HS Entertainment, Team 1.
Team Lead Kim’s voice erupted in a roar. “We need to do SOMETHING! How does it make any sense that we’re losing to some boring little acoustic song? Hae-yeol Yoo? Since when has he been relevant?!”
Veins bulged from his neck.
His face flushed red.
Cold sweat soaked through the shirt of Eight in You’s manager.
Still, he tried to answer as calmly as he could. He knew that simply bowing his head and apologizing wouldn’t make this go away. An apology would only mean getting chewed out even more.
“The problem isn’t Hae-yeol Yoo. We filmed our reality show on cable, but they were on a major network in a weekend primetime slot. The promotional impact for their song was on a completely different level. Ever since Yumi revealed herself, people have been talking about it nonstop, and she ended up with a pretty sizable fanbase. Even if some of that is a bit overblown, it adds up.”
Barely concealed gasps rippled through the room as a vein pulsed on Team Lead Kim’s forehead.
The manager had expected this much. His lips went pale, but he pressed on to the end.
“The numbers we’re seeing for Eight in You are actually well above what most successful rookies manage. The outlook is bright. The fandom is growing fast, name recognition is climbing. By the next comeback, we should see a major jump.”
“…So what you’re saying is, we already lost this round, let’s just give up?”
“…”
“Is that supposed to be an answer?!”
The manager squeezed his eyes shut.
This had been a scolding from the start. There was never going to be a right answer.
Managers from Teams 2 and 3 had their ears perked toward the noise pouring out of Team 1’s office, looking for something to chew on.
Popcorn, for instance.
Someone who had been about to step out for a cigarette held back and gulped water instead.
But soon enough, they started slipping away one by one.
Director Park had come stalking in with an irritable stride.
“Team Lead Kim.”
“Yes, sir…”
“Was my backing not enough?”
“…I apologize.”
Gone was the demon who had been tearing into his manager only moments ago. Team Lead Kim became a mouse before the cat.
Director Park’s voice cracked like a whip.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it! It wasn’t even a full album. You lost to some flimsy acoustic track!”
The truth was, Director Park knew.
There was nothing anyone could have done.
An enormous amount of the public’s attention was focused on Yumi. The thing that sealed the deal was when the senior artists started scrambling over each other on social media to participate in her album.
Maybe that was why he felt no sense of real defeat.
At the end of the day, this was about the debut single of a freshly launched girl group.
The numbers weren’t bad for what it was.
And there was clearly a large potential for growth, given the time.
‘I haven’t even pulled out the big guns yet.’
This girl group was a stepping stone for the future, nothing more.
The real deal was the Kid and Min-seok collab.
‘A full album?’
Director Park was confident. The collab might fall slightly short in artistic completeness, but in raw fandom firepower, M&K would be overwhelmingly superior.
“Set up a meeting to prepare for promotional activities in Japan.”
“…Sir? What about the follow-up single?”
“Get it ready so we can go straight into it as soon as Japan wraps.”
Overseas, they would secure fans before Blue Sherbet could.
**
We swept up every trophy available for two weeks straight.
We were unbeatable on music shows.
But the momentum soon started to slow, and our position settled into tenth place on the charts.
Not something to be disappointed about, really.
It was thanks to the popularity of Yumi’s show that we landed so high, and regardless of how good the song was, it wasn’t the kind of track built to hold its ground on the charts.
‘A song like this has its own role to play.’
To prove my point, I looked upon the streets of Hongdae.
A man sang ‘Like a Star’ as he strummed his acoustic guitar.
“Seriously, this song is so good. My mom is obsessed with it. She changed her ringtone AND her caller tune to this.”
“I like listening to this on my commute home. Feels like it’s giving you a hug, you know?”
Voices drifted from the gathered crowd.
“Wanna go karaoke? I’ve been practicing this one.”
“Wait, you too? Duet?”
“Oh, look. Someone’s busking that song over here too.”
“It’s got something that just pulls at your heartstrings, you know? There’s so many people stopping to listen.”
Thus was the charm of Yumi’s song.
Even as it fell away from the charts, it lived closer to everyday people.
The song’s popularity at karaoke bars climed. Buskers covered the song. Cover videos were sprouting up left and right.
Yes, the song was gradually slipping from the top charts, but it somehow felt more loved than ever.
I smiled to myself and turned around.
That stuffy feeling from having my hat pulled too low and the mask over my face just vanished – without a trace.
I opened the van door with the coffees in hand.
“Thank you!”
“Boss, I could’ve gotten those. People recognize your face now. You didn’t need to go yourself.”
Yumi and Jung-han took their cups.
I pulled off the hat and mask and smoothed down my flattened hair.
“It’s fine. You’re driving, so the least I can do is grab the coffee. Also, how much time do we have?”
“Almost an hour until the scheduled time.”
