K-pop King

By L.A. Frank

Born into one of the wealthiest families in South Korea, growing up isolated and lonely, with more punishment than love from his parents, Shinwoo never thought he had a choice in where his life was headed. Whether he liked it or not, he was raised to enter and one day take over the family business.

With the ghost of his former teacher egging him on, he auditions for a new K-Pop group and his whole life changes. As their leader, Shinwoo uses the skills he's been taught to help his new group overcome personality differences, come together as a team, and pass their debut. He propels them forward to capture their dream of becoming K-Pop stars.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L.A. Frank
• Release date: Aug 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463257463

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K-Pop King

by

L.A.Frank

Copyright © 2019 by L.A.Frank

All Rights Reserved.

Smashwords Edition Auguts 2019

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, trademarked products, events, and locations are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your enjoyment. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to your favorite ebook retailer to discover other works. Thank you for respecting the hard work of L.A.Frank.

Find out more about this book and other works by L.A.Frank at http://www.thisislafrank.com

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K-Pop King

Table of Contents:

Introduction: The Debut

Chapter One: The Red-Crowned Crane

Chapter Two: The Arrival of the Master

Chapter Three: Eternal Black

Chapter Four: Father

Chapter Five: The Education of Shinwoo

Chapter Six: The Keys to Your Destiny

Chapter Seven: You Have Choices

Chapter Eight: Conquering the Wall

Chapter Nine: Conquering the Wall in Sun Woo’s Eyes

Chapter Ten: The Night Visitor

Chapter Eleven: Moonlight on the Beach

Chapter Twelve: The Master Leaves

Chapter Thirteen: Goodbye Master

Chapter Fourteen: The Business

Chapter Fifteen: Off to College...or Not

Chapter Sixteen: Marriage on the Horizon

Chapter Seventeen: Dating

Chapter Eighteen: G5 Comes together

Chapter Nineteen: Getting to Know the New Team

Chapter Twenty: Settling in with the Group

Chapter Twenty-One: G5 Debut

Chapter Twenty-Two: Not Coming Home

Chapter Twenty-Three: Life Has Choices

Connect with L.A. Frank

K-Pop King

Introduction: The Debut

Beyond the closed door of the overheated holding room, the roar of the crowd ebbed and flowed, like waves upon the shore, one minute blaring, stifling most other sounds, the next diminishing to a whisper, drowned by the music. Under Shinwoo’s feet, the floor, scuffed from hundreds of other shoes, pulsed with momentum, the bass of the beat vibrating up through it into his lower legs. He lifted his eyes and they rested upon a poster on the opposite wall advertising the benefits of drinking milk. The rural setting of dairy cows on a verdant hilltop contrasted sharply with the dingy, white wall, marred where countless people and objects had bumped and scrapped along it on the way in and out of the room. Below the poster, bottles of water on a table danced lightly with the beat. The line up of bottles was slightly askew and he longed to reach out and make an adjustment, putting order back into the row, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t sure he could. Although his eyes darted nervously to and fro, fear and anticipation held his bottom tightly glued to the assigned seat.

...minutes...backstage, someone said, popping a head into the room, the bulk of the words drowned by the noise.

It wasn’t their manager, so Shinwoo paid the announcement little attention. He couldn’t hear the man anyway, but not because of the outside noise. The consistent thump of his own heart, a booming paDUM, paDUM, echoed in his ears, louder than any other sound. It beat in time, like a sarcastic tune, to the annoying foot that tapped nervously next to his own. He swallowed the fear in his throat and brushed a bead of sweat that threatened to drip from his chin. Reaching out, he placed one finger atop the knee with the errant foot, halting the jiggling.

Sorry, his mate said. I can’t help it! I'm as jittery as a pot of boiling noodles.

How can you think about food at a time like this! If they don’t call us soon, I'm going to be sick, said the next down the line.

