Little Pink Starfish

Way From Flower has enjoyed a smooth, unbroken streak of success since their debut, but their debut song itself was… just okay.

Not a flop, but slightly below average—mediocre, at best.

It was actually their follow-up track from their first album, “WATCH,” that made them rising stars.

The company, realizing the debut single was underperforming, quickly switched to the next track for promotions—an absolute game-changer.

That’s what made Han Si-on’s song choice so puzzling.

Singing a girl group song? Sure, that’s fine. It can be a statement about individuality.

But Flowers Bloom? That song is… vague. Neither a huge hit nor a song with a distinct personality.

Amid the curious tension, composer Lee Chang-jun was the first to speak.

“Han Si-on, did you rearrange this song?”

“No. My mentor advised me to perform the original version without rearrangement this time.”

“So you’re performing the song as it is?”

“Yes. Though I did lower the overall key slightly.”

Lowering the key? That made it even weirder.

So it’s not about showing off high notes?

That would’ve been tacky—but at least understandable.

If it were any other contestant, Lee Chang-jun would’ve already made a negative comment.

But Han Si-on’s past performances were too powerful for that.

While the other judges were impressed by Si-on’s talent, Lee Chang-jun’s feelings went deeper.

As a composer, he understood how close to impossible Si-on’s task was.

He used his voice to “rearrange” the original track’s bland chord progression?

That’s insane.

Even with the arranging skill to do it, executing it purely through vocal performance is another thing entirely.

“To be honest, I’m… very curious. And looking forward to it.”

That was all he could say.

The harshest critique came from CEO Choi Tae-ho.

“I won’t comment on the singing. With Si-on’s skill, that’s a given. But the performance? I have zero expectations.”

Some contestants nodded, and Choi Tae-ho turned to the camera, as if explaining to viewers.

“Flowers Bloom has choreography that mimics blooming flowers. It’s all about group dynamics.”

The intro alone starts with members crouched like buds, then blooming outward.

“It’s choreography that’s hard to express alone. A single petal fluttering doesn’t make a flower bloom.”

Blue stepped in.

“Instead of explaining, wouldn’t it be better to watch the stage?”

“You’re right. I spoke too soon.”

As Choi Tae-ho conceded, trainer Yoo Sun-hwa also closed her mouth, shelving her commentary.

With that, the atmosphere settled.

Han Si-on, standing center stage, stepped back slightly.

Then he smiled.

Not intentionally.

It just slipped out.

Because he was excited.

Choi Tae-ho noticed that smile and felt something stir.

Han Si-on usually gives off a damp, moody aura.

Even though he doesn’t act depressed, there’s a shadow in his demeanor, a hint of obsession.

But on stage, right now—he’s different.

He’s peeled off the layers around him and is showing something real.

Only on stage.

“That’s the kind of thing that drives people crazy.”

Right then, the instrumental for the performance started.

---

As a child, I wanted to be a genius.

When people heard the name “Han Si-on,” I wanted them to say, “He’s a genius.”

Of course, I wasn’t actually a genius.

But I had just enough talent to pretend like I was.

Honestly, in the early days of my regression—a time filled with cringey moments—I did try to act like a genius.

I was young. Naive. The regression didn’t feel like a curse yet.

It felt like a game where you had unlimited coins.

But as time passed, as my musical skills grew and the regression became burdensome—I realized:

A genius isn’t someone who does extraordinary things in an extraordinary way.

A genius is someone who does ordinary things as if they’re nothing special.

It’s not about inventing new sounds with unfamiliar instruments.

It’s about using every technique you learned that very day—as if they were already second nature.

All those people who called me a genius? They were just being polite.

Or they didn’t even have the ability to recognize what genius truly is.

That’s when I actually became a genius.

Because all the mistakes no one else knew about—I buried them in my previous life.

Only the obvious things remained.

Especially in songwriting.

I don’t compose with flashes of inspiration or sudden bursts of genius.

I just pick from things I’ve already tried—what fits best in the moment.

My songwriting “farm” just has ten, maybe a hundred times more harvest than everyone else’s.

So—

♬♪♪♩~

When I first heard Flowers Bloom, I knew instantly.

“This is… a male song.”

The main melody, the chord progressions—they were designed for a male voice.

Flowers Bloom was clearly written for a male vocalist.

But at some point in production, they pitched it up and turned it into a girl group song.

And the difference between the male version and female version?

Huge.

If the girl version is a 40/100 song, the male version is at least an 80.

Just from raising the key?

Absolutely.

Stacking musical notes is a delicate process.

A major chord sounds bright and uplifting.

A minor chord feels dark and emotional.

But the difference between C major (C-E-G) and C minor (C-E♭-G) is one flattened note.

And it changes everything.

