Little Pink Starfish

Why is he here?

I’d heard from PD Kang Seok-woo that Eddie was coming to Korea.

That’s why I sent over the rearranged version of Flowers Bloom too.

But the scheduled meeting was for tomorrow. Even if he arrived early, it’s weird for him to just show up at the waiting room like this.

And if he did come, why didn’t he say hi instead of just standing there, grinning?

“W-Who are you?”

Ieon stepped forward, maybe out of a sense of responsibility as the oldest.

And right then, PD Kang Seok-woo came rushing into the waiting room, camera director in tow.

“Han Sion!”

“Yes?”

“You speak English, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“How well?”

“Pretty much native level?”

“Seriously?”

“I had early education.”

It was a lie, but PD Kang believed it easily, since he knew my parents were doctors.

“Do you know who this is?”

“No.”

“That’s Chris Edwards. The composer of Flowers Bloom.”

“What?!”

“Chris Edwards wrote Flowers Bloom?!”

The fiery reactions came not from me, but the other members.

Come to think of it, they probably hadn’t been told that Flowers Bloom’s composer was Chris Edwards or that he was visiting Korea.

But… was Eddie really that famous in Korea?

The others were freaking out.

Meanwhile, Eddie offered me a handshake.

“Hey, I’ve really been wanting to meet you. I’m a fan.”

This guy… didn’t he have a habit of not washing his hands after using the bathroom…?

Probably still hasn’t fixed it.

“In Korea, we bow instead of shaking hands when we first meet.”

“Bow?”

“Like this.”

---

I left the art hall with Eddie and got into a taxi.

Just the two of us—no staff.

PD Kang had begged me with sad puppy eyes to talk things out right there, but some conversations need to happen off-camera.

We can film the meeting scene tomorrow, right?

Of course, it wasn’t like a mere contestant like me could make that demand to the main producer.

I subtly asked Eddie to bring it up.

“Hey, where are we going?”

“Home.”

“Your home?”

“Yeah. What you’re curious about is there, isn’t it?”

“What do you think I’m curious about?”

“You came to hear my music, right? I’ll play it for you.”

“Wow, confident much?”

Back home, I was greeted by a ridiculous sight.

The entrance was a mess—looked like Uncle-in-law had been here.

Maybe he came before showing up at the set… or after getting kicked out.

Whatever the case, it was a wreck.

“You already have hooligans stalking you?”

“Not a star yet, but yeah, I’ve got a middle-aged hooligan following me around.”

“Isn’t that even more dangerous?”

I chuckled and opened the door.

“Come in.”

“You live alone?”

“For now.”

I made Eddie wash his hands first, then brewed some coffee.

“Chris, I’ve got something I need to do right now.”

“What is it?”

“Urgent project. Can we talk after?”

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Listen to some of my music. Hang tight.”

I grabbed a spare MacBook and a USB from my room.

Everything I’ve composed in this life is on that USB.

“Hm. I wanted to talk first, but…”

“It won’t take long, just be patient.”

“Strange. We just met today, but you feel oddly familiar. Is it because you’re so casual around me?”

Probably.

Back when I first went to the U.S. and knew nothing about Billboard, I even lived with Eddie for a while.

Honestly, the reason I avoided him later in my past life was because I wanted to preserve only the good memories.

I’d seen too many people I once trusted turn on me—betray me, insult me.

And I’m only human—once I see that, I can’t help but lose affection.

Not that I’ve seen that side of Eddie yet.

And I’d rather not.

So I deliberately didn’t seek him out.

But now fate brought us together again—so be it.

It’s strange to think that the guy who composed Way From Flower’s debut track is Eddie.

“So how’d you end up writing a K-pop girl group song?”

“Thought we weren’t talking yet?”

“We’re not. Just wait.”

I left him in the living room and entered my room.

Time to work on the mixing for (for Drop Out) and \ (for NOP).

I got the recording files while I was prepping Seoul Town Funk, but couldn’t find the time to get to them.

Also, I didn’t have the right equipment in the dorm.

Even if I did, I couldn’t work in front of the stationary cameras.

I really don’t want people to find out I’m also a composer.

In this life, I plan to live as a typical idol group member.

A rookie idol writing title tracks for top-tier groups isn’t exactly normal.

With that in mind, I started with NOP’s files.

Hm. Not bad.

NOP tweaked some of the vocal lines I laid down in the guide, but it fits their voice well.

Objectively, my version is better—but NOP’s take works better for them, I think.

The K-pop industry really doesn’t lack in talent.

Sure, there are people who don’t meet the bar, but that’s true of Billboard too.

That’s how global stars like LMC and Prime Time emerge a few years later.

No matter how important marketing and PR are, music is the core.

I got deep into the mixing of NOP’s I’m Not Your Man.

I’d promised to master it too—but that’s only if the artist OKs the mix.

My speed was fast—so fast any other mixing engineer would’ve been horrified.

