Little Pink Starfish

All the members seemed to understand what I was saying immediately.

Ah, except for Choi Jaesung. So not all the members, I guess.

Anyway, the first one to speak was On Saemiro.

“So what happens to Seoul Town Funk then? All five of us sang together in that. Isn’t that a continuity issue?”

“I dunno? I didn’t really think it through. Can’t we just say he’s a traitor?”

“How about a hypocrite instead of a traitor? He pretended to be our friend all this time, while hiding that he wanted to monopolize time travel.”

I shrugged at Goo Taehwan’s comment.

It’s not like we’re writing a movie script. Do we need to get that detailed?

There’s only so much we can show on stage anyway.

But I didn’t say anything negative.

At first, I thought the concept stuff was useless, but I was wrong.

Maybe learning this kind of thing will come in handy someday.

“Either way, I just thought we could justify why Hyung Ieon feels slightly out of place.”

When I finished talking, Lee Ieon, who’d been thinking for a while, spoke.

“But Sion.”

“Yes?”

“We can’t keep putting on performances like this every time, right?”

Ieon was right.

This kind of trick isn’t something we can use repeatedly.

Besides, right now, we can explain the stage concept directly through the Coming Up Next show.

But…

“Hyung Ieon, we’re not going to keep doing performances.”

Ieon was wrong.

“We only have three performances left.”

Maybe even just two.

Coming Up Next is a 10-episode series, and only two have aired so far.

Episode three is airing tomorrow.

But on the show, they haven’t even finished the B Team selection yet.

There’s too much left to broadcast.

The take scene and the karaoke mission where we first met.

The position battle where we sang a remix under a streetlamp.

The self-produced mission where we sang Seoul Town Funk.

And now there’s the hot topic of Chris Edwards, and we still have a mission to rearrange one of his songs.

On top of that, there’s the smaller stuff—moving into the dorms, mini-games, individual shots.

To fit all that into the show, there’s a good chance we’ll only have four total stages instead of the originally announced five.

If that’s the case, then we only have two performances left. After that, SeDalBaekIl disbands.

“But what if we all debut together at Lion Entertainment?”

“No. I’m not staying at Lion. I’m definitely debuting within this year.”

There’s no way Lion will debut SeDalBaekIl within this year.

By now, I’ve got a decent feel for the idol industry.

The company pours a massive amount of money into a single idol group and uses everything it has to recoup that investment.

So for the time being, Lion will focus all its efforts on making Take Scene a success.

They have neither the reason nor the capacity to debut SeDalBaekIl.

Of course, since Coming Up Next is turning into a hit, there’s a chance we could debut a little earlier.

But even then, it’ll be the end of next year at best.

It’s April right now, so even if we debut in October next year, that’s nearly 18 months of waiting.

And realistically, it’ll probably take even longer than that.

I don’t have the patience to wait that long.

One day, I’ll just regress and reset everything I’ve built to zero.

Of course, I couldn’t explain any of this to the team.

All I could say was that I want to debut quickly. Even if they feel disappointed, I can’t explain more…

Wait, what’s with everyone’s expressions?

“Is it because of your parents?”

“…Something like that.”

“Yeah. If that’s the case, there’s nothing you can do.”

They’re empathizing with me?

Is it because of the conversation we had last time?

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

“Something like that. That’s also why I want to debut quickly.”

But if we’re being honest, that’s just a vague hope—it’s not grounded in reality.

It’s not like my parents will wake up just because they hear my song in their hospital room.

Can they even empathize without knowing I made a deal with the devil?

I was momentarily confused, but just nodded.

If they’re choosing to empathize, I don’t need to ruin the moment.

“But Sion.”

“Yes?”

“What happens if I end up in another group?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s not like my tone only sounds off in SeDalBaekIl, right?”

“Oh, that? I don’t think it’ll matter.”

“Why not?”

“Have any of the judges ever criticized your tone?”

“…No?”

The reason I find Ieon’s tone uncomfortable is because of my own obsession.

Since I’m aiming for the absurd goal of selling 200 million physical albums, anything that feels even slightly off makes me uneasy.

But other producers likely won’t mind much.

Even if they find it a bit lacking, they’ll probably think his visuals and skills make up for it.

If it really comes down to it, they can fix it in mixing or use AR for live shows, can’t they?

In other words, while I avoid Ieon because I’m aiming for perfection, a team aiming for decent success won’t mind him at all.

“So you really don’t need to worry too much.”

Come to think of it, I should’ve said this earlier.

From Ieon’s point of view, his weakness must’ve felt pretty significant.

Maybe he feels a bit reassured now?

But Ieon’s reaction was completely unexpected.

“That’s kind of disappointing.”

“What is?”

“You’re saying I won’t be able to give it my all if I end up in another group. Because they won’t even see it as a problem.”