Not in here, and not until we finish! You can be sick all you want when we're done, but not now, said another. Better have that green tint on your face covered by another coat of makeup or it will clash with the stage lights.

Shinwoo waited for a final comment, but the last member of his group, usually never at a loss for words, sat mute and unmoving, staring at the floor, face as white as a ghost.

How much longer would the five of them nurse their nerves, sitting here sweating? They were lucky that they'd not drawn the opening spot, but halfway through was too long to wait, especially when they'd never stood on this stage, never sang and danced in front of such a large crowd, and never experienced performing to a live audience like this one. Tonight was their chance to begin their dream, but being cooped up with several others in this hot, holding room, watching on a small television screen the performance in progress just steps away, was making them all extremely nervous. If they weren’t lucky, one of the group was going to do something they all might regret.

Luck. Shinwoo focused on that single word and the sights and sounds in the room faded to the background.

He hadn’t thought much about luck since he was ten years old, the day of his birthday, when he spotted the red-crowned crane. Etched in his memory forever, the majestic bird with the snowy white and black feathers and the distinct red tuft was magical. Luck came to those that were able to snatch a glimpse of the rare bird, or so it was said. He had so hoped for luck that day, but over the course of his life, he'd convinced himself that there was no good fortune in his world. Now he wondered. Did the sighting of the crane bring him luck in the long run?

The Master, Shinwoo’s old teacher, told him that luck played only a small part in life, if any at all. The decisions that he made, given the choices, determined his path. He, Lee Shin Woo, was the master of his own destiny. He had it inside of himself to make the right decisions, to point himself on a path that would bring him happiness. The Master stressed that no one should rely on luck, alone.

Perhaps, Shinwoo thought, life was really a combination of the two, the luck of the crane and the teachings of the Master, for, while he was nervous enough to taste bile in his throat, Shinwoo was happy. He'd made his decision. This was the life he wanted to lead and today he was setting his path. He only hoped the other four in his group agreed and they all performed up to expectations, for he had to rely on them, as they, in turn, relied on him, in order to step onto this path.

They weren’t a typical K-Pop group. None of them were schooled in this career choice. Most other performers began training when they were much younger, middle school age or earlier. His own agency sponsored many such youngsters, practicing day after day in the bowels of the building. Each hoped to be the next K-Pop idol when they grew a little older, or with enough training and practice.

The youngest of Shinwoo’s group was turning eighteen next month, so they were much older to be at the beginning. All but one of the group was recruited on-the-spot via an audition process and for the last three months, they learned, then practiced, their required music and dance moves over and over, hundreds of times. Would only three months of training, not the usual years of experience, suffice? If so, it would be an uphill climb after this performance. Not only would they have to learn additional music and choreography, they would have to overcome the intense jealousy of other, more seasoned groups and wannabees at their agency.

Still, it wouldn’t be these others at their agency that determined their fate. Nor would it be the plethora of managers, trainers, teachers, and instructors at the agency, although they had a say in the direction of the group. The prime decisions were finalized outside the agency. It would be the public that would make or break them. If the fans backed them, then it didn’t matter if they were as green as the grass on the hilltop of that milk poster, and, so far, the fans were supporting them. The public loved the idea of giving virtual unknown Cinderellas (Cinderfellas?) a chance and had been following, via the internet, the group’s progress with eager anticipation of their debut. Today was the key that would either unlock the door to their new career path, or keep it firmly closed and force them to all retreat back to their old lives.

Shinwoo jumped as the door to the holding room opened, solidifying his last thought rather prophetically. The sound from the current act on the stage intensified exponentially. Pantomiming dramatically with his arms, their manager shouted.

...now!...up! Let’s go!

Shinwoo?

He heard his name from far away, someone calling at the end of a long tunnel.

Lee Shin Woo! Let’s go!

A hand waved in front of his face and Shinwoo snapped to the present.

Let’s go! We're up!

