daecheonsa

[daecheonsa]

CHOCOLAT is a single by South Korean boy group DAM.NATION, released as a pre-single to their as-of-yet unnamed upcoming project. The track was released on June 20th, 2025, alongside an accompanying music video uploaded to OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT's official YouTube channel. Despite failing to enter any domestic charts, CHOCOLAT recieved praise among online fan communities for it's narrative music video, as well as sparking debate about the group's sudden shift in tone and vibe. An upbeat, electronic bubblegum pop song, CHOCOLAT is described in it's press release as 'an infectious and addictive song, about 'rushing headfirst into positivity before it's too late.' Contrasting the sound of their debut album, GOING DOWN, which largely took influence from rock, this shift in sound was met with surprise from fans, especially given the fact that CHOCOLAT was produced by JANG KITAE, the man who had conceptualised DAM.NATION's sound in the first place. The genreshift is pretty easily contextualised, however, by the fact the group's name across all social media platforms has been switched to BLESSED NATION, with each account suddenly overwraught with angelic imagery. Although they're still credited as DAM.NATION everywhere where it matters, even the title of their music video upload bills the group as BLESSED NATION; and such is the role they play in the music video. The boys themselves are nothing but background characters. Instead, the lead roles are various characters living ordinary lives in a small, rural town in South Korea. Scenes of first love, friendship breakups, birthday parties, teen delinquincy, and private emotional breakdowns are watched over by BLESSED NATION from staticy televisions, cellphones hidden under schooldesks, noraebang screens, and posters on walls. It's not until the final chorus of the song that the group appears in person, performing a concert for the town. As each of the characters from the video is shown dancing and cheering, the boys wrap their performance as a bright, white light fills the screen on the final note. When it fades, the crowd is seen staring blankly up at the boys with glowing golden eyes; and the shot cuts to a closing card which reads 'DON'T YOU WANT TO BE BETTER?' Though a little left-field in genre, the structure of CHOCOLAT still follows that of a rock song in spite of it's pop execution, and it's soaring choruses help blend the song into their musical canon. It's evident that whatever BLESSED NATION are, DAM.NATION still linger under the surface.

001. CHOCOLAT. © OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT.

[daecheonsa]

DAM.NATION BLESSED NATION? : CHOCOLAT (Pre-Single) 'CHOCOLAT' MV TEASER // LONG LIVE THE SAVED. 6.20.2025.

[daecheonsa]

DAM.NATION BLESSED NATION? : CHOCOLAT (Pre-Single) CONCEPT TEASER // REBIRTH OF THE DAMNED. 6.20.2025.

[daecheonsa]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤo God ㅤㅤㅤㅤif you cannot save them ㅤㅤㅤㅤlet them be ㅤㅤㅤㅤborn AGAIN... ㅤㅤㅤㅤ6.20.2025.

[daecheonsa]

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ꒰ ❛ G-GIRLZ via TIKTOK ! ❜ ꒱

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  ...      CAPTION READS: @daecheonsa ig guys can be gnarly too XD #DAMNATION #HWIHUN #YOUNGHYUN #NAVI #EME #GGIRLZ

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  ...      comment section !

[ @KLARAKIRA ] : none of these people are straight and it shows ❥ 3.4k

[ @GGBOOTS ] : g-girlz girls dancing like they got something to prove and it’s WORKING ❥ 3.2k

[ @SLUSHYUN ] : dam.nation x g-girlz...kpop is in good hands 😌 ❥ 2.8k

[ @P00KIEME ] : so...where's the collab stage?? ❥ 2.6k

[ @EMEFLOPSAFE ] : navi moves like she’s got a vendetta against everyone who slept on lunarixi ❥ 2.4k

[ @SEVENTHGLAM ] : this is the kind of tiktok that makes me put my phone down and whisper “wow” at the ceiling ❥ 2.3k

[ @MYDOL4GOOD ] : eme hit that first move and suddenly i believe in god again ❥ 2.2k

[ @NAVINATION ] : i paused mid-scroll to watch this like it was my moral duty ❥ 2.1k

[daecheonsa]

damn i wish MY favourite nugu boy group had 500k yt subs /lh

if you’re noticing the subscriber count you’ll probably be able to notice that the channel it was uploaded to doesn’t say dam.nation, it says ohjang entertainment. dam.nation don’t have 500k yt subs. their record label, who‘s channel hosts the videos of like 7 other artists and has existed since probably around 2007-2009, have 500k subs. 🫶🏻

[daecheonsa]

여긴 지옥이야 (yeogin jiogiya (lit. 'this is hell' ; 'YOU'RE IN HELL') is a special single released by the South Korean boyband DAM.NATION, as the fourth and final overall single to spawn from their debut album, GOING DOWN. 여긴 지옥이야 was released on February 14th, 2025, two months after the release of the album in December 2024. Despite being met with some suspicion that OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT were drawing out the album promotions out of desperation to increase it's so-far unimpressive sales, the song actually performed relatively well for the small-time group. 여긴 지옥이야 would become the group's first entry into the top 100, reaching a peak of 98 on BUGS. The song attracted minor attention due to it's melodramatic, almost orchestral production and elegant choreography, around which the accompanying music video primarily focused. This video became the highest viewed music video released by DAM.NATION, though it should be noted that this wasn't a massively difficult record to break. The vocal performance was also praised, showcasing SHOGO, HWIHUN and SASUNG's abilities most prominently. The bridge and final chorus were seen to have particularly highlighted the capabilities of all the members. The fact that the boys' singing abilities was spreading word of mouth seemed to reach OHJANG's ears; as shortly after the release of 여긴 지옥이야, a live clip was uploaded to the label's YouTube channel, where normally any content outside of music videos would be hosted on the group's own channel. The live clip quickly outnumbered the music video in views- though, to once again note, in the grand ocean of K-pop, this accomplishment was still just a ripple among waves. Still, it's popularity was enough to finally boost the boys onto a chart. The song also received some positive critical reception, though the string-accompanied, Valentine's Day break-up ballad was a little too angsty for everyone to follow. However, Jang Kitae's production was resoundingly well-received, particularly for his incorporation of drums, bass and guitar in the song's chorus, managing to take a left in sound without totally divorcing the group's usual rock-influenced sound. It was also noted that, where the styling of the track 소년만화 (Boy Comics) resembled an anime opening, 여긴 지옥이야, as the album's closing single, seems to take similar inspiration from anime ending themes. Alongside clips of the boys dancing in the snow, the video was cut with several scenes of the members through television screens. Amongst quick flashes, one can see the boys smoking cigarettes in school uniforms, drinking alcohol, trashing a noraebang room, getting into fights on the street, as well as sweeter moments such as cleaning each other's (street-fight inflicted) wounds, falling asleep on one another's shoulder in the back of a taxi, and playing in the snow. As the video ends on a television flickering off; a subtitle instructs the viewer: 'DO NOT QUESTION YOUR TELEVISION SCREEN,' which some fans have taken to be a hint towards the group's first comeback.

001. 여긴 지옥이야. (You're In Hell) © OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT.

[daecheonsa]

STARRING: Shin Hwihun. (The Noblechild) FEATURING: Na Younghwa (The Noblewoman), Hwihun's father (The Composer), ?. (The Teacher) WORD COUNT: 2k. SUMMARY: Music is repitition ; fame is a monster. CW: The drinking of blood. Alcohol (and pressure to drink it unwillingly.) Assault and grooming. Reference to public execution. Maybe light body horror? Note that although the word ‘child’ is used frequently to represent Hwihun, the corresponding events took place when he was around the age of nineteen. Simply put, he is referred to as such because he is Younghwa’s child. Regardless, in the context of this piece, a young person is preyed upon, so read with care. This shouldn't be taken literally, but that's not to say it's not canon.

ㅤㅤㅤTHOUGH he’d already learned that it was unbefitting to say it, the noblechild had grown lonely. His family name was now dirt, so there was no sympathy left in this world for him. Nobody wanted to hear of his melancholy. 

It had only been a few months since they had taken the noblewoman away and strung her up. Without his mother, the noblechild had been left with no companion in their cold, dreary castle. He understands why she could not be allowed to stay. She had done the unthinkable and altered her mind, and an existence beyond reality was one with no logic nor God. She had become a danger, to herself and to him, though this knowledge brought nothing that could soothe him. When the townspeople had dragged her past the castle’s heavy wooden doors and turned her from woman to a dangling, cautionary spectacle, they’d torn a hole in the noblechild’s sternum that he didn’t know how to close. 

They had once revered her, painted her portrait and honoured her fairness, begged to hear her beautiful singing voice, but now she was little more than a dirty word that needn’t ever be said aloud. 

Like any mammal must, the noblechild had a father, the composer, though he’d since locked himself in his chambers and refused to come out. The noblechild would worry that he had joined his mother above, if not for the fact that the bland, talentless meals he’d hopelessly prepare and leave outside the composer’s door would vanish once a day. 

And so he’d wander the halls of the castle. The staff who once up-kept it had long stopped appearing, as the composer had stopped compensating their efforts, and with nothing to the noblechild’s own personal name, there was nothing he could do to help. The nanny who had raised him, the handmaids who had pressed his clothes and set the dining table, the cook who had never forgotten the noblechild’s favourites, they had all treated him delicately, with affection and love. The noblechild had never expected to be without them, but their kindness had run out alongside the gold. 

He was alone except for the teacher.

The teacher, despite his title, was never a face the noblechild would see in the schoolhouse. Instead, he’d visit on a Sunday evening, week after week, never late and never missing an appointment. Even after the composer had stopped rewarding him, he came.

After all, the noblechild had not been his only student. Before him, he’d given lessons to both the composer and the noblewoman; had known them since their own childhood. It had been the teacher who had introduced the townspeople to the noblewoman’s song of enchantment, and, indeed, from him she had learned it. The noblechild was yet to learn to sing it. One day, the teacher would teach it to him, but for now they simply focused on the dusty old piano in the drawing room. 

The evenings would pass by quickly, and with nobody else in the entire world to talk to, the noblechild began to yearn for them. The teacher was at least understanding; he never spoke badly of the noblewoman, even though she had turned to dark activity in the end. He continued to revere her, and perhaps just out of sheer gratitude, the noblechild had grown to revere the teacher in return. Every week, as the child grew nearer and nearer to manhood, he’d fear that the teacher would stop showing up. After all, he was soon to stop attending the schoolhouse and venture out to become something like a composer or a teacher of his own right, and earn his own title. Sunday evenings in the dreary old castle, enduring the noblechild’s mediocre piano-playing and the composer’s sealed door and the heavy absence of the noblewoman was nothing more than charity, and the noblechild was forever waiting for that charity to run dry. 

The teacher was not a handsome or young man, not even a particularly kind one, taking no qualms in letting the noblechild know that he had inherited none of his father’s gift for the instrument they’d spend every lesson in front of. There wasn’t much good of the composer, as far as the teacher was concerned, that the noblechild had inherited at all. All of his positives had come from the noblewoman, and this was something that the teacher seemed happy of. The child certainly could not blame anyone for missing his mother. In fact, he was so happy to meet someone who did that he would eagerly overlook the bulk of the mean old man’s flaws.

One night, the noblechild would interrupt the lesson to ask a question; what was his mother like in her youth, before she had met the composer, long before the noblechild had been an imagination? 

The answer had taken an age. The teacher had a bibles’ worth of stories and just as much veneration. He’d spoken until there was no more orange left in the sky, and evening had turned to night, the piano keys hard to see and blinking away under the sleepy light of the petering candles. At some point, the teacher had asked for permission to open a bottle of red wine that had lived, never unsealed, on the mantle for almost as long as the noblechild had been alive; and with no understanding of why one might keep wine unconsumed, the child had granted it. 

As the teacher drank, the noblechild had simply watched until he was offered a glass of his own. He’d refused four or five times, inexperienced with alcohol and opposed to the strong taste and smell, but as the insistence persisted, he eventually agreed to partake in a single glass.

Two extra glasses later, unable to keep his head up straight, the noblechild put his foot down and excused himself for bed, showing the drunken teacher to the guest chambers before retiring himself. 

The long night heavy on his mind, the child tosses and turns, desperate to be granted mercy from the slush in his head, the nausea that had sunk itself into him threatening to spew out at any second. He’d flung his window open, in hopes that the fresh air would wisen him up some, but all it achieves is giving him a chill, even under the heavy quilt that his mother had once imported for him from a faraway land, which had never failed to warm him before. Still, as his body trembles, he eventually accepts the necessity of shutting out the cold air. 

