#id.imperial

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S LEAD VOCAL PARK HOJUN…

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Adam CURRENT AGE: 26 DEBUT AGE: 22 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 18 COMPANY: 99

IDOL IMAGE

You are too pretty to be a bad boy.

Hojun never kept his sordid history from 99 Entertainment. It would have been foolish, considering they would have uncovered it anyways. He grew up with scuffed knees and bruised knuckles. He was not a gangster, but he was leading down that path before he decided to become an idol. However, his face never quite fit the profile of an Iljin, which was probably why no one ever took him seriously unless they saw the kind of damage he could do. It was a mark of pride for him, to be the toughest kid in the room. He had to be to survive.

It seemed natural to him that they would market him as a bad boy, as the tough one. Instead, they decided to go in a different direction. POIZN had enough bad boys for their entire company. They were not looking for that anymore. They needed him to be sweet, approachable, someone who could sell posters and make girls daydream about marrying him. They didn’t need someone who looked like him to be closed off.

Since he started training, Hojun was forced him to clean up his act. They focused on the clean cut aspects of his past, such as his attachment to his mother and the fact that he grew up singing in the church choir. Hojun was forced to smile and have people call him “honey” and “cute”, despite the turning in his stomach. He brought pastries to training practices and learned to flatter. He held doors and carried heavy packages. He became a little prince, just like they wanted. Playing the game helped gave him a sparkling clean reputation, making him perfect for comedic roles. People preferred being around this version of him much more than they ever did the real him. Only those around him in his off time are privy to his temper, to how easily he can break that facade of a good little boy.

IDOL HISTORY

Hojun was born to Park Ha-yoon, a hairdresser from Hongdae. He supposed he had a father, but his mother never mentioned him and he never bothered asking. He assumed if the man really wanted a relationship with him, he would have shown up long before and taken them out of poverty. Instead, Hojun was forced to watch his mother complete shift after shift at a job where people ridiculed her for never continuing her education.

His mother was a devout Christian woman, which meant Hojun had to spend his Sundays with a god who had clearly forgotten them. But he went. It made his mother happy and Hojun could never deny her something so simple, especially when he was a difficult son to have.

School was difficult for Hojun. He was an easy target, especially with his short stature at the time. The day he finally drove a fist into his tormentor’s stomach was the best day of his life. He went from being the one having his lunch money stolen to taking it from other kids. However, his sudden penchant for violence put a strain on his relationship with his mother. She didn’t raise him to turn into a gangster. He was supposed to be the one to attend a university, to make better choices than she did.

A number of adults tried to save Hojun from himself. He developed a variety of skills from humoring them, particularly his mother. He joined the church choir, wrote in journals, took up hopkido, baked enough cakes to feed a small nation, and volunteered at several organizations. None of it helped. He continued to get into fights and skip class. He never had a crew, as no one took him seriously with his sweet face, but he developed a reputation all on his own. When he turned sixteen, Hojun was kicked out of school. He refused to talk about the incident that lead to his expulsion. His mother was heartbroken, but they managed to find a school to take him. He finished his education there and eventually graduated.

There weren’t many potential avenues for a former Iljin. Hojun was working at a food counter at the mall when an agent approached him and invited him to come to open auditions. He had never considered a career as an idol. It was too fanciful, too unrealistic for a boy like him. He wasn’t untalented, but his experience was limited to gospel songs and not so holy songs he made about his teachers in the bathroom. They earned laughs, but he doubted that was what the industry was looking for. Still, he went to the audition and to his surprise, he made the cut.

Hojun’s mother was supportive of her son’s new career path. Perhaps the training would give him the structure he needed to finally kick his bad habits. Hojun was unprepared for the intense toll training would take on him. He quickly learned that 99 only wanted the illusion of a bad boy, not an actual one. POIZN had given them enough trouble already, even though they had barely debuted. With such a recent boy group, it would be a long time before Hojun went anywhere. He needed to shape up if he ever wanted even a prayer of debuting. During that first year he nearly left eight different time but his mother was just so proud. It was the longest period of time he ever kept his nose clean and she loved bragging about how her son was going to be an idol. For the first time in his life, he realized he could make something of himself.

Despite his distrust of authority figures and his lack of team spirit, Hojun learned how to act as was expected of him. He learned to speak properly, respectfully. He never mentioned his expulsion. He reserved his temper for his off time and if he ever did anything illicit, he was certainly never caught. However, the rumors of his past followed him around. Hojun denied it as was expected of him, but every once in a while they would pop up and act like a thorn on his side. Playing game  has paid off for Hojun though. After four years of intense training, he found his opportunity.

Hojun’s vocal skills where not as strong as they could have been (nor was his dancing), but his false persona and pretty face made him the perfect choice for their new group. He was also a stubborn bastard. With the finish line finally in sight, nothing was going to get in his way of a debut. He met every one of their challenges. The survival show was emotionally harrowing, but he was used to struggle, having been in it his entire life. Through every grueling training session, he reminded himself that this was his only option. If he failed, all that was waiting for him was his disappointed mother and serving fast food for the rest of his life. It didn’t matter whether the group got along or not or whether he had to spend the rest of his life pretending to be a saint. He would do anything to get out of trainee hell.

Debuting came and went with much less fanfare than he expected, particularly for something he had waited so long for. Imperial might have gone on to make excellent sales and was praised frequently, but every headline was focused on POIZN. Harboring some resentment for the bad boys (since they were the reason he could not be one himself and was stuck doing agyeo) and eager to promote Imperial outside of their music, Hojun began to search for other avenues. He was never going to be as involved with the production process; it went far above his head and their sound was never quite him. While becoming known for his cuteness was not exactly his life’s goal, if he had to play cleanup crew for POIZN, he was going to do such a thorough job, no one would remember them. Hojun picked up a few variety spots, mostly focusing on silly shows that seemed to lead to embarrassing himself, but made his fanbase happy. However, he truly did not strike gold until he started picking up commercials. He was used to using his fake image to sell himself, why not use it to sell other things? Sell out or not, he finally had the recognition he craved, though most of the commercials had ridiculous plotlines and involved him acting like an idiot. Unfortunately, the extra attention occasionally makes rumors of his past pop up. But who is going to believe such bad things about a boy as sweet as him?

[idolizenews]

AURORA’S JIYEON POSTS A QUESTIONABLE SELFIE IN BED WITH IMPERIAL’S JUNSEO THEN QUICKLY DELETES IT. MIDAS HAS STATED "JIYEON AND JUNSEO ARE GOOD FRIENDS, SHE WAS JUST VISITING HIM AFTER SHE FOUND OUT HE WAS SICK”

1. [ +4,721 , -201 ] Hul look at her messy hair and his tired eyes ㅋㅋㅋㅋ Bye bye Aurora~ Bye bye Jiyeon~~ At least we don’t have to see her acting anymore~ Please, just keep playing around with that thug from 99 and let real actors take their rightful lead roles back ^^     -- Seriously I agree, I’ve been getting so sick of all these actor-dols with actor disease, first Sooyeon, now Jiyeon? ㅋㅋㅋㅋ Look at all of them dating and making a mess of their groups like this, companies should start to ban acting and make them focus on their idol careers 2. [ +3,595 , -181 ] Wow.... as a borealis I’m so f*cking pissed off... Midas invested so much into her and it was so obvious she just kept using the group as a stepping stone to become an actress and she’s really going to throw that all away like this and drag Aurora’s name down with her???? F*cking crazy, just leave the group already      -- I feel bad for all the other members in Aurora ㅠㅠㅠ They were already losing to Honey and barely started gaining traction with Jiyeon’s acting and Dahyun’s recent Hit the Stage performance but now... this is really the final nail in the coffin ㅠㅠ 3. [ +1,978 , -102 ] 99 is really just a company full of thugs ㅋㅋㅋㅋ First POIZN, now Imperial, seriously crazy ㅋㅋ How do any of them still have fans?? Are you fangirls all blind? Wake up, all your idols are dating like this behind your back while saying i only love our fans ~ on vlive and instagram ㅋㅋㅋㅋ    -- At least 99 usually just admits everything, what does Midas think we all are with this explanation? ㅋㅋ Sick... yeah, sure, I snuggle up real close to my friends too when they’re sick so I can take all their germs from them instead ㅋㅋㅋㅋ So dumb...

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S  MAIN RAP SON JIYONG...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 26 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: 99 SECONDARY SKILL: Lyric writing

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): N/A INSPIRATION: jiyong was inspired by the performances of idol-groups while he was still a songwriter for 99 entertainment. he realized he wanted to be on stage to entertain instead of working behind the scenes, and wished to be as accomplished as the talented artists who came before him.  SPECIAL TALENTS:

acrostic poems

freestyle rap 

impressions of some celebrities (style over tone)

NOTABLE FACTS:

jiyong’s older brother was a producer for a small company and introduced him to the idea of songwriting as a profession

he often carries a small notebook to write ideas in whether they’re general themes and concepts or lyrical phrases to later add to a song

since jiyong dislikes aegyo, his fans often buy him cute accessories during fan-meets to tease the idol

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

his thoughts on imperial are always exchanged between feelings of pride and disappointment. he’s aware that he is riding on the back of this boy-group to gain solo success, and he doesn’t truly attempt to mask it. short term, he wants — no, needs imperial to continue to grow into an icon that can’t be so easily ignored by 99. then, he needs to set his solo musical career into action.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

jiyong’s presence in the idol industry is decorated with shifting fault lines, yet, regardless, it doesn’t halt his efforts in founding a strong career upon it. whether or not it is with imperial or alone, his focus is on constructing a stronger presence in the industry, one that is admired and constantly rewarded for fulfilling it’s expanding potential. he’s got his eyes set on developing his future musically with more to release, but also to grow into a household name through variety shows and other notable appearances. jiyong doesn’t see limits; he thinks his are endless in a greedy and aggressive outlook.

IDOL IMAGE

ABSTRACTION.

he’s an eccentric paradigm.

jiyong is full of a youthful gleam, charming and saccharine but also wickedly sinful. it’s a dichotomy between two opposing characteristics that somehow suits his boyish image. the way hard-hitting raps spill from his mouth to the timings of his cheesy winks that arouse excitement from the crowd. 99 entertainment composes him in a way that’s unforgettable. they want him to shine enough to burn the mirage of his beaming, playful grins, and his half-lidded sultry stares into the minds of those who take a glance at imperial. just enough to keep them hooked onto the taste, yet never completely fulfilled by the portion; their affair with the rapper further evolving into a heated addiction. his image is one of a tease, someone who stands out in a way that brings the audience crawling back for more.

loud laughter and charming habits are part of this persona that helps him appeal to younger fans who see their high school crush in his mannerisms, but also the older adults reminiscing their passing youth. with his aggression stifled to appear as power instead; his obsessive drive conducted into the disposition of passion, he’s just a reckless romantic making love through the design of various lyrics and slanted stares. jiyong can just as easily be the mischievously, enticing performer as he can the boy-next-door. the pattern of inky designs sprawled on his skin serving as a suitable accessory to his bright smiles; something a little bolder to counteract all the sweetness. he could make anything seem okay.

people tend to gravitate towards him, feeling as though they know him. he gives away just enough information to build those gentle connections and just enough distance that his conversations follow the likeness of a person who is wholesome and genuine. jiyong is a quick-witted, enigmatic performer who never runs out of things to say.

he is a desire, previewing the rare hints of thrill with the flash of a pearly smile, curved like a cocky promise, bright with the hues of a faux cheekiness. he’s got an approachable expression, one that is attentive, full of comfort, yet he’s also dressed as a risk — a temptation to indulge. like a sigh, a soft ache. jiyong induces sensations of anticipation and yearning that never see their end. it’s like falling in love, or falling in sin — none can tell. all that remains is a blur of cascading moments; glimmering in hues of an effervescent youth, and devilishly frisky smirks. they only see the side leaning beyond the curtain, one that dares them to inquire further with the promise to be cherished.

IDOL HISTORY

INCEPTION.

the design of trust is raw and vulnerable. their father constructs it impeccably, unveiling the directions and avenues it unwinds into, displaying the safety and ease of restraining yourself from its reaches. he basks in an asylum of silence; physically near, yet thoughts and emotions cast off into the distance. convenience is the method he employs in raising his children. a laid-back stance — hardly present. his role is vacant and memories with him are scarce. even under the chill of seoul’s winters, they’re more occupied with themselves than they are with each other. life is about selfishness; taking what your greed desires, and their life flourishes under that insistent mantra.

they find their father in intervals; bits of hope and passion stitched together, smoking a cigarette in the suffocating space of his recording studio. it’s an obsessive hobby, truly. his business hasn’t been profitable for years, yet he remains bound to it, like a religion, bringing his children into its worship.

it’s where the essence of jiyong is forged; a fixation with words contrived. his formative development is guided by puffs of smoke, and a heavy, exhausted voice. a focus is spent on poetry, on lyrics, and on the weight of certain words: how to say more than enough with much too little. two children grow up attuned to the sense of music in its complex existence and lonely absence. it’s something they experience often, but never well enough.  

METAMORPHOSIS.

the world runs on ecstasy. it’s a drugged up organization that passes their days as seconds and he’s dragged by its pull, never able to find his footing or keep up with the pace. jiyong is seventeen, in his last year of formal education, and not worthy of the demand of mundane society. he’s got nowhere to go.

that’s meant to change, however. his brother is a producer working for a small company, and upon noticing the riches of potential in jiyong’s prisoning hobby, he suggests an idea that shifts the younger boy’s uncertain future into a ravaging interest. there’s a chance that jiyong’s affinity for lyrics and poetry can land him a job in the field they know too well. it’d be a prosperous chance to indulge the full expanse of his musical ambitions — thought it can hardly be called that. for him, it’s an evolving obsession, a habit too hard to quit. it’s all he genuinely understands and acknowledges; drowning between the arrangement and beauty of words. phrases chase jiyong in the dark, they cling to his mind until he’s a puppet of their sinister reign, forced to fulfill their ultimatum. his grades can’t compete, so they don’t.

his search ends when a company responds to his application at last. 99 entertainment greets him with security, and then it begins. his youth is malformed, direction disjointed, but they can fix that. they can guide the rush of words that litter his pages and plague his mind. they turn shrapnel of ideas and mold them into solid concepts. jiyong slowly discovers his footing as a proper songwriter there, yet the words he writes next taste bitter.

they don’t feel like him, and it’s been hard to tell that for a while. perhaps it’s because he was never meant to turn his hobby into a profession or perhaps it’s because of the new environment that demands socializing skills. he’s always known isolation. for him, solidarity comes with no risks. working alone is the only way to ensure the mistakes made are exclusively his, but there are other plans 99 has devised which he can’t foresee yet.

he wonders what more he can be, and those curiosities are answered with a startling opportunity; a tempting consequence stemmed from his rap recordings of several guide tracks. it seems as if his company has always held different plans than jiyong had intended, because, after only three months, he’s encouraged to join a line-up of competitive, experienced trainees, thirsting for a chance he hadn’t originally fathomed. there’s a rising tide on the horizon. jiyong has always worked to better elevate his career, and with his agreement of their decision, imperial appears somewhere along the swell of that wave as a glimmering chance for his greedy heart to chase.