He nodded and followed the other four, the last of his group to leave the room. The noise of the current act on stage was deafening now that they'd left the confines of the holding room. His initial instinct was to retreat from the sound, however he had no choice but to move forward. A manager pushed Shinwoo, literally, with an insistent hand on his back, until he joined the other four in the wings, waiting for the stage.

We're they ready? Had they practiced enough? Could they do it? Could he remember his part? This and other thoughts ran rampant through his brain. Shinwoo watched the girl group that occupied the stage pass them on their way off. On any other day, he would have appreciated the short skirts, long legs, and tight tops. Today he barely glanced.

G5, you're up. Get out there! a stage manager said, pointing to the bright lights beyond the wings.

It wasn’t their choice, the group name. It was assigned to them the day they began this new experience. It wasn’t that imaginative, either, not like other groups that mixed metaphors in their names, used mathematical expressions, or had acronyms that inspired fans. It wasn’t too bad, though. There were other groups with similar names and those groups had made it in the industry. Shinwoo’s boy band was now accustomed to the name, and responded accordingly when addressed by it.

The other four ahead of him hesitated to move into the bright lights on stage. Each wore the same fear that Shinwoo thought, if he had a mirror, could see blatantly advertised upon his own face. The black band of makeup scored across their eyes, like a mask, contrasted sharply with the white of the faces of his group. It wasn’t their idea, either, the makeup, but they learned to leave it alone, to avoid smudging, and live with it. It was their gimmick and gave them an instantly recognizable look in a sea of other hopeful, up-and-coming, K-Pop groups.

At this rate, with nerves fluttering and their hearts pounding, they'd make fools of themselves. Shinwoo was the group’s leader. He understood it was up to him to do something and do it quickly, before they got out there, or they were libel to flop. They had to remember their parts. They had to sing on key and dance on time. If they didn’t, that was the end of them all. He'd be back to working that hated job for his father, back to the endless days of paperwork, broken machinery, and obstinate, factory staff. It was imperative for his group to come together and jell, right now, or it was the end for them. It was one of the most nerve-wracking battles that he'd ever faced, but he was a fighter and Shinwoo was not going to give up, not tonight or ever. He was not about to surrender...not yet, anyway.

The ire in him up, Shinwoo pulled the nearest band mate by the collar, preventing him from walking out on stage. The other three crowded around.

Are you ready? Shinwoo asked, looking each one of them in the eyes.

He received blank stares in response. Not good.

I said, are you ready? he asked again, a little more forcefully.

He didn’t particularly feel ready either, but he wasn’t about to let the others know his fear. They were all so engrossed in their own that Shinwoo doubted they noticed the perspiration gathering on his upper lip. He thrust out his hand, palm down into their small circle.

On the count of three, I want to hear you say G5 Fighting, Shinwoo commanded.

The other four responded, adding their hands on top of his and Shinwoo shouted at the top of his lungs, One, two three!

G5 Fighting!

Shinwoo pulled back his hand and pumped a fist, as did the others. The crowd outside went wild. He'd forgotten that their microphones were live. Everyone heard him count and all the group join in on three. All seventy thousand fans packing the stadium heard Shinwoo’s command and joined in the cheer, shouting along with the group. He might have blown it for the guys with that outburst, but, as Shinwoo scanned his group, the fear in their eyes was gone, replaced with a fierce determination that they were going to do their best, no matter what. He nodded. They were as ready as they'd ever be.

G5 took the stage and stepped into position, Shinwoo heading the point of a V. He waited to count the beat and listened for their number to start. Two measures to begin the dance moves. Two measures more and then he'd sing. He'd done it enough, in the last few weeks, that he thought he could sing and dance this in his sleep. In fact, he woke up last night from a dream where he was doing that, exactly. He could do it, he told himself. After all, it was his choice and he'd made the decision. He was sticking it out and continuing with this career change. Vastly different than the business world he'd left, even with nerves and, perhaps, a bit of stage fright, he was going to do it and he was determined to succeed. With every bit of effort, he was going to make sure they performed their best.