Forcing himself out of bed, still in his school clothes from the day before but far too unwell to bother undressing, the noblechild takes drunken, wobbly steps towards the window and pulls the glass panes shut. Just as he fastens the lock, he hears his chamber door creak open; from the fading candlelight in the hallway, he can make out a figure as tall and wide as his piano teacher, standing silently in the door frame even as the child questions what he’s doing out of bed.  

He does not shift as the child suggests he return to his chambers, and only moves when he instead requests he at least come closer so the child may speak without straining his voice.

Yet the teacher’s movement is staggered and strange, shuffling slowly towards the noblechild. He steps out of the light of the doorway, cloaked in more darkness still, taking jilted and jagged steps towards the child without uttering a single word. A tension grows in the air, it feels as if with each step the room grows colder and the child rubs groggily at his eyes, willing them to adjust to the dark. It’s not until the teacher steps into the light of the window that the child sees that, whatever he has invited into his bedchamber, it is not the teacher at all. 

It has his teacher’s build. It’s wearing his clothes. But the face, mean to begin with, has warped beyond any sense of human cruelty, is twisted and snarled. Broken, bloodied lips pulled back to reveal monstrous, rotten teeth. Shards of yellow bone that shoot out sharply, several inches long and each pointed like knives. This is no man. This is something animal; or worse, this is something from below. 

When the noblechild tries to scream, the teacher- or rather, the thing, suddenly appears before him in a blink. A hand clamps over his mouth and silences him. The creature’s flesh is cold as ice, long, curled fingernails scraping the side of his face, flattening his ear and curling around the back of the noblechild’s head. The creature leans it’s ghastly face in close, eyes so wide they make perfect circles, intense and hungry like a wild fox might look upon a rabbit, pupils dilated so wide that there is no iris to be seen. When it takes it’s hand away, somehow, the child understands to be quiet.

The noblechild cannot move, paralysed with fear as the creature’s long, clawed fingers wrap around his necktie, untangling the striped, violet fabric with none of the difficulty the child himself usually had. This close, he can smell the beast, rancid and foul like carrion. Sweat begins to pool under the noblechild’s arms and clam up his palms; his heart erupting in his chest as his mind shrieks to run and to free himself, though his body refuses to listen, locked in place as the necktie flutters to the ground, the silver thread of the embroidered emblem of his schoolhouse twinkling in the moonlight. 

The wine has clouded him, blackened the edges of his vision and unsteadied him. He feels lightheaded and ill, losing focus as disgusting, calloused fingers pry open his fastened collar, cold air hitting the notch of his neck. 

You will do fine in her stead, says the monster, though he says it in the noblechild’s head and not through his own mouth, voice harsh and metallic like the screech of a bat, tearing through him like a dagger to the temple. You will fill her shoes.

And the teacher, no longer a man, now a nightmare, lurches forward, sinking his teeth deep into the noblechild’s neck, so sudden that despite the pain that fills him, that ripples through every nerve and travels down every vein until it reaches his heart and blackens it, the child still cannot holler for his father. Cannot scream, cannot fight and cannot run, can only stand there, to be drunk from, and to be in her stead. 

His body crumples against the beast, and the noblechild sees nothing though his eyes do not close. 

When the sun rises late the following morn, the noblechild awakens once more, a sickness in the pit of his belly, a thumping in his skull and a cold sheen of sweat across his brow. Sunlight filters through the drapery of his bed, illuminating the otherwise invisible dance of the dust in the air and burning at his skin. The second his eyelids creak open, his insides throw themselves over one another, and he all but falls out of his empirical bed and must untangle himself from the gossamer poster draped across it’s frame before he can burst from his chambers, scrambling down the twisted hallways of the cold old castle and into the latrine. He throws himself over the toilet and empties his stomach, a panic squeezing his lungs as the white porcelain is painted a dark, brownish red. 

Wine, he reminds himself, when the fear truly begins to kick in. He’d been plied with wine. 

When there feels as if there is nothing left inside him to cast outwards, he forces himself onto shaky knees and then slippery feet, steadying himself against the wall as he pushes upright, where his eyes meet himself in the looking glass and he flinches backwards.

Before him, the child does not see the face he has become accustomed to. His ink-coloured hair is plastered to his forehead with old sweat, twisted and tangled like the tendrils of a terrible sea-creature, under whose intimidation lays two sunken and dilated eyes, underlined with purple shadow, whites vividly red and eyelids hanging heavy, struggling to hold themselves up under the morninglight - why did the world feel so bright and mockingly cheerful in what should be the cold, unforgiving December? 

His lips are without any of their rosy colour, cold and grey and breaking across their curves, and his usually-golden skin is waxy and blanched, as though someone had poured dirty water in him and diluted away the sunny complexion he’d been given by the noblewoman, who had passed unto her son all of her wicked beauty and trusted him to look after it. 

A trembling hand lays across his face. His loveliness, his youth, gone. The noblechild’s pinky finger pokes into his mouth, hooking around his sore and flaking upper lip and yanking it roughly upwards. Underneath it, a knifelife tooth protrudes, sharp and aggressive, like that of the frightening hound the next estate over, who had once jumped against the child’s chest and flattened him to the ground, gnashing it’s jaws in the air as means to terrify him out of pestering it to play as it tried to rest. 

The sistertooth is the same - in place of his small, overclean canines are someone - something else’s angry, yellowed teeth, something inhuman and vicious, something which must bring harm to survive. They were sharp and too big for the child’s mouth, had cut into his lower gums and polished his lower set with a pinkish coating — and though he should be in pain, he is not.

And the noblechild, staring in shock at the creature in the glass, stripped of it’s humanity and spirit, bellows like an animal in turn and grieves. 

He had been changed. He had been changed and he had been killed.  And he had been made into a monster too.

[daecheonsa]

[daecheonsa]

9 + 10 for kijung 🤍

9. WOULD YOU BE YOUR OWN GROUP'S FAN? WHY OR WHY NOT?

Kijung awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, sucking in a breathe through his teeth as his eyes drift off to the side. "It's not that I wouldn't be a fan. I mean, I think that, as far as boybands go, our songs and videos are pretty cool. But I never really got into idols beyond the usual popular girl groups, so I'm not gonna lie, I don't think a group like us would really be on my radar in the first place, unless we were way more popular." He shrugs, looking somewhere past the camera, seemingly searching for someone's reaction. "Is that okay to say?"

10. DO YOU LIKE THE MUSIC AND CONCEPT THAT YOUR GROUP IS PURSUING? IF NOT, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE IT TO IF YOU COULD?

"Yeah, like I said, we got lucky, as far as boygroups go. A lot of our songs have really cool guitar riffs and heavy drums and stuff since Jang Kitae-sunbaenim has worked so much with us. And I was a little worried about Salome-sunbaenim, since I didn't really want to sound like Bouquet, y'know? But she actually has a huge range of different styles she can pull off." He smiles toothily, nodding his head. "I don't think I'd actually change anything, just push it a lot further. Like, a lot further. Make everything way more aggressive, and take the screaming from Internet War and really run with it. I want to do like a really angry, violently emo death metal song and frighten everybody. And make us look genuinely scary instead of just a normal pretty boyband in vaguely alternative clothes. Like make us look like disgusting horror movie monsters and pull early-2000s Slipknot stunts like setting ourselves on fire on stage. Instead of being normal boys who've been sent to hell, it'd be cool to do a concept where we're the things that were always down there, you know? I've also been trying to convince Ohjang to let us cover Bodies by Drowning Pool if we get to put on a Showcase, cause which other boygroup could ever do that?" He falls quiet for a few seconds, as if mulling over what he's just said. "But, at the end of the day, we're still a k-pop group, so none of that is really possible. So I guess I'd probably just give myself a few more lines."

[daecheonsa]

STARRING: The Watcher. FEATURING: Oh Byeongsang, Gu Yonghyung, Ji Yooseob, Jang Kitae, Shin Hwihun, Omori Shogo, Salome Mari, Song Sasung, Jung Kijung, Park Heejin. WORD COUNT: 10k. CW: There is a very brief and very vague mention of dieting, but it's barely there at all. Factual and non-descript mention of drugs, and open judgement of those who struggle with substance abuse - this is also over pretty quick. Other than that, I don't think anything requires a warning, but let me know if you spot something I've missed!

ㅤㅤㅤTHE SPECTACLE opens with an ill performance of dynasty. Your phone screen flashes through archival footage of a bunch of idols nobody has heard from in a while, and your first instinct is to roll your eyes. The lineup on offer starts out impressive, but the clips begin to move quicker as the years goes on. Names flash across the screen, and not one of them has appeared on the charts in the last five years, but you do recognise them, which is probably the point of this. 

The audio cuts between songs at a dizzying pace, but the only ones you remember are the ones from over a decade ago. You remember them from when you were a kid. They played at your birthday parties and you danced to them at school festivals. Sang to them on the bus on the way to your first school trip. You think you’re supposed to be thinking back of those days with fondness, and it’s supposed to be filling you with so much nostalgia that you’ll immediately invest yourself in the poor boys you’re about to meet, but instead it makes you feel a little bit sad. 

How had Ohjang Entertainment fallen so low? 

When the show finally gets done reminding you of B-thru-D-list celebrities, it abruptly cuts to a shot of Oh Byeongsang, in some luxury looking office that you imagine has to be paid for by money laundering. He gazes creepily down the camera, with a prideful look on his face, as if reacting to what we’ve all just seen. He looks so much older than you remember him, and it’s kind of jarring to see him with grey hair. Surely he has a son or a nephew old enough to dump the company on by now, you think. No way he’s actually still running it. 

“People are going to expect this group to fail.” He says. You can’t help but laugh at the bluntness of it. The camera pans in on Byeongsang’s aged face as he smirks. It sends a shiver down your spine. “That’s exciting.” 

You scoff as the episode launches into its opening credits. You’d expected melodrama from this show solely from the fact that it was called GOD SAVE THE DAMNED, in all capital letters, but this was already feeling like a lot. You do kind of like the title song, even if the credits themselves seem a little unnecessary for a YouTube series. You’d already known that, though. Unfortunately, stupid as this whole thing already seems, you have an obligation to keep up with DAM.NATION. That’s what this group is called, by the way. DAM.NATION. In all capital letters. 

You know that already because earlier in the month it came to your attention that Ohjang Entertainment were debuting a new boy group. That news alone was bizarre enough to you, because it seemed so utterly pointless. Last time they were in the news, they’d been trying to find buyers for their company, and failing. The time before that, they’d disbanded their final group with a two sentence notice. Just as you were wondering; ‘why even bother,’ you’d discovered the title of their reality show. You’re sure it has something to do with the dark and spooky concept the group seems to have, but it comes across so bleak and pessimistic that it made you laugh. So you wrote a mindless article about the new boy group, mostly just hoping to foster some harmless mockery in the comments. 

It had backfired, though. It turns out that, for a bunch of weird reasons, people are interested in the trainees at Ohjang, and the article got more traction than you thought it would. Now, your boss wants you to review GOD SAVED THE DAMNED. To do that, you need to do the one thing you really hoped you wouldn’t, and actually watch it. 

As the opening sequence comes to an end, we’re back in Byeongsang’s office. It seems to be a different day, as his tie is a different color. 

“I don’t take offense when people say that Ohjang Entertainment isn’t what it used to be. I’m under no delusion about the state of my company.” He says, with a serious look on his face. “Ohjang produced some of the greatest artists of the first and second generations, but as times changed and the industry became more diluted, it was difficult to keep up. We were swept away in the wave.” 

You’re not exactly sure what emotion they want you to be feeling, but for some reason you imagine how it must feel to be DAM.NATION’s parents, sitting at home and watching this. Their kids wanting to be idols at all must be a headache to begin with, and ‘my son is going to debut under Ohjang Entertainment’ can’t be an easy thing to say with pride in 2024. It’s just salt in the wound for the guy in charge to stare down the camera and say, ‘yeah, this is going to be a mess.’ 

“But something I pride myself on is that I can spot talent. If there’s one thing I excel at, it’s putting together a team.” Byeongsang says. Once again, the screen is filled with Music Bank stages of the past, and you’re given another quick briefing on the company’s former groups. Not one of them remains signed there; in fact, by all accounts, DAM.NATION are the label’s only act. They even have the audacity to include poor Bouquet, which only serves to make you notice that they were excluded in the first sequence. 