COMPLEX.

there’s resentment. he feels it creeping along his spine when he is introduced as another trainee the rest must beat. it digs inwards, sitting in his lungs; an inherent phantom swallowing the air he attempts to breathe. jiyong isn’t accustomed to the company of scrutiny or the stare of spectators picking him apart for the skills in which he lacks. in their eyes, he was unfairly picked with ease while they were vetted through auditions and harsh evaluations. jiyong is the unworthy contender and it makes his blood boil in a manner he hasn’t expressed before. a sort of annoyed rage that only motivates him to work harder to genuinely become the threat they’ve assumed of him. intense hatred is an aggressive manner that seeps into his persona and it doesn’t let go.

there’s anxiety. he feels it in every step as his muscles are molded into the rhythm of dance, his voice ringing until sore and identity falling apart by its threadbare edges. jiyong isn’t a fan of surprises, and the survival show comes as one that is terrifying and daunting in style. the fact that the already ruthless competition will only grow harder has him drowning in a turmoil of nervousness. he’s uncertain in knowing if he desires this, but then again, he doesn’t understand passion like others, only dismissing doubts and uncertainties as hindrances attempting to weaken his resolve. as long as jiyong knows what he wants, passion and yearning are not an issue. he will take what he believes is his, another step upwards in his obsessive progress towards success and a fulfilling career.

by the time the results are announced and the final decisions made, the nineteen-year-old is an exhausted carcass that practices for things he doesn’t honestly desire. he’s technically won, but he doesn’t feel like a winner with his identity shaped into a youth born of sarcasm and a hungry appetite for competition. the demands of management and the expectations of the public build him into developing tendencies he’s unfamiliar with, but it’s part of the transition. investing bits and pieces of originality, sacrificing time and habits, all for the hope of a greater return and a rewarding reception. not all of it is manufactured or catered for a false presentation, but it’s fake enough to have his teeth grit and his gaze slant.

he trains as the final installment to a boy-group; the unanticipated intruder; a thief that robbed others of their chance. in the archaic judgment of a man, he’d be one becoming; boy made machination, boy torn up into a prophetic villain. theirs to own, theirs to control, but jiyong is too insane to succumb to their discrimination. their loss isn’t of his concern. however, the public differs largely from the trainees who’d exchanged bitter verdicts behind his back. they say it to his face, and he can’t conceal himself into the background. the idol definition printed him physically before an audience, and not just metaphorically as he’d intended. jiyong may not be of others to possess and command, but he is also not his own. that fact begins to gnaw on him. the lack of control, the weight of unity and collective burden of individual mistakes — all wear him down faster than the criticisms.

there’s a mass that is dragged by idols; a lie of perfection to be repeatedly told for the sake of consistency. he doesn’t understand the need to be so loyal to it, but they’re all hostage to the group and lifestyle regardless, no escape once they’ve been born to the world for its entertainment.

APOTHEOSIS.

when his brother passes in a car accident, late into the following year, the worst is brought forth in jiyong. self-destruction becomes his clingiest companion, and while he’s been its prized subject for years, it grows tenfold until he’s a vacant vessel with only misery as cargo. jiyong barely knew him, he realizes. he was someone who spoke too much, yet his words never crossed the distance between them to reach jiyong. he wasn’t as good with them as their father. he was more similar to their mother instead, saying too much in attempts to compensate the trembling discordance in the air, filling it with more insecurity than draining it of the crippling tension hanging in the walls of their paper home.

jiyong tortures himself with the details of the death. he’s always been a subject of obsession, so he drowns in this too, forging guilt where there should exist none, clinging to a stick of sadness that rests heavy in his lungs. it’s no surprise that among his other habits, he falls into rhythm with melancholia as well. for a brief moment, he feels regret in his choices.

glancing over, he spots his mother. she looks to be near destroyed by the weight of loss. it’s unfair. she was always unhappy. taking on the role of a parent who only loved work and made up for her absence with too many incoherent and drunken stories. normalcy was a curse for someone like her. the darkness haunting their home both ruining yet sustaining the desperate creature nestled within the confines of her skin. she wanted to be something, he knew that, but her mind was poisoned by the same amber hues she drank into midnight. her body only occupied with scars of a world that meant to maul her. he used to catch glimpses of her sometimes. there was dialogue whenever she looked over, a gleam of rare interest, but jiyong doesn’t remember it. that was too long ago.

when a sob trembles from her lips jiyong holds onto her. he does so tightly, fingers gripping her arms, trying to cling onto something, but she’s as lost as he is, and he doesn’t find anything secure to grasp onto.

jiyong feels directionless. the man that lead him here is no more, and the future that’d once seemed vast, despite its various flaws, now hangs uncertain once again with the departure of a member. nothing makes much sense and he retreats further inwards, choosing what’s convenient, liberating himself from the expenses of trust by binding himself to shackles of isolation and committing to nothing but his sole interests. he insists on carrying his burdens and sorrow alone, confined to the walls of work as he tears into melodies, adding more to his schedule. the routine stings, but in a manner that hurts just right, reminding him of his intentions and keeping his head inches above a river of defeat.

HAMARTIA.

selfishness is what keeps people alive. jiyong reminds himself that as he paves a future solely for himself. he’s still filled to the brim with feelings of melancholy and hints of guilt. they never leave. it seems that everything he comes into contact with has a way of sticking around, including the delusional fans that worship his name and the same three faces littering the dorm. as time passes and the routine of their dazzling life dulls into a mundane chore, he relies on his drive to keep him awake throughout their idol reign, planning out one goal after the next to conquer. it’s tyrannical how he works, never sated, never fulfilled, sights always settled on something more; greedy and obsessive, his tragic flaws fuelling his future successes.

jiyong’s only been getting smarter, wielding his act in a manner to impress, in an attempt to get closer to attaining the things he wants. a charming and clean public presence makes him a reputable celebrity to host certain shows. his background in songwriting and his skill in rap are great in assisting his focus for a solo. he’s resourceful, aware of what connections to keep and which to discard.

for him, an empty mind is a devil’s cavern so jiyong fills his thoughts with tasks to fulfill, never allowing himself to indulge in a break. it’s too risky that way. he can’t focus on unraveling what he doesn’t understand about himself when it’s a nuisance to his progress. his personality is distorted between what is and isn’t authentic, it can’t be pinpointed which parts of him are genuine and which were constructed for him years ago. the dilemma of a blurring dichotomy is what could boil under the surface of his gleaming smile if he gave into that confusion, but jiyong resists. he isn’t bothered to discover those facts. maybe he’s never known who he is, maybe it’s something he’s yet to find out or something he lost long ago. however, upholding his charming facade is what’s currently convenient, so he folds into it and continues to proceed, whether it’s with imperial or not.

he’s only twenty-four, but his ending was destined long before. he’ll end up the same as he was when it all started; buried in a potter’s field with all his pennies spent.

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S LEAD DANCE, LEAD VOCAL NOAH HAN ...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: n/a CURRENT AGE: 26 DEBUT AGE: 21 TRAINEE SINCE: 17 COMPANY: 99 SECONDARY SKILL: Cinematography

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): noee, noah-roo, noah’s ark. INSPIRATION: having grown up outside of korea, most of noah’s inspiration stems from international artists. michael jackson and bruno mars, with their charismatic performances, serves as some of his biggest influences. SPECIAL TALENTS:

capable of doing bland impressions of famous gagmen, actors, and notable characters from television dramas and/or movies, but the outcome is so stale, it does generate laughter. 

he does, however, provide a shockingly good michael jackson vocal impersonation.  

NOTABLE FACTS:

an only child.

cannot tolerate spicy food well, frequently turning red in the face and sweating profusely.

graduated from korea national university of arts with a major in cinematography.

has a extensive list of celebrity friends from most companies and is often uploading images of his network on instagram.

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

noah doesn’t aim high, but he does eventually want to direct a music video for imperial. with small opportunities already granted, he’s positive (yet anxious) the comeback will arrive, and his skill is beckoned. yet, that doesn’t quell the constant fear of rejection and inadequacy since he’s been vying for this select chance since before debut. and it has yet to come to fruition.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

he doesn’t want to stop himself at imperial; noah also wants to help create music videos for other idol groups. and it doesn’t end there, irrespective if he’s blindly shooting for the stars. limitations are solidified to be pushed, so he hopes to one day branch out and film other forms of media: commercials, primetime dramas, movies. in all honesty, it’s a little gutsy and unbelievable and far-fetched, but he desires a little segregation from imperial’s noah and film graduate, noah han since an idol life is not forever. he doesn’t think (potentially want) to last as a singer.

IDOL IMAGE

at first glance, noah has a little too much POIZN in him than 99 appreciates. perhaps, it’s the careless tattoo (more to come) on his inner forearm he got when he was sixteen and reckless that has directors and managers scratching their heads on what to possibly do with him. he, himself, is very little help to the cause. for most his life, noah has lived under the direct, communist law of someone else. he was never his own person, always skirting on the edge of uncertainty. so, they have a lot to work with, but they can also mould him to whatever stereotype they want.

the bad boy. 

the romantic. 

the ice prince.

they go with that—ice prince. play up his own personality to draw in fans. he has the face, the aura, the rare smile that catches cameras and goes viral. noah is an enigma, really. but that’s probably the polite way of saying he doesn’t have much of anything to begin with. he’s raw but viciously trained by a family that cared too much of image and structure than well-being and nurture. his natural rigidness is construed as mysterious, cold to the touch but alluring. he doesn’t reek of danger, but he draws people in. apparently. 

they want to know more.

except he doesn’t have much to offer. he’s quiet, cool and keeps to himself most of the time. so, the image placed on him works. he’s no prince charming, but a deity close to it. 

the charade is easy to maintain. just don’t talk and look and smile after keeping fans on the edge of their seat. not speaking much was added because his korean was crummy. standing around was amplified because he looked good in dazzling hair colours. and smiling, well, fan-service has to be thrown in to pacify and quell thirst. and honestly, noah does a pretty stellar job at preserving the mask. 

no one sees the broken boy nursing invisible wounds with alcoholic vices. he slips under the radar. 

maybe it has something to do with no one truly noticing him, anyway. so he assumes. 

maybe that has everything to do with it.

IDOL HISTORY

(triggers: death, physical abuse, alcoholism)

life starts with the death of his mother. 

the doctors say it was complications with giving birth. that she received an infection they couldn’t catch in time. and it wasn’t his fault at all. 

except that’s not what his father says. 

his father is a cold, ruthless man. one heartbroken and angry his wife was traded in for a son he didn’t quite want. noah learns early on in childhood, parents and family don’t have to love you. it’s not a perquisite. 

gold coast, australia is a battle to see which family in the korean community bests the rest. although, his father may not like him or see much worth in a toddling four year old sucking his thumb, noah is displaced in various academies to be a trophy his father can show off. that’s all he ever is, really, a possession only of value if he was gold. 

he never is gold, though. 

try as he might, noah doesn’t win piano competitions, is dropped early from spelling bees, fails to make it onto academic teams. he’s always an almost. he’s always not good enough. and his father preys on his frequent inadequacy, thinking a leather belt to the skin of an eight year old can teach something. 

it doesn’t. 

the last shot he has at making an impression, at receiving some kind of paternal love, is through choir. his father is a religious man, one that attends mass every sunday in his best attire. when a position opens up, noah is tossed in yet another gamble with his life on the line. family friends of equal snooty façades glower at the boy incapable of anything. but what comes out of his mouth aren’t keys off note or flat but angelic hymns of someone who has finally found their niche. 

thirteen, and noah is all about singing and music and even dancing. he sings at choir both at church and at school and even convinced his father to sign him up for modern dance (anything to get them away from one another). because as noah gets older, the more he and his father father butt heads. he’s becoming a threatening omega to his father’s alpha. but collision is momentarily stalled when they get a phone call. his grandfather is ill, and they need to go back home.

but seoul, south korea isn’t home to noah. it’s a foreign, concrete jungle of people he can’t understand and barely communicate with. at school, he’s an outcast, unable to fit in anywhere. but what’s new, really?

the one thing that remains the same is the music. and he finally meets people through this mutual appreciation. comrades who teach him of the idol industry and being completely saturated in song. well, they were fifteen and foolish then, thinking entertainment worked in such a manner. thinking it was that easy. 

it wasn’t. 

auditions were brutal. and the only way his father agreed to him parading on stage if he didn’t let his education become affected. so, noah balances tryouts and eventual training at 99 with school, hoping he’d graduate on the honour roll because his father can and will pull him out if he failed to do so. sleep slowly turns to privilege with so little time in the day to practice and study. he can’t do both; it’s impossible. 

but he does so, anyway.

perhaps why 99 chose him and kept him. he is more work than play. they like his work ethic, like that he tortures himself for a good result because in his life, that’s all that really mattered to anyone. being a trophy. being gold. being somebody to showoff. 

he’s a thing, an object others can they do as they please. long story short, he’s perfect for the industry he has morphed into a slave for.

early on, however, noah realizes being boasted as some medal comes with very little incentives. when one member leaves imperial, it confirms the lingering doubt into something factual. 

like all idols, he is only human, who easily falls into the lures and temptations of the vices that come with fame. or that’s his excuse for relying on alcohol and a warm-body to be late night companions. because as friendly as noah can be under the influence, he is very distrusting, aloof and can probably count a total of three close friends on one hand (not including his members). and that’s okay, right? he’s used to being in the slum of loneliness.

besides, less people to hurt him.

he confuses friendship with lust and submerges himself in a false sense of love because he’s never felt it. not once. and it scares him. so, he builds walls and hides behind a constructed façade all idols must have. he runs from problems and frankly, pretends they don’t exist because it’s easier to say he’s okay whilst pouring another glass of whiskey then explaining to others he wasn’t. because he’s an apparently talented, well-rounded idol, and no one will ever believe he’s unhappy.

he has no reason to be, right?

yet he’s overworked and on the brink of exhaustion. juggling the ideals of his father, the ideals of the contract he signed his soul to (fifteen year old noah couldn’t have seen this coming) and the ideals of his fans takes a toll on him. noah is an empty shell of himself, but he always was living his life for someone else. even now, working as idol is less about himself but more about the company, the group, the supporters. never about the actual person within the idol. 

in a desirable life, in a different reality, noah has this vision of fruity sunsets and royal midnights. if music was once his escape but now what binds him, he tumbles into the beauty of film, where anyone can be anything they so please. another distraction, another distorted reality he’s transfixed on. it can only end wrongly, but noah is desperate to find himself, to grow and be just noah han. 

a part of him is thankful his father forced his nose into books because he wouldn’t have made it into korea national university of the arts without it. wouldn’t have graduated, albeit slower than most (because he is imperial’s noah first), in cinematography without it. but now what? his father still belittles him and his choices. 

supposedly, noah is doing all he loves and has a passion for yet he doesn’t feel adequate. yet he’s still struggling, lost, finding himself in the whirlwind of life. 

born to a dying mother, a heartless father, noah’s actual endgame goal is to live a life that will give justice to his mother and make his father proud. 

so far, he’s failing and falling.

and here is to another shot of whiskey to soothe the pain away. 

he can’t please anyone. not even himself.