Running between events all day really did not give a person time to breathe, but sometimes, there were times like this when the time stalled.
The next venue was close enough to reach in ten minutes.
We planned to rest here for a bit.
“President Kang, did you hear my song just now? I think I caught a bit of it.”
Bright, eager eyes looked up at me.
“Yeah. Someone was busking it.”
“Really?” She clapped once and beamed.
I smirked. “There are dozens of videos going up every day of people singing your song. Why the surprise?”
“I’ve never seen it with my own eyes before! How did they react?”
“Well, obviously they were-”
I was about to embellish what I’d seen and heard when a familiar intro drifted in from the outside.
Our heads turned at the same time.
Not far from where we parked, there was one person on guitar and another holding a mic.
It was just two people starting to busk.
Yumi pressed herself flat against the window.
“Whoa!”
Passersby were slowing down. Some stopped entirely and drifted closer to watch.
“The crowd’s getting bigger!”
She was practically vibrating with excitement.
Her finger pressed against the glass, pointing at the crowd.
She had seen plenty of enthusiastic audiences at her own events. And yet here she was.
Maybe there was a special kind of thrill in watching it secretly from the outside. Maybe watching as part of the audience felt different.
Whatever it was, Yumi was happy, and that made me happy too.
As the duo’s song neared its end, Yumi murmured under her breath.
“I want to sing so bad… It’s not time yet, right?”
There was still a decent stretch before the event. Short if you thought of it one way, long if you thought of it another.
From the look on Yumi’s face, it felt very, very long.
I quietly studied the scene outside. Their position, the distance to our van. I mapped it carefully.
The answer practically wrote itself.
“Want to do sing something over there?”
“…!”
“…!”
Two pairs of eyes widened in surprise.
“Really?! I can really do it? For real?”
Yumi was a professional.
If she was going to perform, she deserved to be compensated for it.
In addition, it was an open space with no security.
Nothing had been prepared.
From where I stood, thinking about the one-in-ten-thousand chance, I should have said no.
However.
Surprise performances happened all the time, both overseas and here in Korea. More overseas than here, admittedly.
Billboard superstars popped into some random busker’s set out of nowhere. Others stumbled out at dawn, still buzzed, and played guitar on some quiet residential street.
“Go ahead. But just one song.”
“I’ll do it!”
She grabbed my arm like her life depended on it, face urgent, as if I might take it back.
“Boss… will it be safe, though?”
“The location’s not bad. There’s a wall right behind, and the ledges around the area naturally funnel where people sit. And you and I are both here. If anything happens, we grab her and bring her straight to the van.”
There was a one-in-ten-thousand risk. But that was all it was. That same risk existed at any venue, any fan signing, and any fan meet.
You didn’t skip making the soy paste simply because you’re scared of bugs.
“This kind of experience is worth paying for. Especially for Yumi.”
Right now, her world was a loop between event venues, the dorm, the practice room, and music shows. This could be a new kind of experience. Even if it didn’t produce immediate results, the experience would nourish something in her sensibility.
And right on cue.
“Looks like they just finished. I’ll go talk to them. They might say no.”
But that didn’t happen.
I pulled my mask down slightly, and they thankfully recognized me.
When I asked if Yumi could sing one song, they nodded so hard their heads nearly came off.
“Yumi, let’s go.”
The van door slid open and Yumi stepped out.
“Ohhhhh!”
“Omg, omg?! O.M.G!”
“It’s Yumi Cho!”
With Jung-han and me flanking her on both sides, nobody could get close. They just shouted her name.
A crowd materialized out of thin air, phones already raised and filming.
“I really enjoyed your performance. Thank you for singing my song.”
“O-Oh, no. Thank YOU. I mean! I’m a fan!”
“Would it be okay if I sang one song?”
They already gave us permission, but refusing now in front of this crowd, would earn them enough curses to last several lifetimes.
“Would you need the guitar too?”
“Yes! Thank you!”
Yumi slung the guitar over her shoulder and plucked the strings, checking the tuning.
“I love your music! You’re so cute!”
“You’re gorgeous!”
A dust of blush crept across Yumi’s cheeks. The spontaneity of it all had her visibly excited. Her lips were already curved up to her ears as her eyes curled into soft crescents.
“Is that Yumi Cho? THE Yumi Cho?!”
“That’s Yumi Cho!”
They heard voices from farther away.
Like a growing cloud, the crowd that had already gathered started to grow in size.
At this rate, even if she wanted to do more, she couldn’t. It might start causing problems for the shops around the area.
Once she finished tuning, she leaned into the mic.
“Hi, everyone. I’m Yumi Cho from Blue Sherbet. I happened to be nearby, and these two were singing my song so beautifully that I suddenly wanted to sing too. I’m just going to do one song and go, so please keep things nice and neat. And after I leave, please stick around and enjoy their music.”
