Chapter 191. Diamond
The nonsense of the madman disguised as a photographer knew no bounds.
“Good, good. This angle, expression, pose—it’s forming a perfect triangle, like it was measured with a ruler.”
What do you mean by a “tri”?
No matter how strange the situation seemed, we couldn’t easily voice our doubts.
‘The results are just too good.’
The freshly taken photos of Seo Taehyun appeared on the monitor, and all of the staff, including us, couldn’t help but be amazed. Black hair, straight, with a white T-shirt and jeans—Seo Taehyun was creating every possible shot with this simple combination.
As Dan Haru, who had a hairpin stuck right in the middle of his hair to give volume to his bangs, pointed to one of Taehyun’s photos, he admired it.
“Hyung, you’re really good at taking pictures. How do you manage to make such expressions?”
In the photo where he was sitting with his knees bent, lightly hugging them, and resting his head languidly on top, I could tell it was a well-taken picture.
‘Did he really find his muse?’
Leaving that question hanging, Seo Taehyun’s profile shoot ended.
With the thought of watching a few more people, I decided not to go back to the waiting room and stayed in front of the monitor. Seo Taehyun, holding a handheld fan, casually approached me.
“Did I turn out well?”
“Didn’t you hear earlier? They were throwing around words like ‘Fantastic,’ ‘Bravo,’ and ‘Gracias.’”
“…That’s just the photographer being good with lip service.”
But with how much your lips are curling up, Taehyun-ah.
The king of INFPs, who was weak to compliments, couldn’t hide his joy as he turned his gaze to the monitor.
As he meticulously checked his photos, seemingly satisfied, I quietly asked him in a small voice.
“What do you think of the photographer? He’s like a compliment machine. Didn’t you find anything weird?”
“Weird? Not really? When they work, they usually do that to lighten the mood.”
Oops, I asked the wrong person.
It was like asking the top student if it was strange that the teacher kept praising them.
Well, except for the excessive compliments, there didn’t seem to be any particular issues, so I decided to observe the situation further and check on the next person for the shoot. Just like the others, Jung Siwoo was prepared in a white T-shirt and jeans, with silver-framed glasses, and posed on the wooden stool.
At that moment, the photographer, who was looking through the camera, suddenly waved his hand with a serious expression and said,
“Oh, I can’t do this shoot.”
What did he just say?
With that sudden declaration, the atmosphere of the shoot instantly froze. Even Jung Siwoo’s soft features, seated in the chair, seemed to stiffen.
The photographer then put his hand on his forehead and exaggeratedly exclaimed in a theatrical tone.
“Unless a new camera that can capture this face is developed in this world, this shoot is a lie. It’s a fake. As a director, I can’t allow this.”
…Is this guy really insane?
* * *
Despite the photographer’s boycott, Jung Siwoo’s profile shoot proceeded smoothly.
Of course, throughout the shoot, endless praises were showered upon Jung Siwoo’s face, but it wasn’t particularly unsettling for him since he heard such comments daily.
‘These guys are such extreme outliers that it’s hard to think rationally.’
I even asked Ji Suho at one point if this was normal, but he just beamed brightly, saying it seemed like the photographer was really fond of us, and rejoiced cheerfully. His happiness was so genuine that I couldn’t even muster the will to suspect anything.
“No matter how you look at it, it’s strange….”
There were an abnormal number of cameras, a suspicious photographer, and a bizarre situation.
For a moment, I even wondered if this was some kind of hidden camera prank from a variety show, but the profile shoot was progressing far too earnestly for that. Usually, in these situations, the truth would be revealed, and someone would jump out saying, ‘Actually, this was all a prank!’ by now.
‘…Is this just a guy obsessed with good-looking faces?’
Considering that the shoot order so far was the visual trio of Kairos’s Go-Baek-Shin (Goguryeo-Baekje-Silla) line, it seemed like a plausible theory. Not just because they were my members, but it’s not every day you come across such visuals.