[idolizenews]

SURPRISE TEASER ANNOUNCES IMPERIAL TO COME BACK NEXT WEEK

1. [+ 1,915 , - 532 ] ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ Hey 99 you really think we’re just going to forget about that KD kid like this? Stop trying to cover it~ Just kick him off~      -- I’m so tired of having to tell everyone the police found nothing... he didn’t do anything.. 2. [+ 1,689 , - 427 ] F*cking annoying, I missed them so much but this feels rushed and now all the comments are about POIZN ㅠㅠㅠㅠ  3. [+ 1,205 , - 342 ] It’s almost been a year since Imperial’s last comeback and this is how they’re doing it??? 99 is so obvious.... 4. [+ 886 , - 107 ] I don’t care about anything else, I’m excited to get more music from them, lets ignore everything else imps and just keep streaming when the song comes out!!       -- ㅋㅋ That’s what 99 wants you to do, stupid 5. [+ 493 , - 82 ] Everyone’s talking like they’re so disappointed or want to boycott and not listen when it drops, but I bet my life it’s going to top the charts anyway ㅎㅎ

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S MAIN VOCAL SEJOO…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 16 SKILL POINTS: 14 VOCAL | 10 DANCE | 00 RAP | 11 PERFORMANCE SECONDARY SKILLS: Music production (r&b)

INTERVIEW

“i need this.”

it wasn’t a secret that 99 entertainment didn’t have the best reputation, everybody knew and had heard about the scandals surrounding poizn. sejoo was a trainee the first time he heard the rumours, it wasn’t hard to ignore. every corner you turned, someone was talking about it. he could see the regular glum and frustrated expressions on everyone’s faces, he wasn’t stupid. he could see it all. but along with the rumours about poizn, came the rumours that 99 would soon be throwing a bunch of trainees into a survival show, a battle of war in order to find the best of the best, or the closest to the best they could get. he couldn’t deny that he spent extra hours practising when he heard. ‘maybe this could be my chance,’ he thought to himself. a chance at finally getting somewhere, even if it was a survival show. he was sixteen, forcing and pushing himself for hours on end to become better, to become one of the chosen ones. his sleeping schedule lessened, his bones continued to ache day after day. he wanted this. he needed this. he didn’t want to be a trainee forever, to never debut. it already happened once, back in his old company. he had spent years being mistreated, not taken seriously with them, and if this was the one chance he could get at debuting, then he was going to put his all in.

although, he had doubts. he had his days where he wondered if they would even think that he would be a possible option. but somehow, whether it was luck or pity, he was chosen and it was a step closer to his dreams.

he fought long and hard on the survival show, and truth be told, he did feel bad. he felt bad when some trainees were scolded, when some didn’t make the cut. but at the end of the day, this wasn’t a way to make friends. this was a survival show, people were competing. not everybody would make it to the end, to the final product. so he knew that he had to toughen up, he couldn’t be the soft and kind guy he was, and maybe that would be part of his downfall. his mind was so engrossed in the game, for the prize that he partly lost himself along the way. he wasn’t the sweet and happy-go-lucky guy he was, instead, he had become someone who was greedy, someone who fed off the failure of others. he didn’t like who he had become, he didn’t like the image he had painted himself to be, the image that others would view him as. he didn’t want to be seen as that guy.

but it got him to where he was now, right? he was chosen, and imperial was formed. sejoo was one of the chosen, and he couldn’t have been more happy.

he didn’t stay happy for long, because before he knew it, he was quickly thrown into the spotlight, a debut that he wasn’t fully ready for. he had just been thrown into the limelight and he was lost. confused, struggling to fully settle his feet on the ground, to feel content. he didn’t feel secure. it was obvious to him that 99 had just thrown them to the audience to cover up the mess that poizn had created, imperial were being used as a band aid. and he was frustrated. they deserved better than that.

sejoo deserved better, especially after being forced to put up a front, to be someone he wasn’t. “it’s what the company want, it’s what they think is best.” he’d always tell himself, in hopes that it would justify it. they wanted him to be a distinctive mark within the group, someone who was fierce, someone who gave off a powerful vibe — one that was strong enough for people to turn a blind eye at the mess poizn had made. they wanted him to be tough, to lustful. they wanted his stage persona to match with his deep and unique voice, a sensual match.

but that wasn’t him. behind doors, he was nowhere near that. he was a softie, someone who’s smile could brighten the room up immediately, someone who was deep and had many layers to them. energetic, playful, compassionate, affectionate, witty — all things that he couldn’t show on stage. and he hated it.

he wasn’t lee sejoo of imperial to the public. he was a fake. a smirk and a few finger hearts made him someone who the audience would fawn over, and although the attention was nice, it wasn’t him. it’s difficult for him, because the image that he’s forced to portray on stage means that first encounters with people, other idols, staff etc meant that they expected him to be that person.

did he still have to live it up then?

he was thankful to be one of the lucky ones who were more private and sneaky with their personal life, which meant that he was never involved in any scandals like some of his label mates. ‘kudos to you,’ a regular praise he’d tell himself followed by a small tap on the back.

not even six months later, he was faced with the devastating news that one of their members left. he wanted to feel angry, he wanted to feel vexation, he wanted to feel the way his other group members were feeling — and he did. yet, all of those emotions were overpowered by the sadness, the feeling of pure loss. he felt disconsolate. but it wasn’t all because one of his members left. it began a cycle of negative thoughts that would constantly run through his mind.

is this it?”

“are we going to be a let down?”

“have we failed?”

he felt emotionless when the company told them that they were putting them on a hiatus. ‘this is it,’ he thought. ‘this is the end.’ they weren’t told how long, so he had nothing to look forwards to. he didn’t know when they were coming back, if they were coming back. that’s when he began to grow really resentful towards the company. he blamed them, they were the reason for this mess. ‘maybe if they managed their artists better—‘ he’d say to himself. ‘maybe if they didn’t make us feel like the last thing they cared about—‘ he’d think as he lay in bed staring at his dull wall at three in the morning.

but he tries not to let it stop him. he’s hard working, he’s diligent, he’s warm-hearted, he’s loyal, he’s optimistic that imperial will come back, stronger than ever. because, although they may be a band aid for 99’s mess, sejoo was dedicated to making the most of imperial.

BIOGRAPHY

i. — “could i do it?”

seoul at night was one of sejoo’s favourite places to be. his home life wasn’t that exciting, to be honest, it was rather boring. he didn’t have the strongest bond with his mother growing up, and with his father passing away when he was eight months — you could say that his family wasn’t the strongest. he leant to mostly live by himself, rarely seeing his mother, only when he would be heading out for school and his mother would be coming home from a night shift at the hospital. just the occasional quick catch up chat, his mother never failing to remind him to take a piece of fruit with him. ‘at least she cares that much.’ he’d mutter to himself as he walked to school munching on an apple.

his school life wasn’t much to brag about either, the only thing he really could brag about was the fact that he would always be one of the top students in his music class, but even then,

was it worth bragging about if he had nobody to brag to?

“why are you always in the music room during lunch?” he could recall one of the older students ask him, and sejoo’s simple response was, “because i have no friends.”

ii. singing on the streets became a daily routine for the boy. there was just something about that freedom, the praise he got for a voice he never quite knew he had, the smiles and beams on strangers face as something simple as his voice could make their day slightly better. a talent he didn’t think he could ever get far with, had quickly became something he relied on for some sense of happiness. sure, there was the slight fear that maybe, he never truly would get anywhere with it, but he refused to believe it at that moment in time. he spent months during the evening singing for people, until he slowly relocated to hongdae, a place where he knew there would be many eyes watching.

he was thirteen and just finished performing one night when he was scouted by a tiny, no name company, and at thirteen years old, he thought it was the best thing ever. he had no knowledge on companies, or the trainee life. with nobody to tell, no parental figure that he could go to that was actually around — he was stuck. confused.

he was lucky when he woke up one school morning to the sound of the front door opening, and he could remember jumping out of of bed and running downstairs to greet his mother as she sunk into a chair in the kitchen as she waited for the kettle to boil. he could remember it clearly, how the conversation went. he could remember telling his mother about the sudden news, so excited and happy, only for his mother to turn around and tell him,

iii. — “you’re too young.”

it was safe to say that he could quite literally feel his heart drop, and the immediate rise of anger flooded through him as he whined and pleaded, yet it still didn’t change anything. so off he went to school that day, glum face, short tempered and ultimately — upset.

he spent the day sulking like a little baby, cooped up in the corners of each class during his lessons as he let his thoughts wander to what it would be like to be a trainee, to debut, be an idol. sejoo’s wasn’t one to really dwell on things for long, but this was something he really wanted to pursue. something that would be exciting in his boring excuse of a life.

it was a few days later of sejoo’s ignoring his mother that she finally urged him to sit down and listen to her, and after glaring at her for a few moments, he huffed and sat down.

that day, he went to school jumping with joy and an explosive grin on his face. after some thinking, his mother agreed to let him become a trainee, and a few days later, the contract was signed and he was officially a trainee.

iv. — “is this worth it?”

joining a new, no name company at the age of thirteen wasn’t something shoji thought he would do. neither did he think he would be training for two years, only to slowly realise that he would never debut. at least, not with this company. they had no money, nothing to their name. a few old practice rooms that were way below the ground, that weren’t in the best state — but it had mirrors. a dance floor, and the odd microphone, and that’s all he needed.

it was humorous, really. sejoo chose to become a trainee so that his life wasn’t classed as ‘boring’ anymore, yet, becoming a trainee to a no name company didn’t change much either. it wasn’t something to boast about, because nobody really cared whether you were a trainee or not unless you were with one of the big companies. though, he didn’t want to lose hope, so he pushed himself further and further, but it wasn’t like the company cared about him. he’d dread going to practice, he knew they’d just shout at him because ‘he wasn’t doing enough’, because his vocals weren’t ‘stable enough’. they’d class him as useless, the most untalented kid out of them all that would get nowhere. and sadly, part of him believed it. two years iof being fed insults, being pushed to beyond, so much that he wore himself out to the point where he considered that, maybe having a normal life would be better than this.

maybe he just wasn’t meant to debut.

v. he spent two years being treated poorly, so poorly that part of him was genuinely scared to go to practice. he didn’t want to be verbally abused, pushed to the extent where his body and vocals just couldn’t take it. but he couldn’t turn around and  ask them to stop, so instead, he took it like a champ.

but was it worth it?

being treated like he was nothing, the dirt on the bottom of their shoes — did he deserve it? he thought becoming a trainee would put him on the path to becoming an idol, the path to finally being something, but instead, the boy was greeted with foul language and confidence that was battered out of him.

he was fifteen when he left his old company, and back on the streets in hongdae he was once again. with a tiny voice that was once belting and hitting amazing notes, was now scared and worried of rejection — you could hear it in his voice. it was a few weeks later when he got scouted once again, but this time, by a company he had heard of before.

should be take it?

he was afraid. worried. if he takes this offer, would he land himself back in the same position he was before? or would he actually get somewhere, and be treated better?

it was a risk, but was it one he was willing to take.

vi. sejoo did take the risk. months later, now sixteen years old and officially a trainee for 99 entertainment. he was happier, somewhat. he was being treated better to an extent, although he still pushed himself to the limit. it was a habit he couldn’t get out of after spending two years being verbally abused.

long hours, sleepless nights — all common for the sixteen year old trainee. but those long hours and sleepless nights increased with the quick rumour of the survival show.

he was one of the lucky ones, chosen and thrown into the show, ready to be picked and prodded at by the general public. ready to be put against the other competitors, ready to let the inner feelings of desire, fear, hope, pressure, excitement — to let it all out, become a different person, to show a side of him that nobody had ever seen before.

he wasn’t going to let himself be stepped all over again.

he was going to fight.

vii. he was chosen, and imperial was formed. but before he could let the fact that he was actually a step further than he was a few years ago, he was thrown into the spotlight. a rushed debut, one he couldn’t quite grasp with the tips of his fingers. but he had to fake the confidence, had to fake the feeling of content.

they weren’t even six months into their debut when they lost a member. having had just released, and then having a member willingly leave not long after, really messed with sejoo.

he was angry, frustrated, indignant, hurt, upset, even offended.

were they not good enough? were imperial that displeasing that they pushed a member away? or was it something else?

sejoo knew that the members weren’t the closet, it was difficult to be close when you were rushed of your debut and you all knew that you were only a simple band aid for another groups mess.

but it sucked for him, because deep down, he truly did want to have a bond with his members. he truly did want to have a chemistry with them, to have a family that he never had before.

but the likelihood of that was very slim. and it was even more slim when they were forced onto hiatus.

and back came the anxiety, the fear, anger, resentment. it all came back, and he was terrified.

would they ever come back?

viii. they were on hiatus for close to two years, and of course, sejoo was bored. what was there for him to do other than practice for hours on end?

if he couldn’t do anything other than practice, then maybe he could delve into something else to keep himself occupied as he waited for their hiatus to end.

and so he threw himself into the world of music production. he had a bit of money from the sales of their debut, so using some of that to pay for the equipment, he set up his own little corner and headphones on. working day and night, figuring out how certain things worked, what they were used for.

it had quickly become something he enjoyed, and due to their hiatus, they weren’t dropping content for their fans who were waiting for them so patiently. so with permission, he would occasionally drop some songs every now and then.

at least there were some of their imps around.

ix. with the announcement of their comeback, sejoo worked hard. he had missed their imps and performing, and despite only being formed as a clean up for poizn’s mess, he wanted to make something of imperial.

he didn’t want them to be seen as what they were made for, he refused to. they were worth more than that.

x. they finally had a comeback, after two years. and nothing could have wiped the massive and beaming grin off his face as he waved to their fans who stayed for them, waited. kisses, finger hearts, teary eyes, a throat that was closing up on him from the overwhelming bundle of emotions — and then he’s crouching over, sinking to the floor, hands covering his face and the tears begin flowing, harsh sobs leaving his body. filled with every emotion he had felt during their hiatus, every bit of pain and torture that he was put through, this was it. they were back.

and hopefully for a long time.

[idolizenews]

IMPERIAL WELCOMES SUMMER WITH ‘EVERYDAY’

1. [+ 1,851 , - 372 ] The song is one thing, but what is the choreography ㅋㅋ F*ck I bursted out laughing when they started flopping around 2. [+ 1,569 , - 258 ] I feel so bad for them, you can tell this was so rushed.. they’ve been cleaning up poizn’s mistakes since debut, it’s totally bullsh*t  3. [+ 1,036 , - 121 ] Every day day every every day ~~ Isn’t it so catchy though?? It’s a perfect song for summer 4. [+ 767 , - 97 ] Ah I really missed them so much ㅠㅠㅠㅠ Your imps will keep streaming!! Let’s do well Imperial! ♡♡ 5. [+ 410 , - 65 ] Just like I thought, everyone acted angry and still went off and listened to it anyway ㅋㅋㅋㅋ This is why 99 keeps getting away with everything you fools

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S MAIN VOCAL CHEOL…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 26 DEBUT AGE: 21 SKILL POINTS: 22 VOCAL | 06 DANCE | 03 RAP | 09 PERFORMANCE SECONDARY SKILLS: Intelligence

INTERVIEW

despite having been chosen as a member by a public vote, cheol was at first considered the visual hole of the group. some spread online rumours that the voting was rigged and that the group had been set before filming had even started; others defended his position due to the talent and drive he demonstrated through the show. either way, the discussions subsided as he’s grown into himself over the years.

cheol, having made a point of not advertising his family’s background while competing on the show, was then instructed by the company that they’d rather he played it up. he took on the role of the intellectual of the group - son of two esteemed academics, who had the brains and means to pursue that path but opted instead to do music. in order to fit this properly cheol had to relearn whatever fun trivia questions that might be asked on shows to “prove” his intelligence or that might be good to show off with. he studied until late at night, memorizing the order of korea’s kings, learning english grammar rules, and practicing his mental math. after the initial frustration of having to stay up late to study, he’s warmed up to the image - after all, it’s not the worst reputation someone could have, and he did inherit enough smarts that things stuck more or less easily.

most recently, 99 entertainment has instructed him to publicly act in more of an affectionate-older-brother manner towards the company’s younger artists. even though imperial is 99′s most recently debuted group, cheol is currently among the oldest of the active artists in the company. he tends to be a warm person, but this is a difficult role for him to play, especially towards the members of poizn. he’s protective over his members and it has become easier and easier to resent poizn for repeatedly making messes that then imperial is sent to clean up. for a while it was manageable since imperial was the more popular group and could usually overshadow whatever scandal their sunbaes had gotten into, but with poizn’s recent spike of success cheol is beginning to worry that when they mess up, they’ll mess up harder than ever, and imperial could get hurt from the collateral damage. in the meantime, he smiles and ruffles hair and cracks jokes in front of the public, and keeps it civil when the cameras are off.