Bouquet was disbanded because of constant lineup changes. You can’t help but laugh, so you pause the video to make note of that thought. If nothing else, it’ll make a good tweet. 

“Over the past few years, I’ve put together six candidates. As of now, there’s no guarantee that all of them will make the debut team, though I have confidence that all of them have the potential to.” He finally seems to be getting to the point, and in spite of yourself you start to feel a little anticipation. You can’t help but be interested in who these trainees are. If the comments on your last article are anything to go by, some of them are already mildly controversial, and on average they seem a little old for a rookie group. 

You’re glad of that; it’s refreshing to watch an idol group debut without feeling like a senior citizen, but you also can’t help but wonder what they’re planning to do in a couple of years, when the members start enlisting. Quickly, though, you suppose that Ohjang probably can’t afford to dream as far ahead as that anyway. 

“Some of these boys are ready to debut, and some are not.” Byeongsang continues, tone grave. “Some have been training together for years, and some have been with us for a matter of months. I have a vision for these kids, and I’ve put them together for a reason, but we can’t debut an unpolished group. If they don’t pass the next couple of evaluations, they’ll be cut from the lineup.”  

The camera cuts to an angle behind Byeongsang’s shoulder, where you can see six pieces of paper laid out upon his desk. 

“The divide in skill happens pretty evenly down the middle.” He says. His voice sounds unnaturally clear, like obvious ADR. “We’ve three who are great, and three who are getting there.” As he speaks, he reaches out to turn over one of the pieces of paper. The camera just lingers long enough to get a glimpse of a face that you swear you’ve seen before, and then it cuts. Suddenly, you’re in a practice room that you remember from a ton of dance videos you watched in 2016, and staring at the back of a boy who sits on the floor, breathing heavily as a mess of legs dance around him, their top halves out of frame. 

“The best of the bunch,” Byeongsang’s post-production vocals are piped in over the footage as the boy twists around until you can see his face, palm hitting wood as he readies to push himself upwards. “Is no stranger to any of this.” 

Across the screen flashes the name YONGHYUNG. 

As Gu Yonghyung rises out of frame,the background music launches into the familiar chorus of Giddy Up, the theme song of the 2019 survival show NextUP. Everyone watched that show; it spawned NBT- Next Big Thing, one of the five thousand groups to have featured now-star Cairo Go. They’d been aptly named. In just two years, they’d topped the charts thrice, appeared on just about every notable variety show you could think of, debuted in South Korea, Japan and America, and sold out Tokyo Dome and Seoul Olympic Arena. You remember NextUP, you remember NBT - and so you know that Gu Yonghyung wasn’t there for any of that. He’d been the sole representative of Ohjang and he’d made it all the way to the end just to lose out at the final stretch. They’d sent him right after disbanding Bouquet, which you can remember being a big scandal. As if it had been an act of disrespect for this random trainee to continue pursuing his career instead of giving up before he started, in solidarity with women he’d probably never even met. 

The hate train hadn’t lasted though, and for most of the show, it seemed likely that he would make the cut and get into the group. When he didn’t, he had looked so crushed and injusticed that his teary lack of applause had been heartbreaking enough to inspire an entire investigation into the way they’d been counting votes, but from what you know, nothing had ever come of it. Yonghyung had worked peripherally ever since; you knew he was around and doing stuff, but none of it ever hit your radar, because it was pretty much anything and everything but releasing music. You had just assumed he’d probably cut his losses and signed to somewhere else. That he’s still under Ohjang is baffling to you. You have to wonder just what kinds of promises they’d made to these boys. 

“Hey,” From a studio, Yonghyung greets the camera, after a small montage of his moments on the NextUP. He still looks about the same; a little older, a little thinner and a lot more tired, but the boyish, lopsided grin he gives is still the one that had once had all of your peers gushing and racing to download the app and spend all of their points on voting his name. There’s a swift cut to a closer shot, with just his head and shoulders in frame. “It’s been a while.” 

“Yonghyung is ready to debut.” Says a dance instructor, as the camera cuts back into the practice room from before. A subtitle tells you that you’re being spoken to by Ji Yooseob, Dance Coach/Choreographer. You don’t recall ever hearing of him, but it’s not like you look into choreographers very often. He looks fairly young, though, and he’s teaching at Ohjang, so the likelihood is that he’s not someone people have really heard of. “He’s been ready for a long time. So it’s true that, at this point, he’s kind of stuck waiting for the other boys to catch up. For a lot of people, I think that could be quite demoralizing.”

While Yooseob speaks, we’re given some b-roll of Yonghyung interacting with the others; most of them have hats pulled over their brow, or masks on, or are just moving too quick for you to take attendance. “But not Yonghyung,” comes Yooseob’s voice, over a clip of Yonghyung laughing along with the others, clapping the little one- you think that’s Shogo- on the back as they move into their formations. “I’ve never seen him come to practice without a good attitude. He’s the ideal student, really. He’s good at motivating the other boys; whether that’s through being a good friend to them, or just giving them a standard to compete against.”

“What do you think I’m going to tell you?” Asks the version of Yooseob that you can see in the footage, rather than his disembodied voice. It’s a new scene, only the pair of them remain in the practice room. Yooseob sits in front of the mirror; Yonghyung stands in front of him. The camera closes into his face just long enough for you to see a droplet of sweat fall from his jaw. 

“I don’t have a personality.” Yonghyung answers, flatly and without any emotion. Yooseob snorts, looking taken aback by the words. 

“No,” He laughs. “I’d never say that about you. I know your personality. Every day, when you’re laughing with the boys, or listening to my feedback, you show it to me. But when you’re dancing…” He quickly splays his fingers out, as if mimicking a cloud. “Poof. Yonghyung is gone, and all that’s left is angles and math. You’re at the stage now where you have to forget about perfecting everything and start thinking about how to use the moves to communicate something to your audience.” 

Yonghyung nods, eyes cast downwards as he takes the critique. “Yes, sir.” 

Yooseob looks at him for a few seconds, face thoughtful. “What do you want to say?” 

Yonghyung looks up at him, an expression like a deer in headlights. “Sorry?” He asks, off guard. 

“What do you want to say? When you get on stage, and your fans watch you perform again, what do you want them to think? You’re training to be an idol, right? Not just a singer, not just a dancer, an idol. So when people ask ‘What makes Gu Yonghyung an idol?’ …What do you want the answer to be?” 

With each ticking second, Yonghyung seems to grow more upset. He stares forward and doesn’t answer until Yooseob raises his eyebrows, impatience flashing across his face. Yonghyung hangs his head again, and says, “I don’t know.” 

“Well. There lies the problem.” Yooseob shrugs, pulling his phone out of the deep pocket of his Chrome Hearts hoodie. “That’s the wall you’ve hit. If you want to keep making progress, you’re gonna have to figure out a way over it.” 

Yonghyung nods again, with a frustrated look in his eyes; the camera angle chosen specifically to capture it. You can’t help but think it all sounds like nonsense. By the end of NextUP, Yonghyung already sang, rapped and danced at a high standard and he’d had years of training on top of that now. Besides, you’ve already been told he’s debut-ready. Nobody really cares what his personality is like; nobody expects to ever receive a true, unfiltered display of it, either. 

You consider the fact that it may just serve Ohjang Entertainment best for Yonghyung, who carries in his basket every last egg they own, not to build up too much self esteem. 

“Run through it once more, and then I’ll let you go. You’re filming today, right?” Yooseob asks. Yonghyung nods, and so he says, “Well, you should also think about the fact that some of the new skills you’re learning while acting may be transferable here.” 

The camera lingers on Yonghyung’s frustrated face for a few seconds. His own voice precedes the cut back to his shot in the studio. “They keep giving me the same critique. Month after month.” He sighs as the camera reaches him, eyes cast downward as he wrings his hands. “I perform well, but I’m not showing enough of my personality. It makes me feel so stupid. I don’t understand what it is they want me to do.” 

“Yonghyung has talent, but more importantly, he has brand recognition,” Byeongsang says, as we’re suddenly back in his office. He offers the camera a broad smile. “I wouldn’t say there’s anything that Yonghyung needs to improve on. However, he is a necessary player on this team. And so it’s imperative that his critiques remain aspirational, because if left to stagnate, I fear it’s quite likely that he may feel he has outgrown us and begin to look around for other opportunities.” 

You can’t help but laugh. You want to think that you can’t believe that he would admit such a thing outright, but unfortunately, you very much can. If you didn’t find him to be so loathsome, you may be impressed by his complete, smiling lack of shame. 

You’re taken sharply to a recording studio, where Yonghyung records his bridge in Boy Comics, the track you’d just heard in the intro. He’s having trouble finding the key, and it cycles through a few cuts of him messing up before a frustrated sigh tears through him and he buries his face in his hands. 

“Just get Shogo to do it.” Comes his voice, muffled and defeated behind his hands. 

“There’s no time to even get him here.” The producer says. They’ve been filming from behind his hooded head, but as he speaks, they cut to a shot from his desk. His name pops up on screen, but you don’t need to read it. You pause the video, a hand falling over your brow. Jesus Christ, this group really was destined to be a trainwreck. 

Mid-frame, the slightly blurry face of Jang Kitae (Artist, Producer, informs the subtitle, which you suppose is one way to describe him) is void of emotion, the same usual heavy bags under his eyes and greasy hair. Of all the people in the world. You shake your head, and press play again. 

“We’re hours behind schedule, Yonghyung. Sasung has been waiting outside for hours. You’re both late for dance practice now, so we need to get this quickly ‘cause your managers are getting pissed at me.” 

“Then can Sasung hyung just do it?” For a second, the frame lingers over Yonghyung’s shoulder, and when it cuts back to behind Kitae, you can’t help but notice the camera man standing behind him in the already tight booth. You wonder if it occurs to anyone that that may affect performance. 

“No,” Says Kitae, tone and expression still blank. Yonghyung’s face pulls downwards in stress as he tosses his head back. “You’re the one people care about, and it’s the big moment of the song.” 

“But hyung, I can’t change my vocal range on the spot, how am I supposed to-” Yonghyung cuts himself off as the camera man in the booth tries to shuffle past to film him from the front, comically large camera coming ridiculously close to his face in the process. We see from its lens as he sighs roughly, shoving at the camera slightly and backing up. “Can we please just, for five minutes, turn these things-”

As the camera cuts off abruptly, discomfort begins to settle in your stomach, and you shuffle out of the tension. Why are they showing you so much strife, right from the beginning? Didn’t Byeongsang say this was the best of the best? 

The camera had cut to Jang Kitae, in a confessional shot set up in the same studio. You’d assume it was filmed the same night, because he’s in the same clothes, but he looks like the kind of guy who’d stay in the same clothes for a few days at a time, so who knows. He’s been talking, but you have a proclivity for tuning him out, and you realise that you haven’t listened to a word he’s been saying. This is work, so with a roll of your eyes, you skip back to the beginning of his confessional. 

“Yonghyung is extremely dedicated.” Kitae says, “There’s not many of these boys taking an interest in production yet, but Yonghyung has had really strong opinions on their sound from the beginning. If he doesn’t need to be somewhere else, he’s in the studio. That kid is always working on something, or trying to involve himself in what I’m doing. You got some pop-stars in this group of boys, and you got some who just like to sing and dance, but then in the middle you got Yonghyung, and he’s like, a musician.” 

What a fucking asshole. He wipes under his nose, quickly, and you shake your head again. 

“The thing about Yonghyung is, though, that he cracks under pressure. And he’s been cast in this new drama, so there’s a lot of that now.” As if they don’t expect their audience to believe him, they show us some PR footage of Yonghyung in a school uniform, holding a heat pack up to the cheek of another boy in slow motion, with orange tinted sunlight sparkling through the springtime trees behind them. You don’t recognise the other actor, and it seems to boast the standard production value of a moderately well-made YouTube video. A little subtitle in the corner tells us that the clip was taken from Heaven On Earth (2023), which is interesting, because it finally dates this show. 

From what you’ve pieced together from endless nights of scrolling in desperation for context on this weird boy-group you’ve been assigned to, all of Yonghyung’s public schedules halted after the Warrior video was posted a year ago. That means they’ve been sitting on this docuseries for around a year, which probably shouldn’t strike you as all that strange, but you did think it was going to answer the question of what DAM.NATION have been doing since their introductory Warrior cover, not what they were doing before it. 

