After Choi Jaesung’s performance, Sedalbaekil’s opening set continued.
Up to now, most of Sedalbaekil’s “special guest” appearances had been spontaneous.
CEO Lee Hyunseok would tap into his indie scene connections, find a gig, and they’d get booked.
But Baekmanwon’s solo concert was different.
This one had been arranged since Han Si-on first planned their indie scene appearances.
That meant they had time to prepare—and deliver a high-quality performance.
The venue wasn’t cramped either, so they could dance freely.
They could even recreate the signature group choreography from Coming Up Next—the kind you just can’t pull off in a tiny club.
“Yo, this is fire!”
“Why are they so good?!”
Truth is, some people have a deep-rooted aversion to idols.
And it’s not entirely unfounded.
The first generations of idols weren’t known for musical excellence.
Image and charm were everything. One or two strong vocalists per group was enough.
But things have changed.
As the idol industry became fiercely competitive, talent started to matter.
Entertainment companies shifted training strategies, and idol skills improved dramatically.
Still, people with old biases don’t always see that shift.
If you’ve already rejected the culture, how would you know it’s evolved?
But now, they couldn’t deny it anymore.
Not after watching Sedalbaekil’s stage.
“Damn, these new kids are good.”
“Seriously.”
Even Baekmanwon’s own members couldn’t help but be impressed.
And this wasn’t the first time this had happened.
Though Sedalbaekil hadn’t noticed, there were always people at their shows giving them the side-eye.
But by the time the performance ended, even skeptics had to acknowledge them.
And it wasn’t just because of Han Si-on.
Each Sedalbaekil member had overcome something personal.
Today was Choi Jaesung’s moment to break free from his limitations.
“Thank you!”
“We’ve been Sedalbaekil!”
“Hope you had a great time tonight!”
Just as they were about to step down, Baekmanwon’s members came up early and high-fived them.
It was a show of respect for an incredible opening act.
“Hey, do you guys have another favorite song of ours? Besides that one?”
“Oh, ‘Fortune Cookie’! I really like that one.”
“Alright!”
With no warning, Baekmanwon began playing Fortune Cookie, and Goo Taehwan—quick on the uptake—jumped into the vocals, passing the mic to Jaesung.
Soon, the whole crowd was singing along.
An opening act is supposed to warm up the venue and introduce the headliner.
By that measure, Sedalbaekil’s opening was perfect.
Their fans in the crowd were moved—
Not just because Baekmanwon acknowledged them, or because they got to see them live.
More importantly, because Sedalbaekil felt like a real team.
Even the fans could tell.
That today, backup-dancer Jaesung had tried to become the main character.
And why not?
In other groups, with his all-around stats, he could’ve been the ace—
Vocals, dance, visuals, charisma.
And he’s only 18.
Since Sedalbaekil debuted through a competition show, their fanbase leaned more toward the “group stan” model.
When there’s an outside threat, internal unity grows strong.
But that doesn’t mean solo stans don’t exist.
And some of Jaesung’s solo fans didn’t like the other members.
They’d complain he never got the highlight lines, that he was always sacrificed in the name of “team balance.”
So when Jaesung took center stage—
How would the other members react?
Some might worry they’d be bitter.
But that wasn’t the case at all.
Even before the stage ended, you could tell—
The other Sedalbaekil members were genuinely happy for him.
- ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ This place is insane. Jaesung freaking KILLED IT ㅠㅠㅠㅠ
- (pic) See this? The hyungs rushing over after the stage to dote on him
- Even Baekmanwon seemed to like our boys ㅠㅠ
Fans lucky enough to witness it in person had to post about it on social media.
- Ugh, I almost went to Baekmanwon’s concert today!!!
- I heard they get into a van Si-on drives after shows. Can’t we just taxi after them and see where they go? Post it here please!
- That’s called stalking.
- Eh? I’m just following them to the next gig. Why not?
- And how do you know it’s not a personal trip?
- Ugh, stop pretending to be the moral police
- Why isn’t Si-on in any of the pics though?
- He’s always giving “I wanna go solo” vibes anyway. Looks like he’s not part of the team anymore lol
- This wasn’t meant to be that kind of post, y’all…
Of course, the comments were as chaotic as ever.
After three full hours of shooting, filming for Ruin Detector finally wrapped.
Three hours is short for a variety show shoot—
But answering intense questions for the entire time was mentally exhausting.
None of them were questions you could answer lightly.
Still, a rookie idol can’t be seen slouching and whining.
“Thank you for your hard work!”
I made sure to greet every MC and staff member.
“Si-on, if you have a song you want for the opening, send it over.”
“Really? Is that allowed?”
“I can’t promise it’ll be used, but we’ll take a look.”
“Thanks! I’ll send over a few for review.”
Once I’d bowed to everyone in sight, MC Jo Taehoon pulled me aside outside.
“Smoke?”
“I don’t smoke.”
He pulled out a cigarette and patted me on the back.
“You did great. Mind if I drop the honorifics?”
