Little Pink Starfish

Album 7. The Options

Whether it’s rap, indie band music, or something genre-defying—
if you’ve spent time in the underground scene, you naturally develop a certain attitude.

Namely: hostility toward overground music.
And especially toward its most commercial form—idol music.

Sure, this started fading after COVID-19, when world-class stars emerged from the idol scene.
But back in 2017?
It was still very much alive.

That’s not to say every underground musician hated idols.
Some liked them.

But when your entire circle is hating on idols, you keep your mouth shut.

Shim Seong-bo, keyboardist for the indie band Evening Promise, was one of those quiet ones.

In truth, he was hooked on Han Si-on’s music.

“Honestly, isn’t Han Si-on just all flash and no depth?”

Hard to defend that out loud when the band’s constantly bashing him.

So Seong-bo did the only thing he could:

“Dunno. Haven’t listened.”

Pretending not to care.

But in Seong-bo’s eyes, Han Si-on had pressed a nerve.

He was insanely talented.
So talented even Chris Edwards called him a genius.

Yet… he still wanted to be an idol.
He sang, danced, even acted cute on stage.

“Wait… has he ever actually tried to be cute?”

Underground musicians push on, even through hunger and obscurity, because they want to create something real.

If I had Han Si-on’s talent, I’d be doing something way cooler than that, Seong-bo thought.

I’d make better music, in a better scene, from a better position.

That’s where the resentment came from.
It was the taste of relative deprivation.

So any time they got together, underground musicians trashed Han Si-on.

“You really haven’t listened to him, Seong-bo?”

“Heard some on the street. Never sat down with it.”

“You should. Want to right now?”

“Here?”

“We’ve got nothing else to do.”

Their guitarist headed to the shared studio computer and typed in “Han Si-on” on a music site.

“Whoa—three songs up now?”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah. He’s charting with three.”

That made Seong-bo jump from his seat.

Just this morning on the subway, only Under the Streetlight and Falling Blossoms were charting.

“Ah—maybe last night’s performance got released?”

He thought it might be At the End of Dawn, but it wasn’t.

The new song was familiar—just not in the way he expected.

Under the Streetlight Remake (Feat. Jo Ki-jung)

“What? Already released a remake?”

“Dude blew up and now he’s milking it.”

“Wait—Jo Ki-jung? Isn’t that the original artist?”

“Pretty sure.”

The guitarist shrugged and hit play.

As soon as the drums started, the Evening Promise members began bobbing their heads.

A perfect drum line—balanced between calm and rhythmic.
The kind you can build anything on top of.

Funk. Heavy rock. Jazz. Anything.

And what came next?

Han Si-on’s voice.

Before they could even savor the drumline, the full band sound kicked in—guitar, bass, keyboard—anchored by Han Si-on’s vocals.

At first, being musicians, they focused on the instruments.

The bassist tried to trace the bassline.
The guitarist focused in on riffs.
Seong-bo honed in on the keyboard parts.

But as soon as the intro passed, they lost track.

Each instrument melted together—no longer separate.
Just one seamless melody.

The bass formed ghost notes under the drums.
The keyboard caught the guitar’s reverb.
It was… mesmerizing.

Could this be real?

You only hear this kind of cohesion on Led Zeppelin or Rolling Stones vinyl.

They desperately wanted to see the sheet music.
And at the same time, couldn’t tear themselves away from the sound.

Under the Streetlight was already great.
But this remake? It was next-level.

If you loved band music, there was no way to resist this.

Seong-bo looked at the other members.

Everyone’s jaws were half-open—just like his.

Four minutes and thirteen seconds passed like a storm.

Silence followed.

The vocalist broke it.

“I gotta admit, I like Han Si-on.”

“What?”

“Hey, I’m not an instrumentalist, okay? But the way he expresses the lyrics—insane. Who sings like that?”

“Actually, me too.”

This time, it was the guitarist—their most vocal Han Si-on hater.

Everyone turned in disbelief.

“You’re kidding. You were bashing him nonstop.”

“Yeah, I thought you guys would like him too. Then I could pretend to like him too.”

“What the hell? Why pretend?”

“He’s too good. Makes me jealous… and yeah, he’s hot. Damn it.”

“Fair enough…”

So began a collective confession—and Evening Promise realized a shocking truth:

They were all shy fans.

Too embarrassed to admit it, they’d just been playing the indie cred game.

Seong-bo was stunned, but… come to think of it, he was no different.

He hadn’t joined in the trash talk, but he hadn’t stopped it either.

Now that they’d dropped the act, an idea sparked:

“This song doesn’t have a public score sheet, right?”

“Right.”

“Let’s transcribe it ourselves and post a cover. If we’re first, we’ll get decent views.”

“Check YouTube first. Maybe someone already beat us to it.”