“The drama itself is taking a lot out of him. Like, juggling filming with practice is a lot to handle, but then in the show he’s playing a gay guy, so there’s this portion of his fans who are crazy offended by that. What was it called? BL?” Kitae is given confirmation from someone off camera, and he nods gruffly. You note that he still appears a little dead behind the eyes, and has yet to communicate an emotion. “So there’s this pressure from them, too. I say screw them, if a role on a TV show is the final straw, but I don’t think he’s ever really had his fans tell him he’s letting them down before. Ohjang told all of us- I guess mentors is the word, they told all the mentors to go a little hard on Yonghyung for a while, and I try, but it feels cruel. I mean, you keep telling someone they’re doing bad when they’re not, they’re obviously just going to hit a point where they give up.” 

You’re a little taken aback. Although you suppose it seems impossible for Jang Kitae to be trusted not to say things he shouldn’t, you’re surprised Ohjang is allowing open criticism of them in a video uploaded to their own official platform. 

“It feels like it’s just gone, like,” We’re back in the studio, where a choked up Yonghyung now sits at the soundboard with Kitae. He flattens his hand and slides it diagonally up into the air, reaching a peak a few inches out from his nose and gliding it back down the other side. “For months I’m top rank, and it’s always just, like, no notes, no notes, ‘you’re definitely going to be our main rapper’, and now suddenly I just can’t do anything right. Like, I’m down to getting the worst critiques, consistently.”

“They’re being harsher on you because they consider you the best trainee.” Kitae says, swaying his chair in a way that almost completely obscures his face. That’s when you realise that the quality of the shot is weird, and you wonder for a few seconds if they’re aware that they’re being filmed at all. But the way that Yonghyung’s chair is positioned is almost like he’s cheating to camera, and you dismiss the idea completely as you remind yourself of the likelihood that everything you’re seeing is completely scripted at any rate. 

“Well, how’s that fair?” Yonghyung asks, sounding a little more petulant than you’re used to him ever sounding on NextUP. “What’s the point in being the best, then?” 

Kitae doesn’t dignify the question with a proper response, just gazes emptily forward as usual, mouth never fully closed. “You’re not the best. There’s not one trainee here who is consistent enough across every category to be the best. It’s all too many variables right now, for people to start categorising things like that. Shogo has you beat in singing, but he can’t do what you do when you got a camera pointed at you.”

“Push them out of the way?” Yonghyung asks, dabbing at his eyes with an unenthusiastic laugh. 

Kitae leans back in his chair, pursing his lips. “Nobody expected you to make it that far on that show. The odds of anybody from Ohjang making it were nothing. But you got to the end cause you can make people like you. The advantage you have over the other boys, and the thing that makes the boss think you’re the best, is that I think you know what makes a good idol and you really care about being that. I think, based mostly on the fact that you’re strong-arming your name onto the credits of all of my songs, that you have a real investment in this music being good, and you want it packaged and delivered like a proper, old school idol should do it.” 

Yonghyung looks at Kitae for a few moments, unsurely, and sniffs. “Of course I want it to be good. That’s why I’m so frustrated and upset right now. It’s like they’re setting it up to fail, now. If it’s so important that I sing this part of the song, why can’t we change it to be in my range? And why am I singing so much, anyway? I was supposed to be the rapper, and now-” 

“It’s not about range. I wrote it for you. You learned how to sing by copying guide tracks, and you think it’s not in your range because they don’t make you sing like this very often. But I’ve done a thousand voice lessons with you guys at this point. I know what you can do. The reason you can’t sing it is because you’re trying to sing it pretty, and it’s not supposed to be pretty. It’s supposed to be spiteful.” 

There’s silence for a few seconds. “Just tell me, hyung, was this all just for the cameras? We both know you’re going to autotune me anyway.” Yonghyung sits forward with a lowered tone, and you lose a little faith that they’re aware there’s still a camera rolling. 

Kitae kind of makes a face, and almost looks disappointed. A few awkward moments pass; a weird cut in the middle implying that it lasts longer than you’re made to sit through. You feel like you’ve already sat through an age of this conversation. When are the pretty boys going to start dancing? Yonghyung just cries to himself, and for a second, the reality sinks in that you’re watching GOD SAVE THE DAMNED, in all capital letters, the reality show about the boyband DAM.NATION, in all capital letters. And all of this grief and introspection is over a tiny little bridge in a song named Boy Comics. You’ve heard the song, and Yonghyung sounds fine on it. You’ve watched enough of these shows to know the set up for a found-my-confidence arc when you see one, but Jang Kitae giving impromptu MNET survivor therapy is a pretty insane opening for a show designed to build hype around a boyband. 

You’d started this show with a rather positive, though dispassionate, opinion on Gu Yonghyung, but right now, you’ve yet to see him do much more than whine and question instructions. 

“You know what I think locked you in?” Kitae asks. You sigh, but resist the urge not to skip forward. “Like, the thing that made people remember you after you were eliminated?” He leaves it there, but Yonghyung doesn’t try to guess, or anything, so a few awkward seconds pass. More and more, you begin to feel as if you’re committing some kind of intrusion. “You didn’t clap. That [REDACTED] was rigged and you didn’t clap for the winners in the end.” 

Yonghyung looks at him as if he’s grown another head. You already feel a little pity for him. Most NextUP contestants hesitated to even acknowledge they were even on the show, lest they be branded ‘sore loser’ and descended upon by Go Cairo fans. Those people certainly didn’t need reminding of who inspired the investigation into the authenticity of his win to begin with. “I’ve regretted that ever since that day. That was the stupidest thing I ever did.” 

“No. That was golden [REDACTED] television. You got the last word.”

“It’s really nothing to be proud of.” Yonghyung says. “All of the effort I put into being professional went to waste in a second.” 

“You kept your chin up. I guess that’s my whole point. I just think you need to think about that, instead of thinking about what the idols you liked at thirteen did, or the things you think made the NBT guys get picked. I’m not just inflating your ego, I’m saying all of this ‘cause I think what’s going on up here,” Kitae jabs at the side of his head with his index finger a few times. “Is that you’re all wrapped up in being ‘An Idol.’ And you’ve given that this rule of, like, perfect, and polished, and impossible to scrutinise. And you’ve got that down to an art, dude. But this part of the song needs impact, it needs some real, genuine feeling put into it, and it’s because I’m asking for that that you’re freaking out and convincing yourself you can’t do it.” 

Yonghyung rubs at his eyes, sniffling as he simply nods his head. Kitae sighs, and slaps his knees as he stands.

“I’ll go distract Sasung for a few minutes. You stop crying, then get to dance practice. I’ll get up early tomorrow to get this finished if you will. But we’re running out of time. So it needs to be finished tomorrow.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Yonghyung mutters weakly. Kitae ruffles his hair as he passes him on the way out.

“What Yonghyung can offer a team in terms of musicality and notoriety is valuable.” Says Byeongsang, back in his office. “But when it comes to performance, he lacks command. That’s not necessarily a bad thing; any strong team needs balanced members like Yonghyung. But if they want to stand out, they also need an ace.” He turns over the next photograph. “So the most instrumental member of the team will be the centre.” 

The camera cuts to a practice room. A familiar sample is pushed through tinny speakers. A gasp of breath warps and repeats as the lights flash upon the back of another trainee. Everyone in the country knows this song. And so none should be surprised when, as the first beat of Coming of Age Ceremony drops in and with it bends the young man’s knees, the name HWIHUN fills the frame.  

You watch as, for a few minutes, Shin Hwihun follows the iconic choreography to a song he must have been born knowing the steps to. He dances well, but you can’t help but roll your eyes. Nothing had come across as more scripted or forced so far, than this moment right here. 

You could give him props, if you really wanted to. Each angle is hit immaculately, his facial expressions never drop, eyes cast downwards at the instructor, haughty and hooded. Shin Hwihun is a good dancer, and easily, you could find praise for him with which to pad out the article you’re going to have to write about this episode. But you won’t do that, because you don’t particularly want to find the good in him.

His mother, the artist behind Coming of Age Ceremony, as well as a hundred other recognisable hits, is Na Younghwa. Before a couple of years ago, his presence in this group might have been enough to give them a fighting shot all on it’s own, but that was before Na Younghwa went to jail for getting caught with narcotics. Once upon a time, her fans would make post after post daydreaming about the day the cute little baby on her hip would follow in her footsteps and ring in a new era of idols.

It’s been some time since anybody waxed hopeful about Hwihun that way, and even longer since they would have cared to see him dancing to his mom’s inappropriate song. The apple never falls far from the tree. If they want you to tell him he sings like Na Younghwa and waacks like Na Younghwa; why should you bother expecting him to behave any less like a spoiled delinquent? 

“Of course, reputation precedes Shin Hwihun,” Byeongsang says, back in his office, pulling his face into a complicated expression. “That can be a good thing, when the goal is to make a person famous, but I suppose the difficult part is that that reputation is not necessarily his own. And so some of the public opinion surrounding him is, unfortunately, not based on anything he himself has done. Hwihun’s… family issues are not unbeknownst to us. And as brutal as it may sound, we did need to carefully measure the benefits of keeping him within this lineup. After all, the troubles of one member will ultimately affect the entire group.” 

Byeongsang smooths his hand across the obscured portraits, a grim expression on his wrinkled face. You’re aware that it would be a pointless endeavour, to try and get around addressing Na Younghwa, but that doesn’t mean you  weren’t expecting Ohjang to try. Even mentioning her vaguely seems like a step too far, but you suppose that if there is anything you’ve taken from this show it’s that it seems intent on talking about things it probably shouldn’t. 

“But at the end of the day, I believe Hwihun has everything it takes to be a star on his own merit. Regardless of whatever judgement you may have come to pass on anybody else, one can still objectively look at the situation and see that Hwihun had no involvement. One does not choose their family. He came to audition with us with a genuine desire to debut, and so in my opinion, he’s as deserving of a shot in this group as anybody else.” 

And by now, you think, anybody who hadn’t made the connection between Shin Hwihun and Na Younghwa has had ample time to google his family and find out what the hell Byeongsang is going on about. All this yammering was doing nothing except making sure that any potential supporter of this group is aware, right from his introductory title card, that this boy is surrounded in scandal. 

But he has an earnest desire to debut, so of course Ohjang Entertainment, who’s role in his management includes PR, would lead with the fact his mother is a drug addict. Because he’s the damned. (Sorry, you mean THE DAMNED.) Is that really the concept? Is this record label really stupid enough to debut a group that nobody will want to support on purpose? 

Perhaps that’s why they’re all approaching enlistment age and all Gu Yonghyung has done so far is throw tantrums. You don’t doubt that these six boys have put real stakes in this group and genuinely want it to do well, and so for an overwhelming few seconds you become angry. You pause the video and wonder if this is exploitation and if you should be partaking in it. 

Only partially because of the paycheck involved, you waver before you can close the video. Is k-pop really so jaded, or are you? 

There is a chance that you have approached GOD SAVE THE DAMNED with bias. After all, if nothing else, they’ve given you a brutally honest view of the project already. You don’t often get that anywhere else, nor do you often get to see idols in such distress. Before a second has passed, there’s a thousand clickbait titles running through your head. People love to read about idols being mistreated, and they love to think they’re discovering the dark, hidden unseen of the idol industry. People are coming to you to read about DAM.NATION; for whatever reason, the topic at hand is serving you content on a silver platter. You know that, whether you like it or not, you need to write about this show. And so, you need to watch it. 

You hit play. 

You’re taken back to the dance studio, where Yooseob regards Hwihun, who’s now finished his performance of Coming of Age Ceremony, with a critical gaze. 

“Why this song?” He asks.

“Well,” Hwihun says, standing before him, puffing out a laugh, eyes flickering towards the camera for just a second. “Best to just get it out the way, right?” 

Yooseob sucks his teeth, eyes dropping down to his notes as Byeongsang’s voice is once more funnelled over the scene. 

“Hwihun has a certain understanding that you just can’t teach. Perhaps it’s a benefit from being born in the game, but the things that Yonghyung has spent years honing - how to present oneself, how to intuit what an audience wants to see from you… they come naturally to Hwihun. He might not be the strongest singer or dancer on the team, and when he raps, it’s honestly a little funny. But he has the presence of a star. Frankly speaking, that makes those things not matter as much.” 

