Little Pink Starfish

Well, I get it.

People have always looked at me with distrust.

And when that didn’t work, they turned to inexplicable hatred.

It’s probably jealousy over talent that doesn’t make sense to them.

At first, I felt wronged—but now, I think it’s something I just have to deal with.

I’ve lived using a cheat code that lets me escape the constraints of time.

Not that I ever asked for it.

Eventually, they’ll all find out.

Even if it’s just a remix of Under the Streetlight, I can prove that I had a clear intention behind adjusting the vocal line.

Anyway, judging by the mood, Under the Streetlight is probably about to hit number one on the charts.

But since it doesn’t count toward album sales, it doesn’t feel like much.

Besides, what I really need to focus on isn’t Under the Streetlight, but the self-produced mission performance that’s only two days away.

Titled…

“Seoul Town Funk.”

I was completely against it, but thanks to majority vote, this ended up being the name.

Singing Uptown Funk in Seoul turns into Seoul Town Funk?

Worst naming sense ever.

And we’re in Pocheon, not Seoul.

If we were going to factor in geography, Pocheon Town Funk would’ve made more sense, right?

I let it slide since we weren’t going to release it officially.

“Han Sion.”

“Yeah?”

“Come down. To the dance studio.”

I nodded at Goo Taehwan, who had come up to the second floor.

Alright, let’s just get to practice.

Whether it’s Seoul Town or Pocheon Town, what matters more is nailing the performance.

But when I got down to the first floor, I saw something odd.

The Three Months, One Day members were huddled in front of the dorm entrance, looking visibly uneasy.

When they saw me come down, they flinched and started glancing nervously.

“What are you guys doing over there?”

I tried to look outside the entrance to see what was going on, but Lee Eion suddenly blocked me with his body.

“W-Wait.”

What is this?

Just then, the writer who lives on the first floor of the dorm rushed over and grabbed my shoulder.

“Sion, don’t go out.”

That was weird.

The writer’s voice definitely had concern in it.

But at the same time, she seemed preoccupied with the fixed camera.

As if something worrying had happened—but also something the show could use.

“Ah.”

I figured it out.

“Is it my uncle?”

The Three Months, One Day members flinched.

Guess I was right.

Makes sense—today’s probably his only chance.

Actually, I got a call from Lawyer Choi Jiwoon yesterday.

Tomorrow is the final ruling in family court, and I’ll be officially named legal guardian. No objections expected.

Even if a bogus appeal is submitted, he said he’d handle it cleanly.

I’ve dealt with this sort of thing too many times to feel anything. I just nodded, but in hindsight, this is Korea.

When I lived in the U.S., no relatives thought to visit me in person.

Even if they flew to the States, they wouldn’t have known where to find me.

But now, things are different.

I’m in Korea, appearing on a national audition program.

There are plenty of staff and related people around here.

The dorm location was probably easy to find.

So my uncle couldn’t hold back and drove all the way to Pocheon.

Right before he loses several billion won, after all.

Still, what does he think he can do by meeting me?

Ah—maybe he’s hoping for crumbs.

He’s already given up on being the guardian, now that I’ve got a top-tier lawyer from a major law firm. But maybe he thinks he can score something.

What do they call that in Korean again?

“Ppojji,” right?

“I’ll go talk to him. I can’t let him keep causing a scene while we have to practice.”

“But…”

The writer’s eyes trembled.

She’s conflicted.

Worried about me—but tempted to capture it on camera.

Must be new on the job.

Still a bit green.

“Just in case, could you film it?”

“Huh?”

“If he spreads lies, I’ll need evidence.”

“……”

But hilariously, the writer wasn’t conflicted after all—she was just genuinely worried about me.

Because when I went outside, the camera was already rolling.

One of the camera directors must’ve subtly adjusted the mounted cam aimed at the dorm exterior.

My uncle, face beet red, was yelling without a care in the world—either unaware or uncaring that he was being filmed.

Even with sturdy staff trying to stop him, he kept struggling. I guess money really is power.

Then he saw me.

“You—! You ungrateful brat who doesn’t even know his parents! After all I did for your father—!”

His tongue was a bit twisted—was he drunk?

As I moved closer, I understood why he’d come all the way to Pocheon.

It wasn’t to pull off a last-minute reversal in court.

It wasn’t to suck up and earn some crumbs either.

He just came… because he was angry.

“Hey!”

“Get him!”

He suddenly swung his hand at me.

I barely dodged it. He almost hit me.

Is he stupid?

Doesn’t he realize that attacking me in public drops his chance of being guardian to zero?

What would he do if I reported him to the police after getting hit?

I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity but managed to hold it in.

Laughing would be weird right now.

Okay, time to act.

“What do you want from me?! Did you ever come visit the hospital even once?!”

“You little bastard!”

Not to brag, but I’m decent at acting.

I’ve been in a film too.

I didn’t try acting for money—it was for the album.

Eminem was once vilified by parents across America.

There were even protests asking schools to ban his music for corrupting students.