BIOGRAPHY

on october 23rd, 1991, sunwoo cheol was born. his parents, both in their early forties, had been worried for a long time that they would always be childless; when his mother finally got pregnant, they were warned by countless doctors and professionals that the child may not make it to term. cheol, all 5.9 lbs of him, was a miracle.

he grew up quickly, and was raised to love books and learning. he looked forward to his first day of elementary school for months, crying and whining when his older cousins got to wake up early and wear uniforms and sit at desks while he had to stay at home. he read from an early age, learned to write quickly, and when he finally did start going to school, he was already ahead of his classmates. that didn’t change anything, though - he loved just being there, and relished the classroom.

over the years, he stayed at the top of the class. he was well-liked and popular, having a reputation for being kind and generous with his help. everything seemed to always go well for him, without the need for much effort. no one begrudged him, because he was just so unbearably nice. cheol kept studying, kept succeeding, but after some years of going to school it became less… exciting. more work. less fun.

but if cheol wasn’t a student, what was he? he’d never been anything else. he’d never been anything but a student. he’d never thought of a life beyond school - he was meant to follow in his mother’s shoes - she being the president of a prestigious seoul university - and stay in academia for his entire life. not so long ago that idea had thrilled him, the prospect of always learning and developing the minds and futures of others. now he had no idea where to go or what to do.

he continued to go through all the motions. he graduated from his mother’s private high school, he smiled, he did people favours and was kind. he did well in school, as always, and was student council president, all the while hiding the fog in his head.

cheol had always been good at singing, though. a gift supposedly handed down from his father’s mother’s part of the family, cheol’s voice was naturally crisp and clear, smooth and soothing. it was something he was lucky to have and to enjoy, but it was meant to just be a hobby - a fun fact about himself, a party trick. cheol decided to throw all that out the window when he came across a poster advertising auditions for a new entertainment company and signed up on a whim. what could the danger be? he wanted to see how far this voice could take him.

it was easy enough to hide his auditions from his parents. it was impossible, however, to hide his contract.

at this point he was eighteen and his parents could not stop him from cancelling his enrollment at his mother’s university and going off to train for an uncertain future with kids many years younger than him. he joined 99 entertainment shortly after its founding and struggled from day one. his singing voice was fine for karaoke or to show off to family friends, but it was far from professional quality and, being older than the other trainees, it was much harder to break bad habits and form new ones. but after years of being good at everything he hated not being good at this, and most of all, hated the thought of how his parents would react at his failure. he, their pride and joy, who gave up everything they had given him. he trained until he was dizzy, practiced until he bled. his combination of natural talent, hard work, stubborn pride, and a bit of charm eventually paid off when at the end of a gruelling survival show he was selected to debut as the strongest vocalist in a vocally demanding group.

currently, he’s more or less happy about imperial’s direction. their sound is solid and when they do get to promote, they get good responses. his biggest concern is that a lack of promotion means he’s less busy, and when he’s less busy he can feel that old aimless, uninspired feeling that haunted him and drove him to join this industry return, bit by bit. now that he’s proven himself to his parents his main motivation to push himself has waned and become less effective. work distracts him from it, and without it he begins to feel antsy and distracted. even worse is that his enlistment is approaching - after which he’s afraid he’ll either come back completely disinterested in being an idol, or he’ll come back ready to work and the public will have completely forgotten about him.

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S LEAD VOCAL JET…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 20 SKILL POINTS: 18 VOCAL | 09 DANCE | 00 RAP | 13 PERFORMANCE SECONDARY SKILLS: Hosting

INTERVIEW

cold-hearted and reserved is the first impression you get from jaehwa- no, jet. most commonly known as the member who gives ice cold stares that cut straight to your soul, or someone that is practically void of all happy feelings (which is not true). he’s the mysterious one, always leaving you second guessing what he’s thinking or what he’s feeling because its hard to tell just from looking at him. 99 entertainment didn’t find it hard to keep jaehwa the way he normally was, only adding to his mysterious image by making him seemingly ooze confidence. said confidence found in the way he acts on stage, with his serious eyes and focused expressions and the way it almost seems like the stage had been made specifically for him. out of all the members in imperial he’s the most serious mostly because he’s one of the eldest and feels compelled to act that way.

however despite the fans knowing him as the “colder one” of the group they have also come to notice that on second glance not everything is as it seems. when you look closer you can catch the glimpse of a small smile whenever it comes to his other members. or the way he’s caring and considerate to not only his members and other grouos but to his fans as well. always asking if they’re feeling okay or whether or not they have eaten for the day and always telling them to never give up their dreams.

he’s also the one to dote on his fellow members when they need it, or when they need to be pulled back down to earth again when their heads have been in the clouds for far too long. always making sure they have eaten or that they’re stood in the right position for dancing or even giving them subtle skinship and bursts of affection when they need it — a true mother figure within the group.

BIOGRAPHY

kim jaehwa does not consider himself to be lucky.

not when he forgot his umbrella at school one day and got caught in a down pour, or when he sprained his ankle playing football after he’d tripped over the ball or even when he watched as his fellow trainee’s much younger then he was debuted first.

he’d be lying if he said it didnt bother him. the way the company promised he’d debut soon and that whenever he asked being shot down immediately and given the same overused excuses of : “you’re not ready yet” or “your voice isn’t quite there yet just wait a bit longer”. at first he’d work harder in the hopes that he could prove 99 entertainment wrong, show them that he was ready and that he was willing to do anything. his drive for ambition almost pushing him to his limits. what he wanted more then anything was to be on stage, to sing songs that made his fans happy and to show them that he was strong and could overcome anything.

theres a moment of realisation within him that no matter how hard he works the company will not budge, they had plans for him but not till the future. so he pulls back. waits patiently until its his time to stand in the spotlight and make a name for himself.

his dream to be an idol had all started when his mother told him his singing voice was like an angels. asking him to sing for her whenever he could because it soothed her. it made jaehwa warm inside and happily complied to her wishes. however in a cruel twist of fate, jaehwa’s mother fell ill and as a result passed away one year later.

an eleven year old jaehwa is distraught, after all the bond that he had with his mother was dear to him and was a bond that was not mirrored with his father. he had respect for his old man but they were not close in the way he and his mother was, however its the words that his father say that push him to become an idol.  “your voice will always reach out to her and she will be smiling from heaven, listening to your voice and cheering for you.” the words remaining in his mind and severing as a reminder for why he was pushing through the hardships that trainee life offered, keeping him on the rocky path towards becoming an idol.

talent shows, auditions and any opportunity to showcase his voice, jaehwa was there. matter how far away it was or how hard it was to get to (his father telling him to just stick to seoul as that was his best chance). he was determined to get into a company and work towards debuting not only for himself but his mother as well. he worked hard on training his voice, father doing what he could to get his son singing lessons and taking him to the events. eventually the hard work paid off and he was scouted at the tender age of fourteen, eyes bright and sparkling and ready for the next stage in his journey.

trainee life was hard.

he’d heard rumours and whispers about just how bad trainee life was and how hard it was to actually debut. jaehwa just thought it was other peoples way of scaring off any candidates that couldn’t hack being a trainee but he was wrong, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t struggle (he did) hitting rock bottom when he’d been a trainee five years later and still hadn’t debuted. to anyone else it would be enough to give up, but to jaehwa it was everything to him. the thought of his voice reaching out to his mother the only thing keeping him sane.

however 2013 finally brings happiness in the best way with the company announcing to the five boys they would become the brand new group, imperial. jaehwa couldn’t believe his eyes, finally he was going to be an idol after years of waiting. it almost didnt feel real to him and the smile on his face was even harder to stop. however his dreams are put on hold when a member with the group going on a two year hiatus.

the time away was good for jaehwa, who now went by the idol nickname of jet. it allowed him to really work on himself as an idol. making sure that he could be someone his fans, members and his parents were proud of. but most importantly working towards  becoming an idol that no one will forget.

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S MAIN RAP, LEAD VOCAL SON JIYONG...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 26 DEBUT AGE:  21 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 19 COMPANY: 99 Ent. ETC: this member is known for their work with lyrics and production.

IDOL IMAGE

he’s an eccentric paradigm.

jiyong is full of a youthful gleam, charming and saccharine but also wickedly sinful. it’s a dichotomy between two opposing characteristics that somehow suits his boyish image. the way hard-hitting raps spill from his mouth to the timings of his cheesy winks that arouse excitement from the crowd. 99 entertainment composes him in a way that’s unforgettable. they want him to shine enough to burn the mirage of his beaming, playful grins, and his half-lidded sultry stares into the minds of those who take a glance at imperial. just enough to keep them hooked onto the taste, yet never completely fulfilled by the portion; their affair with the rapper further evolving into a heated addiction. his image is one of a tease, someone who stands out in a way that brings the audience crawling back for more.

loud laughter and charming habits are part of this persona that helps him appeal to younger fans who see their high school crush in his mannerisms, but also the older adults reminiscing their passing youth. with his aggression stifled to appear as power instead; his obsessive drive conducted into the disposition of passion, he’s just a reckless romantic making love through the design of various lyrics and slanted stares. jiyong can just as easily be the mischievously, enticing performer as he can the boy-next-door. the pattern of inky designs sprawled on his skin serving as a suitable accessory to his bright smiles; something a little bolder to counteract all the sweetness. he could make anything seem okay.

people tend to gravitate towards him, feeling as though they know him. he gives away just enough information to build those gentle connections and just enough distance that his conversations follow the likeness of a person who is wholesome and genuine. jiyong is a quick-witted, enigmatic performer who never runs out of things to say.

he is a desire, previewing the rare hints of thrill with the flash of a pearly smile, curved like a cocky promise, bright with the hues of a faux cheekiness. he’s got an approachable expression, one that is attentive, full of comfort, yet he’s also dressed as a risk — a temptation to indulge. like a sigh, a soft ache. jiyong induces sensations of anticipation and yearning that never see their end. it’s like falling in love, or falling in sin — none can tell. all that remains is a blur of cascading moments; glimmering in hues of an effervescent youth, and devilishly frisky smirks. they only see the side leaning beyond the curtain, one that dares them to inquire further with the promise to be cherished.

IDOL HISTORY

1.0

trust is raw and vulnerable. their father displays it bluntly, unveiling the directions and avenues it unwinds into, displaying the safety and ease of restraining yourself from its reaches. he basks in an asylum of silence; physically near, yet thoughts and emotions cast off into the distance. he employs this method of convenience in raising his children — a laid-back stance — hardly present. after all, life is about selfishness; taking what your greed desires, and both boys flourish under that insistent mantra.

they find their father in intervals; bits of hope and passion stitched together, smoking a cigarette in the suffocating space of his recording studio. it’s an obsessive hobby, like his work. his business hasn’t been profitable for years, yet he remains bound to it like religion, bringing his children into its worship.

it’s where the essence of jiyong is forged; a fixation with words contrived. his formative years are forged by scarce memories of smoke and a heavy, exhausted voice guiding the inherited trait to the forefront of his personality. a focus is spent on poetry, on lyrics, and on the weight of certain words: how to say more than enough with much too little. two children grow up attuned to the sense of music in its complex existence and lonely absence. it’s something they experience often, but never well enough.  

2.0

it’s in his last weeks of high school that 99 entertainment greets him from the blue. initially, it’s a scouting call, yet his prisoning hobby finds a home in the career of a songwriter first. his youth is malformed, direction disjointed, but they fix that. they guide the rush of words that litter his pages and plague his mind. they turn shrapnel of ideas and mold them into solid concepts. jiyong slowly discovers his footing as a proper songwriter and a home for his musical ambitions. though it can hardly be called that. at that point, it’s an evolving obsession — a habit too hard to quit. there’s beauty in the arrangement of words, but what he writes still holds a bitter edge.

they don’t feel like him, and it’s been hard to tell that for a while, but it’s the kind of style 99 appreciates — the blatant honesty and insensitivity of his perspective. for a year, he’s left alone doing just that, yet what 99 wants and what jiyong needs are two different things, and they persuade him into the field they’d originally wanted him as. he joins a line-up of competitive, experiences trainees, thirsting for the chance he’d formerly denied.

it’s not that he’s unprepared — though he is, it’s that there’s obvious, lacking regard for the profession when he begins again, and the resentment that stems proves itself too difficult to ignore. he feels it creeping along his spine, digging inwards, sitting in his lungs; an inherent phantom swallowing the air he attempts to breathe. he isn’t accustomed to the company of scrutiny or the stares of spectators picking him apart for the skills in which he lacks.

prior to this, what he was was good enough for 99, but now he is the unworthy contender, unfairly picked while the rest were vetted through auditions and a long history of harsh evaluations. a combination of anger and anxiety follow him in every step. as his muscles are molded into the rhythm of dance, as the dissonance of his voice is battered into a pleasing style. yet jiyong continues in the endless pursuit. he’s never known how to quit.

2.1

the survival show is a slap in the face. jiyong’s doubtful in knowing if he desires this, but then again, he doesn’t digest passion like others; only dismissing his ambivalence as a hindrance attempting to undermine his resolve. by the time the results are announced, he’s an exhausted carcass; a shell cleaned hollow for public expectations and demands to fill. it’s part of the transition. investing bits and pieces of originality, sacrificing time and habits, all for the hope of a greater return and a rewarding reception.

he trains as the final installment to a boy-group; the unanticipated intruder; a thief that robbed others of their chance. in the archaic judgment of a man, he’d be one becoming; boy made machination. he may not be of others to possess and command, but he is also not his own and that fact begins to gnaw on him. the lack of control, the weight of unity and collective burden of individual mistakes — all wear him down faster than the criticisms.

jisoo reminds him it only gets better, but there’s a mass that is dragged by idols — a lie of perfection to be repeatedly told for the sake of consistency. it’s a skin-deep mirage to disguise the flaws that come with his character. like the fact that he’s riding on the back of a boy-group success to attain a solo career. even under the pretty make-up and the charming smiles, jiyong’s presence in the industry is littered with shifting fault lines.

2.2

when his brother passes late into the following year, the worst is brought forth in jiyong. self-destruction becomes his clingiest companion, and while he’s been its prized subject for years, it grows tenfold until he’s a vacant vessel with only misery as cargo. he tortures himself with the details of the death, forging guilt where there should exist none. it’s no surprise that among his other habits, he falls into rhythm with melancholia as well.

jiyong barely knew him. he spoke too much, yet his words never crossed the distance between them. he wasn’t as good with them as their father. he was more like their mother — saying too much in attempts to compensate the trembling discordance in the air. filling it with more insecurity than draining it of the crippling tension hanging in the walls of their paper home.

a tether he holds to the industry snaps and jiyong finds himself directionless. the feeling of powerlessness draws the reigns tighter around his neck, and his inability haunts him. still, he insists on carrying his burdens alone, confined to the walls of work as he tears into melodies, adding more to his schedule. as time passes and the routine of their dazzling life dulls into a mundane chore, he relies on this drive to keep him awake throughout their idol reign.

it’s tyrannical how he works, sights always settled on something more; greedy and obsessive, his tragic flaws fuelling his future successes. his personality is distorted between what is and isn’t authentic, and the dilemma of the blurring dichotomy boils under the surface of his gleaming smile. he ignores it. maybe he’s never known who he is, maybe it’s a knowledge he lost with his brother or something he’s yet to discover. but, upholding his charming facade is what’s currently convenient, so he folds into it and continues, bound to it like religion.

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S MAIN DANCE, LEAD RAP NA JUNSEO...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 26 DEBUT AGE: 21 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 14 COMPANY: 99 ETC: this member is a vocal/rap soloist and is involved in the lyrics/production of their songs

IDOL IMAGE

to be written in ink is to become immortal.

na junseo is the last to sign his contract. as ambitious as he is, he’s also careful and cautious, painfully aware that this might be his only chance. he’s already been passed up for a line up once, and he’ll be damned if he’s wasted seven years on nothing. he’s always played a role: the black sheep, the hassle of a younger brother, the hooligan son, the crazy street dancer. now he adds: the tsundere. chic. the face of the group. if there was one thing that was clear about his position in the group, one that hung over the table as the ink of his signature dried: he was to be committing his loyalty, and life, away to 99 entertainment. to imperial.

the charade is easy to maintain.

na junseo was blessed with a visual that draws people in, makes them look back on the streets, gush over him behind his back. he looks cold, a jaw that’s too sharp paired with doe eyes and a muscled body. at first, fans think he’s just an ice prince with stunning visuals. the type of male lead in a drama with a cold heart. it isn’t until he begins to appear on multiple variety shows that his duality shows. it’s clear that he’s still the male lead in a drama, yet he’s the one who lets out a smile that’s blinding and a personality that pulls you in deep. he’s charming, in the masculine way that leaves people flustered. he’s comedic, constantly telling overly exaggerated stories that cause others to call him out on it throughout fits of laughter. he’s friendly, clinging onto his members and posting idols from every group on his social media.

the public is quick to fall in love.

then, in true duality, a flip switches. on stage, he’s a completely different man. calculated movements, revealing clothing, cold stares and haunting smirks. it’s a persona so carefully constructed that he can’t dare step out of line. the most that there’s been is dating rumors attached to his name, but it never reaches a point to where it’s harmful to his image. in fact, it only adds to his appeal, has people wanting to see if the male is able to be snatched.

in the five years as an idol, he’s known for an almost perfectly clean image.

one day, the perfect mask might crack.

is immortality a blessing or curse?

IDOL HISTORY

             “the school called again, said you were dancing around in the halls instead of being in class,” it’s accompanied with a tired sigh. “this is the fourth call this month,” there’s a pause, the sound of hushed words and then a dish being thrown into the sink, maybe the thought to give up, the reality that words didn’t matter because nothing would change, “just, go to your room and do your homework. please.”

