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 JI-YUN KANG, talent, luminous studio
JJ, Jay
october 31
luminous studio
solo artist (singer/rapper)
two years since debut (+ 2 years as a trainee)


Or maybe just too tired? Ji-yun's got her own pace, lives in her own world, seemingly unbothered by whatever is going on around her. Try provoking her all you want – she'll look you dead in the eye and blow a party horn in your face before walking past (don't ask where she got it from, no one knows). Her calmness may be encouraging or infuriating, depending on the situation. She really just doesn't care.

If Ji-yun has one skill, it's adapting. The world may come crumbling down around her, she'll find a way to survive. Due to her carefree, relaxed attitude, not many would expect this of her, but if she wants to, she can find a way out of most situations. Instinct and experience go a long way, and she isn't exactly stupid either.

Though her unbotheredness may make her seem arrogant, JJ is humble at heart. She doesn't think much of herself, and she doesn't think much of most others. She's down-to-earth and really doesn't mind getting her hands dirty; she doesn't expect anyone to tend to her, manager or not, and prefers to be responsible for herself..

While Ji-yun appears rather cold and distant, she has a kind heart that she likes to deny. She doesn't judge people and she treats people fairly no matter their status. Ji-yun, deep down, cannot stand injustice, or seeing the weak get hurt by those who are stronger -- and though she tries to ignore it, she'll often stand up for them (then pretend it didn't happen).

She might be generally lazy and too tired for everything, but when Ji-yun has a responsibility, she'll make sure to live up to it, simply as a matter of principle. She relies on herself only and doesn't think of pushing responsibilities onto others.


Or reckless? The downside to Ji-yun's 'relaxed' is that she may be too relaxed, to the point of seemingly knowing no fear and not caring about consequences -- be it in her actions, or her inactions.

Though she's humble, Ji-yun has a sense of pride – one that has her incapable of ever asking for help, no matter how much of a hard time she's having. She'd rather die than ask for help. She'd rather die than run after someone who's turned their back on her. She'd rather die than be a suck-up. Her career might go more smoothly if she let go of her pride, but alas.

Aloof is what most people would probably describe her as. She seems detached, uninvolved, distant; she doesn't express her feelings much, she doesn't know how. In fact, she's been detached for long enough to be scared of attachment.

unpredictable / random
It's often hard to tell what Ji-yun is thinking, and her often unreadable straight face isn't helping. She'll appear in the most random of places and do the most questionable things, empowered by her unbotheredness by what others think of her. It's a headache for her manager. She'll walk away in the middle of a conversation, sit on the floor instead of the perfectly fine bench, climb on top of a table or dangle upside down from a tree to get a new perspective on things.

Thanks to her rather questionable past of interacting with humans, Ji-yun doesn't really know how to be subtle or gentle with her words, didn't have the chance to learn much about nuance and tact – thus, she tends to be rather blunt. Combined with her inability to express emotions properly, this makes her seem quite harsh at times.

+ loves food. can eat a whole lot. if you offer to pay for her food, your wallet will suffer. favorites are galbi, japchae and ddeokbokki.
+ eats lemons like apples, without flinching
+ often carries ridiculous items in her bag, such as rubber chicken or tiny water guns
+ hoodies are life
+ loves taking naps. can fall asleep just about anywhere, no matter how loud it is. has a tendency to stay up very late at night though.
+ likes reading manga and playing video games. (tends to analyze video game music.)
+ loves music, interested in a lot of genres but prefers hip-hop and alternative rock
+ is surprisingly good with children and animals. (really loves animals.)
+ really, really appreciates her fans
+ has a very hard time remembering choreographies, which is why her performances mostly consist of simple movements and focus on the music itself

[tw: physical abuse]

Gun point. Click. Bang. Your mom's dead.


The gun is pointing at you.

Years later, your father says this: “You weren't crying. You stared at me like you were daring me to do it. Like you were sayin' 'Go on. Shoot me.' – that kinda look. And then I dropped my gun and I felt shame. And a lot of other things, but mostly shame.”

You breathe. The air smells like soju. Your eyes don't meet his now, as you say, in a manner in which one would comment on the weather: “Should've finished what you started. Should've done it.” You breathe a laugh and shake your head, and that's the last time you talk to him for the next years.

If he killed you with your mother then (you don't remember her face; the woman on the only picture you have looks like a stranger you get to know again every time you look at it), none of this would have happened.


Your father killed your mother because she cheated on him. Your father is a big shot criminal, the leader of a gang, their 'father' (you laugh when you think about it; they can have him for all you care), and he had mercy on you because you're his only child. He really loved your mother, he claims, then leaves you with his brother.


His brother is your nightmare, the demon that haunts you. His brother hates him because he's always in his shadow and he lets it out on you. You hide the bruises with long sleeves and tights that go with your school uniform.

(Your father visits once every few months and you display your scars and he pretends he doesn't see.)

A child learns what it sees, so by the time you reach middle school, you beat people up too. They push you, you push back, you jump on top of them, pull their hair, bite, scratch, punch, kick; you won't suffer the same way you suffer at home, not here, not again.