‘But then again, even Lee Doha and Dan Haru got good reactions.’
It made sense that Dan Haru, who was praised for his bright and bubbly smile, was compared to a vitamin, but the fact that the same compliments were showered on the stiff-as-a-board Lee Doha suggested it wasn’t just about looks.
I mean, it’s nice to receive a lot of compliments, right? It feels like we’re doing well.
But why do I instinctively feel so uneasy about this situation?
‘Am I the only one who’s going to mess up…?’
It was because of my miserable photogenic ability. Damn it.
‘I don’t know! I don’t know how to pose at all!’
To me, profile photos meant nothing more than sitting upright, tucking my chin in, staring straight ahead with wide-open eyes, and having the photo studio’s auntie skillfully edit the picture in Photoshop!
Even during my trainee days, I was constantly practicing dancing and singing, never really studying how to take good photos!
What if everyone gets praised while taking their pictures, and when it’s my turn, it’s like throwing cold water over everything?
And the photographer’s relentless praise was hitting the members perfectly!
“This friend has, how should I say, a very dangerous gaze. I think we should amplify this precarious tension a bit more. Like the forlorn look of a wounded werewolf beneath the moonlight on the edge of a cliff….”
“…What?”
“Yes, just like that! Perfect!”
“…….”
Even just listening to it, Yugeon looked like he had mentally checked out from the max-level cringe of the photographer’s fantasy rambling.
And the photographer, seizing that opportunity, began to slowly break down Yugeon’s stiffened mood.
Though Yugeon himself didn’t seem to notice.
Even the youngest members, who had been showered with compliments, had struck poses as if they had gone wild.
‘What’s going on? Is this guy really a pro?’
Wait, wasn’t he supposed to be sensitive and picky?
I started to have reasonable doubts that Ji Suho might have gotten something wrong.
“Okay! That’s it! It was a satisfying final cut.”
“The next member, please step in!”
And just like that, it was finally my turn.
With a stiff face, I stepped into the photo zone. The lights and reflectors aimed at me were still blinding.
“We’ll take a few test shots first. Please sit facing forward.”
Alright, damn it.
Even though I’m supposedly a person with an S-rank expressiveness, whatever I do should at least capture something, right?
With a “whatever happens, happens” mindset, I sat in the chair and stared at the camera in front of me. Honestly, I had no idea what kind of expression to make, so I just threw out a smile.
The flash went off a couple of times, and the photographer, watching the monitor, tilted his head slightly before looking at me.
“Hmm. Let’s start the shoot. Relax, relax.”
“Haha, yeah. Relax….”
For the first time, something other than ‘Fantastic!’ came out of the compliment machine’s mouth: ‘Relax….’
Instinctively sensing my doom, I forced a bright smile until my cheekbones ached.
* * *
“One more time. Let’s try that again. We need to bring out the natural in Hajin.”
Natural? What is that? How do I even do that?
Feeling the same frustration I felt when Nam Daun once told me to “just try to look handsome” during a sports event, I let out a short breath.
The more the shoot progressed, the more my mind felt like a blank slate.
It was like finding out on the day of the high school graduation photo that you had to take it without any concept or preparation and were just shoved in front of a flower-covered frame. For the record, that’s based on a true story.
‘I’m really awful at portraying a moody look.’
When I’m on stage or acting, it’s easier because I know the mood and character I need to portray. But profiles require you to express ‘yourself.’
And I was the worst at revealing and expressing ‘myself.’ Although I’ve improved a lot, it was still incredibly awkward to package myself as something ‘attractive.’
“Hmm. Shall we take a short break?”
Unable to bear it any longer, the photographer finally called for a break. I let my legs give way and leaned against the wooden stool in the photo zone. I didn’t even have the energy to monitor the photos that had been taken so far.
“Hajin. Let me excuse myself?”
“Ah. Yes.”