A roar of cheers erupted.
“Okay. Here I go.”
Yumi began to strum.
All that practice had paid off.
The song was simple by design, but people’s faces softened at hearing the first notes of the song.
Her voice followed soon after, flowing freely from small speaker nearby.
Yumi’s voice flowed as smooth as honey, and smiles bloomed across the crowd.
They slowly sinked into the song, her steady guitar and voice swallowing the surrounding noise.
The bustling street stilled.
There was only the sound of her guitar and singing.
Across the street, people were pressed against the windows of the shops and watched mesmerized. A worker in an apron stood frozen outside a store entrance.
Everyone had stopped what they were doing. Everyone was smiling. Everyone was listening.
“That was amazing! Go Yumi!”
“Your song is incredible!”
People waved and called her name.
When the song ended, we made our way back to the van at a leisurely pace.
Yumi climbed in and let out a long, flushed breath.
“That was the absolute best!”
Everyone out there probably felt the same way.
It really was the best.
**
A post popped up on Japan’s largest internet community.
[Korea’s rookie girl group is being called a monster rookie and of course there’s a Japanese member lol]
The post included a group photo of the members.
-They all look the same lol. Plastic surgery nation.
-no need to crash out. There’s a Japanese member and a Chinese member too.
-They really are monster rookies. They made it big in Korea.
The attention sparked by this post spawned another, which spawned another.
-One of the Korean members placed second in an audition. It was like super big in Korea, so they’re really talented.
-Still just lip-syncing though lolol
-They’re all so cute!
-Every single one of them looks like a delinquent. The hair and makeup screams thug.
-oldies think anyone who dyes their hair is a delinquent lol. The consistency is pretty impressive!
Among those posts, a conversation turned to Hyun-hee Lee, who came in 2nd place.
-Did you watch her performance. Isn’t she sooo good? And this was when she was still a trainee.
-The one dancing with her isn’t in the group photo though? Who is she? She’s incredible!
-That’s Jin-ah Choi. She’s the actual monster. She debuted recently and placed second against way more senior artists in the same bracket.
-She just debuted recently?
-She trained with the Eight in You members but the difference is huge now.
-Jin-ah Choi’s performance. (link)
-This is 100% fabricated lol
-Totally fake lol
Talks that started with Eight in You quickly spread elsewhere.
[I don’t like Korea but Jin-ah Choi is not fake.]
The post was packed with links to every live performance video Jin-ah had accumulated over time.
Plus, the footage from <Tomorrow’s Idol> put the final nail in the coffin for anyone still on the fence.
Someone posted a link of Didi’s and Jin-ah’s first live performances side by side.
-That’s Didi? The comparison is brutal lol
-Poor Didi lol. This is a public execution.
-If this is real, she’s genuinely a monster.
-Where does Korea keep finding kids like this? Get it together, Japan!
-Even if it’s real, Japan has Heaven Stars.
-Let’s stick to comparing apples to apples here lol. Just admit there’s a difference
-Heaven Stars? XD The fact that they’re supposed to be the face Japan’s girl groups… bold.
-The person who posted this is a Korean resident in Japan. Go back to Korea!
-You’re probably just a right-winger lol. Idiots.
It didn’t take long for dozens of comments to become hundreds.
And then a new post appeared.
[Eight in You Japan debut confirmed!]
A short promotional video for Eight in You included each member’s brief thoughts on their Japan debut as their music played softly in the background.
The song was in Japanese, naturally.
Under normal circumstances, people would have discussed it and become more and more excited. They would usually start endaringly comment on their clumsy Japanese, telling them to hurry up and start activities.
But the timing was spectacularly awkward.
-Can’t Jin-ah Choi, the one they trained with, just handle everything at this level?
-Go away, you Korean
-Go away, right-winger lol
-Who’s Jin-ah Choi?
-If you’re new here, look her up. She trained with these girls and she’s a monster lol
-I’m begging you. Whether it’s Jin-ah Choi or Eight in You, please don’t come to Japan.
The person everyone had been talking about was Jin-ah Choi. Of course the timing felt uncanny.
Or maybe it was inevitable. You couldn’t introduce Hyun-hee Lee or talk up her creds without mentioning Jin-ah Choi.
-lol Eight in You drops a promo video and all anyone’s talking about is Jin-ah Choi lol
-Eight in You posted in the middle of a Jin-ah Choi discussion lol
-I just watched the Eight in You promo. Who’s this Jin-ah Choi?
-Same, I watched the promo too. Who is Jin-ah Choi and why is her name coming up with Eight in You?
This was how Director Park’s aggressively spearheaded plan for Eight in You’s expansion into Japan was panning out.
[Let me introduce you guys to Jin-ah Choi.]
Though it seemed to be producing some unintended side effects.
—