-

the still of the february sun setting into the night brings na junseo into this world, a winter baby with a terribly cold heart. he’s every parents dream, healthy. and maybe that was the problem, that he didn’t need to be taken care of or watched over like their other son, that he was the type to be easily forgotten.

he’s seven years old when he learns the feeling of running away. it’s freeing. he spends most of his nights escaping out of the small window in his room, running himself tired until he reaches the neighborhood park. it isn’t safe for a kid to roam through the unprotected streets of daegu, his mom would have a heart attack if she ever knew, and it wasn’t anything special, just a sandbox filled with broken down swings and rusty bars to swing on - but he had seen how a group of guys got together each night to dance their bones tired, the sounds of american music that he knew nothing of as their background and a love so deep. he can’t ask his parents for dance lessons, knew that the hole in the wall restaurant his parents ran didn’t make enough to fill a closet of toys, knew any extra money went to his brothers hospital bills, so instead he saddled up with the teenagers at the park. they taught him to dance, took him under their wings. it’s when he first learned to fly.

twelve years old comes with hormones, puberty resting in his bones and ready to spill into his blood when the time comes. it also comes with fights, against his brother and others who try to push him around for dancing. he was never one to tighten his lips, even to those older than him. he was never one to take a beating, always ready to swing back.

“why can’t you be more like your brother?” his mother sighs. it seems to be all she can do these days, at least when it comes to him. she dips the cloth into alcohol and presses it against the cut on his cheek. he had skipped school once again, went to attend a dance festival around daegu, and his father hadn’t been happy about it when he found out. “dancing is a hobby. your studies, your manners, those are more important.”

he dances his bones tired, sweats throughout every pore, each night until the morning sun peaks through the ground. his sleeping schedule is horrible for a thirteen year old, his ranking drops, the once top five of his class is now leaning towards double digits, and he begs his teachers to not call his parents, but that’s unavoidable when he can’t bother to make it to class.

“what do i have to do to make you go to class?” his mother begs one night at dinner. “please stop all of this dancing foolishness.”

the grip on his fork tightens but he doesn’t fight back. simply nods, mutters out an apology.

the bruise he gets is nothing compared to the drowning feeling when he sees deadbolts on his window.

-

silence wraps around the dinner table. he can see his brother trying not to laugh, disbelieving of the words that had shocked the room. he can see the anger in his father’s eyes, the familiar sight of a clenched jaw paired with furrowed eyebrows, the same face he makes every time he feels a bit more disappointed with the child he was given. and he can see his mother wrapping her hand around his father’s wrist, the smallest of smile on her lips, as a way to protect and comfort her second born. and there is a fraction of a second where he thinks that maybe he should take back his words. that maybe he is making a mistake. but he doesn’t. instead, he stares into his mother’s eyes. they’re getting a bit glazed, fearful, but he doesn’t waver. at fourteen years old he’s the boldest he’ll ever be. even if he’s fucking terrified inside he won’t let that show to his family.

“an idol? you auditioned to be an idol? you want to be an idol?”

another piercing laugh comes from his brother. his fingers curl into a fist.

“yeah.”

this time he hears a scoff from his father. his eyes never leave his mother’s.

“why?”

“why not?”

his father lunges for him across the table. his mother’s scream bounces off the walls. his brother stills, stares.

this is how the dam breaks.

it breaks with: his father staring at him with disgust written all over his face. with: forgetting everything his parents sacrificed so he could do well. with: spitting on the future they had hoped for him. with: knowing he would never measure up to those expectations. in the end he would just let them down. better to do so miles away than here. with: this house never feeling like a home.

it breaks with: his jaw stinging, a bruise blooming from the punch, eyes bare. with: his parents and him on different sides of the table, so far apart that even if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to reach out and grab them. with: waiting for his parents to disown him, waiting for his father to kick him out once and for all. for his father to call him ungrateful, an excuse of a son. with: being fourteen years old and, scared. scared. scared.

he says: i’m good at it. that’s why. i’m good at dancing. i might not know how to sing or how to rap, but i can dance. i can learn the other things. i will learn the other things. i love to dance, and i’m good at it, and whatever you guys do, or say, doesn’t matter because i’m leaving anyways.

he doesn’t say: i did this, i chose this, because i’m not sure there’s anything more to me than dance. i don’t know how to do anything besides dance. he doesn’t say: it’s good money. it can be good money. i can help you guys pay off your debts, and i can be more than just your hooligan son who dances in the hallways at school. he doesn’t say: i’m scared. i’m so scared. and i need you both to support me. i need to know if i fail i can come back and you both will still love me. he doesn’t say: please love me. just this once, please love me.

on a frozen night, that is how the dam breaks. he packs up his entire life, stuffs a grainy black and white photo into his pockets, and leaves behind everything. he makes a new life at seoul. it’s lonely, it’s frightening. he finds himself missing the smell of his mother’s cooking, and the way his older brother would slap at the back of his head when he arrived home from school as a form of greeting, and he misses the way his father would silently place more food on his plate at dinner even if his face remained cold. daegu wasn’t home but neither is seoul, and now he has to wonder whether he’ll ever find a home or if it’s just a foreign concept he’ll always crave.

the years pass. he wishes, and wishes, and wishes. he’s bright eyed and an idiot when he joins his first company. midas, the golden touch. but all he felt was a darkness and multiple stabs in his back. he quickly realizes there is never a time to rest. there’s: sleeping in the dance studio. there’s: saving up money to buy a hot meal instead of convenience store ramen. there’s: never being enough. there’s struggle. his trainers say that it’ll make a beautiful story some day. his gut twists at thinking of having to endure hell for a story. fuck stories, he thinks, it has turned into an entire series of novels. midas is particularly hard, almost like a weight on his back that won’t let up. he knew this coming in though, thinks he can tough it out. was told promises of debuting with their upcoming boy group if he just worked a bit harder, rapped a bit quicker. it was nothing new, the feeling of coming up just short from enough, but he was determined. in the end, he leaves. it’s easy to escape a place that feels a little too much like the home he once ran away from. 99 entertainment, the scandalous. it’s not a good career move, they tell him. i’ll make it one, he replies. there is still the the remnants of the broken dam, the pieces forging a hole in his being. his trainee years are spent wearing his body down, praying for more even if he isn’t sure what that more is. if it’s making it with midas, or moving to 99, or a survival show, or debut.

-

then he debuts as a soloist. he doesn’t think it should be him. tells his company to reconsider, that the other members would do a better job. there hasn’t been a break out moment for him, not really. at least the others contribute to the group, produce and write. all he’s done is look pretty and go on a bunch of variety shows even if there’s no substance there. but it isn’t a conversation, it’s an order. he’s going to be the soloist for the group and if his members hate him for it, well he has to suck it up and not let that show on camera. and he’s expected to write his own stuff. the others can do it, they press, you should be able to as well. it’s a warning. don’t disappoint. he’s forced to write down his truths into songs and hand them over to the company. he’s expected to go on variety, he’s expected to bring in money, he’s expected to play the role they’ve given him.

the first song goes okay. it isn’t instant success, though how could he expect it to be when imperial still hasn’t reached that point either? the group comes before his solo career, he’s made that known well enough that the next year he doesn’t release anything as a soloist. when he finally does release another single, this one feeling a lot more secure, it’s a different reaction. he’s grown a large following, variety appearances out the door, credited on the last two comebacks, and more people tune in to his comeback. it makes his ceo smile, the shareholders smile, his manager smile so he figures he’s done well. keep a good image, make sure the public likes you, his company says, and you can continue to succeed.

it’s what he wanted, isn’t it? he’s just lying to himself, wearing a mask for the world to see.

there’s never been a way to differentiate who he is apart from his job. he isn’t sure who he is anymore, if there even is a him to be. he isn’t sure if he is more than his concept, than his group, than the money he makes. he isn’t sure if it’s worth it. there is a blurred line that he is close to crossing, the one that lets go of na junseo trying to find his way back to the neighborhood park. maybe one day he’ll learn.

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S LEAD VOCAL, LEAD DANCE LEE YOUNGMIN...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 19 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 18 COMPANY: 99 SECONDARY SKILL: Photography

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): youngyoung, little tiger, simba. INSPIRATION: when he was younger, youngmin used to watch music shows and fell in love with music. his first dream was to be a solo-ist, but he shifted to being into an idol group in his teenage years. he was inspired by the old, legendary idols such as gemini and power. SPECIAL TALENTS:

knows how to draw very well.

knows how to cook and is well known for it.

can hold his alcohol very well - always the last man standing.

NOTABLE FACTS:

born and raised in imjado, only left the island once and it was when he went to seoul to try being an idol.

knows how to fish, used to do it with his grandpa and sell it in his store.

made the news due to his good looks, back when he was a teenager in imjado. 

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

for the time being, youngmin is completely focused on imperial and in achieving newer and higher things with them. he doesn’t like the way his group is stuck in this mid-place: not really up there, but not completely in the bottom, the way success is there but not really, not properly. youngmin wants them to be on the level of olympus, atlas. he dreams of a hit, of something that makes them memorable, of a breakthrough.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

his long-term goal is for imperial to become a group known as a legend. to reach the top with them and, hopefully, that when they come to their end they do so gracefully and while still doing well. he wants imperial to be a household name, a group that not only 99 would be proud, but the whole country. and of course, youngmin also wants things for himself. he wants to be more well known, he wants his name to get out there. though he still doesn’t know what path he’d walk just yet.

IDOL IMAGE

youngmin had the perfect image for an idol and the weirdest for 99.

his scouting had little to do with talent, and he knew it from the start. even though he looked the part, sort of, youngmin had never been dull. he knew that his front door for the idol world would be his visuals, and he took his opportunity well.. he was good enough in the way most kids can be good enough with practice. lots of it, in his case, but whatever. 99 wasn’t his first choice, he tried for midas three times, but when they scouted him of course he said yes. even if he looked like an odd one out in 99, his lines too soft, his smile too genuine. 99 most of the time went for kids who looked like they could break things, not that they could be broken. and youngmin very much like he could be broken.

and maybe that was their whole idea back when they approached him in the streets of hongdae, right after youngmin left his shift in the restaurant he was working. they wanted to get someone who looks fresh, young, naive. someone who can smile and makes things better just by doing so. he can do that, he thinks and people have told them that. he’s had clients in the fish shop back in imjado and clients in this very restaurant tell him that very same thing. and 99 thinks so too, and that’s what matters. so they put him into their new group, maybe trying to balance out poizn’s image, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t care even if he is unprepared as hell at the height of his nineteen years of age, he still goes and does as he’s told. he laughs at jokes, he looks pleasant. he acts stupid, innocent. they want him to go deep into the whole country boy’s image, someone who doesn’t know how the big city works, someone who gets lost while walking around the streets, someone who needs his members to know things. and fans latch to that image easily, love him for it. you’re so cute youngmin, they’d say in fanmeetings and youngmin would smile, proud. happy. he doesn’t care much that his image is not the most flattering.

at first.

he pretends, then. pretends he doesn’t know things, pretends being dense for laughter. sure, he had never been the smartest boy in the bunch but he’s not this stupid. and the whole thing grows worse. fans talking about him talking with girls, making it look as if he doesn’t even know how to talk to one. it starts getting on his nerves. the whole angel young thing, the whole making him look like some stupid boy even as he grows and grows. so he tries showing other sides of him. he posts his pictures on his instagram, he acts more serious in their varieties. he is a man, not a boy. not anymore. and like that, his image also shifts a little.

youngmin is still the pleasant, country boy next door. he still smiles bright, he still looks kind - overpolite, always. but from the little brother, youngmin turns into that childhood friend that grew up too much before you noticed. a hidden sensitivity that doesn’t seem out of place - a taste for arts that he shares with fans, for books that he recommends in his instagram account. and that mixes with pictures of his dog, pictures of his childhood - “look at me, the fish was bigger than me!”. from a square-like smile full of hope and giddiness he goes to sharp angles, a raised head, a simple lift of lips. and sometimes it’s like people can’t know when and where he’s a shallow pond and where he becomes the deep sea. good. youngmin doesn’t know that himself too.

IDOL HISTORY

imjado boy debuts in newest 99 entertainment boygroup imperial

lee youngmin was already well known around the island of imjado. grandson of the owner of the local fish store at the southern side of the island, many people knew him as the tall, tan kid who helped his grandfother around and always smiled politely at everyone. what they didn’t know was that that simple, harmless boy had big dreams for himself.

“he was always smiling very brightly. such a nice kid,” mrs. choi byunghee told us, one of the usual customers of the shop, who had interactions with the boy several times. “you could see he was too good looking to become a fisherman.”

the dream of being a singer started when he was very young, his grandfather told us in an exclusive interview. since the age of five, youngmin could be seen mimicking singers he saw on tv. He also enjoyed singing around the house, dancing to his own self-made choreography;  or whenever accompanying his grandfather in his fishing journeys.

“he always had a very nice voice,” mr. lee jongyul told us, youngmin’s grandfather. “but he was supposed to take over the shop, and we didn’t have money to help him out. so i’m sure it was a very difficult situation for him…”

it was mr. lee jongyul himself who started helping youngmin to achieve his dream. the boy dropped out of high school and traveled to seoul all by himself to achieve his dream. "those were hard times. me and my wife are old, but we tried our best to make ends meet and support him in seoul. he also worked a lot. he worked very hard. all of us did,” jongyul says, with a tired smile. “but to see that smile on his face… it was worth it”.

“grandpa!” youngmin whines as he looks up from the newspaper, his grandfather’s face wrinkled up in a very proud smile. “god, you’re cheesy.”

“they wanted drama, youngmin,” his grandmother says, placing both hands on his grandfather’s shoulders. she always took his side, so he rolled his eyes, “your grandpa did what he had to do.”

the old man keeps smiling proudly, as if what he did was something to be very proud of. “they liked the interview very much, just so you know. so much that i even got calls from deoul’s newspapers too…”

youngmin gives him a look. “grandpa. behave.”

“what?” he says, looks at his wife for support. “see? he wants to be the only one who is famous. you know what? i can tell them that story of that time you almost killed yourself trying to show me a dance move while we were out fishing. you remember that, sookja?“

"i remember,” his grandmother sends him a grave look, “you scared me to death. arrived all soaked up and shivering.”

youngmin just laughs, tries to change the subject. when they start reminiscing they never stop. “you watched the stage, grandma?”

“of course i did. all of you looked very handsome but you’re the most handsome of them, all my friends also said so. i-”

“yeah, yeah. that’s all very cool and dandy. but what about the money?” a voice cuts them off and Youngmin looks back down the table. he almost had forgotten his father was also there in the kitchen with them. ever since he arrived his father had scarcely said a thing to him, which wasn’t much of a surprise or a disappointment. youngmin didn’t expect anything less. he knew his father wasn’t happy with him, the same way he knew his grandparents’ overkill of joy and pride had a lot to do with them covering up for him. youngmin almost feels sorry for them. as if he wasn’t expecting his father to be like this. as if he didn’t know this would be exactly how he’d be treated. when he debuted he didn’t even send a text, a call, nothing.

