"Again."

A stab of irritation flashes through me but I ignore it and repeat my verse, my words coming out as naturally as breathing.

"Boy, you know I can't decide. You're just too fine. Aged sweet like wine-," I pause when I see the same unimpressed expression on my rap coach's face. Her eyebrows pinch together, gaze steady but slightly bored as she stares up at me. 

"Is there something I'm doing wrong?" I ask in a small uncertain voice and the silence that ensues makes my heart still. 

This is the song that I'll be performing for my evaluation, the deciding factor on whether I will be able to perform with Viva or risk elimination. If I'm kicked out these entire four years would be for nothing. 

I've practiced these words inside out, twisted and turned them around in my head and on my tongue more times I can count. In the ten times that I've performed this song today, I've never misspelled or forgotten a verse or word. 

I sing the notes on time and in tune. I don't understand why Ms. Noh looks like I've just told her her cat died. 

"Do you really not know the answer to that?" Ms Noh sighs and my nails dig into my palms because I do not know which is obviously why I asked. 

Ms. Noh stands up and paces the small practice room slowly. Her three inch heels click against the smooth wooden floor and she leans against the plain beige wall across from me. 

"Jina. In the four years that you have been here, I've seen you practice every verse to perfection. Rehearse till the wee hours of the night making sure every line you sing or rap is perfect. You have a good voice and you're a hardworking girl. I'll give you that." 

I wait patiently for her to deliver the blow which is always followed by kind, blanketed words like these. Sure enough she doesn't disappoint. 

"But your performances have no feeling. They're good but not great. It's like I'm listening to a robot. Boring and forgettable."

Ouch. 

She must see the visible pain on my face because she gestures for us to sit and places a hand on my shoulder. 

"Trust me dear. All the talent and hard work in the world will not help you if you cannot engage with your audience." Ms Noh squeezes my shoulder and then she releases and leans back. "Tell me who's your favourite idol? Who's performance have you seen that filled you with so much emotion? Has someones song ever brought tears to your eyes?" 

The answer is almost too easy, I don't even have to think before it slips out of my mouth. "Dalia." 

Ms Noh lets out a low whistle. "Yes, that girl was one hell of a performer." 

Was. She used the word was and it still doesn't feel real that Dalia is dead even though I've had days to come to terms with it. 

"Yeah," I murmur absentmindedly, thinking about the girl who's success became my driving force these past four years. The girl I looked up to growing up, the person who gave me the courage to dream. 

Everyone still talks about her suicide but the note I received remains intact, faded and crumpled in my pocket. 

A hope I refuse to believe in yet can't seem to let go of.

"Try to pick up on her performances. How did she sound? How did she execute her lines. Make her your role model if you have to. Just don't go too far like she did," Ms Noh says and then she sighs theatrically. "Such a waste."

It was in that briefest of seconds that I gave in to that hope. A part of me truly believed that she did not do that to herself. That she was in her prime and she was only going to achieve greater things. That someone had taken it all away from her. 

'Why should I reach for the stars when I am the entire galaxy?' I remember Dalia telling me this when she was only nine years old and I was five. 

Anger twists in my gut and I want to tell Ms Noh to fuck off but I know this is all just pent up frustration and telling a coach off is definitely suicidal. 

"Time's up," Ms Noh chirps and jumps up. She's about a foot shorter than me, so when I stand it really feels like she's scurrying away like a mouse. "See you tomorrow. Bring me more emotion. I don't want perfection. I want to feel." 

The door closes in my face and I stare at the clear panel, watching her head bob away, out of view. 

I want to scream, cry, stamp my feet into the floor. I'm trying so hard. I've perfected every note, every line. I thought I was delivering it well. How do I give more when I already feel like I'm giving it my all?

I slam my palm against the same door, swinging it open and then I march up to the lifts. Dance practice starts in fifteen minutes and I don't want to be late. 

We only have four days till the evaluation with Mr. Yang and the executives. The fifteen of us have been practicing the dance routine we will be performing as a group but I can't seem to get the steps in the last verse.

I need to get it right by today. 

There is a nagging voice in my head, telling me what's the point when I am a boring, forgettable performer. I try to ignore it but it weighs down on me like bricks. 

I can't be eliminated. I can't go back to my hometown as a failure. Not when I was the second person in the entire region to be selected to join an entertainment company. And now that Dalia was gone it felt like the weight had shifted to my shoulders to be a source of pride to Hadong. 

Or maybe it is a weight no one expects me to carry but myself. Either way I can't go back. I'd rather move country or run away and live in the jungle than go back without debuting. 

It's one of those days that's really taking a toll on me and to say my mood was bad would be an understatement. 