“Of course not, sunbae.”
“Thanks to you, today’s shoot wrapped up fast.”
This was fast?
I swear I got asked at least 50 questions.
“Do other guests usually get fewer questions?”
“Not fewer. They just don’t answer as fast as you. Actually, I think today had the most questions.”
So if I hadn’t answered so quickly, it might’ve been less tiring…
As I nursed that small injustice, Jo Taehoon exhaled smoke and asked—
“But hey, that thing you said earlier—are you okay with it going on air?”
“This is that kind of show, isn’t it?”
“True… but your case is kinda unique. You’re not here because of a scandal.”
I didn’t reply, so he went on.
“We’ve been struggling with casting lately. Been wondering if we should change the show’s tone.”
“You mean, soften the content?”
“Yeah. Ask cheekier, lighter questions, bring in safer guests.”
“I’m no expert, but I don’t think that’d get you the same buzz.”
“Oh? Advice from a loyal viewer?”
I just smiled, and he nodded.
“Anyway, the point is—if you want, we could edit out that answer from earlier.”
“No need. I said it, I’ll take the consequences.”
“Really? It’s gonna blow up big.”
He glanced around, then lowered his voice.
“You came on to stir things up, right? Because of Lion’s pressure?”
“I did.”
“Hm. We ignored Chae Taeho’s warning because we were desperate for guests… but other shows won’t be so easy.”
“If Ruin Detector goes viral, maybe other doors will open.”
“Not impossible. But one appearance won’t cut it. You’ll need a few more hits.”
“Tough road.”
“You’re not planning to bow your head, are you?”
Hmm…
His tone was strange.
I decided to test him.
“I’m not sure. Honestly, this all happened so suddenly, and maybe I acted on impulse.”
“Chae Taeho’s not a bad guy. Bit old-school, but he’ll listen if you approach first.”
“…You really think so?”
“Yeah. If you need a go-between, let me know. I can help.”
“Thanks. I’ll think about it.”
He kept up the small talk. I kept nodding along.
But I’d already figured him out.
He was on Chae Taeho’s side.
Most likely asked to feel me out.
So I gave him vague, noncommittal replies—
“I’ll think about it.”
“There’s room for discussion.”
“Maybe I acted rashly.”
If Jo Taehoon passed those along, I’d buy time.
In any kind of war, your enemy letting their guard down is always a good thing.
“Let’s grab a drink next time.”
We exchanged numbers, and I left the set.
In the taxi, I checked my phone.
Even without me, Sedalbaekil had done great.
There were twice as many fan posts as usual.
Sure, it might’ve been because they performed at a big-name band’s show—but still, the reactions were good.
Looked like Choi Jaesung hit it big.
While scrolling through, my phone rang.
It was Team Lead Seo Seunghyun from BVB Entertainment.
Hadn’t spoken with him in a while—we’d only communicated by email about song sales.
“Yes, Team Lead.”
“Si-on, did you see the charts?”
“I did.”
Just yesterday, Drop Out had surprise-released a single and music video.
Yeah—it was my song.
<Selfish>.
The music video hit 10 million views in under 24 hours and shot to #1 on the charts.
Apparently, it’s the fastest-growing idol MV of 2017 so far…
Hmm. Not sure.
I remember LMC and Prime Time pulling 100 million in a day.
And me? Well, no comparison.
There’s a generational gap here.
K-pop hadn’t become a top-tier global force yet.
“Glad it’s doing well.”
“Doing well? The response is insane.”
Naturally.
Selfish was timeless.
No matter how or when it was released, it would’ve topped Billboard’s Hot 100.
Sure, I sang it well—but the song itself was powerful.
Drop Out brought that power to life.
“Double M wants to sign you to a full or multi-song contract.”
“Already?”
“Not already. They’ve asked before—but now they’re desperate.”
Team Lead Seo must’ve expected me to decline, like always.
“Can you hold them off a bit?”
“Hold them off?”
“Yeah. I need to think about it.”
I hadn’t revealed I was the songwriter behind Drop Out until now, because I wanted to live the “typical idol” life.
But that’s no longer necessary.
Now, I plan to go as far as I can with Sedalbaekil.
If that means using Double M or Drop Out—I will.
“So… what kind of ‘hold off’? Positive interest? Deep thinking?”
“Make it seem like I’m leaning slightly negative. Like, 49 to 51.”
“Got it.”
After hanging up, I checked the music charts again.
There it was—Drop Out’s <Selfish> at the very top.
My head felt a little clearer.
I’d played countless business games in the music industry to sell 200 million albums.
I didn’t win every time.
Sometimes I lost. Sometimes I succeeded but didn’t gain anything meaningful.
But if I learned one thing, it’s this:
No strategy can ever rewrite music’s core truth—
Great music has power.
No matter what anyone says, my greatest weapon is, and always will be—music.
Time passed quietly.
And finally, Coming Up Next Episode 10 aired.
The business war between Sedalbaekil and Lion Entertainment had officially begun.
Little Pink Starfish 
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