Beyond the blinding of the stage lights, the audience was a sea of dark heads and colorful light sticks. One whole section in the top gallery waved lights in the signature pink color of a famous girl group. Below, another section hung a banner for a popular boy band. Close to the stage, fans screamed and shouted in excitement, some with their phones scrolling messages of endearment, others leaning forward with their arms outstretched in hopes of being touched by an idol.

Shinwoo knew these people were only caught up in the excitement, the mood of the concert, and not really screaming for his own group. Truth be told, his band was on trial. Sing and dance well and they might pass. Mess up anything and they would be forgotten and another new sensation would quickly take their place. Would they make it? Could they overcome their current stage fright and perform a flawless number? Were they lucky tonight, or did it all have to do with practice, how much and how well? Did that red-crowned crane imbibe luck, or was his fate riding solely on his own shoulders?

The questions circled his brain, so much so that Shinwoo almost forgot to listen for his cue. He was careless and that was nearly unforgivable. If he didn’t start on time, it would kill their chances because, once he began, the others had to follow. They couldn’t if he was early or late in his entry. He focused his ears in time to catch the last of the first two measures. He took a deep breath, ready to begin what he hoped was his new career in the world of K-Pop. Luck, or sheer determination, at this point it mattered not. He would sing and dance the first few lines as he was taught and had practiced over and over so many times. He would show this audience! He and the young men behind him, the boy band G5, were the next new force in the music industry. Cinderellas or not, get ready and get out of the way because here they came...or not. They better not blow it.

I love you, Shinwoo!

Shinwoo heard a fan from the audience shout in the instant before his cue. It was impossible to tell where the voice originated. Shinwoo couldn’t help but smile, though. Two dimples appeared on either side of his mouth and the corners of his eyes lifted. The fans in the stadium went wild as his face was magnified on the gigantic screens on either side of the stage.

It might be all right. They might just make it. Maybe that crane did bring him luck, after all. That, and the decisions he made coupled with his hard work. Perhaps the Master was right all along.

Thank you, Master, Shinwoo thought and took a step forward, the first step of what he hoped was many more to come in this new world of K-Pop.

Chapter One: The Red-Crowned Crane

The song gained momentum as, one-by-one, birds joined the chorus in morning praise of the gathering light. Shinwoo’s eyes rose into the trees to try to spot some of the birds. So dark, only moments ago, the sky now outlined the branches, coloring them black against the approaching dawn. Shinwoo’s ears picked out at least four different types of birds by their songs. Did they all sleep together? He pictured several small songbirds lined up in a row, huddling together, clinging to a tree branch. Feathers fluffed, making them appear twice as large, downy warmth provided the necessary heat to survive.

Down was warm. He knew this from his own experience. His bedroom grew rather cold at night in winter, and his down comforter kept him warm. As long as he slept underneath it, he stayed toasty. His bedroom was not heated, unlike the other rooms in his suite. It was not a building flaw, since his house possessed every modern convenience known to man and then some. Lack of heat was supposed to make him grow strong, he was told. It only made him cold unless he remained under his covering. He reasoned that lack of heat ensured that he didn’t leave his bed much during the night. When he reluctantly rose to relieve his bladder, his feet turned to ice and it took a long time to warm under the covers when he returned. Wetting the bed was forbidden, so he had to get up in the night. He was too old for that kind of childish accident, anyway. Besides, if he messed in the bed, he would be punished for it. Shinwoo avoided punishment whenever possible.

He watched the trees as the light filtered in, chasing away the night. He could see the leaves, now, whereas only a few minutes ago darkness dominated. As the daylight stretched its fingers down through the canopy, spearing trees and bushes, shapes became noticeable. The monster on the right, waving its arms as if in pursuit of prey, turned out to be a stump with tree roots branching at odd angles. He was afraid, at first, of that monster as they sat in the dark, but knew that the Master would keep him safe. After all, it was his teacher’s job to ensure Shinwoo’s education and the Master would not let that schooling go to waste by allowing anything to happen to him.