So shifting the key up for a girl group?

That was borderline reckless.

Yes, they tweaked the arrangement to suit female vocals—but it barely mattered.

Why they ruined a good song, I don’t know. And I don’t care.

Maybe the composer got fed up and self-sabotaged. Maybe it was a money issue.

All that matters to me is—the male version of Flowers Bloom is a great song.

That’s why I’m singing it.

Way From Flower used this song to represent blooming flowers.

But I… plan to express something else.

---

Flowers Bloom starts with a flute intro—cold and clean.

It represents winter, right before the flower blooms.

But winter doesn’t last forever. Spring arrives.

As the kick drum marks the end of the intro, a warm melody floods in—symbolizing flowers in bloom.

The choreography reflects this too.

Members crouch like flower buds, then bloom gracefully as the warm melody hits.

Once fully bloomed, a big kick drum drop signals the start of the “spring” dance routine.

But that’s the original choreography.

“…?”

Han Si-on made no movements during the intro.

He stood at an angle, gently nodding to the beat.

“Is this… original choreography?”

“Is he crazy?”

Changing the choreography for a senior idol’s stage implies the original choreo wasn’t good.

Even if he didn’t mean that, Way From Flower fans would take it that way.

He was asking to get roasted online.

As contestants whispered those thoughts, the kick drum hit.

And Han Si-on moved.

And sang.

“Putting a period at the end of the long night Finally saying hello to the world—Hi Dudu—Deh, Deh”

A few thoughts immediately crossed everyone’s minds.

First: He can dance.

He wasn’t doing anything flashy—the song had just started.

But it was clear he had skill.

Because it was a solo.

There was nothing to distract the eye—no backup dancers.

And yet, everything flowed naturally.

Plus, he was singing live. And it was stable.

He’d practiced.

“The yesterday I never even dreamed of The today I was waiting for—Yes for day I reach out both arms Dudu—Deh, Deh”

But stronger than the dancing… was the song itself.

It sounded good.

At first, it felt off—the lowered key clashed with the familiar original.

But that passed quickly.

Then the melody sunk in. It was catchy.

More than the original.

Almost like… this was the original.

“What the hell is this?”

This wasn’t like Under the Streetlamp.

That time, I left the MR as-is and just changed the vocals.

This time, the vocals and MR were untouched.

All I did was lower the key. And suddenly, it sounded completely different.

The original Flowers Bloom was bright and cheerful, like blooming flowers.

But Si-on’s version was subdued. Melancholic. Almost… blue.

The genre had shifted entirely.

It had the emotional subtlety of post-Britpop.

And it was all because of a single octave drop?

What else did he do?

“The warmth surrounding me Your hand brushing my skin”

But no. That was it.

The only change was the pitch.

Although, the key change wasn’t uniform across the whole song.

• The flute intro remained unchanged.
• First two bars: dropped a full octave (8 semitones).
• Next two: dropped 11 semitones.
• Next two: dropped 7 semitones.
• Then back to original pitch.

“The clothes wrapping me in comfort That comforting, gentle warmth”

Honestly, Blue had been kind of dumbfounded by Si-on’s approach.

He told him not to rearrange the song—and Si-on technically hadn’t.

Si-on argued: “I didn’t touch the sheet music. How is this a rearrangement?”

“Turns out, it was all for today For today… maybe, for real”

And just then, the chorus hit.

Way From Flower’s Flowers Bloom didn’t perform well, mostly because of its chorus.

It was dull. A little cheesy, even.

Simple beats. Repetitive words.

But Han Si-on didn’t repeat anything.

“Bloom!”
“Bloom!”

“……!”

It was the original chorus.

The lowered pitch shot back up to the original—and it exploded.

Si-on’s pure high note, hitting the female key full-on, was breathtaking.

Shockingly, this wasn’t a rearrangement either.

Originally, the six group members took turns repeating:

“Bloom, bloom, bloom—Bloom, bloom, bloom”

Each “bloom” aligned with the blooming of six flower petals.

But Si-on was alone.

So he just stretched the note, singing it once.

And it worked perfectly.

But it didn’t stop there.

The second hook shocked everyone even more.

Was it flashier?

No.

Did he go higher?

Not even close.

“Always wait, Blossom Always wait, Flower”

A deep bass tone like an ice bath.

He dropped a full 2 octaves—16 semitones.

And yet, the power in his voice didn’t falter.

The low notes flipped the mood of the song.

It was as if the earlier high note was one last cry before collapse.

The atmosphere shifted completely.

And some of the judges and contestants finally understood.

Han Si-on wasn’t singing from the perspective of a blooming flower.

He was crying out—desperately wishing he could bloom again.

Just before he falls.

Just before he withers.

Falling flower. (낙화, 落花)