“i think it’ll take a while for me to be paid, father,” he says, and his voice sounds tight. he ispolite, though. tries his hardest to be. he knows how upset grandma gets whenever they fight, “i’m still in debt because of-”

“then what is being a celebrity good for, then? i thought you’d at least be rich after all you put us through,” he says back and youngmin stays quiet. his will is to shout at him, to scream that he never did shit, that he never even sent encouraging words, let alone money. so who is he to talk shit? but he stays quiet. and he does so for his grandparents, but also out of a deep, unconscious sense of guilt.

because truth be told this is a story that goes far back ,way too far back, even before youngmin went to seoul. youngmin was born and raised in imjado by his grandparents until the age of sixteen, when he left to the big city. but there’s a reason why youngmin was raised by them and not by his own parents, both who were very much alive by then. and that was because when he was five, his mother sickness got worse.als was never something he knew how to deal with as a kid, it terrified him, if he had to be honest. and when she got too bad, too bad to get the support she needed in imjado, they decided to move to busan to she could get a better treatment. youngmin couldn’t go with them, though. his father was a high school dropout, the jobs he did get weren’t even enough to manage him and his mom. so youngmin stayed behind with his grandparents.

and he never blamed them for that, no. he always understood. he missed his dad sure, and he missed his mom a lot but youngmin was just a kid. he was more interested in staying in the place he always lived, with his friends, his island, his sea. even if he rarely got to visit his parents because none of them had the money for the travel, all of them always too short. for years they’d only see each other whenever his grandparents got the money to make the trip. and then, when things got worse and youngmin had to start helping in the shop, they didn’t see each other for years. the first time youngmin saw his mother again he was sixteen, and she was dead.

that was the worst day of his life.

he doesn’t like thinking of that day. the cold. the people talking to him, always the same thing: she’s better now, she’s not suffering anymore. youngmin wouldn’t know how much she suffered, he hadn’t seen her in so long… and then the look his father gave him. that was the worst part. his mother was dead and gone, but youngmin couldn’t even cry. his father had looked at him in a way that made youngmin’s skin crawl. his father went back to imjado with them, but he wasn’t the father youngmin remembered. and at the age of sixteen, he left to seoul and his father never spoke to him properly again unless to tell him that he should’ve gone see his mother more. that he didn’t even cry in her funeral. that he never loved her, cared for her.

and at first that had hurt youngmin, but one day he understood.it wasn’t that his father faulted youngmin, that he was disappointed about him not caring more about his mother. he liked to use that as an excuse for the way he treated him like trash, sure. about how he visited so little even after he moved to seoul, never listening even when Youngmin tried to explain how hard it was for him to make ends meet. how he had to work in a shit ton of part time jobs, how he was only accepted in a company two years after moving there, how even then they didn’t pay him and he still had to work even after training for hours and hours. he kept bugging him over it, still does. but youngmin knows - and has known for a while - that this has never been about his dead mother. maybe it was, once. when his father still lived and worked to keep his mother alive. but not anymore.

ever since he came back to Imjado, back to helping grandpa it became obvious why his father was so angry. it had more to do with the fact that youngmin was able to leave than anything else. that his grandparents helped him out, that he left that fucking island and the fate of being a fisherman for his whole life. he knows the story. he knows how hiis father was never able to, his own father never allowed it - the same grandfather who helped youngmin to achieve his own goals. his father’s dream was to go to college, to become a doctor. grandfather never allowed it. they said they didn’t have the money, and he was supposed to help the family. but his grandfather still helped youngmin, he still sent him money every month when he got accepted in a company. he still helped him out whenever the money youngmin earned from part-time jobs here and there wasn’t enough. His father never had that luxury, as he liked to call.

luxury.

luxury. as if it had been luxury. as if working like a damn horse had been so. as if auditioning for so many companies time and time again only to always be turned down was luxury. as if being scouted in the fucking streets, his hair smelling like smoke and fried meat had been all that cool. as if hearing the scout say “hey, we saw you there and thought you had the looks for being an idol. here is my card, you should go to our company and see if it works” was his dream. he worked his ass off but what got him where he wanted was his fucking face. try so hard for then it be that easy.

so truth be told, there was a time youngmin had felt guilty. he’d try to make it up to his father somehow, work extra hard in the shop whenever he visited, send them money whenever he could, gifts, anything. to be a good son, to be responsible. but then he got fed up and didn’t feel guilty anymore. how could he? his father called it a luxury when he lived in a tiny room in a basement, filled with cockroaches and mold. he called it a luxur the trainee life that he had, the extenuous training, the crazy schedules, the fear of never achieving his dream. he always said youngmin had it easy. easy. fuck him. it was never easy.

working several jobs, going from place to place, being kicked out, having to receive help from other people to be able to survive. and he had thought that once he made into some company he’d be fine, but no. 99 was hell. trainee life was a fucking mess. even if youngmin loved every sweaty, stressful second of it. even if he woke up every morning with his heart full of hope that maybe he’d go next, that maybe today he’d get a thumbs up, that maybe today he’d be the first one to get the choreography. he had hoped and hoped, and worked and worked. he had lost his teenage years. he didn’t date, he didn’t make friends. for years as a trainee youngmin had worked, and worked, and had dinner all by himself that consisted of instant ramen and water. and then he worked some more.

so fuck his father and his envy. youngmin made it, and if there’s two people he can thank they’re the ones in front of him, smiling.

“Iill be paid one day, dad,” he says, keeps his voice calm. the smile he manages to give him is almost genuine. see, father? i’m a good idol. i can even fake that i like you. “we’ll make it. my group is good. have you listened to the song?”

his father shrugs.

“he has,” grandfather says, “and he liked it.”

“you didn’t have many lines.”

youngmin keeps up the smile and maybe if he knew then how many times in the future he’d do the very same thing, he’d just never bother taking it off. that night he leaves imjado and goes back to seoul, to his dorm, to his new life. a debuted idol, his dream. and part of him is excited and part of him terrified. scared that it won’t be as he hoped for. scared that he won’t love his job as much as he had always thought he would. scared that his life won’t get better.

but it does. and it also doesn’t.

youngmin learns as time goes by that nothing is the way one plans. some things did get better, sure. he doesn’t live in a fucking basement anymore, and he’s not broke all the time. he loves the music his group do, he likes their image - which, he finds out, is actually sorta rare. he enjoys his job, or at least parts of it. youngmin likes singing, he likes dancing. he likes meeting his fans. and he also hates his fans, the clingy ones, the ones that follow him everywhere, the ones that send him threats about seeing him with this or that girl. and that’s also something he doesn’t like. the way his personal life feels trapped. he’s far too worried about is group, his image, he can’t fuck up. so he keeps to himself, mostly.

it’s a dog’s eat world and youngmin feels sometimes he’s not made for it. he’s not ruthless. he’s not ambitious like that. and at first that bugs him, until it doesn’t. he works hard, still. for his group, for their fame. for his grandparents, so they can have a better life. for his father, so he can shove all the money right up his ass. and for himself. sort of. yeah. though for that, he doesn’t care much.

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S MAIN RAP, LEAD VOCAL YOUNG TAEKYOON ...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Ty CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 19 TRAINEE SINCE: 18 COMPANY: KJH SECONDARY SKILL: Lyric writing

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): t.y (fan-given), young ty (fan-given / a play on american rapper names), taekie (group-given), yoonie (group-given), tae-taek (he is not sure who started this one), taeksthetic (fan-given / taek + aesthetic), 택선/taekseon (group-given / taek + 턱선/teokseon, the korean word for jawline. ty’s fans understand the meaning of the nickname, while others wonder why they are calling him “taxi”). INSPIRATION: his biggest musical inspirations (he has many) are big bang’s (power’s?) g-dragon and t.o.p, h.o.t’s tony, epik high’s tablo, bumkey, and eminem / commitment to living his life to the fullest and never giving up on his dreams, no matter how many, how crazy, or how unattainable they may seem. SPECIAL TALENTS:

frighteningly incredible at “random play” girl dances. he seems to know them all.

does many impressions of his groupmates for both variety’s sake and purely for the laughs, but they are different each time and while they are absolutely hilarious, they are not very accurate.

freestyle rapping: seemingly even without a beat, ty is pretty good at creating impressive flow and lyrics on the spot, no matter the theme — serious, nonsensical, silly, or playfully teasing.

NOTABLE FACTS:

his fans have deemed his personal fan club name TAEKIS to allude to ty’s undying love for takis tortilla chips. he is gifted armfuls of bags at fanmeets — so many that he can’t even seem to eat them all.

he is known for both his anime-esque good looks and likeness to the character jack frost. he is aware of this, too, and dressed as both jack frost and /cardcaptor sakura/ character li syaoran for past halloweens.

whenever he is not wearing pre-coordinated clothing, he is usually wearing all black.

as a result of being forced to be mostly self-sufficient from a young age, he has learned to be quite an excellent cook. this along with his obsessive cleanliness and love of skinship has earned him an unofficial “mother” role with his groupmates.

he is a graduate of seoul’s school of performing arts. he appears to be close friends with a large portion of his old classmates in addition to his current labelmates. 

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

he wants to continue writing the lyrics for imperial’s music. soon, he would love the opportunity to produce a whole song. he knows he has a capability but it’s all in due time –––– 99’s and the universe’s, naturally. the stars can’t always align. another goal of his would be to serve as a producer/mentor/judge on a music program. he thinks all of his skills more than qualify him to counsel trainees or newer idols, helping them mold themselves into the best performers they could possibly be. he also hopes to continue honing his dancing skills, as they could always improve.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

he would love to, one day, be the record holder for the longest-standing radio host on a single program. he has been the host of night night for well over a year now, and the memories and connections he’s made has only made his love for the show stronger and he wants to continue down that path for as long as he is able. in addition to radio hosting, he yearns to produce and write lyrics for as much music as he can. he knows that he cannot be an idol forever, and that fact certainly doesn’t make him love imperial any less –––– but he needs to think for the future too. working as a well-known producer for the k-pop and k-hiphop scene is one challenge he plans to tackle and succeed in.

IDOL IMAGE

young taekyoon is, in all seriousness, the boy you’d introduce to your sister.

ty, on that note, is just the same.

he’s friendly, loyal, and fun. charming, funny, trustworthy.

he’s the guy making rounds to other idol’s dressing rooms before performances, just to say hey and congratulate them on their new music and send them his best wishes.

his off-screen appearance may scream the opposite, however; he is almost always sporting a black shirt, jacket, and skinny jeans topped off with a black cap and sunglasses. while initially seeming unapproachable, the moment one begins to talk to him and catches a glimpse of his glowing, toothy grin, all prior uneasiness seems to float into the wind. at the end of the day, black is just a color. a hood over his head is just a fashion choice, a way to keep a few extra fans from recognizing him on the streets. airport and street fashion don’t define a person, but it certainly can create an image on fansites. his fans know, though, that he is not closed off and uninterested. and in reality, the fans are who matter. but he has to create a better image for himself in the name of his career and by order of 99. luckily, he hasn’t been told to throw away his favorite black jeans –––– he’ll opt for wearing them a few hundred more times, maybe.

he’s a guy who is willing to talk to anybody. a guy who can find the good in any person, no matter how bad they actually are –––– even if he can’t necessarily find the good in himself most days. others tend to gravitate toward him. and even more so when he is around his fellow groupmate who also happens to be a rapper. when those two are in a room together they’ve got everybody rolling on the floor.

putting on a show is his specialty, and quite literally his job too. even years after debut, he tends to feel uneasiness when first hopping up on stage, but give him a few seconds and he snaps into beast mode. he may be imperial’s main rapper and lead vocalist, but he can flow to the beat of the music pretty damn well. he wasn’t trained to be a dancer, but it’s always been a bit of a talent of his. he is improving, slowly, and hopes to hone those skills (along with his variety skills) to the likeness of the dancers in his group. still, he tends to be very popular with the fans. be it his powerful stage presence, natural good looks, or his leadership and charm, he doesn’t know –––– but what he does know is that he vows to maintain his image and raise to the top.

IDOL HISTORY

trigger warnings: parent death, mentions of bullying.

1994 ; pyeonghae, south korea.

on a particularly scorching july afternoon, young taekyoon was brought into the world in the comfort of his own home. his older siblings, ages 13 and 15 at the time, respectively, were born in the same fashion. his family was old fashioned like that. he resided in a small town on south korea’s east coast called pyeonghae, but his family was even smaller. to be exact, according to a past census (as he’d later discovered), there were only around 200 households who shared his last name — nearly 15 years after that census was collected, that number had decreased drastically. the majority of those households probably belonged to his immediate family. many of his family members were well into their lives when taekyoon was born –––– his parents were already over the age of 35 and each of his aunts and uncles were even older. in some ways, it was good for him to be surrounded by older, more traditional adults. he was taught to be respectful, mind his own business, and to behave like he ought to. on the other hand, it was nearly as if his childhood was robbed from him, and even more so for his little sister, who was born a few short years after him.

early 2000s ; 100% of the time, the good things in life are destroyed.

his parents were already fairly traditional in their views on parenting — no games before homework was complete, no eating takis until every crumb was eaten off dinner plates, no sleeping until teeth were brushed with toothpaste — but having been raising two teenage boys prior to his own birth, things seemed to be even more strict than they could have been alternatively. he was encouraged — forced, really — to excel in his education: perfect marks, involvement in extracurriculars, sports, and countless music lessons, but his mother tended to always push a little harder when it came to literature and language. she always claimed it was of upmost importance that he could articulate himself correctly and well, and spending extra study time in foreign language — namely english — would, in a sense, future-proof him. he’d thank her later.

but could he actually thank her later?

read: no.

at the tender age of 9, the family of six traveled the short few miles to a beachfront condo for a family vacation. it may seem like such an easy trip to plan, but in reality, it’d taken months to coordinate work, school, and event schedules so that the family could spend the entirety of the trip together with zero distractions. the most difficult to coordinate around were taekyoon’s father, a firm executive, and his older brothers, whom had jobs and girlfriends that were attached at their hips.

on the second day, everybody was at the beach: taekyoon had spent countless hours in the ocean trying to teach his sister how to swim, his older brothers were playing volleyball on the other side of the beach, and his parents sat on the sidelines, enjoying the beach as they watched their children have fun. one sick, twisted man, however, had something else planned for the family’s day.

out of absolutely nowhere, a quick, deafening gunshot tore through taekyoon’s eardrums, and when he snapped his head in the direction of the noise, his entire world collapsed. he remembers it vividly, and yet he couldn’t ever bring himself to disclose the details to any living soul since –––– not even his little sister who can’t remember one bit of the horrible events that took place that day. his poor mother had been shot, for no reason, with a gun much too powerful to have given her more than a few seconds of life after the bullet made impact. that day, a different kind of bullet ripped through taekyoon’s heart, too.

mid 2000s ; coping mechanisms.

taekyoon often heard the words of his mother in the back of his mind, telling him the importance of literature and how rewarding it is to express oneself through nothing other than words. he kept her advice near and dear to his heart, and took to poetry and creative writing to express his sadness. there were many times where he’d come home from school, go straight to his room, and write all evening — then he’d fall asleep while writing, wake up for school, and do it all over again. for a long time after his mother’s passing, their household was often in a state of pure dejection — his father no longer tried very hard to enforce his own rules, and his older brothers had started families of their own and weren’t around very often. his father very rarely even cooked dinner for himself or his two youngest children. it was not because he resented or didn’t love them, but he lacked the drive. as a result, the two children quickly learned to be rather self sufficient. taekyoon did much of the work for his sister, though. her laundry, cooking her dinner, and helping her with her schoolwork. he didn’t want to do it just as much as his father, but he knew his mother would want him to, and that was his driving force.

taekyoon without a doubt lost a piece of himself the day his mother left him, but it didn’t take long for him to discover a map that would allow him to find what was lost. soon, he’d be himself again.

2006-2008 ; exploring uncharted territory.

one day when taekyoon was 12 years old, after a school-wide presentation on studying abroad, he decided he wanted to spend his first year of middle school studying abroad in america. he knew it was important to his mother that he studied and applied foreign language, and literally immersing himself into the culture firsthand was the best way to do it, right? naturally, his father was entirely against it, because it was a big risk. he didn’t want to lose the next closest thing to him, but still, taekyoon tried to change his mind. he spent a few weeks completing odd outdoor jobs for people around the neighborhood, walking dogs, selling baked goods he prepared in his school’s home economics classroom, and offering tutoring to his peers for what seemed like pennies. in the grand scheme of things, he did not accumulate much cash, but somehow his efforts changed his father’s mind –––– soon after, he was on an airplane heading for california.

initially, in his new school, taekyoon had some trouble making new friends. the language barrier was his first big obstacle. he truly thought he had a good handle on the language based on his successes in class back in south korea, but when living in a place where he could only use english to express himself quickly proved nearly impossible. american students were also rather brutal. some of them were quick to introduce themselves to taekyoon — being friendly with the new kid was “cool.” on the other side, he was subject to bullying. often, in class when he had to speak in front of his peers, he would be made fun of when he stumbled over his words. taekyoon handled the ridicule quite well, though. of course, he was hurt, and sometimes even cried over it, but it also gave him an extra push to study english much harder. his host family was very supportive. he confided in the young couple often, and they made sure to set time aside some time every day to help him study: they studied with flash cards, reading aloud, and anything else they could think of that would aid in improve his skills.

his second obstacle was finding the answer to the riddle on the map to finding himself — and that answer was music. he enrolled in a music class with a focus on playing and digitally composing music. it was certainly a step-up from the small-group piano, cello, and violin lessons back home. quickly, he developed a love for composing music and writing accompanying lyrics. he truly had a talent for it, although it took some getting used to. being taught in english was difficult, but with music as a universal language, it soon became taekyoon’s favorite subject.

along with some of his classmates, he discovered a newfound love for rap. before going to california he’d never heard of the “legend” marshall mathers/eminem, but he’d be forever grateful to his peers for introducing him. those same boys were the ones who gave him his nickname, ty. it didn’t take long for the name to stick, and it quickly became more than a name. it was his whole identity. over time, ty became a social butterfly, spending his summer vacation performing at small parks in los angeles and improving his flow and lyricism.

as the end of summer approached, it was time for ty to move back to south korea. time had seemed to heal the entire family. when he returned home, his father and freshly teenaged sister seemed happy, and he got to meet his two baby nephews for the first time. it was good to see.

music stayed at the forefront of his mind as he entered school again, and he continued to pursue his dream when he wasn’t studying. he’d saved any money and resources he could to get his hands on some basic recording equipment — it was cheap and basic, but it did what he needed it to — and utilized it to create covers of existing songs and create some of his own. he mostly published his tracks on soundcloud, and despite the sparse audience, the practice faired well in improving both his rap and singing skills.

