrubbing the windows and putting up paper decals along the edge of the floor. the bassinet was ready, pushed beside their bed. the air smelled like mugwort tea and floor polish. they placed her down. her mother tucked the blanket around her. her father brushed her forehead with two fingers, then turned off the light. 

jinri’s eyes were already closed. her hands curled under the too-long sleeves.

the next morning, her mother washed the garment by hand and folded it back into its box. she couldn’t imagine anything else living up to that moment of bringing home the child they had waited years for. it rests now in a drawer layered with tissue, untouched but not forgotten.

[ 1997 ]

a pale blue cotton dress with a rounded collar and small white embroidered flowers along the chest. flutter sleeves, a row of tiny buttons down the back. worn over white thermal tights during cooler days. the hem slightly frayed from crawling and too many wash cycles. there’s a faint tangerine stain near the waistline that never quite came out. she often wore it with a padded hooded jacket.

the sunlight that filtered into the living room always landed in the same spot, just beside the bookshelf, where the rug had faded slightly from it. that’s where jinri liked to sit because that’s where the light felt softest.

her mother sat on the couch most mornings with a mug of tea she rarely finished. her father knelt on the floor beside her, tying his shoes with practiced focus. the apartment was quiet in a way that didn’t feel empty. she was too young to understand what it meant to be busy, but she felt the pace of their mornings, how everything moved gently but quickly.

that dress, the pale blue one, was one of her mother’s favorites. she had picked it out on the same shopping trip where she bought a set of new pens for her lecture notes. she liked the way the collar curved, the way the fabric held shape even after a long day. she called it “neat.” when she dressed jinri in it, she always ran her fingers over the buttons one by one, as if to check they hadn’t disappeared overnight.

on this particular morning, jinri sat with a picture book in her lap, upside down. she didn’t mind. the shapes made sense to her even without the right orientation. her father glanced at her once, paused, then quietly flipped it the right way up without a word. her mother, halfway through her grading pile, looked up just long enough to smile.

they left together that day, all three of them. first to the campus, then to the market, then back home before the sun could fully disappear. her parents still tried to make time backaist. then. still held her hands on both sides as she walked. still made room on their laps when she grew tired of walking.

later that night, her mother changed her into pajamas, folded the dress, and set it gently at the edge of the laundry pile. she looked down at it for a moment too long, her thumb brushing over the faint stain near the w

“you’re growing too fast,” she whispered, not to jinri, but to the dress.

[ 2000 ]

a pastel pink wool cardigan, way too big for her small frame. it would take her years to grow into the hand me down. the sleeves fell past her wrists, and the hem hit just above her knees. three mismatched buttons closed it down the front. one dark, one cream, one white. inside the left cuff was a stitch of yellow thread, a tiny star sewn in by her grandmother’s hand. under the cardigan, a faded peach thermal shirt and wide-leg pants in pale beige. wool socks with cartoon rabbits near the ankle, always slipping down her heels. hair tied into loose braids that unraveled by noon.

mornings started with the sound of the kettle and the shuffle of soft slippers. the apartment was warm before she arrived, always. her grandmother knew how to time the heat, how to have breakfast halfway plated and her cardigan already draped over the couch arm. no one ever said good morning. it was just understood.

her parents had long since returned to their old pace. lectures, labs, deadlines took their time. her mother left sticky notes on the fridge in blocky handwriting, outlining meals and schedules. her father kissed the top of her head on his way out the door, phone already tucked between shoulder and cheek. they still loved her. they were just too full of the world to show it the way they used to.

but her grandmother was never full. she always had room.

they shared their days in motion, not words. grocery trips. folded towels. apple slices arranged into flowers. on quieter afternoons, they sat by the window on the floor, her grandmother mending socks or flipping through a faded magazine. jinri would trace the floor patterns with her fingers, the cardigan sleeves puddling at her wrists.

once, after a visit to the old dance studio where her grandmother taught when she was younger, they returned home to the smell of ginger tea and steamed rice cakes. jinri sat cross-legged on the floor while her grandmother took out a small sewing kit and stitched a yellow star onto the inside cuff of her sleeve.

“so you always have a little light with you,” she said, matter-of-fact.

jinri didn’t reply. just pressed her finger to the star once, then pulled her arm back in. some days jinri didn’t speak much. but she always wore the cardigan. even when it was too warm. even when the sleeves got in the way. it made her feel like she was at home.

years later, after her grandmother passed, she would find it folded neatly in the top drawer of the dresser. still soft, but better fitting to her frame. the yellow star slightly unraveled at the edges. she didn’t cry when she found it. she just pressed her finger to it again, like she had when she was five.

and for a moment, the apartment was warm again.

