With just six days left until the third round of the NDC, the long-awaited rules finally dropped.
Each dancer would be assigned a random prop. They had to create an 'original performance' on the spot, treating the prop as if it were a third limb. Any dance style was permitted, but the prop had to be integrated seamlessly.
It was, in short, a test of creativity, spontaneity, and adaptability. No prepared routines, just raw, improvisational nerve.
Ben read the rules and went stiff. "This is…" he began.
"A nightmare," Terrence finished, deadpan.
Daniel, on the other hand, lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Oh, come on, this is so creative! That sounds fun!"
Kai made a face. "You're literally the only person enjoying this."
Daniel laughed and started twirling an imaginary broom in his hand like a wand. "Imagine getting a broom or a mannequin! The possibilities!"
Ben didn't respond. He was already spiraling. Creating something from scratch was pressure enough, but with an unknown object… it felt like academic torture disguised as art.
Terrence immediately pulled up the NDC website and began scouring it for previous rounds. Ben joined in, deciding to use Naver instead. The NDC site only had archives from the past five years, but the competition had been running for over fifteen years. If this round existed before, someone would've talked about it.
He was right.
"Guys, look at this," Ben called out.
Terrence leaned over his shoulder. Daniel and Kai, who were now acting out a ridiculous witch-janitor skit complete with sweeping and cackling, paused and shuffled over.
"Oh? Eight years ago," Terrence narrowed his eyes on the screen. "They did have a prop round."
Ben nodded. "They gave out all sorts of stuff. One guy had to dance with a frying pan."
Daniel gasped. "Please tell me there's a video!"
Kai pointed grimly at the screen. "NDC has disabled the full footage. Only short clips remain."
Ben groaned. "Unbelievable. They don't even want us to peek."
Daniel shrugged with a faint smile. "I guess they want us to be original, not copy ideas."
All three boys let out matching sighs of quiet doom.
***
That evening, their usual practice session dissolved into something that looked more like a collective mental breakdown.
Ben buried himself in Naver TV and YouTube videos, searching for dancers who used props, ranging from cardboard boxes to wigs, canvas, and dolls. He even briefly considered the potential of a feather boa.
Terrence started choreographing a routine using his own backpack as a prop. At one point, he dramatically flung it across the room and chased it, as if it had insulted his mother.
Kai, perched in a corner like a background bard, strummed his ukulele to lift the mood.
Daniel, meanwhile, was in full freestyling mode. He flowed through the room, music pumping through his earbuds, experimenting with scarves, water bottles, and even a yoga mat.
That was when Sean walked in. As usual, his arrival was almost ghostlike. He stood at the doorway of the studio, staring at the chaos unfolding around him with his typical expressionless face.
"Why do you all look like the world just ended?" he asked flatly.
Ben, hunched over his phone with the dead eyes of a man defeated by the internet, mumbled, "Because that's exactly how it feels."
Sean dropped his bag and peered over Ben's shoulder. He squinted at the screen. "...Why are you watching a woman dancing with hula hoops?"
"It's research," Ben snapped.
"Props," Terrence added helpfully, not looking up.
Sean blinked. "Oh. That's easier than I expected."
Ben turned to him like he'd just confessed to being a time traveler. "Excuse me? We're being told to conjure an entire routine from thin air, using a random object, in front of judges, in one of the most high-stakes rounds of this competition, and you think it's easy?"
Sean shrugged. "If the prop is manageable, yes."
Ben looked like he was going to spontaneously combust. "Manageable?!"
Without responding, Sean took out his phone and pulled something up. He tapped a few times, then handed it over to Ben. It was a video.
Ben watched as a lone idol danced across a dim stage, trailing a long, white cloth. The movements were fluid and aching with grace.
Terrence leaned in. "Oh. That's BTS's Jimin. I know this solo. He looks ethereal."
Sean nodded. "It's short, but unforgettable."
Daniel paused his freestyling to look. Even Kai put his ukulele down and walked over.
"Whoa," Kai said softly.
Daniel's eyes sparkled. "I've seen this so many times, and it still leaves me breathless."
Sean's gaze flicked to Daniel. "He studied modern dance like you, hyung. That cloth is hard to work with. It wraps, tangles, and you need complete control."
Everyone nodded, mesmerized.
Daniel tilted his head. "Have you danced with props before?"
Sean hesitated before nodding. "Yeah."
They all stared at him like he'd just revealed he'd been secretly training with Cirque du Soleil.
Sean blinked. "What?"
Ben reached out with gleaming eyes and clasped Sean's wrist. "Teach us."
And just like that, Sean, expressionless, logical, and unbothered, was roped in as their official (and unwilling) prop-dance guru for the next six days.