I hope to meet and vent a little to Binna at dance practice but when I key in my name into the practice log outside the doors and slip into the large dance studio, I realise today just got worse.

Our dance mentor isn't here but most of the girls are already inside. Some are stretching and I know I should do the same but I hear my name. I catch JinJin, Rachel and Grace sitting by the cushioned built in bench that lines the left wall. They are reading something online as they laugh and I hear my name being thrown around. 

They don't realise I'm here and I walk up to them, eager to confront and let out my anger on someone or something. 

"What's so funny?" I ask and my shadow darkens their faces as they look up at me. 

Grace doesn't answer. She just smiles wickedly and holds out her phone for me to see. 

It looks like they are on some trending twitter thread and I see pictures of me at Dalia's funeral. My eyes squint as I read the comments about me and it feels like I have been punched. I have to take a step back to steady myself. 

Who does she think she is? Walking in before TBT. 

Who is she anyway? Never seen this nobody before in my life. 

Is she an idol? Coz if she is the standards are definitely dropping. 

Are you sure she and Dalia are even friends? All we know this bich is lying. 

Most of these accounts belong to TBT fans who are not happy that I walked in before their favourite idols. 

"Don't worry Jina. They're probably just jealous you got to meet TBT instead of them," Grace says with mock sympathy. 

I want to correct her and tell her I never spoke a word to any famous person during that day but the truth is none of that matters. My face crumbles and all the stress from today makes me feel like an egg about to crack into pieces. 

I walk away and exit the room. My chest tightens like it has been squeezed like a paper towel and my vision blurs. Not wanting anyone to see me like this I rush into the nearest restroom and  enter the first cubicle. 

I lock the door, push down the seat and sit with my head in my hands. 

All those hate comments, Ms. Noh's disappointment, Dalia's death, the upcoming evaluations. The stress from all of it washes down on me like the harshest rain and soon tears are spilling down my face and into my palms. 

I cry as softly as I can and press my fingers to my eyes willing myself to stop. Now is not the time for breakdowns. My dance coach would be here any moment. 

Out of habit my hand slips into my pants pocket and I take out the note hiding inside. I unfold it and look at the barely legible words, the paper now worn and faded. 

It's been days and I haven't heard from this so called Dalia fan ever since, only reinforcing that this note is fake. In a fit of anger I stand up and lift the lid, dumping the letter into the toilet bowl. I then flush it down and leave the toilet, never looking back. 

I return to the studio with a red, splotchy face and empty pockets. And as if the day couldn't get any worse, I find the girls all standing in line facing a group of people by the mirrored wall in front of the room. I catch Binna standing by the far left and she stares at me worriedly.

My body tenses when I see our dance coach Mr Lee standing with none other than all seven members of Viva. 

"Jina, you're two minutes late," Mr Lee notes as he looks down at the board in his hands. 

"Sorry, I was in the washroom," I quickly say and then I join the line at the end and try to be invisible because it's obvious from my face that I've been crying. 

Mr Lee looks at me and frowns but his subtle nod has to be the best thing that's happened to me all day. 

"Girls, your sunbaes are currently on break and will be helping with your dance practices from now till the concert scheduled in June. They are all experienced performers and will be evaluating as well as helping you grow in your dancing," Mr Lee states mechanically. "I want you to perform the song we have been practicing and then we'll discuss parts that need improvement." 

I try my best not to look at Jiho but it's really hard when he's one of the tallest most outstanding members in Viva. He's wearing a simple black hoodie and joggers paired with white sneakers. His face is shadowed by the black cap on his head and a small silver earring glints around his left ear. 

I've never seen anyone so effortlessly good looking, it's hard not to stare and I can see some of the girls doing the same as well. I can't even blame them. 

The problem is I feel his eyes on my every movement as I walk into position and stretch. It makes me feel so self conscious and when I turn around I see him frowning at my face, his eyes alight with concern. 

We strike a pose and I look away, pretending to be in my own world as we start our dance routine. For a brief moment it works. All the steps come naturally and we execute the routine to perfection. But then Rachel makes a mistake, followed by a few others. 

And then the last verse comes on and I miss the steps I always miss. I catch Mr. Lee's glare and Jiho's penetrating gaze, knowing that I just screwed up in front of the most successful group in our company. 

My fingers itch to reach into my pocket, fishing for the note I flushed away and for the first time in my trainee life I feel a ball of regret lodge in my throat. Wondering if I made the biggest mistake by choosing this path for myself.

Kind of a sad chapter but more Jiho and Jina moments coming up. Anyone waiting for another note? Or  will there even be another one? Will find out in the next chapter hehe. Hope you guys are enjoying the story so far :) :) See you in the next update!