Little Pink Starfish

The Take Scene’s performance, in a word, was appropriate.

They sang Maroon 5’s “Sugar” in their own style. While the original has a bright pop band vibe, Take Scene mixed in some hard rock.

But that doesn’t mean it was a full-on hard rock arrangement.

The texture of the drums and the guitar riffs reminded you of hard rock, but they didn’t drastically alter the original.

Even though the verses were changed to Korean, the vocal lines still carried a similar feeling to the original.

Some audience members even hummed along with the original English lyrics—and it didn’t feel out of place.

Positively speaking, it amped up the energy without damaging the identity of the original.

Negatively speaking, it rode entirely on the strength of the original.

Of course…

—WAAAAAAAH!

—WOOOOOOOO!

Most of the audience was reacting positively to the stage.

After all, it was a self-produced song by idol trainees.

It exceeded expectations and was impressive even by absolute standards.

So much so that during the chorus, when Take Scene performed group choreography, the crowd burst into a sing-along.

—YOUR SUGAR!

—YES, PLEASE!

In fact, Sugar was something of a cheat code in Korea.

It had ranked 5th on the 2015 year-end Korean charts.

Before Sugar, no pop song had ever broken into the Top 10 of the year-end Korean chart.

Take Scene’s performance was building toward its climax.

The finale was led by Juyeon, who filled the stage with his vocal power as the arrangement dropped away and returned to the original chorus.

POOF!

As Juyeon hit the final chorus, confetti exploded, and the Take Scene members abandoned their choreography and freely ran around the stage.

In reality, it was all choreographed, but to the audience, it looked like the boys were just having too much fun to stay still.

And so, as the performance ended, the audience roared with wild cheers.

Even those who had come to see Han Si-on’s Under the Streetlight left remembering the name “Take Scene.”

Some even called for an encore.

—What an amazing performance!

As Blue came on stage to calm the crowd…

Two of the most out-of-place figures in the audience exchanged glances.

Chris Edwards and his manager, Alex.

The two of them were sitting alone on the second-floor terrace, which wasn’t supposed to be open to the public, and now that the room had quieted down, they spoke.

“Eddie, what’d you think?”

“Not bad. That kid who sang the final chorus—he’s pretty talented.”

“Excluding the performance itself, what’d you think of the arrangement?”

“Honestly, not bad. A bit tacky, though. If there’s a problem…”

Alex picked up the thread.

“It won’t work in the airplay market, right?”

“Yeah. Without the visuals, just the audio would get old fast. It’s loud.”

If heavy drums and strong melodic riffs were the answer, why would so many musicians agonize over instrument choices?

Why would mixing engineers spend days fine-tuning compressors?

Finding and blending the balance of all the sounds that make up music is an incredibly delicate task.

In that sense, Take Scene’s version of Sugar was a failure in balance.

The modified drums and guitars, added for excitement, dulled the beauty of the core melody.

They covered for it with flashy visuals, but if not for the massive halo effect of the original song, the performance wouldn’t have landed as well.

Still, Chris Edwards didn’t bash the performance.

“From the footage, it looked like those boys made the stage themselves? In that case, it’s impressive. I was worse at that age.”

Alex chuckled.

Honestly, Eddie could be a bit naive.

What kind of reality show gives contestants full control over the arrangement?

Most likely, countless engineers and support staff prepped everything behind the scenes.

Of course, Han Si-on was the exception.

Alex had asked the Coming Up Next production team several times if there was any external support involved—but the answer was always the same.

Nothing.

They swore on the station’s honor that Han Si-on had no help.

Alex didn’t believe in “honor,” so he made sure it was in the contract:

If Eddie joined the show and they found even a trace of manipulation in Han Si-on’s work, they’d receive massive penalties.

Korean broadcasters, usually picky about every clause, had approved that one without hesitation. That alone said a lot about Han Si-on’s talent.

‘The next stage is probably Han Si-on’s,’ Alex thought as the Take Scene evaluations seemed to wrap up.

Chris and Alex didn’t understand a word of Korean, so they could only guess based on the vibes—it seemed like a favorable review.

The number “92” on the screen was probably their score.

“How many points would you have given?”

“Hmm. Considering this is a competition and one stage needs to beat another—maybe 80.”

“And if you just judged the song?”

“Without the performance? Then… 50? 55? If you consider their age, maybe 60.”

“Harsh.”

“What about you?”

“If the performance makes money, it’s a 100. If it doesn’t, it’s a zero.”

“Spoken like the icon of cutthroat capitalism.”

Then, a new VCR started playing.

This time, it featured “Three Months, Hundred Days,” the group Han Si-on was part of.

“Alex. The team Si-on’s in is called 3months 100days, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Three months is like 92 days, isn’t it?”

“Beats me.”

As they chatted meaninglessly, a melody started playing in the video.