The Master nudged Shinwoo and pointed to the left. Shinwoo held his breath as he viewed the magnificent sight. A huge stag, so many points on his antlers that Shinwoo gave up trying to count, grazed on the edge of the field, calmly ripping clumps of grass in the clearing, chewing with his massive jaws. Every so often, the stag lifted his head and scanned the tree line. Shinwoo watched the stubby, white tail swish back and forth in caution. Nostrils flared as the beast sniffed the air, sending out clouds of smoky white into the near-dawn chill. Did the deer sense Shinwoo and the Master? They hid in their makeshift blind, composed of twigs, leaves, and branches, but Shinwoo knew the animal’s sense of smell was many times greater than that of a human. He studied this with the Master.

The Master pressed firmly on Shinwoo’s wrist, in the arranged signal. Shinwoo raised his arm and sighted through the glass. The beast swam into his vision, its rump centered within the cross hairs. Shinwoo moved the sight up the length of the stag until it reached the head. As he viewed the beast up close, he took in every hair on its body. Massive muscles undulated under the surface of the pelt, ready to spring the beast away at the first sign of danger and sharp eyes missed nothing. The Master, still only using the pressure of his fingers, guided Shinwoo’s wrist, signaling to move, and Shinwoo obeyed, reluctantly. He refocused and there, in his sight, the most amazing creature materialized. Had he concentrated on the stag, he would have missed it.

Today, he was the luckiest boy alive. It was his birthday and he stared, within the sights of his binoculars, at a red-crowned crane, one of the rarest cranes in the world. The snowy white body gave way to an inky black tail, which Shinwoo knew was not a tail, at all. When the creature spread its wings, the real tail would be revealed and it would be white, like the body. The black was actually part of the bird’s wings. A red patch on the top of its head identified the bird for its name. Below that, a graceful black neck swayed back and forth as the crane foraged for food in the field. Shinwoo added to his birthday blessings by noting that the bird was a male. Gray feathers sprouted on the cheeks of females, instead of black. He wondered if this bird flew from Siberia, China, or Mongolia on its way to the wetlands. He could certainly identify these countries on the map and the breeding grounds for the birds. The Master ensured that Shinwoo knew his geography.

Today, because he spotted the crane, his birthday would be filled with luck, longevity, and fidelity. He was already given luck by being able to watch the stag and now to see this rare bird, as well. Master Han Sung Soo, next to him, would also receive luck and longevity, as he glimpsed the bird, too. Shinwoo wasn’t exactly positive what fidelity meant. He made a mental note to look that up before the Master quizzed him. Spotting the crane was the highlight of his birthday, to be sure. Even though his birthday had barely began, hearing the birds greeting the morning, seeing the stag, and now watching the crane portended an amazing day. Perhaps this year would be different for him. Perhaps this year his birthday would not be one of disappointment and punishment, but of happiness and pleasure. Was it too much to wish?

Shinwoo forgave the Master for waking him in the middle of the night and forcing him to sit in the blind for what seemed like hours, shivering in the cold. He now knew what the Master meant when he said that good things came to those with patience. The Master also said that study and practice honed perfection and Shinwoo was not looking forward to the seemingly endless hours of study that awaited him after they returned to the house. Today it would be Korean literature. Shinwoo would have to complete the memorization of an ancient poem and then prepare an analysis of it for the Master. He would rather the Master assign a few hundred mathematics problems to solve, instead of one poem. Shinwoo loved math, but also knew that he must be equally adept at all subjects. He would complete the assigned work today and dissect the poem down to the minutest level. He did not want to disappoint the Master. Disappointment meant punishment. But more than letting down the Master, Shinwoo did not want to be less than perfect in anything, especially on this day, of all days. He would accomplish the assignment and deliver a flawless analysis. There was no question in his mind. Everything put in front of him to learn was a challenge that Shinwoo took on with determination, if not relish. He loved challenges.