Actually, not horrified—suspicious.

“Are you sure you’re doing this right?”

But come on. I’ve been doing this for over a century now.

This should be nothing.

I quickly wrapped up NOP’s work and moved on to Drop Out.

“Oh…”

Drop Out’s recording was even better.

They didn’t touch the vocal line I provided—just added Korean lyrics, and it worked perfectly.

It sounded great, and the lyrics were good too.

But what I liked most was the “rawness” in the delivery.

Selfish is about a man who’s always lived selfishly in love finally falling desperately in love for the first time.

So it needs a sense of confusion, self-denial, and emotional roughness.

Drop Out nailed it.

No wonder they’re a top-tier idol.

I’ve been critical of the 2017 idol scene.

Honestly, some of the songs I heard while monitoring the charts were horrendous.

But the top-tier ones? They’re different.

It’s only natural. They’re the best in the country—how could they not have real musical talent?

Feeling satisfied, I continued the mixing.

Then a thought crossed my mind.

“What if we sang this?”

Could any of the 100 Days of Three Months members express this vibe?

They say Koo Taehwan has that kind of look, but who knows? Visuals aren’t everything.

Musical expression doesn’t always align with appearance.

“Hm…”

On second thought, maybe Lee Ieon could do it with enough practice.

Still, his tone’s too rough—it wouldn’t sound cohesive…

Wait?

An idea struck me.

With the time-travel concept, our stage doesn’t have to be just about fun.

Even with the last song—without the time-travel setup, we wouldn’t have thought to use traditional instruments.

So maybe, for someone like Lee Ieon, whose tone is rough—we could turn that flaw into a strength…

My train of thought was cut off.

SLAM!

The door burst open and a breathless Eddie rushed in.

“Y-You made all of this yourself? Seriously?!”

“Who else would’ve done it?”

“Jesus… What about the sessions? Who played the instruments?”

“I did.”

“You played every melody and riff here?”

I nodded. They were all recorded at LB Studio.

“Well—except drums. Those are virtual instruments. I can’t play drums.”

“H-How much of this is sampled?”

“None.”

“…Don’t say ridiculous things.”

“You don’t have to believe me.”

“Oh my god! No wonder I didn’t recognize a single line!”

I get it.

Lee Hyun-seok and Jo Gi-jung were shocked too, but Eddie’s reaction was on another level.

Eddie’s a Billboard-topping, world-class composer.

He may be going through a slump right now, but his skills are the real deal.

Once he overcomes this slump, he’ll be elite again.

So he could accurately judge the level of music I showed him.

“How is this even possible? Isn’t God supposed to be fair?”

“Maybe He is.”

“No—this is unfair. If you were seventy years old, fine. But you’re what—twenty?!”

Not worth answering, so I just shrugged.

Eddie babbled on in disbelief before finally settling down.

“Sorry. I’m just so shocked. I didn’t mean to insult your talent.”

“I understand.”

If I weren’t a regressioner, and someone showed me this much music all at once—I’d scream too.

Then Eddie looked at me with earnest eyes.

“Sion, come with me to Billboard. Don’t waste time on some reality show. Your talent is unquestionable.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to become a singer in Korea.”

“A K-pop boy group is your dream?”

“Yeah.”

“What about composing? You could aim for Billboard as a producer.”

I could. But it’s meaningless.

I’ll regress when the time is right.

This life isn’t one where I aim for the long game.

Besides, I’m too familiar with the Billboard scene. I don’t need Eddie’s help there.

Maybe when I debut with a group and start aiming internationally.

“Sorry, but I’m just not that interested.”

“How can you say that?”

“Say what?”

“How can you be so indifferent?!”

“It’s not indifference. I want to succeed in Korea.”

“Then why’d you let me hear all this?!”

What the hell?

Eddie’s face suddenly overlapped with that of CEO Lee Hyun-seok.

He’s given up now, but he tried so hard to steer me off course.

“Fine. Then arrange one of my songs.”

“Your song?”

“Yeah. I want to hear what you’d keep, what you’d change.”

“I’m kind of busy…”

“…”

“Uh… maybe in three months? If I have time then…”

I wasn’t planning to do it—but Eddie’s expression was scary, so I compromised.

Just one song. It wouldn’t take long.

Eddie’s face turned to despair, but it couldn’t be helped.

Suddenly, his expression flipped.

He grinned meaningfully.

“Alright. Then I have a way.”

“A way?”

“Just wait.”

What could he possibly do if I said no?

But—

Turns out Eddie really came up with something insane.

I found out a few days later.

“I’m Chris Edwards, the special guest judge for this mission.”

Uh…

“Please give him a big round of applause!”

Uh-oh…

“For Mission 3, you’ll be rearranging one of Chris Edwards’ greatest hits.”

You crazy bastard…

Eddie changed the third mission of Coming Up Next in exchange for appearing on the show.