Little Pink Starfish

I passed out the moment I got home, and when I opened my eyes, it was 6 p.m.

Feels like I slept for almost 15 hours.

Still yawning, though.

“Haaah.”

Korean broadcast crews really are something.

They said it was a 3-day shoot, but I didn’t expect them to push us this hard.

Sure, American shoots don’t always stick to the schedule either, but this kind of marathon pace is rare.

Thinking that, I picked up my phone—and it looked like I had a missed call from my great-uncle.

Apparently, I accidentally answered it.

—“You little punk! When an elder calls, you—!”

I hit the record button and tossed the phone under the covers.

His voice was way too loud.

Of course, I could block him and avoid this whole ordeal, but this is all part of the process.

Lawyer Choi Ji-woon is going to use my great-uncle’s obsessive calls and intentions as evidence.

So I’ve been forwarding all the threatening texts I get when I ignore the calls.

That alone is enough, but sometimes it’s good to have a recording or two.

I went to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee, and surprisingly, the guy was still yelling on the other end of the line.

“Please just leave me alone!”

I said that and hung up.

Honestly, he could’ve made it as a rapper.

The way he drops profanities in between money talk—his diction’s insane.

He might actually have a gift for hip hop.

Once I pulled myself together with the coffee, I called Team Leader Seo Seung-hyun from BVB Entertainment.

---

“There’s a rumor going around that Drop Out got a song from an external composer as their title track. Double M was caught off guard, but gave the okay after hearing it.”

Team Leader Seo Seung-hyun looked slightly excited when we met at the café.

Didn’t seem like he was excited for his own cut—more like he was amazed that Drop Out was picking my song for their title track.

Makes sense, though. Until LMC and Prime Time came onto the scene, Drop Out had the best K-pop output.

“Yeah. That’s great.”

My half-hearted response seemed to shock him.

“No reaction? Even if the song’s good, that’s surprising.”

“I kind of had a feeling it’d sell.”

“How much should we squeeze them for? We do have the upper hand right now.”

“Let’s take 70% of what you think the max is. Or even 60% is fine.”

Selfish is a good song, but it’s not one that just anyone can pull off.

It’s a heartbreaking love song that needs to be sung with a flashy edge, and not many K-pop groups can sell that vibe.

Drop Out’s the best fit, no matter how I look at it.

I’m curious about the future of Selfish, too, so I’d rather not have the sale fall through.

“So you want to sell the others like this too?”

“No. Just Drop Out. The rest, sell to whoever pays the most. Squeeze them dry.”

“Got it.”

Seo Seung-hyun probably knows better than anyone how much K-pop agencies are willing to pay for a song.

He’s the A&R team leader at BVB Entertainment, the agency that raised NOP.

He then updated me on the current progress regarding the sales.

BVB decided to go with I’m not your man as NOP’s next track, and the contract would be signed soon.

“A lot of companies are interested in your other songs, too.”

“Take your time selling those. They’ll probably go for more when Drop Out releases Selfish.”

“True.”

“But if someone offers a fair price now, feel free to sell.”

I’m mostly just curious how the K-pop industry will interpret, arrange, and sell my songs anyway.

“Oh right, Sion. Drop Out said they’d like to have a meal with the composer.”

“Please decline. We’ll do the contract via e-signature, and I’m not revealing my identity.”

“Even skipping the concept meeting?”

“Yeah. Just sell the song. In K-pop, once production begins, the arranger becomes the main force anyway.”

“But with this much buzz, the composer might end up in the spotlight too. Connections are an asset—you should at least attend the concept meeting.”

That was unexpected.

From Seo Seung-hyun’s perspective, it’d be easier if I stayed anonymous.

That way, he gets credit for selling my songs, and avoids any annoying interference.

Honestly, if he were sketchy, he could’ve conspired with a label to scam me.

I wouldn’t fall for it, but the risk would still be there.

Yet this advice felt like genuine goodwill, with no self-interest involved.

Maybe it’s a side effect of being a regression returnee?

I like seeing people’s defaults.

People face all sorts of decisions based on external factors, but usually, they act according to their default.

And if this is Seo Seung-hyun’s default—he’s a decent guy.

Of course, I’ll need to watch and wait a bit longer to be sure…

But I think I started to like him a little.

“You can take that connection, Team Leader. I doubt I’ll ever need it.”

“Why not?”

“I feel uncomfortable around industry seniors.”

“It’s rare for singers and composers to have that kind of hierarchy.”

“Oh—did I not mention? I’m on Coming Up Next right now.”

“Coming Up Next…?”

“You don’t know it?”

“Oh, you mean that dumb show from Lion Entertainment…”

He trailed off, so I finished the sentence for him.

“Yeah. That dumb show.”

“Why are you even on it?”

“Just… thought it looked fun.”

“You’d be better off getting introduced to a decent agency through HR. Or I could even help you myself.”

“Oh, right—I never told you. The HR thing was a lie.”

“What?”

I gave Seo Seung-hyun a mixed version of truth and lies to explain things.

Basically said I used that excuse to shop my songs around.

He seemed stunned that HR fell for it so easily—but hey, he’s here because of that, too.