He memorized every inch of the bird as he viewed it. Later, once his assignment was completed to his satisfaction, he would take out his paints and recreate this vision. He enjoyed painting. It was soothing. It enabled him to wind down from a long day packed with studies. When he painted, he could let his mind wander and he often did, daydreaming on a variety of subjects, but most often imagining what it was like to be one of the great generals of history.

Shinwoo attacked his every day life as he thought a general might approach a battle, prepared for any outcome but determined to be victorious. Often, before bed, he struggled to get through the teachings of Sun Tzu, a Chinese military strategist and philosopher. It was the Master that presented Shinwoo with the volume of Sun Tzu's work. Shinwoo had detested learning Chinese up until this point, but with a subject matter so fascinating, as he deciphered the characters each night, his ability to read and write in this language dramatically improved, as did his understanding of the ancient philosopher’s writings.

When they returned to the house, upstairs in his suite, Shinwoo’s manservant helped him to undress and he stepped into the shower, already running at an optimum temperature. He warmed under the spray, chasing away the chill of the morning. Feeling refreshed, he exited the shower and accepted the towel handed him. His manservant no longer dried him. He was too old for that. He could do it by himself. Dressed in a suit and tie selected for him, his feet slipped into freshly polished shoes, he left the confines of his own rooms, and walked down the hallway toward his classroom.

Hurry, Young Sir, one of the servants whispered to him as he passed in the hallway. You don’t want to be late. The Witch is here.

It was forbidden for servants to address him unless he command them to do so. However, this was the one exception he tolerated. At some point in his childhood, the servants and he had banded together when it came to the Witch. They now all warned him when she was near or scheduled to arrive. He was certain that they all felt the same anxiety with her in the house. A demanding perfectionist, everything and everyone had to be up to her standards. The Witch was not hesitant on firing employees of the house. Many servants came and went in Shinwoo’s short life. No one, not one servant, remained in the house for long. The record was two years. Master Han Sung Soo neared that record. He had been teaching Shinwoo for nearly two years.

The Witch was here? Shinwoo’s eyebrows arched up and he accelerated his steps. A spear of dread shot down through his body and he nervously smoothed the hair falling onto his forehead. Why was the Witch here? He racked his brain trying to remember a good reason and then it came to him. It was his birthday. He saw her several times a year, but two of those visits were always the same, once on his birthday, and once at his father’s Christmas party. The other times were usually unannounced visits, surprises for Shinwoo, but carefully planned by the Witch. He would receive his birthday present today, and probably punishment, certainly disappointment, as well.

Last year he was given the piano and the instructor. The year before he was presented with a pony and trainer. What would she give him this year? He was at a loss as to what it would be, but knew it would be educational. None of his presents were only for fun. Oh well, he shrugged as he hurried down the hall. Whatever it was, it would be something disappointing. While he was still learning the piano, he didn’t particularly enjoy the lessons. The pony, on the other hand, was a disaster, at first, that he'd now corrected. The corner on his mouth lifted remembering that gift.

That year, she arrived in a flourish with her entourage and pounced on Shinwoo while he was in the middle of his dressage training. He was given the pony for his birthday and a trainer, along with the animal. Shinwoo discovered that his pony exhibited nasty habits. He quickly learned how to avoid being bitten after receiving a stinging wound on his shoulder and a couple of stitches to close it. His pony also enjoyed disobeying commands, and it took all Shinwoo and his trainer’s determination to tame the beast and bring him under control. Shinwoo was certain that the pony was hand-picked by the Witch because it acted exactly like her. It even resembled her, with a dark mane of hair and a long black tail which it flicked judiciously, just as the Witch flicked her own black hair. The pony could also bite like the Witch, but the Witch inflicted mental wounds, never physical ones.

As he rode around the ring, his back perfectly straight, and his head up, he guided the pony through the obstacles and over the jumps. He was unaware