“How? The track just dropped.”

The guitarist searched.

Then his face froze.

[C.U.N] Is this really an impromptu jam? Feat. Lee Hyun-seok, Jo Ki-jung | Unreleased

It hit them.

That remake they just heard?
Was a live improv.

And that wasn’t all.

[C.U.N] Chris Edwards X Han Si-on Piano Duet | Unreleased

They watched Han Si-on and Chris Edwards sit down at twin grand pianos.

[“Si-on, let’s start with Norwegian Flower and blend something in.”]
[“Like what?”]
[“Hmm… how about Tony Bennett? He’s my Big Boss.”]
[“Sure. Want to go with the classic? I Left My Heart in San Francisco?”]
[“Knew you’d know. Let’s play around in that variation space.”]

Then they played.
Chris started.
Han Si-on joined in.

Clearly unrehearsed. But flawless.

Pure musical communication.

♬♪♪♪♪♪~

Chris suddenly burst out laughing mid-play.

[“Hey, this sounds way too K-pop!”]

[“So what? I like it.”]

[“Fair. Respect the vibe. Then I’ll make Tony Bennett dance.”]

Chris resumed—jazzier, more upbeat.

Han Si-on laughed too.

[“You could totally EDM remix this.”]

[“Noted. Adding it to the comp book.”]

The video blurred out and ended.

Silence again.

Evening Promise shared the same thought:

That piano duet wasn’t going to dominate charts or become a hit.

But Han Si-on looked free.

Free enough to hold his own against Chris Edwards, through melody alone.

His talent was undeniable.

“What’s the view count?”

Seong-bo asked.

The guitarist blinked stupidly.

He checked again.

Then again.

Four million views.

---

I must’ve gotten over a hundred calls today.

People asking if that thing with Si-on was really improv.

It was.

Originally, Jo Ki-jung—the original artist—wasn’t even supposed to be in Seoul.

He had an event, but it got canceled.
No need to travel anymore.
He just dropped by the studio where Si-on was recording.

He heard him singing and went,

“Wanna jam?”

And boom. That became the chart-topping remake.

Honestly, I’ve turned into such a media person.
I’ve been thinking all morning about how to tell that story on livestream.

Oh! Thank you for the ₩100,000 superchat, “HanSiOnSaemiRo-nim”!

---

I can’t remember exactly, maybe around my 20th life…
I thought, My music is complete now.

Sure, I’ll keep writing new songs.
Try new techniques.
Pick up new instruments.

But would that improve the essence of my music?

No. I was already done.

That’s when I started focusing on marketing.

Even before, I knew skill alone wouldn’t sell 200 million albums.
But after that point? I became obsessed.

Since I couldn’t get better, I’d make the packaging more attractive.

I studied two managers as my role models:

• Brian Epstein — The “fifth Beatle.”
• Colonel Tom Parker — Made Elvis what he was.

Then I lived the exact same life three times over.
Same singer. Same era. Same songs.
Just different marketing.

In the end? It drove me insane.

I’d forget if something was from this life or the last.
All my relationships blurred.
Pretty sure I ended up in a psych ward before my next reincarnation.

Anyway—

My point is:
Nobody knows musician marketing better than me.

And right now…

“The situation’s shifted.”

I can feel the world around me changing.

PD Kang Seok-woo is flooding the world with Si-on content like a runaway train.
Some unknown forces are creating nothing but positive buzz around me.

Probably a collaboration between MShow and Lion’s marketing department.

Under the Streetlight Remake is #1 on the charts.
A recorded version of At the End of Dawn is on its way.

And to avoid overexposure, they’re keeping my personal life sealed tight.

According to Uncle Hyun-soo, they’ve even threatened legal action against anyone trying to dig up stories about my parents.

The program has shifted.

Coming Up Next is no longer about TakeScene.

It’s my show now.

And I’m satisfied.

This is the picture I envisioned from the beginning.
This is the path to my goal.

And yet…

I can’t shake the bitter aftertaste.

“This was a stage built by Han Si-on’s individual ability. The others only benefited from it.”
—Blue

“I want to rate the stage highly. But without Han Si-on, I doubt it would’ve reached this level.”
—Trainer Yoo Sun-hwa

“From a composer’s view, Han Si-on’s arrangement was basically a cheat code. A flawless interpretation. But SeDalBaekIl couldn’t recreate it.”
—Composer Lee Chang-jun

“A needle in a sack. Sure, it sticks out. But that’s not always good. SeDalBaekIl was torn by that needle.”
—CEO Choi Tae-ho

Almost like it was planned.

The moment the mission ended, the panel unloaded harsh critiques on SeDalBaekIl.

That’s when I realized—

The ones standing opposite me on the scale…

Aren’t TakeScene.

It’s SeDalBaekIl.