[ 2005 ]

a school uniform: pleated skirt to the knee, white blouse buttoned to the top with a vest over it, and a blazer. the ribbon at her collar never stayed tied properly no matter how many times she re-knotted it, one side always drooped lower. she wore white tights in winter, ankle socks in warmer months. black rubber-soled school shoes with minor scuffs at the toe. a name-tag pinned perfectly straight on her chest.

her backpack was plain. it was black, with white piping and a small stitched label inside the flap that read “ahn jinri” in careful hangul. inside was a pencil case decorated with stitched flowers, and a folded tissue her grandmother had tucked inside the front pocket without saying anything.

the school building was too bright in the mornings. too many windows. too many voices. she walked with her hands around the straps of her backpack and kept her head slightly bowed, but because she didn’t want to be noticed adjusting her ribbon again.

her homeroom teacher greeted each student with a smile, but jinri didn’t always meet her eyes. she found her desk quickly. it was the second row from the window, seat three. it was always clean. she made sure of it. by the end of the first week, she had memorized how long to hold her chopsticks so they wouldn’t clatter when she picked them up. she didn’t talk much. she didn’t need to. she just opened her packed lunch and stared at the edge of the table while chewing slowly.

every night, she took off her uniform as soon as she got home. jinri would sit at the table, swing her feet lightly above the floor, and press the ribbon between her fingers over and over. she didn’t tell anyone she hated how it looked on her. didn’t mention how often it came undone.

instead, she practiced tying it until it looked perfect on the first try.

by the middle of the semester, she started waking up earlier to iron her skirt herself. her grandmother never stopped her, just watched from the kitchen.

on cold days, her mother added hand warmers to her pockets. on exam days, her father wrote simple phrases in her notebook like you’ve already done the hard part. and at the end of the day, it was her grandmother’s quiet presence by the window, hands curled around a mug while waiting for jinri’s arrival.

jinri learned a lot that year, how to be reliable. how she didn’t like talking to a lot of people. how she’d rather be home than to be the center of attention at school.

[ 2010 ]

a charcoal gray hoodie, slightly oversized. something generic, something safe. the sleeves bunched at the wrist when she walked. underneath, a white t-shirt tucked loosely into wide-leg jeans that nearly covered her sneakers. the jeans had a raw hem, frayed just enough to look worn-in, not ruined. her sneakers were white with gray accents, one lace replaced with a mismatched black one after the original snapped. a canvas backpack in faded navy, weighed down by books and a sketchbook she never showed anyone.

 she bought the hoodie from a tiny store. it wasn’t expensive. it wasn’t even part of a plan. but when she ran her fingers over the fabric, something in her just… clicked.

it was the first thing she ever picked for herself.

she wore it the next day without saying anything. no one really commented. that was fine. she wasn’t dressing to be seen. she was dressing to be more comfortably.

in the margins of her notebooks, between biology notes and grammar corrections, she sketched outfits. silhouettes. not detailed. just shapes. she didn’t think of it as design, not yet. it was more about feeling. how sleeves hang, how weight shifts across a shoulder, how fabric can be armor if she wanted it to be.

she began paying attention more to clothing after that. not to brands or trends, but to movement. how boys adjusted their collars. how girls pinched the waist of their shirts before walking into a room. how some adults tugged at sleeves.

she watched all of it.

and at night, she sketched the shapes of those movements. not the people, just the way their clothes reacted to who they were and what they did. she didn’t think of herself as creative. she just wanted to understand.

the hoodie stayed in rotation for years until she went graduated from university.

[ 2012 ]

a navy blue blouse, sleeves hugging her arms, collar pulled snug up her neck. the fabric was smooth, lightweight, just thick enough to feel like armor. charcoal trousers with a straight-leg cut, hemmed at the ankle by her grandmother a week before. her shoes were low-profile black flats. clean. polished. her hair was tied back into a low ponytail. no earrings. minimal makeup. in her backpack: a notebook of sketches and a fountain pen with chipped lacquer along the clip.

the bus ride was quiet, too early for crowds, too late for nerves. she sat beside the window and watched the glass fog with her breath. her grandmother had woken up to do her hair and boil eggs she didn’t eat. her parents had already left for the campus. jinri knew the chances they crossed paths would be slim to none, but she still had that fear she’d run into one of them on a day like this. seeing either of them would likely raise her own anxiety about this interview.

she wore navy blue on purpose. she had rehearsed her answers in her head. rehearsed the way she’d sit, how long she’d hold eye contact, what tone to use when they asked her why she wanted to study fashion. but when she stood in front of the panel, something shifted. she didn’t say what she practiced. she didn’t talk about trends or inspiration or famous designers.

she said, “i like the way fabric remembers shape.”

there was a pause. someone scribbled something. no one laughed. they moved on.

she sat down afterward in the hallway outside the department office, legs crossed at the ankle, backpack resting against her knee. she wasn’t nervous anymore. she’d said what she meant.

she wore the turtleneck again later that week, even though it hadn’t dried properly after the wash. she wore it under an old trench coat, hair tied the same way. it made her feel real. it made her feel like someone with direction, even if she hadn’t fully mapped it out yet.

her parents never asked why she chose fashion, but they didn’t need to. they saw her come home late with fabric samples tucked into books. they saw her linger over the hemlines when folding laundry. they saw the girl who used to sit in the sunlight tracing seams with her finger, and they understood.

[ 2017 ]

a graduation gown in black, the sleeves wide and cuffed at the wrist. beneath it, a cream blouse with a subtle collar and a single pearl button at the throat. her graduation cap sat slightly crooked atop her middle-parted hair, the tassel brushing her cheek every time the wind picked up. she wore straight black trousers, and the same pair of kitten heels she’d worn to her internship interview. in her bag: blotting paper, gum, a note her grandmother had slipped into the pocket without her noticing.

the sun was bright, too bright for photos, but no one complained. students fanned themselves with programs, robes clinging to their arms, tassels flicking into their eyes. laughter floated in waves. group photos on the lawn, confetti poppers, someone’s playlist crackling from a phone speaker. it was loud, but in a way that felt good.

jinri stood at the edge of it all, gown fluttering in the breeze, the collar of her blouse peeking out from underneath. she didn’t move toward the crowd right away. just watched. listened. for a moment, she let herself feel it: pride. not the kind that demanded applause. the kind that sat quietly in her chest.

