Airin had spent three years failing countless auditions across Seoul, constantly told she lacked talent, her voice was weak, and her dancing was messy. Though she was pretty and had a quietly sexy, feminine figure that fit ordinary idol standards, her looks were far too common to compensate for her shortcomings. Now it was her last week in the city—her money was almost gone and debts back home were mounting—so when she received a reluctant chance to meet the casting director after her forty-eighth audition, desperation pushed her further than ever before.

In the dimly lit office she sensed the director’s lingering gaze on her curves and responded with careful, calculated movements: smoothing her skirt slowly, crossing her legs deliberately, leaning just enough to draw attention, all while telling herself he would not truly cross the line. He made it clear that talent was all that mattered and special treatment was impossible. Faced with the end of her dream, Airin silently conveyed that she would do anything—even offer her body—to be accepted as a trainee, waiting for him to name the condition.