“This is an evaluation.” Yooseob says, flatly. His eyes fall on Hwihun once more, who doesn’t let his smile drop for a second. “I’m well aware that you can dance to Coming of Age Ceremony. But you’re being judged on your ability to debut in a boyband, not how well you can perform as a Na Younghwa tribute act. I’d have liked to have seen you do a more recent idol choreography.” 

Hwihun’s lips don’t drop from the curve he’s frozen them in, but there’s a shift in his eyes; something akin to annoyance. “Well, play an idol song and I’ll dance to it for you.” 

Yooseob stares at him with a stony expression. A few moments tick by - both of them just look at one another, the camera cutting back and forth, and you can’t help but laugh as Yooseob eventually breaks the silence with a sigh. “The other boys didn’t get to change their song. I need to evaluate you based on what you presented to me. Would you like to do another run through of Coming Of Age Ceremony?” 

“Will it affect my ranking if I do?”

Yooseob snorts. “I don’t imagine so.” 

And, still with a sickly sweet expression, Hwihun bows deeply. “Then I won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you, seonsaengnim.” 

“Yeah. Send Shogo in on your way out.” 

“Nobody wanted me to do this less than my mom,” comes Hwihun’s ADRed voice, as we watch him strut out of the practice room, leaving an unimpressed Yooseob behind in the studio without so much as a backwards glance. As the glass door swings shut, we smash back to the studio that Yonghyung was in, where Shin Hwihun now sits, tucking a lock of long, inky black hair behind his ear. He is handsome, you’ll give him that. It was as if they’d cloned Younghwa - and for as much as you dislike the woman, there’s no denying that she was one of the most stunning faces this industry had to offer. “I wanted to be an idol since I was a tiny little kid, but I wasn’t even allowed to bring up the idea of auditioning for a label. I guess she knows better than anyone how hard this industry can be. But when I became an adult and still wanted to pursue it, she eventually gave her blessing. I came to Ohjang when I was nineteen, which would have been… 2018? Or maybe 2019, I think I just hadn’t had my birthday yet. Only Yonghyung has been here longer than I have. I have to admit, I didn’t think I’d still be training five or six years later. I kinda thought… well, I really don’t think I should say this, but I’d expected nepotism to come into play a tiny bit. I think it’s pretty clear to see that I’m not offered much special treatment here. They really make me work to prove that I can be a name of my own.” 

“Hwihun’s good,” Yooseob says, as we’re abruptly thrown back to the dance studio for his own confessional. “But he runs the risk of resting on his laurels. Whenever he sees that he’s getting ahead of the other boys, he pulls back his efforts. It shouldn’t be a huge problem, but he, Yonghyung and Shogo are kind of aspirational to the other boys. Not only does it set a dangerous precedent for them to see the most consistently high ranking boys slacking off, but if they perceive someone like Hwihun, who has so many connections and such public interest behind him simply for being born, to be coasting by, then their motivation to perform well can totally plummet. Yes, the skills of being an idol come naturally to him, but the work ethic is a whole different story, and I’d argue that that’s far more important in the long run.” 

Just from having seen shows like this before, you can only imagine that whatever work ethic is lacking in Hwihun will be discovered before the end of episode three. But still, it strikes you as an odd way to introduce a highly anticipated rookie to fans who have been eagerly waiting to see what he can do. 

When the scene changes, they finally show you a new location. You seem to be looking at a very small, very cramped dorm room, the space in which is primarily taken up by a set of bunk beds and one twin bed. Yonghyung lounges on the single bed, watching something back on an iPad and lazily eating out of a bag of potato chips that’s been torn open and left on the nightstand. On the bottom of the bunk bed is Hwihun, animated in some kind of muted discussion, helping himself to the chips as well. Above him is another boy - you can see him clear enough to be sure it’s Shogo this time, though nothing appears on the screen to introduce him just yet. He lies straight, mostly under his bedsheet, tapping away on a cellphone, seemingly taking no interest in the mundane conversation below him. They’re filming from the top corner of the room, which means that, although you can see all three boys, you can’t really see any of them from an optimal angle. 

“-So yeah, anyway, Yooseob got mad at me for doing my mom’s song, but… Iunno, if I didn’t do it now I’d just have to do it later. How’d yours go?” Hwihun asks. Yonghyung deflates, dropping his iPad on the bed. You get a quick glimpse before he clicks the screen off, and see what looks to be six boys in a dance studio, so you assume he’s monitoring some kind of rehearsal. 

“Same as always, I’m technically good but I have no personality.” Yonghyung grumbles, seemingly still in no better of a mood than you’ve seen him in so far. Hwihun laughs.

“Dude, they’re just making stuff up to critique us for.” He says, shaking his head, though Yonghyung doesn’t seem any more convinced than he did when Kitae was the one saying it. “There’s no chance they debut this group without you.” 

The words seem to give Yonghyung pause, and he turns to face Hwihun properly. “You really think they’re gonna cut any of us? This late in the game?” 

“Yeah, Heejin.” Hwihun nods bluntly. That’s a name that’s never cropped up in your comment section, so you take note of it. It hadn’t escaped anybody with even the slightest interest in DAM.NATION that, of the boys who appeared in the Warrior video, there were only five names to put to six faces. Four out of six already had some kind of entertainment experience or were otherwise notable, but two were total strangers. Still, the budding fanbase had managed to track down Shogo and find out, at the very least, his name and birthday already - so the fact that the sixth boy was left a total mystery was especially odd. As far as you’re aware, this is potentially the first reliable piece of information about him. “Who I hear, by the way, has a major bee in his bonnet that you’re being allowed to film a drama, and he was told no.” 

“Did you hear what Sasung-hyung was saying earlier?” Yonghyung changes the subject quickly, through a mouthful of potato. “Apparently the top three rankings this month are gonna get some kind of benefit.” 

“All the more reason for him to have it out for you.”

Yonghyung snorts, quirking an eyebrow, but for some reason, still seems reluctant to discuss the topic of Heejin. “Yeah, but knowing this place, a special ‘benefit’ probably just means that they’ll be allowed to eat lunch for a while, or something.” 

Hwihun laughs humorlessly, popping a chip in his mouth and crunching it down loudly as he shuts his mouth. “Still, who do you think will be the top 3 this month?” 

“You two for sure,” Yonghyung shrugs, pausing for a second as his eyes drift around the room thoughtfully. “Ordinarily, I’d say Kijung, but…”

“We weren’t allowed to rap this time.” Hwihun finishes, in a comprehending tone. “Yeah, he’s screwed.” 

“So it’s probably Sasung-hyung in third.” 

Hwihun gives him a doubtful look, but seems to let whatever he’s thinking pass. “What about you, Sho?” He asks instead. When no answer comes, he rolls onto his back and kicks up roughly at the mattress above him to get the other boy’s attention. Shogo pushes himself upwards, pulling an airpod out of his ear that you hadn’t noticed was ever there and leaning over the railing of his bed to regard the others.

“Huh?”

“Top three,” Hwihun repeats, as he pushes himself back up to sit on his backside and leans forward, straining his neck to meet Shogo’s eyes. For good measure, he holds up three fingers. “Who do you think it’ll be?”

Shogo hums. Because he’s looking down, you can’t see his face anymore, but they don’t bother switching the angle of the camera. Once more, you start to feel a little weird. They do know they’re being filmed, right? 

“Us.” Shogo says, simply, almost as if Hwihun had asked something stupid. For good measure, he adds, “Duh.” 

“There’s no way I’m above four this time,” Yonghyung shakes his head. “I totally flopped in my eval, and I held back the Boy Comics recording for hours. Sasung-hyung sings well. He’ll be third.”

“Maybe,” Shogo counters, “But either way, you don’t have anything to worry about. The fact that we’re recording songs at all now means that we’re debuting soon. Jang Kitae sunbaenim is, like, an actual famous celebrity, if they’ve got him mentoring us then that means they’re starting to get serious. It can’t have been cheap to get him on board. They’re not gonna do something like that wastefully. And when we do debut, they’re gonna need you if they want anybody to tune in at all.” 

“My thoughts exactly.” Hwihun agrees. “Plus, between the three of us, you got all your bases covered. Main vocalist,” He gestures to Shogo, “main rapper,” to Yonghyung, “and main dancer,” to himself. 

Yonghyung makes a complicated expression, sliding further down the bed as he mutters, “I suppose,” and it sounds as if there’s going to be more to it, but before he can get it out, there’s a hammering on the door.

“Manager’s gonna be here in five!” Calls a male voice, which you can only presume is one of the other trainees. As if they’ve been shocked, the boys shoot upright. Yonghyung rushes to gingerly pick up the chips by their torn packet, balancing the pile precariously on the bag as Hwihun hastily pulls open the top drawer of the nightstand for them to be dumped into, closing it with a slam as Shogo pulls up the corner of his mattress, balancing his cellphone on one of the slats of his bed frame and letting the mattress fall back down with a thump. 

Although you usually wouldn’t, you smile. It’s kind of endearing to see idols breaking the rules, when the rules are so mundane. 

“Of course, when you’re dealing with a singing group, stage presence and survival show appearances can only get you so far.” Byeongsang, once more, feels the need to ruin the scene. They smash back to his office with no shame, as if the mood wasn’t finally picking up a little. His hand hovers over the third portrait, hovering as if for suspense. “The main vocalist is a key role in any group. There are plenty of good singers amongst these boys. But we’re aiming for excellence. There’s only one boy that comes close to that.” 

You’re taken back to a recording studio. From behind, a boy speaks out a soft ‘Ah-ah,’ into the mic, and then begins to trill his voice, and make all sorts of odd noises that you can only assume are vocal warm-ups. Through the glass of the recording booth, you make out the glamorous face of Salome Mari - one which fills you with a great deal more confidence than that of Jang Kitae’s. 

Salome produced most of Bouquet’s later stuff, the stuff that Lizzy was around for. You liked Bouquet - you’d always hoped that one day, you’d see them succeed, but it had never worked out that way. But thanks to Salome, they at least went out on a fantastic string of singles. As much as she deserves to be producing for a far wider range of artists with a far wider reach than anything Ohjang could offer her, it’s a comforting face. This is a pair of hands that are safe to be in, musically, and her involvement is probably the biggest selling point of this group you’d seen so far. She watches patiently as Shogo prepares, pressing down on her buzzer to politely say ‘Whenever you’re ready,’ which you think is her way of telling him to hurry up. 

As he opens his mouth to sing the chorus of Bouquet’s Original Sin; which is coincidentally your favourite Bouquet song, as well as the last one they ever put out, the camera angle changes to face the recording booth. In it stands a boy you’d just seen, and redundantly, the name SHOGO is presented upon the screen. Were he to be singing any other song, you might feel as if he’d been robbed of a big entrance like the other two boys had gotten, but his voice kind of blows you away. Byeongsang hadn’t been kidding when he’d implied that Shogo’s talent was leagues above the rest. 

That is- until he gets to the post-chorus refrain, and his voice pitches up and cracks halfway through a ‘we-o-ya-ya-ya.’ He cuts himself off with an embarrassed ‘oh,’ immediately covering his face and bowing to Salome. “Sorry,” he says into the microphone, but Salome just laughs kindly and shakes her head.

“That’s okay,” she says, gently. “Happens to the best of us. You were killing it up till then.”

“You rushed my warm-ups,” Shogo accuses in good humour, through his fingers, and Salome raises her hands in defence, chuckling along with him.

“Sorry, sorry. Take your time and let me know when you’re ready.” 

For a few seconds, we’re treated to more of Shogo’s warm-ups, before the audio cuts out. As he mouths soundlessly, Salome’s voice fills your ears. 

“Shogo is like my little prodigy,” She says, before it cuts to her confessional. She sits in the same swivel chair in the same recording studio as Kitae had filmed his in, and tosses her curly hair over her shoulder as she smiles fondly. Along the bottom of the screen, the insert-text announces her as Salome Mari, Producer. “He’s a joy to work with. I really hope he can make it through all these evaluations that are coming up, ‘cause he really has something of value to bring. The only thing that’s standing in his way is that sometimes his nerves get the better of him, but we’re still giving him grace with that, ‘cause this is all still very new to him.”