her grandmother arrived first, her silver-gray hair pinned up, face flushed from the walk across campus. she pressed both hands to jinri’s shoulders and said, “you’re glowing,” even though her makeup had mostly worn off and her blouse had started to wrinkle beneath the gown. her parents came shortly after. her father with his camera, her mother holding a small bouquet wrapped in soft blue paper. they took pictures together, and for once, jinri didn’t mind being in the middle. she smiled with her teeth. tilted her cap so it would sit straight. let her father adjust the tassel and her mother wipe away a smudge near her chin.

after the ceremony, they went to a quiet restaurant. they didn’t make speeches. didn’t toast. they just ordered all of her favorites and let her talk about what was next. the freelance offers. the internship that might turn into something more. the brands she was watching and hoping to work for. the silhouettes she couldn’t stop thinking about. her grandmother just nodded, eyes soft. her father took notes on a napkin. her mother refilled her glass every time it got too low.

that night, when they got home, jinri hung the gown in the back of her closet but left the cap out on her desk.

[ 2021 ]

she wore a soft gray beanie, slouched low on her head, tugged just enough to keep the hair out of her eyes while she worked. it had a faint fold in the front, the spot her fingers always fiddled with during long takes. this was paired with a white short-sleeve tee. her pants were straight-leg slate trousers, and simply finished off with black shoes, and a single silver bracelet on one wrist.

no one told her where to stand.

so she stood where she could see everything.

the studio was already buzzing, with cords sprawled across the floor, hot lights warming too fast, makeup halfway done, someone asking about the shoot sequence. she didn’t blink at the chaos. just slipped through it, dropped her tote, and started unpacking garments. each hanger got a once-over. a seam she flagged from the fitting two days earlier still wasn’t fixed. she threaded a needle.

“you’re phaze’s stylist, right?” someone asked from the side, half-distracted.

“yes, i am.” she replied, focused. she wasn’t being rude, but she was here to work and didn’t have much room for distraction with her current task of fixing a seam. the outfits the group would be wearing were not necessarily her taste, but it didn’t matter. it had suited the concept of phaze’s comeback, and that was what her job was. when a blazer started wrinkling from body heat under the lights, she was already halfway across the floor. she smoothed the lining, adjusted the sleeve, tucked a tag in.

they resumed like nothing had happened once she stepped back. whispers amongst assistants claim that she’s intense. they’re not wrong, but it’s worth it if she catches those mistakes before someone has to edit it out. she chewed on a protein bar while marking up the run sheet and re-pinning a pant hem that was half a centimeter too long. someone approached her and asked if the belt was too much.

“maybe, but that’s the point. keep it.” she said. 

by wrap, others were already packing up, chatting, and preparing to leave. jinri could be spotted in the midst of everything, but she lingered a bit longer than the others. she stayed behind and walked the racks once, fingertip by fingertip, left to right.

[ 2025 ]

a fitted black turtleneck tucked into black, wide-leg trousers with deep pockets. her shoes: black slip-on flats with a soft sole and zero branding. her hair was tied low, a few strands pinned back. no jewelry. a black canvas tote rested on a table next to her, filled with tools she never lent out: measuring tape, safety pins, a lint brush, a sketchpad with no title on the cover, pencils and a sharpener for them. her phone was always on silent. the notes app: precise, timestamped, full of annotations no one else could read.

jinri was happy. not in a loud, obvious way, but it was evident to those who’ve worked with her for an extended period of time. it could be seen in how she stepped in a little closer to the team this time. how she stayed by the monitors. how she leaned in when the lighting tech made a comment, replied under her breath with something dry, a joke that half-landed, and she didn’t even mind.

“you’re smiling,” someone pointed out halfway through rehearsal.

she blinked. “no, i’m not.” but the edge of her mouth tugged anyway.

this comeback matched her taste so closely it felt like someone handed her the concept and said, “go be yourself.” so she did. and the fans noticed. the screenshots. the post threads. the styling breakdowns. someone said the group had never looked better. it wasn’t magic. it was months of fittings, edits, careful choices. for the first time in a while, jinri didn’t just feel like she was solving problems, she was creating something she liked.

still, she was her. she caught a half-undone zipper before it made it to stage. steamed a crease that no one else could see. re-secured a loose button mid-choreo check without saying a word.

during a break, someone joked, “i think you love this comeback more than the fans do.” 

she looked up from her notes. “they’re not wearing capes with studs, are they?” the room laughed, and so did she.

001: profile.

legal name: jang hyeseong stage name: eden age: 27 company: midas music group & position: phaze’s main rapper skeleton key: phz1 career focus: solo music, fashion, production

002: background.

born as the youngest of three children, hyeseong has always been the baby of his family, the one allowed to choose his own direction in life and no matter what he does, well in his parents’ eyes then he can do no wrong. even as he was often quite the troublemaker, he never seemed to get in trouble for the things that he did do and instead were blamed on his elder siblings. ’you were supposed to be watching him haein, he’s younger than you haein, you know better than that.’ if it meant he didn’t get along well with his elder siblings, his sister or his brother then he never much minded, it wasn’t his fault that his parents treated like the prince of the family and that was just fine by him.