In a not-so-native accent, the photographer addressed me in English. Instinctively, I tried to stand up, but the photographer gestured for me to stay seated as he stood opposite me. Then he handed me a tablet displaying the photos we had just taken.
“These are the photos of you that we’ve taken so far.”
“…….”
“How do you feel about them?”
I slowly looked through the photos of myself on the tablet.
My face was stiff, my arms and legs were awkwardly placed, my gaze was uncertain, and my poses were clumsy.
“…
I tried?”
“No, no. Of course, you tried and made an effort, but that’s not my point.”
What the—? Why is he suddenly speaking like a native?
I was momentarily startled by his smooth English, but the photographer gently flipped through the photos and softly explained in a kind voice.
“Hajin isn’t in these photos.”
“…….”
“Cool poses, natural expressions—they’re all important. But what’s more important is you, Hajin.”
As he continued to flip through the photos, the photographer selected one and enlarged it.
It was a picture of me monitoring the members’ photos and seriously giving feedback to the staff.
When did he take this?
“This one has Hajin in it.”
“…….”
“The Hajin I want to see is this one. You don’t have to act cool or play around with your photos like the others. Why are you trying to be like the other members? You’re Hajin.”
I am me.
Those words resonated within me in a strange way.
“Show me Hajin. That’s all I need.”
Leaving those final words of advice, the photographer turned away. At the same time, the shoot resumed.
I stood in front of the photo zone again and looked at the camera.
‘Just me.’
That one phrase didn’t make all the pressure of needing to look good disappear instantly.
My arms and legs were still flailing around aimlessly, and I still couldn’t tell how my features were moving or what expression I was making.
But….
“Okay! That’s great! Good emotion!”
…At least I wasn’t panicking and freezing up like before.
‘What’s this? He really is a pro.’
With that thought of admiration, I managed to safely finish my individual profile shoot.
* * *
“Alright, now for the group shots! Members, please change and come out~”
Amid a warm atmosphere full of compliments, the individual profile shoot was wrapped up.
To prepare for the group photos, we headed back to the dressing room, but I had to step back out when I saw the outfits waiting for us.
“Manager. Are these really the right clothes?”
“Huh? Yeah, they’re the right ones. Hurry up and change.”
With a firm nod, I eventually returned to the dressing room. Yugeon, holding his assigned clothes hanger, asked me.
“Is this really it?”
“Yeah. That’s what they said.”
“…Didn’t they say this was for our official profile?”
“Well… anyway, they said this is it.”
At my answer, Yugeon gave up and pulled out a fluffy fur outfit from the hanger. Nearby, Seo Joodan, who had already changed, was checking each other’s outfits.
“Hyung, I think I’m a rabbit!”
“I’m… a cat? Hyung, do I look like a cat?”
“Well, you’re often called a big baby tiger rather than a small one… Maybe a tiger?”
“What about you, Taehyun-hyung?”
“I think I’m a fox?”
The outfits assigned for our group photo were the epitome of K-idol cuteness—a set of animal onesies.
I took out the wolf onesie that had my name tag attached.
“Uh… is this really how we’re supposed to wear them?”
When I heard Lee Doha’s voice from the corner, I turned my head and saw him struggling in his bear onesie, calling out to us.
“Was it supposed to be this tight on the shoulders?”
“Is it okay that the pants come up this high?”
Ah. Not this un-cute yellow team PTSD again.
Yugeon, who had resigned himself and was sloppily draping his dinosaur onesie, shook his head. On the other side, Jung Siwoo, with a look of curiosity, was slipping into his dog onesie. They probably gave him the most neutral option since they couldn’t find an appropriate animal to ‘moe-fy.’
As I watched these seven rugged men, each with an average height of around 180 cm, struggle to squeeze into their cute and fluffy animal onesies, I couldn’t help but think.
“…Is this for real?”
Is this really not some hidden camera prank, but the real deal? Please, tell me it’s a joke.
The grueling path of an idol was still far from easy.