Dawn was barely filtering through the edges of the blackout curtain covering the large window in the Samseong-dong studio. It was 6:10 in the morning when the second hand of a small analog desk clock — a classic-style piece Sol-woo had brought among his belongings — began marking the start of a new day.
Sol-woo got up with a renewed energy. He moved through his morning routine without rushing but with complete discipline: washed his face, brushed his teeth, and stood for a few seconds in front of the bathroom mirror looking at his own reflection — quietly absorbing where he was before stepping out to the small kitchen to make a strong coffee.
At 7:10 on the dot, the front door emitted a soft digital tone.
Sol-woo walked over and looked through the peephole. On the other side stood his manager. This time, Kang Tae-shik wore a dark suit of impeccable cut — sober, entirely professional, the perfect image of an industry representative. When Sol-woo opened the door, the solidly built man gave a slight bow and asked permission before stepping forward.
"Come in, Mr. Manager," Sol-woo said, stepping aside.
Tae-shik entered the apartment and took a quick look around. Every item of clothing put away, the bed perfectly made, not a single cup out of place. A saying that circulated in etiquette forums and industry circles went: "Look at the order of someone’s home and you’ll know exactly how their mind is ordered." The manager gave an inward nod, deeply satisfied by the young man’s discipline.
While Sol-woo poured a second cup of coffee and offered it to him, Tae-shik took the floor to lay out the day’s agenda:
"Sol-woo-ssi, at 10:00 AM you have your first formal session on protocol and social media with Ji-soo-ssi. In the afternoon, you’ll work directly in the studio with Shinsadong Tiger. Later, Director Yoon has asked me to take you to the gym. For now you’ll be using a nearby public facility — we need you to build the physical endurance and lung capacity required to sustain your voice and presence on a stage."
Tae-shik paused briefly and added with technical precision:
"In addition, your diet will begin to be overseen by a professional nutritionist we’re bringing on. We want to make sure you maintain the muscle mass and exact weight suited to your frame. As for your height — there’s nothing to worry about there. It’s perfect."
Sol-woo simply nodded with composure. What was there to object to? He had never in his life met a man so efficiently prepared and precise in every detail.
They had a light breakfast and at 8:45 AM rode down to the parking level. The drive to MNO Entertainment took about ten minutes through the morning traffic — though Sol-woo mentally calculated that at a quick walk or a jog it wouldn’t take more than five.
It was nearly 9:00 AM when the Sonata pulled into the area. From the back seat — following the previous day’s lesson to the letter — Sol-woo checked his phone. The YouTube video had picked up barely another thousand views overnight; the platform’s algorithm seemed to have stalled on that link. He opened Instagram for a few seconds and instinctively felt the impulse to search a certain profile in the search bar — but he caught himself immediately. This wasn’t the time for distractions. He needed to stay completely focused on his own process.
When they pushed through the agency’s glass doors, the two imposing security guards snapped to attention, looked at him with marked respect, and greeted him in unison:
"Good morning, Sol-woo-ssi."
Sol-woo returned the greeting with a respectful bow and a warm look before following Tae-shik.
Taking advantage of the hour before his first session, the manager gave him a detailed tour of the newly renovated facilities. He showed him a private recording studio with acoustic insulation and specific instruments where he would work on his compositions, a medium-sized room for dance rehearsals and stage movement, and a small internal café area that was still being fitted out.
Sol-woo found the place warm, welcoming, and genuinely functional.
Taking in the quiet hallways, he couldn’t help but hope that in the future the agency would fill with other trainees — young talent bringing energy to these corridors — though he understood that in MNO’s current situation, that was out of reach. He felt a deep gratitude toward Director Yoon for the blind bet the man was placing on him. If he managed to make it in the industry, he swore to himself he would never turn his back on this company.
From a young age, his father had burned into him the importance of loyalty and gratitude: "Even dogs understand the value of loyalty — a single sincere meal is enough to win the hardest hearts," he used to say. And also: "Blind compassion is weakness, but measured compassion with memory is worth more than all the gold in the world."
A woman dressed elegantly but with a refined, slightly informal touch — perfectly suited to her executive role — was watching Sol-woo from the hallway as he contemplated the small café still under construction. It was Han Ji-soo.
Seeing her approach, Sol-woo dipped his head with complete courtesy:
"Good morning, Ji-soo-ssi."
The woman gave a slight nod and a small smile. Tae-shik, seeing the young man already in the right hands for his first morning session, quietly turned and walked away with his usual purposeful stride to attend to other agency matters.
Ji-soo guided Sol-woo to the rehearsal room. It was a wide, immaculate space with polished wooden floors and mirrors covering every wall — an ideal and far more comfortable environment for working on posture and expression.
She stopped in front of him, crossed her arms with an analytical air, and asked:
"Sol-woo-ssi, would you prefer we start with social protocol sessions or with media management and social media strategy?"
Sol-woo considered the question for a moment. Both areas were a priority for him and he was ready to absorb whatever came first. He answered in an impeccable student’s tone:
"Whatever you consider most appropriate to begin with, Ji-soo-seonsaengnim."
Ji-soo allowed herself a look of quiet approval and took a step forward:
"Perfect. In fact, you just received your first lesson without realizing it."
Sol-woo looked at her with attentive curiosity. Ji-soo continued in a measured, instructive tone:
"From today, you need to understand that as a public figure you are building an image and an authority. An artist without a defined presence — no matter how attractive or striking — will only ever capture momentary attention. Visual beauty expires if you don’t know how to convey who you are. You have to learn to resonate with your own identity."
She paused briefly to emphasize the next point:
"In the culture of this industry, when a superior or someone with more experience asks you a strategic question, you must not surrender control entirely or answer with hasty deflections. You also can’t try to improvise or sound agreeable just to get through the moment — you’ll be perceived as unreliable or calculating. In Korean entertainment, it is a thousand times better to respond with a calm, contained smile than with anxious or evasive words. Calm projects power. Haste projects weakness."
Sol-woo listened carefully, absorbing each concept. It made complete sense. In an industry this meticulous, a single word out of place or one misread expression would carry far more weight with the public than almost anything else. He had to learn restraint — to master the art of composure.
"Understood, Ji-soo-seonsaengnim. I’ll keep the weight of every gesture and every word in mind," Sol-woo replied, accompanying the words with a respectful bow and a steady smile.