when your father is a high powered-executive and your mother a political figure, well one grows up used to being in the media in some way or another because of proxy to your parents. parents whose actions were always being scrutinized in the media, parents who had buckets of money and more often than not hyeseong was looked after by a nanny or two when his parents were too busy. he never much minded it, especially as his mother and father would often throw money at him when it seemed he wanted the littlest bit of their attention and hey sometimes money does really buy happiness.

while both of his siblings knew that they would have their lives already planned out for them, a sibling each to follow in their parents’ footsteps, it meant that hyeseong was given the freedom to make his own choices. he never much cared for school, by no means were his grades poor however, no his parents would have never accepted terrible grades but it was obvious his heart was not in his academics nor athletics. truthfully growing up, hyeseong had tried everything to see where his interests might actually lie and in his wake he spent a myriad of his parents’ money in half-assed hobbies that he would end up leaving alone entirely.

but there was finally one thing that seemed to keep the youngest jang’s interest and it started with the guitar he had been gifted when he was ten years old. from then his interest in music sparked, he learned how to play it with the best tutor that his parents could find and he eventually became interested the korean music industry.

there had always been rumors about when he was signed to csj entertainment (midas music) at the age of sixteen, of course there was and how could there not be when it was learned by his fellow trainees who his parents were. it wasn’t a surprise when it spread, claiming that the only reason he was at the company was because of his parents’ money and yada yada yada. but hyeseong never let it stop him, in fact it only made him more determined to prove himself, to show that despite what they thought he had auditioned too just like everyone else.

as he trained he gravitated to rapping over vocals itself and truthfully he thought no one seemed on par with him when it came to him quite naturally. though it was a surprise that when it was brought up that the company wanted to put him on a competition show, show me the money 3, even before he was close to debuting. it was crazy to him, he was still learning, still developing his ability and he was a nobody in the entertainment world and yet.

and yet he would go onto the show, competing against other newcomers like himself but also those in the industry who were already quite well known. from other idol rappers to true rappers who would look down on him since he was nobody. but instead of hiding in the background, instead of letting others shine ahead of him, hyeseong took to the stage and showed everyone that he was a rising star. he ended up as a semi-finalist and though he didn’t win, being on the show earned him a fanbase, a fanbase that would further him especially as it was decided that those he was training beside would end up on a competition show to form their next boy group.

truthfully he likes to think his time on the previous competition show helped him in the long run when it came to his performance and popularity on nu phase. and it wasn’t a surprise to him when he was on the winning team and eventually debuted as the main rapper of phaze.

003: image.

being on a competition show before the show that would create the group and eventually debut with, hyeseong already had something of a solo fanbase. many thought that he would end up being a soloist and so many were surprised when he appeared on nu phase and debuted as part of a boy group instead. despite the years as part of the group, there are still those fans that support him above all else which doesn’t sit well with the fans who more so support the group as a whole. that fanbase itself was only exacerbated especially as he was given the first solo of their group and as early as 2019, only three years after the group had debuted.

while for the most part, his solo debut was well received and beloved by most fans, there were of course those that thought it was far too early for one of the members to being debuting solo only a few years into their career but fortunately those outliers were outweighed by those that beloved his solo music. since then he has released solo digital singles that he had input in as well as forayed into songwriting and composition on some the group’s b-sides, but many say they think it’s time he had his first solo comeback and truthfully he agrees with them and is waiting till the company lets him release new music again, hopefully soon.

001: profile.

legal name: park byeol. stage name: bitna. age: 28. training period: 10 months. company: ydh entertainment. group & position: angelix’s lead dancer, vocal. skeleton key: ang3. career focus: variety, fashion & commercial work, solo music.

002: background.

difficult.

park byeol has always been described as difficult, particularly by her own parents. whenever she’d turn her nose up at her dinner because it wasn’t seasoned to her liking, whenever she’d get angry at her mom for accidentally styling her hair asymmetrically, or even when she’d refuse to hangout with their friends’ kids because she didn’t like that they had grass stains on the knees of their jeans, that was the most common word they used to chide her. “you’re so picky!” they’d say. “not everything can be as perfect as you’d like it to be!”

that’s a lesson she still hasn’t learned, but as annoying as it can be, it also serves an incredible purpose when utilized properly. for example, in school, she was often called things like meticulous; organized, analytical, and curious. byeol was definitely the kid who seemed mature for her age, precocious, as well as incredibly put-together. it astonished her teachers, so much so that it made her an easy candidate for class president. she held onto that title for most of her middle school journey, ruling with an iron fist.

though, while school faculties were impressed by her, she wasn’t as much of a hit with her peers. in their eyes, she was harsh. too harsh. with byeol, critiques come first, and praise needs to be earned. she holds herself to such a high standard that, if others don’t try to meet or exceed her, she has a hard time respecting them. if she can do it, then why the hell can’t they? simple logic, in her opinion. back then, she was unforgiving like that. what the others didn’t realize was that, even though she was hard on them, she was the hardest on herself.

it was around this time that she began to “escape”, mostly by researching foreign cultures. having lost a sense of community with her classmates, she wondered what it would be like to explore someplace new. as she earned high scores in english, she studied harder to learn even more, and in high school, entered an exchange program, one that sent her to sunny southern california.

she spent two years in america, and frankly, loved every minute of it. somehow, it was much easier for her to make friends there. eventually, she replaced being class president with earning her spot as captain of the cheerleading squad during her second year; a feat not easily achieved. this is where her fighting spirit was truly lit ablaze, and her sense of strength and self-belief was chiseled to a fine point. so, when she returned to korea, she wasn’t the same as she used to be. her parents now called her “so american”, or jokingly referred to her as gyopo, as a means to tease her.