“It’s only been six months since I joined Ohjang, so I have a lot of catching up to do compared to the other boys. Since the other coaches have so much on their plate, Salome’s been taking the time to work with me on my singing, which is really nice of her. She doesn’t have to do that, it’s in her own time, so I’m trying my best to get to the level Ohjang want me at as quickly as possible. Working with Salome is really fun, but she thinks I have stage fright because I always mess up when I sing in front of her,” In Shogo’s own talking-head, he laughs bashfully and scratches at the back of his neck with reddened ears. You can’t help but pick up on the lack of honorifics. Of course, Shogo is Japanese and Salome is English, and so there’s no real reason to expect them to adhere to your cultural rules, but against your better judgement, it rubs you the wrong way. “I don’t do it as much when it’s Kitae-sunbaenim or Yooseob-seonsaengnim.” 

“Why is that?” Asks a voice from somewhere behind the camera, muffled and reiterated through a subtitle. Shogo lets out an embarrassed snort.

“They’re not pretty like her.”

For a few seconds the screen cuts to black; and then, the ascending synthesisers of Original Sin’s instrumental filters in. In the dance studio, under the stern, watchful eye of Yooseob, Shogo launches into what seems to be an original choreography - the soft and ethereal dance moves of Bouquet replaced with something a bit more masculine and a bit more sensual. You’re not exactly sure how to feel about the changes, having held the original in such high regard, but given Hwihun’s critique, you suppose it’ll probably do Shogo some favours, at least. 

Except for the fact that, though he sings exceptionally well, Shogo’s dancing clearly requires a bit more work. His powerful voice and near-flawless technique are at complete odds with the clunky and awkward movements of his body, and as he stumbles through his routine, Yooseob simply watches with an unamused expression. He only gets far enough into the song to redeem his ‘we-o-ya-ya-ya,’ before Yooseob raises his hand, and a non-descript staff member in a mask and cap, who has been hanging around the edge of the room, cuts the music. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Yooseob asks, flatly.

Shogo blinks. “Uh, pardon?” 

“It says here,” he taps his clipboard with his pen, “That you’re a consistently top-three ranking trainee. Is this supposed to be a top-three performance? How [REDACTED] bad are the other guys?”

Shogo bows ninety-degrees, and apologises in a small, nervous voice. Yooseob scoffs.

“Don’t just apologise. I’m actually asking. How bad are the other boys?” 

Shogo’s eyes dart around nervously, and he takes a few minutes to speak, clearly very unsure of how to approach such an unusual question. You sigh. Here comes more cruelty, you suppose. “Everyone is talented,” Shogo eventually says. “I’ll work harder.” 

Yooseob sucks his teeth. “Cut back on your vocal training. I want to see you here outside of lesson-hours far more often than I do. You don’t need to be in the recording studios hanging out with Salome every night. It’s not like they’re going to have you standing in the middle singing while the other boys dance around you.” 

Shogo bows his head again. “Yes, sir.” 

“I mean it, Shogo. Your voice may have carried you this far, but we’re getting serious now and you can’t debut in this state. Get Hwihun or Yonghyung to help you nail the basics down, before you start trying to do complicated choreographies like this. Don’t be so cocky.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Yooseob is practically rattling his pen against the clipboard at this point, and with his free hand he pulls his baseball cap further down, covering his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m gonna let you try again tomorrow when the lower boys have their evaluations. Cause I can’t evaluate you based on what I just saw. I have literally nothing to say about it. This song is called Original Sin, it’s all about temptation. It’s up to you if you want to present yourself as Eve or the Serpent, but you have to present something. It’s not enough to know the moves. You need to put consideration into how you’re moving your body, not just where your body is moving to. You can pour emotion into a song when you sing it. Do that while you dance it, too.” 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” You can tell by the way the words have to be pushed through his throat that Shogo has gotten choked up. You don’t really think you can blame him. If you’d gotten a critique this harsh, you’d have just quit on the spot and walked out of Ohjang HQ never to look back again.

Though, you suppose, getting the hell out of Ohjang as fast as they can would be the advice you’d offer any one of these boys. 

Yooseob nods once, and says; “Go.”

“It’s not like I ever thought I was the best dancer, or anything.” Shogo looks tearful even in his confessional, hanging his head in a deep sigh. “But if I’m so terrible, why would they wait until now to tell me? Yooseob-seonsaengnim made it sound like I haven’t been trying at all. I really have. I really, really tried my-”

Shogo cuts himself off as his voice breaks, and makes a frustrated face as he bites on his lower lip, looking off to the side and clearing his throat roughly. He dabs at his left eye with the back of his hand, and says;

“Sorry, can we take a quick break?” 

The screen once more fades to black. As it fades back in, you’re back in the practice room, but you’re informed by yet more text that it’s now TWO DAYS LATER. Two, not one. You tap the screen to see that you’re nearing the end of the episode, and so you assume that the other boys will be properly introduced to you next time around. You snort. The main reason anybody will be watching this is to find out who the sixth boy is, so it stands to reason they’d drag out that reveal as long as they possibly can. 

Still, the six boys sit in a line on the floor, cross-legged and all looking as if they fear certain death. Across from them, on uncomfortable looking, metal folding chairs are Salome, Kitae and Yooseob. 

“The CEO isn’t exactly pleased with what you guys showed this month,” says Yooseob, grimly. “Don’t get emotional. No matter what happens today, it’s all in aid of your improvement. If you had all practiced harder, this would be a much happier occasion.” 

Beside him, Salome shoots him a pointed look. “But just remember, we’re judging your singing and dancing, which are things that will always have room for improvement, no matter how good you are.” She cuts in, keeping her face kind as it turns to regard the boys. “We’re not judging your value as people. Just keep in mind that nothing said in this room will ever reflect that.” 

Kitae, who looks exhausted, has as blank a face as ever, but raises his fist in weak encouragement as Salome speaks. The three of them don’t seem any more eager to be here than the boys do.

The room falls into an uncomfortable quiet once more. Fortunately you don’t have to sit in it for much longer, because the glass door soon swings open, and in steps Oh Byeongsang, looking even older and even uglier in the fluorescence, away from the perfectly crafted lighting of his office. The entire room scrambles to their feet to bow at him. He waves a hand dismissively, murmuring in acknowledging and signalling for everyone to take their seats as he strides towards the centre of the room, between the trainees and the coaches. He faces the boys with an unreadable visage. 

“I don’t have a wealth of time, so before we get into the rankings, I’d like to give some announcements. I’ve heard that rumour has spread of potential benefits for this month’s top three. These rumours are true. This will be the last evaluation to utilise the ranking system, and next month will be the final evaluation overall. Following that, debut preparations will be officially underway.” 

The boys break into murmurs, trading wide-eyed glances and whispering amongst each other. Very quickly, Byeongsang raises a hand to quell them. 

“The top three trainees will be guaranteed a spot in the debut group.” He says, simply. You watch in real time as the implications of what he’s about to say next settle on their faces. The sixth boy - presumably Heejin, lets out a bitter laugh. Song Sasung nudges him, the other boys whip their heads around to shoot him incredulous looks, and Salome raises a finger to her lips from behind the CEO; who barrels on as if he hadn’t heard. “This is not the only benefit. They will also be given the chance to express their opinions in the formation of the final lineup. As, unfortunately, the final evaluation will still run the risk of elimination from Ohjang Entertainment‘s trainee programme. For those of you who are underperforming, it would be irresponsible of me to guarantee your debut.” 

The shot faces Byeongsang long enough for you to see Kitae slot his tongue into his cheek and look to the side with a displeased expression, in an uncharacteristic display of minor emotion. Salome casts her eyes downwards, unable to look at the trainees, while Yooseob stares at a spot on the wall with a stony expression.

That feeling you had earlier, that all of this is unfair and cruel and exploitative, washes over you once more. This man really is a total prick. 

“I understand that this is an anxiety-inducing thing to hear. So, I’ll skip the usual fanfare and get right to the results. In first place…” He pauses, seemingly for effect, perhaps a little more aware of the fact that he’s filming a television show than he is aware of the fact that he’s playing around with these boys’ futures. “Is Gu Yonghyung.”

The shot closes in on Yonghyung‘s face. He simply gapes for a few seconds, before folding himself over his knees in a bow. Beside him, Hwihun smiles uncertainly and claps him on the back, and when he straightens back up, he looks more shell-shocked than he does happy or proud. 

“In second place… Shin Hwihun.” 

Hwihun doesn’t bow, just sighs in relief, nodding to himself with his eyes trained on his sneakers, avoiding eye contact even as both Yonghyung and Shogo, who flank either side of him, try to make it. 

“And in third…”

The camera lingers on Oh Byeongsang’s face for half a minute. He opens his mouth, and the footage cuts out. 

The instrumental of Boy Comics blares.

And the credits roll.

[daecheonsa]

STARRING: Shin Hwihun. (The Noblechild) FEATURING: Na Younghwa (The Noblewoman), Hwihun's father (The Composer), ?. (The Teacher) WORD COUNT: 2k. SUMMARY: Music is repitition ; fame is a monster. CW: The drinking of blood. Alcohol (and pressure to drink it unwillingly.) Assault and grooming. Reference to public execution. Maybe light body horror? Note that although the word ‘child’ is used frequently to represent Hwihun, the corresponding events took place when he was around the age of nineteen. Simply put, he is referred to as such because he is Younghwa’s child. Regardless, in the context of this piece, a young person is preyed upon, so read with care. This shouldn't be taken literally, but that's not to say it's not canon.

ㅤㅤㅤTHOUGH he’d already learned that it was unbefitting to say it, the noblechild had grown lonely. His family name was now dirt, so there was no sympathy left in this world for him. Nobody wanted to hear of his melancholy. 

It had only been a few months since they had taken the noblewoman away and strung her up. Without his mother, the noblechild had been left with no companion in their cold, dreary castle. He understands why she could not be allowed to stay. She had done the unthinkable and altered her mind, and an existence beyond reality was one with no logic nor God. She had become a danger, to herself and to him, though this knowledge brought nothing that could soothe him. When the townspeople had dragged her past the castle’s heavy wooden doors and turned her from woman to a dangling, cautionary spectacle, they’d torn a hole in the noblechild’s sternum that he didn’t know how to close. 

They had once revered her, painted her portrait and honoured her fairness, begged to hear her beautiful singing voice, but now she was little more than a dirty word that needn’t ever be said aloud. 

Like any mammal must, the noblechild had a father, the composer, though he’d since locked himself in his chambers and refused to come out. The noblechild would worry that he had joined his mother above, if not for the fact that the bland, talentless meals he’d hopelessly prepare and leave outside the composer’s door would vanish once a day. 

And so he’d wander the halls of the castle. The staff who once up-kept it had long stopped appearing, as the composer had stopped compensating their efforts, and with nothing to the noblechild’s own personal name, there was nothing he could do to help. The nanny who had raised him, the handmaids who had pressed his clothes and set the dining table, the cook who had never forgotten the noblechild’s favourites, they had all treated him delicately, with affection and love. The noblechild had never expected to be without them, but their kindness had run out alongside the gold. 

He was alone except for the teacher.

The teacher, despite his title, was never a face the noblechild would see in the schoolhouse. Instead, he’d visit on a Sunday evening, week after week, never late and never missing an appointment. Even after the composer had stopped rewarding him, he came.

After all, the noblechild had not been his only student. Before him, he’d given lessons to both the composer and the noblewoman; had known them since their own childhood. It had been the teacher who had introduced the townspeople to the noblewoman’s song of enchantment, and, indeed, from him she had learned it. The noblechild was yet to learn to sing it. One day, the teacher would teach it to him, but for now they simply focused on the dusty old piano in the drawing room. 

The evenings would pass by quickly, and with nobody else in the entire world to talk to, the noblechild began to yearn for them. The teacher was at least understanding; he never spoke badly of the noblewoman, even though she had turned to dark activity in the end. He continued to revere her, and perhaps just out of sheer gratitude, the noblechild had grown to revere the teacher in return. Every week, as the child grew nearer and nearer to manhood, he’d fear that the teacher would stop showing up. After all, he was soon to stop attending the schoolhouse and venture out to become something like a composer or a teacher of his own right, and earn his own title. Sunday evenings in the dreary old castle, enduring the noblechild’s mediocre piano-playing and the composer’s sealed door and the heavy absence of the noblewoman was nothing more than charity, and the noblechild was forever waiting for that charity to run dry. 

The teacher was not a handsome or young man, not even a particularly kind one, taking no qualms in letting the noblechild know that he had inherited none of his father’s gift for the instrument they’d spend every lesson in front of. There wasn’t much good of the composer, as far as the teacher was concerned, that the noblechild had inherited at all. All of his positives had come from the noblewoman, and this was something that the teacher seemed happy of. The child certainly could not blame anyone for missing his mother. In fact, he was so happy to meet someone who did that he would eagerly overlook the bulk of the mean old man’s flaws.