2011–2012 ; the words you say shape who you will become.

in the spring of 2011, with the blessing of his father, he enrolled in seoul’s school of performing arts. the music he’d recorded over the months prior helped when he was in the application process, and he was approved for admission to their department of practical music.

after a lot of discussion and planning, ty’s father and sister ultimately decided to pack up and move to seoul so ty didn’t have to be alone in a new, and big, city.

while studying at sopa, his rapping, singing, lyrical, and composing skills were truly built to a level that would be unattainable anywhere else. before enrolling, he understood that the end-goal was scoring a career in the entertainment industry, and there was something both intriguing and terrifying about that. he worked and worked hard, trying to stay at the top of his class so the name TY was known.

while he was trained in both a few different subject areas, his first love was writing lyrics. when he was in his element, he thought of his mom, and he found a comfort in that.

2013 ; an open door. soon after the beginning of his senior year of high school, ty had a big performance scheduled for one of his classes. it took over a month of preparation and perfecting, and he was notified that recruiters from neighboring talent agencies would be in attendance. he and a few of his classmates performed together, and though he didn’t believe he did his absolute best, he was approached by one of the men afterwards. the recruiter was sent from a company called 99 entertainment, and he told ty he wanted to have a meeting with him because he thought he fit the bill for their upcoming boy group, imperial. ty was ecstatic to say the least, but he was worried that he ultimately wouldn’t be good enough to be their final pick.

his father was weary –––– the entertainment industry was wishy-washy at best, and one of the last things he wanted was to lose his son to “the man.” he was only 14 and a half. impressionable, sensitive. but mature, dedicated, and eager to learn. ultimately, his father agreed to the meeting.

after a few short days, ty and his father met with a few representatives at the company building, and together they discussed the rigorous training process, living situations, and legalities. with the debut of imperial being planned for september, only a few short months away, ty would be practicing day and night to prepare. and rightfully so, especially because he’d never had proper training in dance. sure, he had to dabble in dancing a bit in school, but it was not a main focus for him.

in the few short months he trained, he received a fair amount of ridicule, be it to his face or things he’d heard through the grapevine. many idols or trainees who had been around for a while didn’t believe it was fair that he’d get to debut after such a short period, and it made him feel a bit shorthanded. was he actually good enough for this, or were they settling for him because everything was so rushed and he was their only choice? on the other hand, some praised him, and said that he deserved his spot in imperial because his rap and vocal skills were incredible. he wasn’t the first idol to be chosen to debut after a few months, and he surely wouldn’t be the last. despite the hardships, he couldn’t have been happier.

2014 ; light at the end of a dark hall.

with their debut album also came with a cameo from ty, where he starred in the heaven’s music video for piano man. following that personal victory was an unexpected hiatus, when a member of imperial left the company, downsizing their manpower from five to four.

ty wasn’t going to let himself sit and do nothing while waiting for 99 to do something, though. he began studying at kyunghee university, taking up a major in composition with a minor in vocal music. he kept up with this along with imperial’s wishy-washy schedules up until they finally released their ep in 2016.

his loyalty never once ran thin, and that was why he ended his enrollment in university. he wanted to focus on his first commitment, even if his first commitment wasn’t necessarily always being loyal to him.

2018 ; for the long haul.

there was a specific group he spent a lot of his time with — when he wasn’t practicing or recording for his radio show night night at the sbs building — and naturally, it stirred a bit of chaos in the rumor department. there was one female in particular, although she wasn’t a member of ty’s closest friend group, that fans seemed to pay extra attention to: a member of heaven with the initials r.e.b. the rumors were shut down very quickly, though, because ty and r.e.b weren’t close for the reasons fans assumed. they were actually step siblings, and 99 made sure the public knew that. while ty was training, his father and younger sister moved to seoul, and somewhere in the mix, his dad met r.e.b’s mother, and the rest was history. the rumors still spread at times, but it’s laughable by ty.

years after debut, and years of making connections, finally getting a chance to write lyrics for imperial, and scoring the main host spot on his own radio show, ty was truly starting to love where he was in life. of course, there were things he wished he’d done differently, but he was far too busy to dwell on the “what ifs” and “could-have-beens.” with his popularity steadily on the rise, he had time to work and sleep, much less think — but that was okay. he was reminded everything would be okay every time he set foot on stage and caught sight of the beautiful sunset gold oceanin the audience.

imperial’s fandom color wasn’t quite the same color as his powder-coated fingers after inhaling a bag of takis, but it was close. he vowed to stay loyal to his fans — even more loyal than they were to him — and he knew the countless hours spent in the 99 practice rooms with special fan-gifted bags of takis would prove themselves truly worth it one day soon.

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S MAIN DANCE, LEAD RAP JUNSEO…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 19 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 15  SKILL POINTS: 00 VOCAL | 15 DANCE | 10 RAP | 10 PERFORMANCE

INTERVIEW

to be written in ink is to become immortal. is immortality a blessing or curse?

na junseo is the last to sign his contract. committing his loyalty, and life, away to 99 entertainment. and before the ink has time to dry, they dive into the way they plan to market him. they have it figured it out, they said, although he knows it to be a lie because if there is one thing that is known throughout the company, 99 entertainment is anything but organized. but the other members all have their concept, and the company is set on angling them in every direction. sexy, vibrant, cute, sinful. he has to be all that, and more. he thinks it’s a little too much. they swear it’s not enough.

and so it’s taught by steps.

step one. the middle-man.    /    they start off as five. they start off as poizn’s clean up crew. it’s insulting, and it angers him, but he can’t let that show because he has to be the one who brings the group together despite the differences between them. which, watered down, means be the one to fake a close relationship with everyone even though they want to market each of them as a different personality. he is to be the face for the team. not a leader, they warn him, because he can’t be, isn’t, superior than them. but he is the one to go on variety and talk about how they are all a family, exaggerate stories between the members while clinging onto the others. and later, when they become four instead of five, he can’t talk about how he believes loyalty isn’t grey. he can’t talk about how you’re either completely loyal or not loyal at all, how people can’t be loyal when it serves them, and although they’ve all thought about leaving more times than not, how the four were the ones to stick through it. instead, he smiles, one that isn’t nonchalant nor burdened, and says that sometimes family breaks apart but that they remain family with memories and bonds and that they will be taking a hiatus.

step two. the intangible object.    /    it seems to always be imperial versus poizn. both teams, in almost every way, are complete opposites but the comparisons come with being brother groups in the same company. neither group is completely scandal free, but he must be. the concept is easy, they reassure him, na junseo is hot and cold. in the way where fans gush over his wide mouthed grin and girl group dances, but shiver at the way his eyes glare and jaw tightens on hello counselor when he is upset with a story. or in the way where fans blush at his humor and charming ways that lead you to want him as an oppa, but then blush at his on stage persona of sensual eyes, perfect body lines, and precise movements. he has to float between the concept of a boyfriend idol and the bad boy your mother warns you about that you can’t help but want. the truth is, he wouldn’t give a damn either way.

step three. the main dancer.     /     skill is important as an idol. visuals and concepts can be worked out, tweaked with, but skill can’t. to be stamped with the position of main anything creates a load of expectation, and, for him, it’s bad enough to be the only one in the group without a vocal position but he is also the only one in the group with a labeled dance position. it’s not to say the others aren’t dancers, they are, but he is the one they anticipate to know the choreography minutes after it’s taught, even if the choreography is for a song years old and will now only be shown as a comeback a week from the date. he is the one to teach the members the steps, make sure it looks flawless and spotless in time for the comeback. he is the one to go on variety each comeback season to promote the songs killing part in choreography.

he is trapped. doesn’t know the difference between na junseo of imperial and na junseo of incheon.

so, tell him, is immortality a blessing or curse?

BIOGRAPHY

you’re a dreamer boy;

na junseo is born bright eyed and without a sound, a fact his parents will later tell him with proud smiles, and they swear it means his presence was meant to speak louder than words. when asked he will say he was raised in incheon, but, when he thinks of home, he was raised in a family owned restaurant. it wasn’t luxurious by any means but it taught him to appreciate the small things in life, like how his mother always smelled of hotteok when she embraced him or how the roughness of his fathers hands that he held when he crossed the street came from the labor that provided him a hot meal and a home. it also taught him to fight, because he had seen customers throw kimchi-jjigae at his mother and had seen the way she held back his father with whispers of how they couldn’t afford a bad reputation if they wanted to make a comfortable life for their child.

na jae-suk and na jeong-ja wanted their son to be gentle, kind, warm. and he was. in the way he put on performances for his mother after a long day of work, because she the happiness in her heart as her son danced could pick out the tiredness in her bones. or in the way he went around town helping out those older than him, carrying the groceries for the elderly in their apartment complex, babysitting kids for parents who worked two jobs, all with a smile on his face. but he was also vicious, cold, calculating. in the way, that when he is tall enough to hover that one particular customer who always has a complaint over the food yet eats at the restaurant weekly, he harshly tells him to pay double or never show his face again. in the way that he fails to empathize or sympathize at the misfortune of those he believe wronged him or his family.

the bright eyes of a young boy dim as he grows into a teenager and has to watch the grey contrast his parents brown hair, has to watch the wrinkles form, has to watch the sadness in their eyes when he doesn’t dare ask for more than he knows they can provide with a smile on his face and murmurs words of love into their hair.

the bright eyes of a teenager are stilled when he decides to audition for an idol company at the age of fifteen.

full of stars,

he never once had dreams of being an idol. while others attended dance, piano, vocal, and other classes he never would’ve thought about, his training came from his living room. he had natural talent, sure, but it was no where near the level of others and maybe that’s why he was rejected from two other companies before being accepted by 99 entertainment. his parents are confused, mostly because he had never spoken about becoming an idol, but tell him he has their support. he tells them he will work hard. he doesn’t tell them it’s for them, to give them a way out of having to work for the rest of their life to provide for him. he doesn’t tell them that he wants to take care of them.

it was a minefield the first year. suddenly no one smelled of hotteok, but instead smelled of sweat and exhaustion, and no one held his hand, but instead stepped on it. where as before he threaded between the line of being who his parents raised him to be versus the thunder he felt in his bones, he learned that trainee life meant life. he learns to pour himself into becoming whoever they want him to be. he spends sunrise to sunrise practicing dance, allowing it to not only be a part of him but consume him. at seventeen he has a trainee evaluation, it’s neither positive nor negative. it’s honest. that it isn’t enough. from there on, it’s a spiral to be the best.

99 entertainment invites him to join a survival show. he doesn’t listen much to the specifics, finds that he doesn’t care, because all he knows is that it’s a chance to debut and that’s enough for him. it’s been four years since he was awkward steps and trusting. he sees the ugly side of others, but he also shows the monstrous sides of him on the survival show. it’s all or nothing, he thinks. and at some point, he forgets whether he wants to debut for his parents or to prove the point that he can. he’s nineteen when he debuts, bleached blonde hair and joyful jumps as his parents weep over the phone with pride.

& the moon.

he thought the battle was over after debut. that you become a god, that money rolls in, that fame is heaven sent. instead, he’s everything his parents taught him not to be. heartless, fake, power hungry. there are rumors around the company, from trainees who didn’t make it through the survival show, that the show was rigged and that the new group to debut is a cover-up, nobodies. his blood boils. he finds the rumor to hold truth to it. maybe he never finds out whether the show was rigged or not, but he sees the way the company tosses washed down songs toward the group. he curls his fists at the way the company juggles promotions, comebacks, choreography, their well-being and life as if it is a game with no needed outcome. he is stuck. frozen in a group that is a back burner, a plan b. he doesn’t feel the chemistry that the company pushes, that the variety shows praise, and begins to think that he can make a more respected living as an officer, or a medic, or anything that doesn’t require him to erase everything he is to people who wouldn’t care if he dropped down with a sickness or not. he thinks about quitting, leaving behind the five years he’s put.

someone does leave, but it isn’t him. he isn’t phased, in fact he couldn’t care less, when he hears the news he sort of nods, says a quick farewell and goes back to the sets he was lifting at the gym. but then 99 is talking about a hiatus, and imperial is already staring at the walls watching paint dry so he can’t imagine what a hiatus will do to the group. suddenly, all he feels is anger. 99 promises that imperial isn’t over, that they would never let the team disband because they care for them, that it’s only a publicity stunt because they need to at least look as if the team is grieving a brother who is gone but junseo thinks that’s bullshit. he doesn’t trust 99 entertainment with any fiber in his body. if they told him it was raining, he would go outside to check before taking their word for it. but it gives him time to perfect his craft. to come back as not only a main dance, but a lead rapper as well. to knowingly, to himself at least, re-commit to the mess that is 99 entertainment, imperial, and idol life.

na junseo is the middle-man, the intangible object, the main dancer. but he is also the fire, storm, and rage that rests in his chest.

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S LEAD VOCAL SANHA…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 19 SKILL POINTS: 12 VOCAL | 10 DANCE | 00 RAP | 13 PERFORMANCE SECONDARY SKILLS: Acting

INTERVIEW

99 entertainment were clueless. at least, they were in the beginning, before they had him.

they scouted trainees that fit every mold – devilish, angelic, sexy, cute; the only benchmark was fresh meat. fresh meat that could sing, dance, rap. do it all and do it well, that may as well have been the tagline for auditions. and yet, sanha still didn’t even come close to meeting expectations.

where they wanted soft, he was hard; where they wanted hard, he was soft. sanha expected a stamp of failure, more trouble than he was worth, but he got lucky. had had something 99 wanted, something not so quantifiable. something ’ a little extra, ’ as a staff member once said to him, while he stood there, angry and resentful and not at all wanting to fit the mold; ’ you have something a little extra, something special. ’

potential, maybe.

it took years upon years, of training and teaching and sculpting; of scrutiny and survival shows and debuting before jung sanha became imperial’s sanha. it took long enough that he was ready to quit, more than once. it was hard, holding himself back, trying to be the idol sanha, rather than regular sanha. the perfect man versus the normal boy. 

sanha was all too aware that perfection, ever fickle, was constantly out of reach. sometimes he got close, maybe. to the kind of perfect 99 wanted at that moment, the kind that made him honey to the vultures masquerading as flies as they circled above. every setback meant sanha had to be more perfect, more of the idol worthy of fanaticism, more lovable and loving.

‘ umchinah, ’ they called him. a quick, little buzzword, encompassing sanha’s personhood for the company, for the masses.

it made him preen, in private, in the places where he kept his sharp tongue and dark gaze, his anger and his boisterousness, his pride, his lust, his greed, his gluttony. his everything that was too-much. under the limelight he was a smiling face, eyes upturned into crescent moons, smile shining brighter than the flashes of cameras. the people grew to want him, would always want him because that’s who he was, that was his goal. they wanted to befriend him, to date him, to introduce him to their parents. he wasn’t some unattainable prince, but the boy next door, the neighborhood hyung, the good man, reliable and resilient. he drew people in, with practiced ease, with expressions performed in practice rooms a million times.

sanha was supposed to be someone the audience trusted, implicitly.