it was originally her plan to return back to the usa sometime after graduation, but before she could officially start planning that, she was scouted by ydh entertainment. naturally, byeol was highly suspicious of this at first. her brother ended up walking that path, and it was never one she saw herself taking, but after the offer proved to be legitimate, she entertained it.

weaponizing her background in cheer, her audition was successful, and from that point forward, her entire life changed. she went from deciding what her major should be and applying for universities overseas, to studying how to become the perfect idol; utilizing the ten months she trained to not only quickly improve in certain areas, proving her work ethic as a valuable asset, but most importantly, to step into a persona that ydh entertainment considered fail-proof.

they call her bitna, and since the day she was given this role to play, she was adamant on making sure that bitna shined brightly, just like her name suggests. this was going to be a challenge, as she’s never acted before, but she was confident she could rise to the occasion. however, someone who possesses the cool glow of the moon doing a complete one-eighty into the warm beams of sunshine is a tricky tightrope act, but luckily for her, it paid off. in fact, it more than paid off.

being that she had such little time to learn to sing, she was instructed to approach it from a different angle; sending proper technique to the backseat and inviting a cutesy, easily identifiable tone to take the wheel. her doll voice is a practiced, curated piece of art. it’s her product, one that she’s sharpened to a fine point. not only does it fit with the concept, but even if she doesn’t get a lot of time on the mic, listeners will still be able to know, without a doubt, when it’s bitna that’s singing. this voice, alongside a personality overflowing with saccharine sweetness, tastefully-timed aegyo, and a hyper-feminine visual earned a stamp of approval from angelix’s audience, which has carried her far.

she entered this career path not knowing what to expect, but now, she’s a figurehead of aegyo and a delight to all who watch her. over time, byeol has perfected her portrayal of bitna to the point where it’s completely second-nature. ever the hard-worker, she’s earned bitna variety gigs, many viral moments, and countless other opportunities that some can only dream of having. all these years of practical experience and work has cemented this character as apart of her, even if byeol herself only views bitna as her shield and armor; the sun to her moon.

what she wasn’t expecting was to have a solo music career, especially one where she can’t use her doll voice. her appearance on ‘king of mask singer’ felt like just another variety gig to her. she knew that, if she sounded like bitna, it would be easy to tell who she is, which isn’t the name of the game. an overachiever, she wanted to use her natural timbre to conceal her identity; not foreseeing anyone finding it attractive, or appealing. when she earned praise and popularity for it though, she didn’t really know how to feel. honestly, she felt exposed, even more-so when ydh entertainment lined up a solo début for her.

it isn’t that she’s not grateful for the opportunity, but she’s spent nearly ten years presenting bitna to the world that, now that she’s asked to be more herself than ever before, at least publicly, byeol isn’t sure how she feels about it. the mini-album she worked on went over well, but despite that, she hopes that it’s just a one-off thing for her. the idea of her mask slipping off completely freaks her out, and she’s sure it would be a strange transition for her fans to witness, too. for the time being, she’s dedicated to her craft and looking forward to a bright future, even if there are some new cracks in her armor now.

003: image.

when she was studying the greatest idols that came before her, byeol discovered several patterns when it came to top-billing stars over the years. these women seemed to have it all—beauty, grace, cuteness, even sexiness. they were able to banter with hosts of variety shows with ease, they exuded gentleness, they photographed very well, and they appealed to a wide range of people. they were palatable.

as angelix’s concept was revealed and the members had a clearer idea of what was expected of them, byeol took on ydh entertainment’s ideas and worked to fine-tune them into a role they all felt she could play; something befitting of her visuals, a persona that she found simple enough to tap into, and one just different enough from the others that allowed her to stand-out among them.

some of her group-mates focus on elegance, others wear their pure hearts on their sleeves, some crack jokes with impeccable timing, but what bitna has is cuteness and flirtation. though she’s of the eldest members in the group, when byeol learned how much of a natural she is at aegyo, the creative team felt she could use it to her advantage. she finds it rather embarrassing, but tries to tell herself that this isn’t actually her that everyone is gazing at. it’s someone else. it’s bitna.

test-driving bitna out in public came with some mishaps, but when she found her footing, byeol was quick to discover that the character bestowed upon her appealed to the wide majority of angelix’s fanbase, as well as to the general public. the young girls who look up to her find her sweet and quirky, whereas the older men who fantasize about her adore the coquettish flair she uses on them; how she bats her lashes, calls them ‘oppa’ in teasing singsong lilts, and makes them giggle with her display of charming gestures and facial expressions.

these skills also allow bitna to be a refreshing guest, later on a host, on variety programs, considering herself something of a mood maker who raises spirits by radiating warmth and being endearing. it also allows her to sell products for brands rather easily, too. she’s worked so hard on being able to seem captivating through a screen and on stage, that it’s helped gain angelix new fans, even after all this time. her fancams still go viral. the support means so much to her.

now that byeol’s being tasked with revealing bits and pieces of her own self, she’s afraid that she can’t stand up to the brightness bitna possesses. her solo début was a fun project, but having no doll voice to hide behind was a peculiar sensation. however, it made her question whether or not it’s time to bloom out of her days of aegyo. being a grown woman who acts in such a girlish way can only last for so long anyway. slowly, she’s starting to add in a slightly more mature edge to her brand, something considered “cutie-sexy” by some, even if it still reads more cute than sexy, but it’s really just her trying to exude more byeol, less bitna.

