ARROGANCE | m.yg

t h r e e - r i n

   "Up next is underground rapper Silver performing her track, Calling."

   The announcer seems immensely bored and uninterested with my introduction. I'm not particularly surprised. Since I was so late to submit my backing yesterday, I'm towards the end of the queue, and everyone's tired by now. Nonetheless, I'm excited to get out there and share my song with the public. I give my head a quick shake before heading out onto the stage.

   Before I start the song, I'm allowed to give a quick introduction. I look down at my feet, take in a scuff on my white tennis shoes. The rolled up cuffs of my blue jeans aren't even, and I'm being nagged by a poorly sewn seam in my white sweater. I've never done this type of performance before, and I'm nervous, but it's now or never.

   "Hi, everyone," I begin, looking out at the crowd of people before me. "My name is Silver, and I'm a twenty-two-year-old underground rapper from Busan. This song is about me coming here to Seoul to pursue my dream of making music. I hope you enjoy my performance."

   I take a shaky breath and the backing for my track begins to play. I count myself in in my head before I finally begin.

   As the words of the first verse spill from my mouth, I find myself scanning the audience and the street in general. I see people towards the back of the crowd just standing and watching. A couple people are taking videos on their phones. Towards the middle and front of the crowd of about two hundred are more enthusiastic festival-goers. They tend to nod their heads to the beat and just feel the music in their own way. Right up at the barricade are a couple of people who I recognize. They're fans of mine, and I've seen them in attendance of at least three of my shows. They know the words to the song and are chanting it along with me. A smile creeps up my face as I see them, and I focus less on the audience and more on my performance.

   I let myself shine once I hit the first chorus. Rather than focusing on the reaction of the audience, I let myself get lost in my own words and story. The tension in my muscles fades and I loosen up, getting more comfortable and moving around the stage more. I sing the chorus with vigor, and channel that same enthusiasm into the second verse. I don't feel myself breathing; I don't hear myself speak the lyrics. Everything is in my head, and yet I know it's being transferred to the audience. Scanning again, I notice more people are bobbing their heads and having a good time. I occasionally snap back into it, finding myself on the other side of the stage and hearing myself speak the lyrics again. It's almost like my body's being piloted by someone else, and I'm just along for the ride.

   It comes to the bridge, and I slow down, taking my time and calming my body down. I sing a bit and find it a requirement to concentrate on the notes so I don't get them wrong. I don't let myself tense up, though. At least, not until I see a familiar face in the back of the crowd.

   It's shrouded by sunglasses and covered with a backwards white cap, but it's unmistakeable. The face belongs to none other than Min Yoongi, dressed in a white t-shirt and black shorts and nodding along to my song.

   Immediately, I know I won't be able to get back into the song again. Not with him watching me. I suddenly feel a rush of heat overcome me, almost like my blood is literally boiling. Seeing that face is enough to dig up four years of anger that I'd previously been trying to keep buried. Being this pissed will be good for the show, at least. I'll have enough enthusiasm to carry me through without a doubt.

   I pour my whole damn soul into the final portion of the song, and when the track finally cuts, I'm still fuming. The crowd, however, is very pleased with my performance. I hold the mic to my mouth and speak one last time, my eyes trained on Yoongi. God, I wish I could shoot missiles from them right now.