Alex thought it sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

It was a variation, not the original.

But Chris Edwards’ expression turned curious.

“Was that intentional?”

“What?”

“Do you know where Sugar ranked on the Billboard chart?”

“#1? I heard it made a ton of money.”

“Nope. It was #2. There was a massive truck ahead of it.”

“Truck?”

He couldn’t quite remember the Billboard rankings from back then.

“What was #1?”

“Uptown Funk.” Fourteen weeks at #1.”

“Ah!”

“That must be what Si-on’s team is about to perform.”

At that moment, the audience erupted into cheers.

They looked up. Onstage, musicians in colorful clothes had appeared.

Chris and Alex didn’t know, but the musicians were wearing hanbok, and the instruments were traditional Korean ones.

The screen showed a backdrop of a street market that looked like it was from the Goryeo era.

Then the music began.

“Not drums?”

“Yeah. Some kind of old-school instruments?”

Buk, nabal (horn), and taepyeongso (pipe).

The performance with those three traditional instruments felt dull.

The buk just kept the basic rhythm, and the nabal and taepyeongso lacked energy.

The audience’s clapping, which had begun with excitement at the familiar melody, began to weaken.

Watching this, Alex and Chris grew curious.

What on earth was Han Si-on thinking?

---

I’ve lived my whole life as a singer, but my mindset is closer to that of a producer.

It wasn’t always like this, but after many regressions, I realized that you can’t sell 200 million records just by going all in on music.

That doesn’t mean I’m exactly like other producers, though.

While most are busy discovering new talent, I constantly throw Han Si-on into new environments.

That’s why I’m here.

Idol.

I definitely used to think it was a damn idol scene, but the moment I took a deep breath beneath the stage, everything changed.

I want to please the audience. I want to shock people.

I want to send shockwaves through the industry and make everyone talk about me.

I want to dominate the charts, and flood YouTube with covers of my stage.

In that moment, the producer mindset fades away. I become a singer again.

Just like now.

At that moment, I hear the traditional instrument version of Uptown Funk through my in-ear monitor.

A very basic, subdued arrangement.

I can barely hear clapping anymore. The audience must have already lost interest.

That was fast.

We’re just getting started.

At that moment, a red light appears in front of Goo Taehwan’s lift.

He looks nervous, but as his eyes meet mine, I give him a nod.

He’ll do fine.

People are going to be surprised.

Beep — beep — beep

The red light blinks three times, turns green, and with a BOOM, Taehwan shoots up onto the stage.

A brief moment of silence, then—

DOOM—DOOM—DOOM!

Powerful drumbeats create a dynamic rhythm like a percussion line.

Next up are Choi Jaeseong and Lee Eion.

They look at me before rising onto the stage.

As they do, the sound of the taepyeongso and nabal joins in with a juicy rhythm.

I think I can hear clapping again.

Getting excited already?

Not yet.

Onsaemiro takes the stage.

Now, modern sounds—hi-hat drums, claps, and majestic brass—begin to mix with the traditional instruments.

I’m the only one left.

A red light appears in front of my lift.

Once it blinks three times and turns green, I’ll rise up.

Blink.

I count the beat in my head, syncing with the in-ear monitor and the red flashes, and I recall the moment we planned this stage.

Blink.

“How about a school dance club?”

“If it’s a club, the basketball team sounds better.”

“We should go bolder. What about werewolves?”

“Fantasy? Then vampires are standard, right?”

The members insisted we needed a concept.

I didn’t understand at first, but I tried to go along.

That’s when Onsaemiro suggested this concept.

It was the best of the bunch, so we all agreed. But while working on the song, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

So I tried incorporating it into the music.

And the result…

“You did this?”

“That’s insane. How did you even think of this?”

“Are you seriously a genius?”

I was very satisfied.

It wasn’t easy, but even I thought the sound was sexy.

And that wasn’t all.

While composing, the performance visuals naturally formed in my mind.

“There’s a scene in Back to the Future where the main character goes 30 years back and performs Chuck Berry’s Johnny B. Goode.”

“Don’t know Chuck Berry? Basically, he invented rock ’n’ roll.”

“But back then, no one had heard rock ’n’ roll. The audience looks at him like he’s insane.”

“And then he says this:”

‘I guess you guys aren’t ready for that yet… but your kids are gonna love it.’

“But when I saw that scene, I thought—”

‘If it’s truly a masterpiece, wouldn’t even old folks like it?’

That was it.

The concept Onsaemiro suggested, and we all agreed on, was: Time Travelers.

The 3months 100days members from 2017 traveled to the past.

Blink.

Now it’s my turn.

POP! The lift rises and sends me to the stage.

Thunder crashes as I “arrive” in the past.

Bass, electric guitar, and electric piano explode into sound all at once.

And so, Seoul Town Funk begins.