One night, the noblechild would interrupt the lesson to ask a question; what was his mother like in her youth, before she had met the composer, long before the noblechild had been an imagination? 

The answer had taken an age. The teacher had a bibles’ worth of stories and just as much veneration. He’d spoken until there was no more orange left in the sky, and evening had turned to night, the piano keys hard to see and blinking away under the sleepy light of the petering candles. At some point, the teacher had asked for permission to open a bottle of red wine that had lived, never unsealed, on the mantle for almost as long as the noblechild had been alive; and with no understanding of why one might keep wine unconsumed, the child had granted it. 

As the teacher drank, the noblechild had simply watched until he was offered a glass of his own. He’d refused four or five times, inexperienced with alcohol and opposed to the strong taste and smell, but as the insistence persisted, he eventually agreed to partake in a single glass.

Two extra glasses later, unable to keep his head up straight, the noblechild put his foot down and excused himself for bed, showing the drunken teacher to the guest chambers before retiring himself. 

The long night heavy on his mind, the child tosses and turns, desperate to be granted mercy from the slush in his head, the nausea that had sunk itself into him threatening to spew out at any second. He’d flung his window open, in hopes that the fresh air would wisen him up some, but all it achieves is giving him a chill, even under the heavy quilt that his mother had once imported for him from a faraway land, which had never failed to warm him before. Still, as his body trembles, he eventually accepts the necessity of shutting out the cold air. 

Forcing himself out of bed, still in his school clothes from the day before but far too unwell to bother undressing, the noblechild takes drunken, wobbly steps towards the window and pulls the glass panes shut. Just as he fastens the lock, he hears his chamber door creak open; from the fading candlelight in the hallway, he can make out a figure as tall and wide as his piano teacher, standing silently in the door frame even as the child questions what he’s doing out of bed.  

He does not shift as the child suggests he return to his chambers, and only moves when he instead requests he at least come closer so the child may speak without straining his voice.

Yet the teacher’s movement is staggered and strange, shuffling slowly towards the noblechild. He steps out of the light of the doorway, cloaked in more darkness still, taking jilted and jagged steps towards the child without uttering a single word. A tension grows in the air, it feels as if with each step the room grows colder and the child rubs groggily at his eyes, willing them to adjust to the dark. It’s not until the teacher steps into the light of the window that the child sees that, whatever he has invited into his bedchamber, it is not the teacher at all. 

It has his teacher’s build. It’s wearing his clothes. But the face, mean to begin with, has warped beyond any sense of human cruelty, is twisted and snarled. Broken, bloodied lips pulled back to reveal monstrous, rotten teeth. Shards of yellow bone that shoot out sharply, several inches long and each pointed like knives. This is no man. This is something animal; or worse, this is something from below. 

When the noblechild tries to scream, the teacher- or rather, the thing, suddenly appears before him in a blink. A hand clamps over his mouth and silences him. The creature’s flesh is cold as ice, long, curled fingernails scraping the side of his face, flattening his ear and curling around the back of the noblechild’s head. The creature leans it’s ghastly face in close, eyes so wide they make perfect circles, intense and hungry like a wild fox might look upon a rabbit, pupils dilated so wide that there is no iris to be seen. When it takes it’s hand away, somehow, the child understands to be quiet.

The noblechild cannot move, paralysed with fear as the creature’s long, clawed fingers wrap around his necktie, untangling the striped, violet fabric with none of the difficulty the child himself usually had. This close, he can smell the beast, rancid and foul like carrion. Sweat begins to pool under the noblechild’s arms and clam up his palms; his heart erupting in his chest as his mind shrieks to run and to free himself, though his body refuses to listen, locked in place as the necktie flutters to the ground, the silver thread of the embroidered emblem of his schoolhouse twinkling in the moonlight. 

The wine has clouded him, blackened the edges of his vision and unsteadied him. He feels lightheaded and ill, losing focus as disgusting, calloused fingers pry open his fastened collar, cold air hitting the notch of his neck. 

You will do fine in her stead, says the monster, though he says it in the noblechild’s head and not through his own mouth, voice harsh and metallic like the screech of a bat, tearing through him like a dagger to the temple. You will fill her shoes.

And the teacher, no longer a man, now a nightmare, lurches forward, sinking his teeth deep into the noblechild’s neck, so sudden that despite the pain that fills him, that ripples through every nerve and travels down every vein until it reaches his heart and blackens it, the child still cannot holler for his father. Cannot scream, cannot fight and cannot run, can only stand there, to be drunk from, and to be in her stead. 

His body crumples against the beast, and the noblechild sees nothing though his eyes do not close. 

When the sun rises late the following morn, the noblechild awakens once more, a sickness in the pit of his belly, a thumping in his skull and a cold sheen of sweat across his brow. Sunlight filters through the drapery of his bed, illuminating the otherwise invisible dance of the dust in the air and burning at his skin. The second his eyelids creak open, his insides throw themselves over one another, and he all but falls out of his empirical bed and must untangle himself from the gossamer poster draped across it’s frame before he can burst from his chambers, scrambling down the twisted hallways of the cold old castle and into the latrine. He throws himself over the toilet and empties his stomach, a panic squeezing his lungs as the white porcelain is painted a dark, brownish red. 

Wine, he reminds himself, when the fear truly begins to kick in. He’d been plied with wine. 

When there feels as if there is nothing left inside him to cast outwards, he forces himself onto shaky knees and then slippery feet, steadying himself against the wall as he pushes upright, where his eyes meet himself in the looking glass and he flinches backwards.

Before him, the child does not see the face he has become accustomed to. His ink-coloured hair is plastered to his forehead with old sweat, twisted and tangled like the tendrils of a terrible sea-creature, under whose intimidation lays two sunken and dilated eyes, underlined with purple shadow, whites vividly red and eyelids hanging heavy, struggling to hold themselves up under the morninglight - why did the world feel so bright and mockingly cheerful in what should be the cold, unforgiving December? 

His lips are without any of their rosy colour, cold and grey and breaking across their curves, and his usually-golden skin is waxy and blanched, as though someone had poured dirty water in him and diluted away the sunny complexion he’d been given by the noblewoman, who had passed unto her son all of her wicked beauty and trusted him to look after it. 

A trembling hand lays across his face. His loveliness, his youth, gone. The noblechild’s pinky finger pokes into his mouth, hooking around his sore and flaking upper lip and yanking it roughly upwards. Underneath it, a knifelife tooth protrudes, sharp and aggressive, like that of the frightening hound the next estate over, who had once jumped against the child’s chest and flattened him to the ground, gnashing it’s jaws in the air as means to terrify him out of pestering it to play as it tried to rest. 

The sistertooth is the same - in place of his small, overclean canines are someone - something else’s angry, yellowed teeth, something inhuman and vicious, something which must bring harm to survive. They were sharp and too big for the child’s mouth, had cut into his lower gums and polished his lower set with a pinkish coating — and though he should be in pain, he is not.

And the noblechild, staring in shock at the creature in the glass, stripped of it’s humanity and spirit, bellows like an animal in turn and grieves. 

He had been changed. He had been changed and he had been killed.  And he had been made into a monster too.

[daecheonsa]

EXPERIENCE  …  THE  DEBUT  MINI  ALBUM  BY  BLISS .

POPSOUND  RATING:  5.3/10

EXPERIENCE  is  the  debut  mini  album  by  the  soloist  and  former  VENUS  member  Bliss.  With  a  total  of  SIX  tracks,  the  album  is  described  as  "sonic  whiplash  with  seemingly  no  direction"  and  "unsure  of  what  it  wants  to  be."  though  not  loved  by  critics,  fans  were  happy  to  see  the  idol  back  on  stage  performing.

Bliss  left  the  internationally  acclaimed  girl  group  VENUS  in  2023  when  their  contracts  were  moved  from  Angelico  Entertainment  to  Mydol  Label,  refusing  to  sign  under  Mydol.  Though  the  circumstances  of  her  departure  are  still  hazy,  fans  were  united  on  one  thing:  They  wanted  Bliss  back  on  stage.

On  January  5th,  2025,  they  would  get  their  wish.

The  album  would  feature  two  collabs  one  with  Zion  of  Arm  Candy  on  GUESS?  And  [INSERT  NAME]  on  Best  Mistake.  The  collabs,  especially  GUESS?  Would  be  positively  received  by  critics  and  fans.

INDIVIDUAL  SONG  RATINGS  BY  POPSOUND.

LOOP:  6/10

"Though  a  good  song  on  its  own,  promoting  LOOP  as  the  title  track  was  either  a  mistake  or  an  intentional  choice  to  make  this  release  look  dull.  The  performances  lacked  star  power  as  the  choreography  was  boring  and  not  complimentary  to  what  we  have  seen  from  Bliss  in  the  past,  which  was  a  more  early  Christina  and  Britney-type  vibe.  Inauthentic  and  misguided,  though  sonically  pleasing  to  the  ear."

SUPERSCAR:  8/10

"Gaining  more  popularity  than  the  original  title  track,  Angelico  seemingly  had  no  choice  but  to  promote  SUPERSCAR  on  music  shows  alongside  LOOP,  which  only  hindered  the  Ladder's  position  as  the  title  track.  SUPERSCAR  is  more  of  what  we  expected  to  see  from  Bliss's  choreography  and  sound.  We  have  to  raise  the  question  of  if  they  tried  to  go  the  pop-house  underground  sound  with  LOOP  to  not  have  her  in  competition  with  Baebi.  Either  way,  SUPERSCAR  stole  the  show  in  the  best  possible  way."

GUESS?  FT.  ZION:  8/10

"The  first  of  two  collaborations  on  this  mini  album,  featuring  none  other  than  Zion  of  Armcandy.  The  track,  earth  shakingly  loud  to  the  point  you  can  feel  the  beat  in  your  bones,  is  just  fun.  The  lyrics  are  bold  and  unashamed  of  the  topic  of  sexuality,  with  lyrics  like  "You  wanna  guess  the  color  of  my  underwear"  and  "You  wanna  turn  this  shit  out,  that's  what  I'm  talking  about,"  the  pair  offer  not  only  a  phenomenal  vocal  harmony  but  visuals  Donatella  Versace  would  foam  at  the  mouth  for."

NA:  4/10

"Na  is  misplaced  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  From  the  cheesy  lyrics  to  the  empty  and  disappointing  chorus,  this  song  was  a  let  down.  Bliss'  vocals  show  in  Na,  but  it's  simply  not  enough  to  get  over  the  looming  thought  of  "Why  is  this  song  on  the  album?  Who  approved  this?"  with  it's  modern  house  beat  that  makes  it  stick  out  like  a  sore  thumb  in  this  already  discombobulated  tracklist."

BEST  MISTAKE  FT. KIJUNG:  9/10

"Best  Mistake  is  one  of  the  best  love  songs  to  be  released  by  an  Angelico  artist  in  the  recent  decade,  dare  I  say,  throughout  the  company's  entire  run.  A  piano-driven,  merry-go-round of  a  love  song  that  finally  offers  Bliss'  light  voice  an  opportunity  to  shine  without  the  production  overpowering  it.  Kijung  carries  themselves  well  alongside  Bliss  with  equally  good  lyricism,  offering  a  smooth  and  pleasing  blend  with  Bliss'  voice.  Genuinely,  a  beautiful  gem  in  an  otherwise  confusing  rat  maze."

EXPERIENCE  (OUTRO):  5/10

"EXPERIENCE,  though,  is  an  experience  that  was  a  generic  and  bland  way  to  close  this  album.  Its  unique  blend  of  ethereal,  angelic  sounds  with  a  trap  beat  creates  a  captivating  and  dynamic  atmosphere  that  leads  you  nowhere.  The  song's  outro,  used  as  the  teaser  for  this  album,  had  fans  excited  and  emotional  for  her  debut,  ending  with  a  jungle  dance  break  that  gives  this  album's  ending  note  emptiness.  The  song  is  empty.  The  ending  is  empty.  EXPERIENCE  is  a  good  song  by  itself,  but  as  an  outro  for  this  album,  it  leaves  much  to  be  desired."

OVERALL  ALBUM  RATING  ...  53/100

EXPERIENCE   STYLE   GUIDE  !

