**Frightening Podcast: Youngjae from GOT7**
Prompt: Frightening Podcast: Youngjae from GOT7
Late into the night, a soft glow illuminated the cramped confines of Jae-min’s home studio. He had been an avid podcast enthusiast for years, captivated by the merging of storytelling and the raw honesty of personal accounts. Tonight, he felt an electric thrill as he prepared for a special episode: a deep dive into the exhilarating yet haunting world of K-pop, featuring none other than Youngjae from the popular group GOT7. Little did he know, this would be an episode he would never forget.
Youngjae was known for his bright personality and killer vocals, but Jae-min knew there was more to him. He had heard the rumors—stories of the industry’s dark corners and the hidden pressures faced by idols. Jae-min hoped to unveil some of these chilling realities through their conversation.
As the clock ticked ominously towards midnight, Jae-min set up the microphone, glancing nervously at his notes. The array of questions he had prepared blurred together in his mind, barely managing to contain his fascination and anxiety.
At precisely 11:59 PM, his phone buzzed, signaling the incoming video call. Youngjae appeared on screen, his smile radiant and infectious, yet there was something in his eyes—a hint of weariness, perhaps. Jae-min felt a strange chill settle in the room as they exchanged greetings.
“Thank you for having me,” Youngjae said, his voice rich and warm. “I’m really excited to talk about this with you!”
“Absolutely! I’ve been a huge fan for years,” Jae-min admitted, his heart racing as he pressed the record button. “I wanted to dive into the experiences you’ve had in the K-pop industry. There are so many stories, and I think our listeners would love to hear them.”
They began the conversation casually, discussing music, concerts, and fan interactions. But Jae-min nudged the chat into darker territories, bringing up the grueling practice schedules, the pressure to maintain an image, and how easily an idol could fall into despair. Youngjae's demeanor shifted almost imperceptibly; he seemed to recall memories buried deep within.
“I think people don’t see the other side of fame,” Youngjae shared, his tone serious. “There’s this pressure—like you can’t show weakness. You always have to be happy, but what happens when you’re not?”
Jae-min nodded, urging him to continue. The air in the room felt heavy as Youngjae began to spill stories that made Jae-min shudder. There had been moments when he'd been so overwhelmed that he felt like he might drown in the expectations weighing down on him. And then came something that sent a cold shiver crawling up Jae-min’s spine.
“One night, after a show…” Youngjae began, hesitating as the memories resurfaced. “I was alone in my hotel room. Everyone else was out celebrating, but I just… I couldn't. It was like a fog rolled in, and I felt so isolated. I started hearing things—whispers, I think. They were calling my name, but it felt wrong somehow… dark.”
Jae-min’s breath caught in his throat. “What do you mean by dark? Like you were imagining it?”
Youngjae shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I thought it was just stress, but it felt so real. The whispers grew louder, and it was if they were telling me I would never be enough… that I didn’t deserve this life.”
Jae-min shifted uncomfortably, his mind racing with thoughts of how often he had heard similar stories of depression and anxiety among idols. “That sounds terrifying,” he commented softly.
Youngjae smiled tightly, a shadow flickering across his features. “In some ways, it was liberating. I realized that the music and the fans were my escape, but it’s easy to get lost in your head when you’re surrounded by people who see you only as an idol.”
They continued their conversation, dissecting the nuances of fame, mental health, and the industry's darker underbelly. As they spoke, Jae-min couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that lingered, a sense that the haunting presence of those whispers still clung to Youngjae.
“And have you ever experienced anything… supernatural?” Jae-min ventured, driven by curiosity and the podcast’s theme of eerie encounters.
Youngjae looked contemplative, his gaze drifting away momentarily. “Once, I was at a haunted location during a shooting for a variety show. It was an old building, and as we wandered through, I felt a chill. I thought it was just the air conditioning, but… no one else seemed to notice. There was this mirror in one of the rooms, and when I looked into it, for a moment, I saw someone behind me—a woman, her face twisted in sadness. I blinked, and she was gone. Everyone else was laughing and enjoying the spooky atmosphere, but I felt a weight in my chest.”
Jae-min felt goosebumps prickling along his arms. “That’s chilling! Do you think there was something… more to that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks,” Youngjae replied, a frown creasing his brow. “But I can’t shake the feeling that there are energies we don’t understand, especially in this industry. Sometimes, I feel watched, even when I’m alone.”
The conversation began to wind down, but Jae-min couldn’t shake the haunting atmosphere that had settled over them. As he thanked Youngjae for sharing his experiences and insights, he felt that his own view of the world had shifted.
When the call ended, Jae-min sat back, the world around him unusually quiet. He replayed the chilling anecdotes in his mind, reluctantly acknowledging that the darkness lurking in the backdrop of fame was as real as any supernatural tale. He looked around his once-cozy studio, now feeling like a cage, and turned off the recording equipment, still unsettled by the weight of what he had captured that night.
As he lay in bed later, he couldn’t help but wonder: when the lights dimmed and the world faded, were they all just trying to escape their shadows? The words Youngjae had shared echoed in his mind, blending seamlessly into the whispers of his own thoughts. And he realized—sometimes, fame itself could be the most terrifying specter of all.