001: profile.

legal name: han hyukjae stage name: hyuk age: 29 training period: 2 years company: midas music group & position: phaze’s lead vocal & visual skeleton key: phz4 career focus: fashion & commercials, solo music

002: background.

hyukjae is born as the final puzzle piece in the picture perfect park family. han hyesoo is a diligent young nurse and park minjoon is the handsome and charismatic tech entrepreneur at the helm of a small, but promising company. they wait to have hyukjae until their finances are more than comfortable, and hyukjae is raised with all the luxury that decision brings. he's afforded tutors and the exact gifts he wanted when birthdays came around.

he's eight when he's shipped off to canada to study. his parents hope to set him up for a good future, but he's just excited by the adventure of being somewhere new. ever the independent child, he sheds tears only once at leaving everything he knows behind and quickly turns his focus to planning all of the adventures toronto will offer him instead.

being the new kid in a new school with a weak grasp on english was never going to be easy, but he adjusts with more ease than his homestay family had expected, and as he starts to better maneuver around the foreign language, he begins to flourish in his school's social environment. he's charming enough to make friends even though the language barrier still gets in the way sometimes, and he finds himself excelling on his school's sports teams. hyukjae speaks to his parents whenever he can, but his dad is busy with the growth of his company and his mom worries that talking too much will stunt his ability to smoothly transition into his new community. truthfully, a part of him misses busan and the sea and the town he'd known, but as he passes six years abroad faster than those prior, and toronto becomes a second home.

he's fourteen when he's unceremoniously pulled out of school in toronto and brought back to south korea. he's too old now not to hear and see what's going on almost immediately, and this shock is much harder to shake off than his journey abroad had been. an investigation had found his father charged with fraud and embezzlement at his company, and possible criminal charges are compacted by investor lawsuits.

life quickly changes; hyukjae is placed back into school in busan, at first, but it becomes increasingly apparent that he and his mother can't wait for things to blow over and go back to normal. his father tries to settle the first few lawsuits that pop up, but all it does is drain their family bank accounts. their only luck comes from how the news of an unknown tech company's ceo accused of corruption only really makes local headlines and the name isn't worth remembering to anyone not in their direct circle.

hyukjae's sure it's their saving grace when a scout approaches him on the street one day and asks him if he's ever thought about modeling. it's no wonder it takes so little time after he returns, really, with his the towering height he's sprouted into and his handsome face. he takes the opportunity in a heartbeat, sure he can take on the burden of supporting his family if his father can't.

between the slow burn of his modeling career and the divorce documents his mother eventually files, it only makes sense for the pair to move to seoul to make the most of young hyukjae's new career. their lifestyle is much more humble now; his mom's returned to the nursing job she'd left back when her husband's income had become more than enough for comfort, but hyukjae's catalog and online shopping mall modeling jobs don't pay as much as he'd hoped. his agency suggests trying acting, too, but those auditions never seem to pan out as well as his model castings do.

15, 16, and 17 all tick by, and he becomes something of a mainstay in fashion campaigns of trendy indie brands and even starts walking runways, but school life is harder. he's popular with girls, but stress builds up and he finds himself in fights. he chooses modeling gigs over his grades, and he ends up in disciplinary hearings more than once. it's not enough to get him more than short-lived retribution from his school, but the look of resigned disappointment on his mother's face when he comes home with a cracked lip or bruised knuckles is punishment enough. the only thing he's sure he never wants to become a source of pain to her like his now-estranged father.

the day he becomes an adult, he begins the legal process to drop his father's surname and become a han instead of a park.

after graduating, he plans to do whatever it takes to make a real name for himself, whether that requires going international with his modeling or going all-in on the acting that's never panned out. being an idol never even really occurs to him until he gets recommended to audition for cjs entertainment through a connection of a connection. being an idol had never really occurred to him, but he thinks pyro are cool enough as far as idols go, his contract with his modeling agency is coming to an end, and being able to debut under cjs would all but guarantee him success.

he gives it a go, and within a month, he's become a cjs trainee. it's almost certain that his looks and charisma do him more favors than his just passable singing voice or the basic body coordination years of sports lent him, but it's a chance, and he'll take it.

idol training is cutthroat, but dissection of his looks and constant competition with his peers isn't anything he hadn't faced modeling. he catches on quickly how things work at cjs. if it's earning his place they want from them, it's what they'll get. he pours every ounce of himself into improving as a singer, dancer, and performer. he's behind most of the other trainees due to lack of experience, so he uses the skills he knows he does have until he can bring the others up to par.

the end of his first year at cjs approaches and cho joongso gets in hot water. hyukjae watches stocks tumble and wonders if he's once again found himself the victim of someone with too much power and no idea how not to abuse it. years later, the events of 2015 become a blur with few standout points. joongso steps down. cjs rebrands to midas. hyukjae is chosen to compete on tv to debut in the next boy group. his team wins and finally, finally, he's going to be something bigger than himself.

debut comes and goes with success and adoration few get to experience, and the rush of it binds with the blood in hyukjae's veins. god, it's good to be someone, to be wanted, to be envied, and, most of all, to be successful.

