Chapter 1:

Eating Leftovers

The rain had been torrential, but nothing could’ve dampened my enthusiasm. I waited, hands clasped together, wearing my cutest sweater with my face caked in makeup. Only a short line separated me from my ultimate bias, Ryu Jaesoo.

The five members of UN-FINITE were sitting in age order, meaning that Jaesoo, the youngest, was up first. He looked just like he did on TV—just as perfect—messy black hair falling over deep brown eyes, a round face with a twinkle of mischief in his smile. What could I say to him? I had fantasized early that morning of him taking my album, signing his name with a flourish, then scribbling his personal number in the corner.

“What is—”

He’d press his finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone. Call me when you get home.”

We’d call, text, get to know each other, arrange some illicit cafe date or backstage tryst. It had been clear to me that morning, but my more realistic late-afternoon self had decided I would need to impress him in some way in order to get his number. Maybe if I told him something only a true fan would know? But that would come off as at best, nerdy, and at worst, stalker-ish!

“Can I have your album? What’s your name?”

I’d come to the front of the line lost in worries, not paying attention, and now Jaesoo was looking right at me! Oh, god, I didn’t seem cool at all!

“Um—” I squeaked, “sorry!”

I fled without even getting his signature. That was how awkward and pitiful I’d been in my youth.

“Director-nim,” Ryu Jaesoo said, bowing. “I look forward to working with you.”

I bowed back. “Director Choi is fine, no need to be formal, I’m a longtime fan.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Though he was thirty-one years old now, Jaesoo still had a charming smile. His hair was buzzed short from his military service, his style modernized and hip-hop, but he was still the Jaesoo I’d spent fifteen years of my life following.

“How long?” the other remaining member of UN-FINITE, Baek Sungjin, asked curiously.

“Since I was in middle school.” I explained briefly how watching their music videos religiously had gotten me interested in the art of MV making itself, leading me to study film and become a director of promos and music videos for K-pop.

I wasn’t my younger self, lost in fantasies, but I was still expecting a positive reaction or some more interest. Instead, Jaesoo looked sad, while Sungjin had lost interest and was fidgeting with a pen. His hand spasmed, and the pen fell with a clatter to the hardwood floor.

I knelt to pick it up and handed it back. “Here you go. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.”

“Hyung,” Jaesoo said.

“It’s fine. Don’t start an argument in front of the director.”

“You told me—”

“In private, Jaesoo, or fuck off.”

“Can I see the choreography?” I asked.

“Of course,” Jaesoo said smoothly. “Our manager and choreographer are waiting in the practice room, as well as the album’s main producer.”

Jaesoo and Sungjin were the only members of UN-FINITE left, since the other three had gotten into a conflict with their agency and left the group a few years back. As a result, their choreography had become more stylized and interwoven. This one had sections designed to look like they were puppeting each other, switching off, of course. The mood and their expressions were most striking in those parts, and I decided I’d like to give them focus in the MV. The other sections of the song could be non-dancing scenes.

“What’s the theme of this song?” I asked the producer. He began to explain, and I took notes.

“Do you need us for anything else right now?” Jaesoo asked.

“It’s your MV, so I’d like your input on the ideas we’re discussing.”

“Ah, sorry…we could maybe stay a little longer, but we’ve got a pretty full schedule.”

That made sense, since they were prepping for their comeback.

“Could you just text what you decide? I’ll say if there’s anything my hyung and I really want to change or add.”

“Sure, that works.”

He borrowed Sungjin’s pen and scribbled down his number on a piece of paper. Our fingers brushed as he handed it over.

This is the best day of my life.

My happiness was crushed a couple weeks later, when UN-FINITE’s producer sent me a terse email telling me the MV was cancelled.

It’s been my dream to work with UN-FINITE for years, I typed, trying to restrain the indignant anger and sobbing disappointment of my fifteen-year-old self with the steel yoke of professionalism I’d developed to be respected in showbiz, and as you’re aware, my credentials and work ethic are good. Would you be willing to reach out to me for UN-FINITE’s next project?

The producer’s response came back quickly. Unfortunately, UN-FINITE is disbanding.

They were…what?

The poised, synchronous, bright and smiling group I’d finally managed to catch up to, to become the equal of…they were going to be gone?

My dream, broken, just like that?

They’d been tense when I met them, but I’d written it off as a bad day.

I had to know what was going on. Searching the Internet didn’t tell me anything—seemed like the gossip rags hadn’t picked up the story yet. Against my better judgement, I navigated to Jaesoo’s contact on my phone.

His ringtone was a tinny recording of an old UN-FINITE fan song. The whole first verse played before he picked up.

“Hello?”

“I love that song,” I said in a rush. “I love your music.”

“I’ve been meaning to change it. What’s up?”

“I guess—” I leaned forward over my computer, resting on my elbows, trying not to bite my lip. “I just heard you were disbanding, and I wanted to know what happened.”

“Sungjin-hyung—you signed an NDA, right?”

“Yeah. I can’t share any personal information about the group without permission.”

“Good. He, well, he finally got caught.”

Caught for what? I wanted to ask, but stayed quiet and let him continue on his own.

“He’s been an addict for about a year, two, now? Well, he was doing some stuff before that, but it’s only recently he started doing cocaine. The most illegal shit, I don’t get it—well, I do. My military service was a break for me, but it was hell for him, having to keep us relevant. They’ve worked him too hard since we were kids. Sorry, I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“It’s fine. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Hope you weren’t his fan.”

“Actually, I was yours.”

He laughed bitterly. “That’s worse. I’m fake. I’m washed up. I’m sick of being an idol.”

Silence as I didn’t respond. I could hear his breathing through the phone receiver, growing more strained. I took a second to organize my thoughts.

“I’m still a fan of UN-FINITE. I’ll keep being a fan, even if you’re gone.”

“...Why?”

“Because you all gave me passion for something. A real dream to look forward to. Didn’t you use to have a dream like that?”

“We were a lot younger when we wrote all those ambitious, believe-in-yourself lyrics.” With that, he hung up.

I called him back.

“What!”

“Are you okay? You’re not doing well emotionally, and you’re probably alone, right?”