I had to endure two weeks of vocal training, reshaping my raw, husky, metal-soaked voice into something smoother, touched with the color of R&B.
On top of that came the brutal dance rehearsals, drills that stretched my muscles until they ached, forcing my body to adapt to moving fluidly across a stage without losing breath or breaking pitch.
Two weeks of hell. Truly. Not a single day off, not even on weekends.
And all because I had agreed to help Eunwoo. What on earth had I been thinking?
At last, Manager Park admitted that I had reached a passable standard for an idol.
According to the plan, today he would take me to the Nova-X dormitory, as if I had just returned from visiting our "hometown."
Slouched in the backseat of the car, I flipped once again through the members' profiles—appearances, personalities, likes and dislikes—as if I were cramming for the national college entrance exam.
One wrong answer, a single misstep, could tear apart this fragile charade.
First, Sung Minjun. Twenty-six. Leader and rapper of the group, stage name Zero. Sharp-witted and quick to notice everything—the one I must be most wary of, for he knew the members inside and out. Rough on the outside but deeply perceptive beneath.
Next, Nam Sihoon. Twenty-seven. The eldest and main vocalist. Gentle, soft-spoken, yet notoriously fussy, especially when it came to food and health. Everyone teased him for being like a doting mother.
Then came Kim Daeho, twenty-four, the same age as Eunwoo—and by extension, the same age as me. Energetic, endlessly active, tailor-made for the role of main dancer. Close to Eunwoo precisely because of their age. Which meant another person I needed to tread carefully around.
And lastly, the youngest. Jax—real name Jaxon Brooke—twenty-two, a fellow foreigner like Eunwoo, hailing from Australia. Mischievous, constantly pulling pranks on the older members, and spoiled precisely because he was the maknae.
Nova-X had debuted with five members on July 25, 202X. It had been more than two years. Four albums released, yet no breakout hit, no awards to their name.
The company had begun losing faith, muttering about disbandment if this comeback failed to deliver.
With a sigh so heavy it seemed to scrape my ribs, I shut off my phone and pressed it face-down. The weight pressing on my shoulders grew heavier by the second.
Manager Park glanced at me through the rearview mirror, catching the tension in my expression. He tried to soothe me.
"Don't feel too pressured. Just play Eunwoo convincingly for three months. That's all."
Really? That was supposed to help? Not even close.
I shot him a look through my fingers, sighed again, and turned toward the window. My reflection glared back, weary and sharp.
My once-long hair had been chopped short and dyed a light brown, just like Eunwoo's. My bold, heavy earrings had been traded for trendy, idol-ready styles. With the thick makeup scrubbed away, I was his perfect copy.
Of course. We were twins, after all.
Weeks of dance practice and gym sessions had added faint muscle definition to my frame. With my tall build, husky timbre shaped by years of rock, and my chest bound tight, there was little left that looked remotely feminine about me.
Ouch.
The thought stabbed at my pride, a wound carved by my own mind. Female dignity shrinking to nothing, I pressed my forehead against the glass, stifling a laugh that trembled dangerously close to a sob.
The limousine rolled to a halt before MR Entertainment's building. Since Nova-X had yet to climb the charts, they still lived in the company dorms.
The thought of cramming into a single apartment with four other men churned unease in my chest. And beneath that unease, a bitter pang toward Eunwoo. With his talent and effort, he deserved far more than this.
But the K-pop industry was merciless, a machine that ground countless dreams into dust. Eunwoo was hardly alone.
Could I really survive being inside this meat grinder?
Manager Park hurried out to fetch my luggage. But the moment he tugged it from the trunk, the sheer weight nearly dragged him to the pavement.
I looked down at the man—more than a head shorter than me—and felt a flicker of warmth at his stubborn gallantry. He still saw me as a woman, after all.
But I no longer had the luxury of seeing myself that way.
I bent down, hoisted the suitcase with one hand, and jerked my chin toward the entrance. "Let's go."
He blinked at me, teeth flashing in an awkward smile. "You're really strong."
Please. Shut up. Don't rub salt into wounds that are already raw.
The Nova-X dorm was on the seventh floor. I had expected little, but I hadn't thought it would be this bad.
Barely twenty square meters, lined with bunk beds pressed together. A single shared space for nearly everything. A tiny kitchen tucked into the corner, one cramped bathroom.
Clothes scattered everywhere. Socks. Underwear tossed from floor to bed. The stench of sweat mixed with the distinct musk of young men hung in the air, thick enough to choke.
My face grew darker by the second, until even Manager Park looked embarrassed.
"They've all gone to practice. Lately they've been so busy preparing for the comeback that they haven't had time to clean."
He nudged aside a dubious magazine—one I could bet wasn't exactly wholesome—before shoving it under a bed with his shoe. Then he marched to the only single bed by the window, swept the clutter off, and turned back with a bright grin.
"Luckily, Eunwoo's bed is separate. So you won't need to worry."
Not worry? This place was worse than my shabby apartment.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, forcing down the frustration threatening to boil over.
Three months. I had to live here, with four men, for three months.
I swore to myself: if Eunwoo ever made it big, I would demand he buy me the most luxurious apartment in all of Seoul as compensation for this trauma.
***