in his first few years as an idol, hyukjae (now known as phaze's hyuk) rises up in the public conscious as a commercial and magazine model. fan communities fill up with talk of his visuals and his fashion, and while discussion bubbles up about how often he allegedly frequents seoul's clubs as a rookie idol, they (mysteriously) never bubble over into a larger public controversy. the first actual roadbump comes in phaze's fourth year. in the whirl of power-tripping accusations, he takes a few hits. hyukjae's just so f*cking arrogant. he smokes inside while getting his hair and makeup done... how inconsiderate of the staff. he's controlling about his styling when his stylist is the whole reason he's recognized for his fashion at all. as the rumors start to blow over, someone claiming to be a former class mate brings up his behavior in school—the fights he got in and all of the underage smoking, drinking, and clubbing. his fans defend him, but it's midas's power that silences the scandal before it can get any bigger. articles disappear, photos are wiped from the internet, and disciplinary records never surface.

the real blow comes a couple of years when he learns from the press that he's being sued by someone he's never met for something he barely knew he was involved in.

maybe fame had gotten to his head when he'd begun responding to his father's attempts to contact him after so long. maybe he'd thought that a superstar idol was immune to any of the damage a fragile teenager had suffered. when his father had shared he owed some people some money due to a gambling problem he'd claimed to have kicked, maybe hyukjae should have known better than to meet them and assure them he'd help out.

phaze's hyuk and father accused of fraud, illegal gambling is what the headlines read. the details don't matter so much, and even hyukjae is in the dark that his father had never had plans to actually pass on the money hyukjae gave him.

the wrath of commenters is scorching, and the pain of betrayal even more so. once again his saving grace is midas's magic wand and it goes to work so quickly that hyuk's career is pretty much unscathed. by the time the crisis team is done, the public story has been shaped to look even better than the truth. hyuk had never known about any gambling or met with anyone involved in it. he had only given his estranged father money when told he told him he was in financial trouble. otherwise, they had not been in contact. still, hyuk plans to take responsibility for his father's debt to privately settle all pain caused by his father's actions. the lawsuit against hyuk has been withdrawn.

midas makes it so that he leaves the scandal a golden martyr to his fans, a responsible son to most, and a shameless criminal to only the most ardent hate commenters.

these days, hyukjae's career still seems to be on an upward trend, even after all these years. he remains an in-demand face and a popular visual, and he's cut off his father completely once again. he's refused to become complacent in spite of phaze's roaring and seemingly unshakeable success. ask him, and the best is still yet to come.

003: image.

hyuk's background as a model became an easy identifier from the first appearance he made on nu phase, and that has stuck with him throughout his career despite the fact his pre-debut modeling was rather local in scale. the number of brand deals, magazine covers, and fashion weeks he now has to his name has only served to give this image validity, and his ability to pull off seemingly anything he wears has earned him the image of a style icon. known for never showing up to even the airport without proper thought put behind his look, he's garnered a reputation as the man men want to think they dress like and the one women wish their boyfriends would emulate.

as phaze's visual and face, hyuk is widely known for his good looks and his charisma. on more than one occasion, he's gone viral for nothing more than looking "hot" or being charming. the evolution of hyuk's image has reflected that of the group's as a whole. each facet of phaze—the edginess, the luxuriousness, the "bad boy" schtick—can be pinned on hyuk as well. while he has his share of dedicated fans, he's generally more of a public "heartthrob" and has many casual fans primarily interested in him for his looks and style inspo. though popular for his visuals, he rarely feeds into a boyfriend image and is seen more as a charismatic, unapproachable star than the charming boy next door.

001: profile.

legal name: cho soonyoung age: twenty-three years training period: 9 months company: ydh entertainment group & position: sodapop’s main vocal 2 skeleton key: sp5 career focus: music, songwriting, fashion

002: background.

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR: mentions of familial death, cancer, divorce

Sometimes, he pretends that he’s sitting in a therapy session. Therapy, because it’s allegedly supposed to help people. His mother once said that everyone could use a therapy session here and there, and she is one so, surely, she’d know. He’s not sure it works for him, but maybe that’s because he’s not a real therapist. He’s a songbird in a golden cage and wishes very desperately he were the therapist in the comfy loveseat across from him.

It’s all very silly, of course, the loveseat and the therapist and the therapist’s office are all fake and only exist in his head.

“What’s with the name thing?” the Therapist (capital t, he might as well be a character in his own right by now) asks, which is very obviously not all that appropriate language for this setting.

He wonders about the name thing too, so that’s what he tells the therapist. “I don’t know.” How embarrassing.

“How long has it been since anyone called you something other than Soonyoung?”

He doesn’t answer. At first, it was fun to pretend to fit in better than he did. He’s almost twenty when he starts training, which is pretty old compared to what his sister explained to him about the K-Idol industry. It’s okay because he spent his life shuffling between choir practice and school, so by the time YDH Entertainment picks him up, he knows what to do with himself and his voice. Mostly.

The dancing he glosses over because it’s humiliating to think about, even now after he’s improved. Sometimes, the therapist asks him about it. He hasn’t had it in himself to answer yet.

(It’s okay, the Therapist is fake.)

The name thing isn’t, though. Where he’s from (Irvine, California, the United States, which is just similar enough to South Korea to make him feel like a complete failure when he moves here to stay with his grandparents and spectacularly fails at integrating himself into everyday life right away) people used to call him Aaron, which is a name he still happens to quite like.

But it’s also the name his sister called him by when she wished him farewell at the airport, and if he thinks too hard about her he might lose his voice the same way he did when he got the news the cancer in her bones had eaten her alive after all. It’s the name his mother would whisper when she’d thank him for making dinner because she spent the day juggling work as a therapist and work as a carer. It’s the name his father picked for him before he and his mother got a divorce and he subsequently left for the East Coast, where he (according to Facebook) has a new wife, a new child and a better life all around, free of the burden of a crumbling marriage, a sick daughter and a son who never quite managed to be what he wanted. 