“…Yeah.”

He’s right.

If Ieon wants to show 100% of his potential, it won’t happen in some half-assed team.

But most people aren’t that desperate.

Once they taste success a few times, they start to prefer comfort over hunger.

And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Ieon might say this now, but I bet he’ll change later too.

“Well, what matters is giving it your all now.”

“True.”

“Alright. I’ll try being the villain for once. I used to get called a villain a lot back in school anyway.”

“Why?”

“People said being around me ruined their love life.”

I laughed at the rare sight of Goo Taehwan with his mouth wide open.

Yeah, Ieon’s right.

We should just do our best right now.

“I’ve decided to arrange Chris Edwards’ song Highway.”

“Oh, that song’s good.”

“I like it too.”

Highway is a song composed by Chris Edwards and sung by R&B star Lazy Boy.

Ah, now that I think about it, Goo Taehwan sang a Lazy Boy song before.

Slow Down from the B Team selection—he sang it based on my advice.

Anyway, Highway came out in 2016, and there was some controversy back then.

Lazy Boy had been known for his soulful contemporary R&B, but this was his first R&B dance track.

So he danced in the music video too.

He was pretty good at it, but it felt a bit off—it didn’t match his usual image.

He’s not Usher or Chris Brown, after all.

Because of that, longtime fans rejected the song. But surprisingly, people who didn’t like Lazy Boy before loved it.

It even climbed to #9 on the Billboard Hot 200.

But honestly, I think the concept of the song was flawed from the start.

They should’ve just leaned into the Motown vibe.

Motown and contemporary R&B are fruits from the same tree anyway.

“Sion, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, it’s fine. You’ll get the idea once you hear the sound.”

A singer doesn’t need deep genre knowledge anyway.

Especially as we moved into the 2020s, genre boundaries started blurring.

Some Black artists even started calling out how everything they sing automatically gets labeled as R&B.

Eventually, people just started calling everything ‘easy listening with a genre base.’

“Alright, I’m gonna start working.”

I already have the arrangement finished in my head, so it shouldn’t take too long.

Maybe about five hours?

---

Once I was about halfway through, I sent the members home.

“You sure you’re okay working alone?”

“At this point, we’ve filmed enough reactions. It’s easier for me to finish this part alone.”

When recording sessions are happening, there’s stuff worth reacting to. But not from this point on.

Now it’s just tweaking and refining the sound to make it better.

They’d just be dozing off on the couch anyway, so better they sleep in a bed.

I sent them back to the dorm provided by the broadcast and focused on my work again.

How much time had passed?

I snapped out of the zone and stood up, planning to grab some coffee.

But in the break room, someone unexpected was waiting for me.

On Saemiro.

“What? You didn’t go?”

“I went and came back.”

“Why?”

“Wanted to ask you something.”

Is this about me hitting Fade? Is she worried?

Well, I did calculate that it wouldn’t be a problem before I hit him, but from her perspective, I guess she could be worried.

Sure enough, her question was about Fade.

“Why did you hit Fade?”

“Just… he deserved it, didn’t he?”

But what came next was really unexpected.

“You didn’t do anything to your uncle-in-law.”

“What?”

“Shouldn’t you have hit him too?”

What is she talking about?

Those two cases are completely different.

I hit Fade because the odds of it being exposed were low, and even if it was, I could handle the fallout.

He was badmouthing Saemiro first, so I could pass it off as overprotective friendship and sweep it under the rug.

And Fade wouldn’t want people to know he got punched either.

But hitting my uncle-in-law would blow up differently.

Even if he started the whole mess, it’d still be an idol trainee hitting a civilian.

That could easily turn into a sensationalist headline.

“They’re not the same.”

“How are they different?”

“It’s a matter of whether it can be handled or not.”

“You could really think that way in that moment?”

Wait a minute.

Does Saemiro think I hit Fade because I was angry?

Come to think of it, from her point of view, that makes sense.

If that’s what she thinks… then maybe I should just accept her thanks…

“Thanks.”

Ah, she said it herself.

“I’ve always wanted to hit that bastard anyway. No need to thank me too much—just a little.”

I tried to end the conversation with a light joke, but Saemiro stared at me for a bit before speaking.

“I’m curious about something.”

In that moment, I had a feeling.

No—I was sure.

I’ve lived a long life and met countless people.

I’ve gotten good at reading people’s intentions when they approach with a clear purpose.

Like when I got PD Kang Seokwoo on my side. Or made Fade apologize.

But I often miss the mark in everyday conversations.

Idle chatter, small talk, icebreakers—I’m clumsy with meaningless conversation. It sometimes makes me seem emotionally dense.

Even so, there are moments when I can be absolutely certain of someone’s feelings.

Like now.

When they’re in despair.

Saemiro spoke.

“Do you think I can ever beat you?”