But when 8 Mile—his autobiographical movie—became a hit, things changed.

People empathized with the pain in his lyrics and were captivated by the story.

The OST Lose Yourself topped the Billboard Hot 100 for 12 weeks and won both a Grammy and an Oscar.

Inspired by that, I once produced a film in Hollywood about my own story…

Wait, this isn’t the time for reminiscing.

“You goddamn brat! You ungrateful bastard lower than a dog!”

Ungrateful? Since when did he do me any favors?

I really want to smack him.

The situation was finally sorted when PD Kang Seokwoo arrived.

The staff were flustered, unsure how to handle a non-contestant relative, but PD Kang just called the cops immediately.

As my uncle was being detained for causing a disturbance, I leaned in and whispered.

“We looked into you while reviewing the guardianship case. Your work history? Real nasty.”

“……!”

“It’s a good job, isn’t it? You didn’t get a penny, so if you want to at least keep your retirement benefits, maybe cool it.”

That wasn’t a bluff.

Whether it was the sobering up or the cops arriving in droves, his eyes started trembling as he clamped his mouth shut.

And I shed tears.

It was all just so tragic.

Why is no one questioning how he got here drunk—did he drive?

I’ll quietly bring it up with PD Kang later.

---

“Da-dan, da-dan, daaan, daaan, two-three!”

The choreo trainer scowled.

The members clearly weren’t focused.

But instead of snapping at us, he glanced at me and sighed deeply.

What? Why’s he looking at me like I’m the problem?

I haven’t made a single mistake—I’ve been focused this whole time.

“If you’re going to space out, might as well go rest in the dorm.”

“…Sorry.”

“I’ll go get some air. Get it together while I’m gone.”

He left, probably on instructions to let us talk things out for the camera.

Bit of a clumsy setup, but whatever.

The other members were clearly curious, stealing glances everywhere.

Well, misery is more entertaining than success.

“Gather around for a second.”

The four members came and sat down.

“I’ll explain. So listen up, alright? We’ve only got two days till the performance.”

“You don’t have to, Sion.”

I shrugged at Lee Eion’s words.

They’re going to find out eventually.

PD Kang Seokwoo is probably already planning when to drop my story for max impact.

He’ll use every performance-driven headline first—then follow up with the emotional hook.

“No, it’s something I needed to say eventually. Hmm, where do I start…”

After a pause, I began.

“A few months ago, I was in a car accident.”

The accident was on December 7, 2016. It’s now March 22, 2017—so yeah, a few months.

I laid out the story matter-of-factly.

There was a car crash. My parents were left unconscious. Recently, they were declared to be in a vegetative state.

I deliberately included parts about Lawyer Choi Jiwoon.

“I didn’t want to leave my parents’ assets with those people. So I looked into law firms.”

One day, this will come out, and people will doubt me.

A 20-year-old gets into a crash and immediately hires a lawyer to secure assets?

There’ll even be claims I planned the accident with the lawyer in advance—because I’m a psychopath.

In that situation, these four knowing the truth will help.

If they each tell two or three others, it’ll spread fast.

“And that’s the story.”

When I finished, the Three Months, One Day members looked shocked.

Makes sense—vegetative states are something they’ve only seen in dramas.

Even the hospital was baffled.

The accident should’ve been fatal, but they survived in perfect physical condition—and yet remain unconscious, for reasons unknown.

To those who don’t know the devil’s existence, it’s bound to seem strange.

“Are you… okay?”

I nodded at Goo Taehwan.

“Physically, I’m totally fine. Mentally too, I think. Maybe because it doesn’t feel real yet.”

“…”

“So you don’t need to worry too much. I still believe they’ll wake up someday.”

“They will wake up.”

“I believe that too.”

After a long silence, it was Lee Eion who finally spoke.

“Sion, did you join this show so your parents could hear your singing in the hospital?”

“Something like that. I do want to debut as soon as possible.”

“I see…”

“Can we focus on practice now? If we mess up this performance, my dream gets that much further away.”

The members all nodded firmly and stood up.

“Later… could we visit them in the hospital together?”

“If we hit number one on the charts and go together, that’d be amazing.”

“Agreed.”

I was a little taken aback.

Not sure if there’s any reason for them to visit my parents.

And we are likely to hit number one in a few days…

But I didn’t say any of that out loud. I’m not socially clueless.

It’s probably just a well-meaning gesture.

“Oh! If you think about it, Under the Streetlight might actually hit number one, right?”

Trust Choi Jaesung to be the sharpest—he’s the youngest, after all.

“Oh yeah, the full version is so good.”

“Remember how we all said during the prelims we wanted to hear the chorus?”

“Yeah, I was basically singing along in my head when it suddenly cut off.”

“Seoul Town Funk would be number one too if we could release it!”

As the members chatted, the door opened and the trainer came back in.

“You all look better now. Ready to work hard?”

“We’re ready!”

The trainer clapped with a chuckle.

Practice resumed.

And this time, it was satisfying.