Aaron is a nervous, gangly boy who’d spend his days balancing choir and volleyball, play the voice of reason in his friend group only to give into the call of teenage mischief, who knew how to cook dinner before age ten, who’d sneak his sister candy she’d never eat but that made her smile anyway, and he’s locked behind a glass door that no longer has a key now that his family is either buried or too far away to open it again.

He likes being Soonyoung well enough, don’t get him wrong. It’s handy to have a Korean name. The paperwork is a lot smoother, and here, people don’t ask him to repeat himself when he offers it up. His grandparents use it with the affection of people who would never say I love you but show it in every act of kindness they extend to you.

But it feels like a very different person from who he was growing up.

He doesn’t tell the Therapist, but he doesn’t have to. This is make-believe, and the Therapist knows the ins and outs of his mind already. There’s no need to spill the quiet sadness of growing up too fast with a sick sister and a mother too busy looking after her to look after him. He doesn’t have to explain that it’s his sister’s love for K-Pop that got him interested in the industry in the first place. The Therapist already knows that Soonyoung agreed to study in Korea to give his mother a break, and that he accepted the street scouting offer to attend a YDH audition because it felt like the right thing to do in his sister’s memory.

The Therapist witnessed the unexpected horror of being thrust into a situation he was wholly unprepared for and scrambling to do it justice, lest he be replaced (because that’s his reality of training, there’s always someone better already waiting for the opportunity you’re given). There’s no need to speak of the queasy dread that comes with fans overstepping their boundaries and feeling entitled to more, or the sneaking suspicion that nothing he or his groupmates do these days can really be for themselves.

Someone touches his shoulder, the real, flesh-and-bone one. Around him, the Therapist’s office dissolves and Soonyoung opens his eyes. “We’re here,” the manager informs him before moving on to wake the others, leaving him to blink the sleep out of his eyes. Outside, the Midas company building towers. 

003: image.

Soonyoung’s most notable feature as an idol is his voice, a lower-sitting, warm tenor that has drawn its fair share of attention ever since debut. While his looks have been described as intimidating by themselves, his mellow, gentle personality and tendency to move slower than the world around him is quick to endear and fans have labelled him somewhat of a creative dreamer in the years since debut. Soonyoung embodies the image of the boy who’ll sit in class next to you and pass poetry back and forth on a scrap of paper, who will take you to watch the stars and ramble excitedly as you study the sky through a telescope — and so on.

This image has also convinced fans that surely, he must make for a good songwriter, which, coupled with his very vocal-oriented gigs, have led his personal fanbase to be convinced that if anyone in Sodapop should go solo anytime soon, it would be him. Unsubstantiated rumours aside, YDH Ent. themselves have given no confirmation that these demands are going to be met. 

001: profile.

legal name: nam yerin stage name: yerin age: 25 training period: 3 years company: ydh entertainment group & position: main rapper, leader of angelix  skeleton key: ang2 career focus: variety, modeling/image, hosting

002: background.

yerin was born to be a busy body, always loving the spotlight, loving to take care of people and especially, to make people laugh. she was originally scouted at a festival in busan when performing with some of her middle school friends, mostly for her sense of on stage presence (humor, crowd hyping, being at home even in front of all those people, unrefined voice but promising). she didn't plan to become an idol, or even famous, she wanted to run track and field and explore the world at the time, mostly looking for adventure. so she begged her family to let her become a trainee. it was no easy sell but she was always a very busy bee and putting on shows in the backyard since she was a little girl already left them prepared for the day. 

if it hadn't been for bonding with some of her fellow trainees and the opportunity to adventure the world and experience new things, yerin wouldn't have any interest in remaining an idol. she had no loyalty to the group or company itself, or even it becoming an idol. but the stage called to her, being in front of cameras, and with friends by her side. once she was considered for leader it solidified remaining an idol for her; not for the music, but for the idea of performing with friends that she considered family, and taking on the challenge together.

003: image.

since her greatest skill was her personality really, it was something the company leaned into, and yerin was all the more happy for it. dancing and rapping and even singing were fun some days but making people laugh was her passion. she was all too eager to pursue smaller stages, variety, hosting and the like, while her fellow members made use of their beautiful voices or acting skills. even her rap she eventually learned to use to make people laugh, becoming fond of freestyling (when she did it poorly, or acrostic poems, it made people laugh all the more)-- many of her activities played into her down to earth yet fun personality, and there were even some that catered to flirting with older men or comedians which she had become very adept at poker-facing through. 

It was siah leaving the group that rocked her foundation slightly. she was forced to acknowledge that the so-called family she had joined was not a real family, that it was hardly friends, it was co-workers. When someone can just walk away without a word of explanation, that means you're not a real family, not to yerin anyway. and since she had so much of her heart caught up in her group, it rocked her. after siah, yerin was fraying as she tried to hold her anxieties and newfound concerns at bay. she was hardly at her best. it started with dismissive, frustrated comments about their uncle fans. man felt this was inappropriate, after all uncle fans are such a large part of why angelix can still work, and felt it was ungrateful. those who praised her were buried under the louder comments as she acted out more. crass comments, complaints about schedules and control, she lost the ability to tell the line between public and private thoughts. and eventually, she was punished for it.