"She looked a damn mess every time she stepped on stage. But maybe that was the point? I guess the girls who get it, get it, but I refuse to believe the men in charge of her wardrobe really got it and were just putting her in outfits that would get her teased on social media. Is this rage marketing or did she give something I just don't understand? 7.5 out of 10." — KMG USER @ ALLTHELEWKS 

BLOGS OF ARTISTS MENTIONED ... @daecheonsa + @hearthr0b 💙

[daecheonsa]

STYLE DOCSㅤㅤ. . .ㅤㅤ GOING DOWN [Music Show Appearances - Debut Week] This document contains notation from SUNG JUNGHA, Lead Stylist of DAM.NATION project, preserved to insure cohesion and pattern in the creative direction of DAM.NATION (artist) ㅤ;ㅤThe following information contains the personal opinions and judgements of SUNG, and is not reflective of any greater stance held by OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT as a group. This content is STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL.

DECEMBER 10TH 2024; THE SHOW. ㅤㅤ"The Show will be DAM.NATION's first ever live performance together, as well as their first time on TV. This was easily the most pressure I felt putting together looks for this promotional cycle. This performance will be their very first impression upon a large percentage of what will be their early fanbase, and their only chance to show off two songs, as well. Because of this, I wanted them to first appear on stage in a team uniform. Athletic uniforms tie into the themes of Big League Chew nicely, but I didn't want to just dress them in baseball uniforms - it's gimmicky and a little tacky, and Ohjang want these boys to be cool. I designed and constructed these tracksuit inspired overalls, taking inspiration from the Olympics... I'm not a sports person, I don't watch the Olympics, but the tracksuits they dress the athletes in for the Opening Ceremony. It felt fitting for a debut intro stage. To keep things on brand, they're in their team colours, which would ultimately become the biggest trend of the era - I wasn't granted much room to diverge from black, red and white in the end, so this introduction featuring all three set the tone nicely. For 놀자 (Let's Play), I curated and altered these looks with the desire to show individuality, to balance out the first performance's team uniform. Let's Play positions DAM.NATION as womanizers and heartbreakers, so I played with a 'prince' vibe, without letting go of the edge found in their sound. I'm not sure how much crossover these fanbases may have, but the red leather on black kind of nods to Devil May Cry. I wanted to include that reference simply because it strikes me as the most fashion-forward interpretation of Dante's Inferno - well, until this album, thanks to me! I felt a little bad, making Hwihun go with an open jacket for their very first stage, but he was a good sport about it and it didn't seem to add to his nerves, which was a relief. All in all, within their debut stage, wanted to put the DAM.NATION spin on some staple idol costumes; so this gets the sports and militaristic concepts out of the way quick without, hopefully, being too typical."

DECEMBER 11TH 2024; SHOW CHAMPION. ㅤㅤ"We leaned a little closer to vampire than the lore doc suggests we should for this look, but I personally find it to be one of the strongest and most impactful. We got the suits on loan, and we didn't really know what we were going to do with them. Originally the shirts were just solid white, and when we got the boys dressed in them, they looked like a ballad group or something. And so last minute, we dyed and stones the sleeves. There wasn't much thought or storyline behind this one, we were too busy panicking and trying to dry the dye the morning of the show. The gloves were thrown on cause it all rubbed off on the boys hands. By the end of the shooting, they'd left red smudges on pretty much every costume piece and a fair amount of MBC's furniture. Needless to say, we had to buy the suits. Still, this look got the most attention of any of them, so I say it all worked out well in the end." DECEMBER 12TH 2024; MCOUNTDOWN. ㅤㅤ"Originally, these outfits had these awesome bancho inspired jackets, but the PR team freaked out over the idea of dressing them up as delinquents, even delinquents through the lens of children's cartoons. I suppose DAM.NATION are meant to have ended up in hell on account of good behavior, somehow. That was an annoying setback because Junghwa and I spent hours customizing these jackets, we handstoned stripes on the sleeves- hundreds and hundreds of studs each sleeve, five times over, and they'll probably never let us use them. We had to just throw these jackets they had in wardrobe on the boys because it was the closest match to the rest of the look. It's a little more pedestrian than I'm comfortable sending them on television in, but it did the job. Turns out though that some other Ohjang wore those jackets like eight years ago, and some of their fans took offence. The jobs a losing game, sometimes."

DECEMBER 13TH 2024; SIMPLY KPOP. ㅤㅤ"Simply K-Pop is simply not worth saving any substantial amount of budget for, and so excluding sneakers, we probably spent about ₩70,000 (~$50) putting all five outfits together. I sewed the ties myself out of scrap fabric in order to color match them to their Big League Chew tracksuits. While they're simple, I think they do the job. I was a little worried about the fans reception to these looks, and whether they'd be upset by them not being fancy or call us cheap, but school uniforms are so ubiquitous with rookie groups that very few people batted an eye." DECEMBER 15TH 2024; INKIGAYO. ㅤㅤ"This performance was far more important, and it's peak time slot brought in a lot of eyes to DAM.NATION. Even though it was a risk, Junghwa and I really wanted full control on this one, so we made most of the pieces from scratch and altered the life out of the rest of them. I wanted to present their concept in it's purest form in this stage. I took a lot of inspiration from things like The Lost Boys and Death Note, references that cropped up a lot on their very first concept moodboard. DAM.NATION are hellions, and so I think it's important for branding to goth them up a bit every now and then. We took Kijung's hair back to black again from here on out - he wasn't happy about it, but I wanted them to seem dark and wicked. Poor Hwihun was practically barechested again and some of the boys struggled to dance in all that gathered, flowing fabric, but it all translated well to camera, so needs must. I feel it wraps the debut week up perfectly. Who would wear this if not DAM.NATION?"

[daecheonsa]

[daecheonsa]

SUMMARY ㅤㅤ. . .ㅤㅤGOING DOWN is the debut album of South Korean boy group, DAM.NATION. The album was released on December 6th, under OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT. The album consists of nine tracks, with 놀자 (LET'S PLAY) serving as it's primary promotional single. Prior to the album's release, DAM.NATION released 소년만화 (BOY COMICS) as a single, in promotion of their online docuseries GOD SAVE THE DAMNED, which used the track in it's opening credits. The group also released BIG LEAGUE CHEW as the album's pre-single, just days before it's release.

TITLE TRACK ㅤㅤ. . .ㅤㅤ놀자 (nolja ; 'LET'S PLAY') is the debut single of DAM.NATION, serving as the title track to their first full length album, GOING DOWN. 놀자 was released on December 6th, alongside it's music video, and was promoted on a handful of music shows. Without completely ditching the high-octane drums and electric guitars that dominated the group's two pre-debut singles, 놀자 sets itself apart by incorporating a far heavier digital component in it's production, making heavier use of synths and sample packs where 소년만화 and BIG LEAGUE CHEW seemingly made more use of live instruments.

While this difference can easily be chalked up to difference in producers, it does compliment the lyrics of 놀자; which detail an artificial, meaningless love based purely on pleasure and hedonism. Playing out a battle for power and control, the boys actively grow tired of the affair by the song's breakdown, a dip in tempo represents the momentary loss of passion before the final chorus is quickly swept away by the next whim. Within the full context of GOING DOWN, 놀자 represents the second circle of hell, which punishes perpetrators of lust with violent winds.

Members YONGHYUNG and SASUNG were credited as writers on the track. As the production and writing credits of 소년만화 and BIG LEAGUE CHEW were not made public at the time of their release, 놀자 is technically considered the first credit for both boys, although YONGHYUNG's name was revealed in the credits of both of DAM.NATION's previous singles upon the release of GOING DOWN.

TRACKLISTING ㅤㅤ. . .ㅤㅤ( ALBUM SAMPLER )

001. LIES, CONTROL, RULES. Written by Gu Yonghyung, Jang Kitae. Produced by Jang Kitae.

002. 놀자. (LET'S PLAY.) Written by SALOME, Song Sasung, Gu Yonghyung. Produced by Jang Kitae.

003. 貘. (TASTY.) Written by SALOME, Jung Kijung, Gu Yonghyung. Produced by SALOME.

004. BIG LEAGUE CHEW. Written by Song 'Tiny' Taejun. Produced by Song 'Tiny' Taejun, Jang Kitae.

005. 인터넷 전쟁. (INTERNET WAR.) Performed by Jung Kijung & Gu Yonghyung. Written by Gu Yonghyung, Jung Kijung. Produced by Jang Kitae.

006. IF YOU CAN HEAR MY VOICE. Written by Gu Yonghyung, SALOME. Produced by SALOME, Jang Kitae.

007. 소년만화. (BOY COMICS.) Written by Gu Yonghyung, Jung Kitae. Produced by Jang Kitae.

008. 위치. (WITCH.) Written by Song 'Tiny' Taejun, Jung Kijung. Produced by Song 'Tiny' Taejun.

009. 여긴 지옥이야. (YOU'RE IN HELL.) Written by Gu Yonghyung. Produced by Jang Kitae.

PRODUCTION ㅤㅤ. . .ㅤㅤGOING DOWN was executive produced by JANG KITAE, a notorious rock artist known for constantly establishing new bands with himself as the frontman. The album was JANG's first time writing or producing for another artist. Due to his openly hedonistic lifestyle and frequent public spats with other artists, JANG KITAE is not the most popular figure in Korea, and news of his work on DAM.NATION's debut album was initially met with disapproval from their fans. However, he was instrumental in shaping the overall rock influence of the group.

Alongside JANG, production on GOING DOWN was also overseen by SALOME, the only member of OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT's in-house production team to work on the record. Initially getting her start as an indie singer-songwriter in England, SALOME joined OHJANG's production team in 2016, and would produce the last couple of title tracks for BOUQUET. Additionally, the album's pre-single, BIG LEAGUE CHEW, and the b-side 위치 (WITCH) were produced by SONG 'TINY' TAEJUN. In recent years, TINY has been best known for producing the majority of SOUR CANDY's early songs, though left his position as a member of VALENTINE RECORD's production team before his enlistment in 2022. TINY has clarified that he has not signed onto OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT in any official level, and was simply asked to produce a couple of songs for the album, though is open to working with DAM.NATION more.

PROMOTIONS & RECEPTION ㅤㅤ. . .ㅤㅤDAM.NATION promoted GOING DOWN on music shows for two weeks; holding their debut stage on December 10th on SBS M's The Show. For their debut stage only, the group performed a shortened version of BIG LEAGUE CHEW as a sub-title, though following this performance their allotted time was cut, leaving them to solely perform 놀자. In whole, the boys performed twice on The Show, Show Champion, and MCountdown, and once on Inkigayo and SimplyKpop. DAM.NATION failed to procure any wins throughout the promotional cycle of GOING DOWN, nor did it's singles crack any major charts. At the end of it's first month, GOING DOWN had only sold 12,293 copies; a relative flop even in the case of OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT, who's record sales had been steadily dropping since around the mid-2010s. Neither digital sales nor streams saw much brighter results.

In spite of it's mild commercial reception, the critical response of GOING DOWN was generally positive, praising the record's high production value, as well as the exploration of genres amongst it's tracklist. Music journalist Jang Hyeko credited the group's ability to carve out an individual sound with their debut effort; 'The soundscape of DAM.NATION is dark but playful; throughout the record they pair schoolyard rhymes and 'creepy,' Halloweenish melodies with catchy pop hooks or anthemic rock choruses. Tracks will slow down and then pick back up, synths will warp and distort, guitar strings will screech. Even at it's most gentle, GOING DOWN maintains a slight 'off'-ness, like there's something lurking in it's shadows. This ties into the concept of the record, which poses to take us on a journey through the circles of hell - each of the tracks representing one domain, per Inferno.'

Though they do not exist in abundance, there is, primarily central to Korea and Japan, a DAM.NATION fanbase. Amongst them, GOING DOWN was largely met with appreciation; and their passion was given new fire by the lack of promotion given to the album. The decision to debut DAM.NATION with a full album at all was viewed as a risk since it's announcement, with a simple digital single seeming more proportionate to the level of interest in the group. While the palpable budget put into GOING DOWN's production, visuals, styling and music videos was impressive, it hadn't been enough to garner attention all on it's own, and there seemed to be very little money left over for marketing. Given the subsequent suffering of it's sales, OHJANG's new boyband is currently a NET LOSS for the floundering label . . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤUP NEXT ㅤㅤ. . .ㅤㅤgod save them.

[daecheonsa]

DAM.NATION : Going Down (Debut Album) ALBUM SAMPLER // "stage select." 12.6.2024.