Eventually, he sipped his coffee, processed the madness, and came to a conclusion.

“Well, whatever.”

“Anyway, I’ll be heading back to the dorm soon, so I might be hard to reach.”

“But if you debut, it’d be pretty funny. A rookie idol being the composer of Drop Out’s first external title track.”

“If it gets out, yeah.”

I have no plans to reveal the truth.

What I want in this life is a stereotypical idol experience.

I want to live the most typical idol life possible.

That’s how I’ll gather emotional insight from a regular perspective, not through special circumstances.

Of course, you never know what’ll happen. I might have to reveal it someday.

But when that time comes, I won’t do it casually.

With secrets, it’s not just the content—it’s the reveal that matters.

“Well, since you’re here, want to look over the contract for I’m not your man?”

“Sure.”

---

To an outsider, Lee Hyun-seok of LB Studio might look like a bum running a recording studio to slack off.

Not entirely wrong.

He wants to live like that—and he does.

But does that mean he has no influence in the Korean music industry?

Absolutely not.

Music is a weird industry where failed musicians often end up leading the business.

Successful musicians stay musicians, but failed ones become producers or executives.

They couldn’t shine with their own talent, so they switch paths and make others shine.

Lion’s CEO Choi Tae-ho was a failed singer from the ‘80s, and lots of A&R people or producers are former failed indie artists.

That’s why Lee Hyun-seok has clout.

Many of the people now running the industry are folks he once comforted in failure.

And now, Lee Hyun-seok was flexing his influence again.

“Well then, I look forward to working with you, Mr. Lee.”

“Same here.”

LB Studio had been entrusted with producing the songs for Coming Up Next.

This was actually a very unusual move.

No matter how good LB Studio’s offer was, an in-house production would normally be better.

Channel M Show even has its own recording studio, so there was no need to outsource.

And yet…

Sion Han already recorded three songs? And they’re releasing one as a single?

This only happened because of Lee Hyun-seok’s obsession with Sion Han’s music.

He even managed to convince Jo Ki-jung, the original singer of Under the Streetlight.

Jo Ki-jung had turned down M Show’s remake offer.

He would’ve agreed to a standard cover, but not after hearing they changed the song significantly.

Audio stars often have a bias against video stars.

Whether it’s mistrust in skill or insecurity about looks.

And idols are the ultimate video stars.

But—

“Brother Ki-jung. The kid’s a genius, I swear. Not an idol genius—a musician genius. I vouch for him.”

With just one phone call, Jo Ki-jung gave his okay.

Seeing that, M Show approved LB Studio to handle production.

And once everything was settled, Lee Hyun-seok finally called Sion Han.

“Hey Sion. How’ve you been? Oh, nothing major. I just ended up working with M Show, weirdly enough. Yep, Coming Up Next. So… you free today?”

---

After lunch, I arrived at the LB Studio building.

Originally, the recording for Under the Streetlight was scheduled for tomorrow, but Lee Hyun-seok had begged me to come.

What is he trying to pull?

The production team for Coming Up Next won’t even be here until tomorrow.

As I walked in, I saw Lee Hyun-seok and a part-timer who was apparently his niece waiting for me.

“How was the shoot?”

“I gave it my all.”

“How are the other contestants? I heard from someone at M Show that they’re pretty good.”

“They’re all much better than I expected. I was really surprised.”

“Who’s the best?”

I tilted my head at the sudden question from the part-timer.

They’re all just idol trainees—would she even know their names?

“Yeong-eun, go man the counter. We’re heading in to talk.”

“Why?”

“It’s too distracting out here.”

“But still…”

Wanting to join the convo, the niece was gently pushed away as Lee Hyun-seok dragged me into the studio’s meeting room.

“Sion.”

“Please, just talk casually. I get the feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Oh, really? Makes sense. You’ll be coming in to record more, after all.”

To outsiders, this probably sounds ridiculous.

Lee Hyun-seok doesn’t even consider the possibility that I’ll get eliminated from Coming Up Next.

But honestly, it’s not that far-fetched.

Of everyone this life who’s heard my music in depth, it’s not Team Leader Seo or the show’s judges.

It’s Lee Hyun-seok.

He sat in on all three days I worked at LB Studio.

I don’t know him super well, but he clearly has the ear to recognize real skill.

“Yeah, I’ll speak comfortably. You can call me ‘sunbae’ then.”

“Wouldn’t ‘teacher’ be more fitting?”

“You gotta teach something to be called that.”

Then he adjusted his chair and spoke in a low voice.

“I saw the video M Show sent—Under the Streetlight.”

“Oh, yeah? What’d you think?”

“It was great. Really great. Surprised me. It was fascinating… but thinking back, I felt a bit regretful.”

“In what way?”

“A masterpiece isn’t supposed to be fascinating, you know?”

Maybe I should raise my opinion of Lee Hyun-seok a little.

He’s sharper than I thought.

---

Pinky repeats: This novel is not my cup of tea, I’m translating this for others’ enjoyment. I will be paying for each chapter from now on. If you like me and/or my work, don’t forget to drop a couple bucks to me when you have enough to spare so I can break even. I don’t require money for the menial effort I put in, I only want to make back what I’ve spent.