You make a few friends – a bunch of other children like you, your own little gang. After school, you don't go home until it's dark and very late. Instead, you and your little gang of troublemakers hang around in the streets of Seoul.

And then you become aware of music. You know music, obviously, but it isn't until you see a certain street performance on a cold day that you realize it in all its glory. Your body still hurts from fighting, from running, from the cold; you were frowning but you hear that music and the frown fades and you find peace. Peace. A place outside of everything. An escape.

(Later you think that maybe it was just the despair of the day and you held onto the next best thing, but it doesn't matter.)

A friend gives you her old mp3-Player and helps you with putting songs on it, and it's your new obsession. Earphones in, world out. You can drown out your uncle's drunk yelling and your own scary thoughts with it. You write down the lyrics of the songs you're listening to and you sing and rap along: First, it's you whispering under your blankets, fingers tapping along the rhythm; later, you find places to be alone and you let your voice out, you sing, you rap, you wind back, you do it again.

At first, it's just fun. It's fun, and an escape, and a better challenge than seeing how many people you can bother and beat up before they beat you up. Then it becomes a goal – to see how close you can get to the original. (Then, much later, it turns into a craving to express yourself, because you know no other way to deal with feelings but through music.)

Obsession turns into dedication and a coping mechanism. You're not quite aware of your talent, yet.

During your final year in high school, a few months before graduation, you get into yet another fight – this time it escalates, police gets involved, the school gets involved, your uncle gets involved, and suddenly you find yourself out of school.

Then you find yourself bloody on the floor of your uncle's house and your mp3-Player is in pieces.


You've had enough, so you say: Fuck it. While your uncle is gone, you destroy as much as you can, take some of his money, and then run away, for good. Fuck it, you think, and if he tries to catch you, you'll either kill him or die trying.

Then you break into the high school that kicked you out and steal a speaker, because fuck it.

You take the train to Busan just to be safe.

At first, you're homeless (as expected). You laugh about it, wonder if that's what rock bottom is, and you sing about it. Then you start performing in the streets. You perform at the same spot every day and with time, your crowd grows. You find a part-time job.

Adapt. Survive. You want to live just out of spite; you can't just dissolve out of existence like that, you refuse to. So you find ways to make life easier. You break into schools to shower and find all the abandoned buildings and warm places; you know what food keeps you full for the longest time for the lowest price; when people think you're an easy target, you prove them wrong.

Then, Fortune. Luck.

A man whose face seems faintly familiar approaches you after one of your performances, offers to change your life.

You take it, because fuck it, you have nothing to lose anyway.

Later, you realize how much luck it was that it was him in particular that you met. The two of you sit down and talk, and you tell everything the way it is: homeless girl with a past that's all mixed up. You grin at his face, wait for him to send you away, because you're not marketable – but he doesn't. He stares at you like he's trying to read your face, then he looks out the window for half an eternity, then he says: I'm taking risk with you. Please don't let me down.

And you don't.

You sign with the Korean agency he's working for and become a trainee. You get moved to a dorm and cry yourself to sleep the first night, because it feels like you're finally starting to stand on your own.

You work hard, get your first proper vocal lessons, practice rapping, you even learn about composing music. You dedicate yourself heart and soul because it's all you have. (They also put you through intense English and Japanese classes that you question at first, but later, you're glad.)

The man who scouted you takes full responsibility for you, and he seems to be the first adult you bond with; a bond not filled with violence and hatred, but appreciation and thankfulness and, slowly but surely, trust. You call him ahjussi, old man – not that he's that old, really, but it's fun.

Two years pass and your talent blooms like a beautiful flower that is finally in the right place with enough water and sunlight and space to grow. They plan to let you debut as part of an idol band, but he intervenes. Doesn't think it's safe for you to debut in Korea right now, thinks Aurozora is where you will prosper.

You don't really care where you go, as long as you don't have to go back to your old life, as long as you can earn some money – so you agree, and he takes you away from Korea, uses his connections to sign you with Luminous Studio. He becomes your manager.

“I could fail, y'know. You know the business better than me.”
“Yeah. I'm betting all my money on you, so you better not fail.”

“Foolish. You're a fool.”
He stares at you and you think of how he found you on the streets and you ate like a person who's been starving for weeks the first time you met, how you teared up at the sight of grilled meat –

“Takes one to know one,” he says. You snort. He grins. Then you both continue your meal.

♛ hasn't been diagnosed, but suffers from minor depression
♛ likes using korean in her lyrics
♛ is fluent in korean and english, knows enough japanese for everyday conversations
♛ main goal is to make enough money for both her and her manager to live comfortably. also wants to see her uncle and her father go to jail someday, when she's ready to go back.
♛ music is her (pretty much only) means of self-expression. she also (not-so-) secretly wants her music to comfort and encourage people the way it's comforted her.

sun jing, tamen de gushi
solo artist
PLAY BY zuki
no name
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like the history.

rimy master
trash tier
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