BIOGRAPHY

one. looking back on it, sanha’s not really surprised at all with how he turned out, or over his priorities.

his home was always loud when he was a child. even now, really. loud in the way that there was always shouting, always some sort of fight or argument taking place. his father had a temper, one his mother hated. one his mother always seemed to match, unbeknownst to her. they would scream – at each other. at him, when they needed to relieve the stress from each other. at his brother, when he yelled back, so used to the behavior that exploding seemed the only way to cope.

it was fine. normal. normal family, normal people.

normal in the way his parents were – are – traditional, almost painfully so. they wanted him to get a nice job: doctor, lawyer, salaryman. something respectable, something for his mother to brag about to the neighborhood aunties, something for his father to bring up at company dinners, piss-drunk and in some half-assed parenting competition with his colleague.

they were traditional in the way that duty and honor, being a filial son, came before nearly all else. sanha was expected to uphold those values, had it drilled into him until the only thoughts he could think were those of sprouting wings to fly away upon.

they were traditional in the way that they wholeheartedly disapproved of skinship, of friendships too-close with girls, romantic interest in boys not even a blip on the radar. it didn’t help that his mother found his confession letter to the pretty girl in his class when he was ten. he was lectured for hours. ’ you kids nowadays, you’re too free.‘ as if that had made any sense.

sanha most definitely did not feel free.

he doesn’t realize until he’s much, much older that this isn't normal. that parents that seem to truly hate each other and themselves and their kids wasn’t normal. still, even after the realization, sanha doesn’t care that much. doesn’t mind. bitterness may still sit heavy on his tongue, regrets and resentment piling up in side by side, but this too, seemed normal. his parents could have been far worse, they did the best with what they had; for the most part, sanha was happy. content. average.

two. the first time he realized he was poor was soon after entering high school.

appearances become something like a competition. if you fall behind, you’re left behind. sanha isn’t the type to willingly be outcast – he’d much rather be the center of attention, has always loved being fawned over, sought after.

he wants a new backpack, the kind that everyone’s getting. you’re only somebody if you have that backpack, those shoes, that wallet – they’re old enough now that all these things matter, so terribly much.

it causes a huge fight, his father getting up from the table with dinner left unfinished. his mother’s gaze on him is heavy, like rocks tied to his ankles, letting him sink in frigid, rough waters. sanha has a lump in his throat, angry, hot tears threatening to gather in his eyes. he didn’t do anything wrong.

they don’t get him the backpack. in all his teenage angst, he harbors that perceived slight close, lets it grow into a grudge.

from then on it becomes painfully obvious, really. the shouting he had usually ignored as meaningless words take on more form, spelling out financial troubles. the cause for the strain between his parents. they would attack each other, him, his brother, ruthlessly in anger out of not having enough. out of anger at wanting more.

and sanha always, always wanted more, couldn’t help himself, felt greed fester deep in his gut. not awfully surprising when money was such a priority in his household.

three. sanha wasn’t talented at school, wasn’t anywhere near a genius, all of sixteen and exhausted already; he skips school one day with his friends, goes all the way up to seoul, looking for trouble.

he doesn’t actually find any, according to himself. it depends on who you ask.

his friends see the poster calling for auditions before he does, cause a ruckus over it. maybe if we go, we’ll get to see heaven! sanha had rolled his eyes, but they’d nudged him into it, with something as simple as a dare, his pride refusing to wuss out of it. appearances, appearances.

it’s not like it’s a bad fit. sanha has some raw talent, a little rough, a little stumbled and awkward, but it’s there. he doesn’t compare much to the perfectly styled boys that have obviously done this before, or those that seem to be born with god given abilities to awe and delight, but he’s not nothing. besides, the spotlight seemed to be made for sanha, who knew how to attract attention wherever he went from a young age.

praise was like an addiction, really, and sanha was in too deep.

he’s shocked when he makes it through. standing there, mouth agape, when he’s called back for a second round of auditions. then the notice comes that 99 entertainment wanted to sign him. it makes him ecstatic, if only for the reason that he’s the only one in his group of friends to get so far. they wanted him, he had something to aspire to, it was strange and electric and mind-numbing, a rollercoaster he wanted to ride over and over.

moving to seoul, with his busan accent thick and devil-may-care attitude seems like all fun and games in the beginning. it’s beaten out of him, pretty quickly, through rigorous schedules and diets and criticism. nothing about him is enough, all over again. in a sea of faces trying so damn hard, he’s nothing special, nobody.

it pushes him, motivates him, something finally latching on, under his skin, and shoving him forward.

especially when poizn is formed, debuted, with him still struggling to keep his head above the water. jealousy grows ugly and strong inside his chest, behind his ribs, in equal parts with wonderment. he wants it all for himself and the knowledge that maybe, yes, one day, it’s nearly overwhelming.

four. the first time he’s thrown in front of a national audience isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

it’s what he’s been looking forward to, but not like this.

sanha’s pissed off, more than anything else. part of him might also be a little cocky, false bravado, because he knows he’ll do well. still, he’s already fighting for his spot, doing it on camera, coming up with some sob story so he’s not overlooked, it’s not the method he would have preferred.

he’s been a trainee longer than a lot of these other chumps, he works harder, sounds better, performs better but then there are the ones that are inherently better than him, their sheer ability making a mockery of him, laughing at him in dark corners.

maybe the resentment and competition gets to his head a little bit. he excels, because the producers play favorites, just a little, and he’s a good brown-noser. but he's mean. he acknowledges, only in hindsight. when it’s already too late to fix anything; sanha wouldn’t even know how, not willing to jeopardize his place. he uses sharp words, privileges from seniority, throws others off their game so he’ll be able to advance farther than them. it’s not fair or right but deep down, sanha is scared, and lashes out in the way that feels most natural. he’ll let himself feel guilty afterward, after they win, after he reaches the goal that’s been fixated in his mind for years: debut.

five. somehow, idol life is even more unstable than trainee life.

the schedules get worse, sleep doesn’t seem real, and the constant fear of failure, of disbanding, has sanha sneaking off to the toilet to spill his guts. it’s terrifying, but a distant type of terrifying, dull through the rush of time, speeding past them so quickly that he can’t seem to remember the days.

it dawns on him, quickly, that 99 don’t plan through thoroughly, that they’re just throwing imperial, them, imperial, into the deep end without a lifeguard. between the rush of filming and photoshoots and variety shows and music shows, all sanha gets to feel is bone-deep exhaustion and the ever-present stickiness on his skin, weighing him down and asking, what if you’re not enough?

he struggles to wade in these waters. he’s not stupid, knows his vocal abilities pale in comparison to the other two vocalists, even if he tries to force himself to shine on stage. he sees the comments. the lack of a dedicated fanbase. for a long time, sanha works off of desperation and fear alone.

six. sanha doesn’t know when it is that this starts to become his new normal.

he doesn’t know when his bones shift and his skin stretches until it’s enveloping this new person, this new persona, until it’s almost like this is who he was all along.

one day he just wakes up and it all feels right. not perfect, never perfect, perfection just barely escaping his fingers every time he gets close. but he likes it, likes himself, is confident and centered and self-aware enough to know he’s improving.

it’s nice.

seven. leaving never felt like a real option, even if the thought had squirmed into his head before, had popped up for all of them.

the rest of them didn’t actually leave.

first, it’s anger. he feels betrayed. how can they just give up and quit? what will that mean for the group going forward? imperial was supposed to be the fix-all, they were supposed to be the untainted ones. this? this was something expected of poizn, not them.

that pristine image they worked so hard for, it all goes down the drain so quickly.

then, the anger multiplies, when they’re benched. the blow of a member leaving apparently hard enough that 99 doesn’t schedule a comeback for them for years. the stability sanha had reached shatters so easily, the fear of the early days threatening to rear its ugly head, if not for his acquired willpower, strict and strong in the face of adversity even when inwardly he quakes.

but after all that, after months of languishing and doing nothing, comes some hope. there’s always a silver lining and here, sanha finds opportunity. he goes to vocal lessons as often as he can, practices nonstop, sometimes it feels like he’s doing more, putting in more effort, than he did as a trainee. after having a taste of idol life, he’s not eager to give it back, wants more, more, always more, and now, he can have it.

he always stood in the shadows of the two other vocalists, but now he can step up. take over the spot that had been so graciously vacated.

eight. sanha may have been ready, formed into an ever-changing, even newer version of himself, but 99 was not.

the inactivity stretches longer and longer. their imps begin questioning what’s happening, there’s restlessness abound. but nothing can be done. sanha starts looking to other avenues. singing, perform, it became a passion for him, it didn’t start out that way. there was no reason acting couldn’t be the same.

he starts in something small, a goofy side character. he gives an okay performance but the drama flops and he isn’t taken seriously. he knows, before he even reads the critics, that this was a mistake. it takes begging and grovelling to convince his manager to try out something different, something more serious, something that will put sanha through the paces.

that exhaustion that comes with hard work, that strain to try and achieve a little bit of a somewhat-perfect, he’s come to like that feeling, nearly as much as the attention alone.

the desperation he displays works, as it always does. his manager finagles something nice for him. still supporting, he knows that’s where he’ll be for a long, long time, but serious, grounded, something that requires skill. he goes to acting classes when he can, asks for pointers from the pds, his fellow actors, he does everything he can think of, fueled not by jealousy, maybe a little by greed, but a lot by the want of having something that’s his own.

it pays off.

nine.

having a comeback, the reception, the popularity, the explosion; sanha had forgotten what it felt like, if he was being honest. it makes his heart race, a million miles per minute as he strains to perform at his best level.

it takes so much out of him but he loves it, loves it so deeply he can’t ever imagine letting go.

the criticisms still bother him, 99 still bothers him, at times he thinks – they still don’t really know what they’re doing, they’re still not doing right by them. they’re more than a fallback plan but only treated as such. he tries to let it wash off his shoulders, even with the quick preparation and the scandals of their predecessors hanging over his head.

he loves it so much, performing, but hates the hoops he has to jump through, the play he has to put on, to get here. 

it’s cruel irony, but it makes him laugh. he’s grown so much but still stuck in the same spot: trapped under the guise of duty, aching for escape and success in equal measures, clipped wings and all.

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S MAIN VOCAL LEE MINHYEOK…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 27 DEBUT AGE: 22 SKILL POINTS: 13 VOCAL | 07 DANCE | 05 RAP | 15 PERFORMANCE SECONDARY SKILLS: Producing

INTERVIEW

Lee Minhyeok is the sun.

[Hyeok- 赫 -“bright, radiant, glowing”.]

Thrown into the public spotlight through the survival show that paved his path to debut, Minhyeok won over his share of votes through unfaltering optimism and work ethic. Despite receiving harsh criticism from the show mentors for some of his rougher skills, he rolled with the words and took all advice to heart, establishing himself as the ’sunshine’ member of the group.

It was almost irritating how Minhyeok seemed to bounce back so quickly, splitting the audience and other trainees- most admiring the attitude with others were more cynical. Some criticized him for being uncaring and too light-hearted in the show that had so much on the line. Ignorant of the other’s struggles [some still do.] With Imperial’s debut, his critics were shocked at the serious and more emotional nature of the songs Minhyeok would help produce.

‘Does he even know what he’s singing about?’

Still- Minhyeok did his part to act accordingly on stage, and the company was pleased as he provided a sort of balance to the ‘ruder’ members of the group when on shows.

[Min-敏 “fast, quick, clever, smart”]

Through the years Imps would note that Hyeok practically never aged. Round eyes, fond gestures, sweet words-nobody ever assumes he’s the eldest. His gullible nature just added to the ‘young’ image. Out of the group, the fans would comment that Hyeok would be the friendliest at fanmeets, more approachable than his serious group mates. Due to his easy affectionate nature, a handful of dating rumors sprung up around him. Of course, they were always waved off with a laugh.

It’s played up of course.

It’s not a terrible hardship. Genuinely-he loves what he does. He is blessed with more artistic freedom than most other groups, and their fanbase grows steadily. 99 doesn’t have him yelling and jumping off the walls like some of the newer groups- [there wasthe general image of the group to consider]. But despite his amiability off stage and on, Hyeok rarely allows people close enough to see past the ’sunshine’ idol facade. In the beginning there really wasn’t much difference between ‘Minhyeok from Imperial’ and Minhyeok.

As he grew tired and learned of heartache it became quite the task to keep his switch turned ‘on’ and his thoughts positive. [Too easily attached, to easily hurt.]

He lost an important part of himself in those two years- [innocence? ignorance?] as he drunk to drown away his worries [an old vice]. Always open-minded, he would be easily convinced to do reckless things [especially under the influence].

With Imperial back and he dons an easy air and charming smile once more- there’s no room for tired eyes or complaints. His smiles stay as sort of shield for him. [An the bottle an old friend to complain to.] Only amongst his closest friends does he allow a streak of mischief and ambitious nature show.

To the public he must be the sun that never sets. Warm and safe, too bright to unsee.  

BIOGRAPHY

Minhyeok is the second son to the owners of a decently popular publishing company.

Contrary to other people’s sibling woes, he was treated just as his older brother was, but without the push to take over the company. His brother was willing to fill in as next in line, and Minhyeok welcomed the freedom that came with it.

A sickly child- easily catching colds and diagnosed with asthma, he was often forced to stay at home. It was terribly boring for a kid, and he could never just stay at home and do nothing. To entertain himself he burned through all the pastimes he could think of- drawing, toys, puzzles-even television got dull when the same shows were on repeat.

Eventually, he stumbled upon a book of sheet music in the vast library of the house. [They owned one copy of every book the company published, adding up to… a lot.] The strange patterns took his fancy, and upon finding out that those fancy dots and lines were a song?

“I wanna learn!”

He was hooked.

—

Piano and composing became a hobby as he threw himself into his schooling. Growing out of his asthma, he learned to love singing, and Hyeok got a boost in popularity for his skills at the karaoke. Still- the idea of being an idol never even popped into his mind. He didn’t really know what he wanted to do, but according to the world, if you got good grades doors would open.

Minhyeok wanted as many doors open to him as possible.

At the end of it all, while he wasn’t the best, he got into a good university. Hyeok eventually chose to major with a degree in writing- going back to his roots and enjoying the creativity allowed in it. If he ever wrote a book he could easily get it out to stores with his connections.

But it didn’t feel right, just relying on his parents for the job [where was the challenge? and he had to work for his brother? no thank you]. Not one to give up on anything halfway, he got his degree early and floundered.

—

It was a friend that got him to audition.

“Why don’t you go to the 99 auditions with me?

Unemployed and in a slump, Minhyeok agreed after a few glasses of alcohol in his system. Why the hell not? It wasn’t like he was doing anything as is.

When he was sober, he still agreed.

“Why not? I can’t dance at all but I know a bit about music.”

—

He got in, but his friend didn’t.

—

It was only after a year of training [exhausting, painful, but ultimately rewarding] that the show happened.

The Show.

The show pitting trainees against eachother for debut.

At first Minhyeok felt guilty- a chance at debut? The others had waited for an /unbelievable number of years and here he was trying to take the spot? The guilt quickly faded in the rush of the competition- he didn’t have time to feel guilty, he just had to try his best to stay afloat. His dancing was hardly up to par, and the strange was still a stranger to him… but after the aimless years of uni not knowing what he was doing, having a goal to work for was just what he needed.

He cried when they won, and swore to himself to make the best of it.

—

Victory had been stripped from them soon after as Imperial lost a member and gained a 2 year hiatus.

It killed him.

Reminded of his awful time after graduation, Minhyeok threw himself into music. Trying to write songs to keep busy, training his weaker dance moves and telling himself he was just preparing to comeback.

Between periods of holing himself up in his room to write he found himself bending rules he wasn’t supposed to, drinking through the night and waking up in unfamiliar beds [he was always a fickle child, bouncing from one hobby to the next, and people and relationships were no different].  Anything to distract from the idea — that Imperial would possibly…disband.

The company didn’t release many songs, but Minhyeok didn’t want to wait again.

[If they grew stupidly popular, the company would have to promote them right?]