Little Pink Starfish

Why do we sing?

At times, as I found myself humming a tune unconsciously, I would wonder about that.

At what point, and in what way, was music discovered? There’s no clear record of its origin.

The ancient Greeks, it is said, sang drunkenly to praise Dionysus, the god of wine. In that case, the Greeks’ discovery of song must have been a kind of breath imbued with melody that arose in their hazy, drunken minds. Pleasant, sometimes mad shouts and cries must have, at some point, solidified into what we now call songs.

Perhaps that’s how it was. Song was born from sounds with consistent or irregular tonal qualities. And to sing meant to vocalize those breaths. In other words, it was like breathing with emotion.

Some songs represent the refined hobbies of the aristocracy.

On absurdly large stages, orchestras play grand symphonies while elegantly dressed audiences sit and listen.

But some songs represent the unity of the working class.

They hum as they struggle through harsh labor, trying to forget their hardships, forming bonds with one another through music.

And then, there are other songs…

“They were created to praise God.”

Hymns, I heard, originated from the practice of chanting psalms in Hebrew temples. The oldest hymn recorded was the Oxyrhynchus Hymn, inscribed on papyrus, believed to date back to the late 3rd century. For what purpose did they imbue scripture with melody?

“I wouldn’t know.”

I chuckled to myself.

Vanessa Bernstein’s concert backstage.

After finishing my makeup, I checked my outfit and sat down.

On the monitoring display, the stage preparations were in full swing.

“From here on…”

It was Han Iro who suddenly spoke up, his expression blank.

“How many more times will we stand on stage?”

Han Iro was sitting on the sofa, resting his chin in his hand. Since his makeup was handled entirely by Love Born with Bubbles, he hadn’t put on any himself. His burn scars were fully exposed. It hadn’t been long since he tried so hard to cover them up, but now he seemed much more at ease.

“Why bring that up all of a sudden?”

I turned to him and asked.

“No reason, really…”

Han Iro scratched the back of his neck.

“I just wondered. Maybe it’s because this is the biggest stage we’ve ever stood on. Of course, it’s not purely thanks to our name value—it’s combined with Vanessa Bernstein’s and the other CYB domestic competition winners.”

Listening to Han Iro, I shifted my gaze to the display.

Indeed, this stage was even larger than the CYB domestic finals. If we continued our careers, we’d probably stand on even bigger stages, trembling with nervousness as we prepared each time.

“We should stand on as many as we can.”

So I replied.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Han Iro readily agreed, shrugging his shoulders.

“If I were still holed up in Gangwon-do, I wonder what I’d be doing.”

“Now you’re changing the subject?”

I chuckled.

“I feel like you would’ve come back at some point anyway.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I just can’t picture you spending your whole life only helping your grandmother with the farm work.”

“Yeah, true.”

Liking plants is one thing, but my personality wouldn’t have allowed me to stay like that.

Han Iro muttered.

“That’s right. Iro hyung is sentimental. He would’ve come back eventually.”

Jeong Noeul, who had been dozing on the sofa, opened his eyes slightly and spoke.

“Whenever I step on stage, I think of it as meeting new friends. The stage is full of people, and each time I meet different faces. In that sense, being on stage feels really nice. The world is big… I want to meet as many people as I can.”

You only live once, after all, he added, uncharacteristically serious.

Unlike his words, Jeong Noeul had known two lives. The prince of another world, Abrilah, was once a destroyer of part of this world. Only at his final moment did he show curiosity toward the lives within this world, and that led to who Jeong Noeul was now.

“When I was little, I was afraid of meeting people.”

With an innocent smile, Jeong Noeul said.

“Because I could see ghosts. Being able to see what others couldn’t was… not exactly a pleasant experience back then. Now I think it’s nice to have ghost friends too, but back then, it wasn’t.”

Maybe I’m trying to make up for all the friends I couldn’t make back then.

Saying so, Jeong Noeul laughed.

“I agree with Noeul,” Min Heejae, who had been silent, added.

“Art is a social experience. Not just music, but all art forms are structured to build relationships between creators and audiences. In that sense, as Noeul said, stepping on stage is like making new friends.”

Min Heejae chose the idol path to honor his deceased childhood friend.

That too was a form of creation and appreciation. To create a stage that his late friend could enjoy watching, Min Heejae had stepped into a field he previously had little interest in. The one among us who studied music the most deeply decided to turn his gaze not to piano keys, but to the audience.

“Heejae hyung always says smart stuff.”

I smiled with an awkward laugh.

“I didn’t mean to sound smart. I’m just saying it as it is.”

Min Heejae smiled softly and quietly shifted his gaze to Madojin.

“What about you, Dojin?”

“Huh? Oh, um?”

Called unexpectedly, a slight crack appeared on Madojin’s usually calm face.

“Do you enjoy being on stage?”

“Why are you asking that all of a sudden?”

“Because everyone’s talking about it.”

I carefully added weight to Min Heejae’s question.

“I…”

Staring blankly at me, Madojin began.

“Throughout CYB, I stood on stage mechanically. Music is called a form of art, but ultimately, it’s something that can be broken down into systems of knowledge. So I never really enjoyed myself during CYB.”

Throughout CYB, Madojin was moved like a puppet by Enoch. While the other members struggled in their own ways, Madojin stood alone like a marionette on stage.

For a puppet, concepts like joy or artistic experience existed on an unreachable level. Thus, Madojin was unstable throughout, and after the final stage, when Enoch tried to take over him, he even shed tears toward me.

“But after CYB…”

A faint smile spread on Madojin’s lips.

“I’ve been enjoying it all. I feel like I’m learning something new every time, constantly asking questions thanks to all of you. Even now, I have questions about the future… about making friends… about art… but thanks to all of you, I’m finding answers. It’s really fun.”

After saying that, Madojin looked at me.

I turned my gaze away, embarrassed, knowing it was a look filled with gratitude.

“Wow, it’s the first time I’ve seen Dojin hyung talk like that!”

Jeong Noeul exclaimed playfully.

“No, Noeul. Dojin has always wanted to say this.”

Min Heejae said with a sly tone, shrugging.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get serious now.”

Han Iro clapped his hands to bring us together.

“Should we do a quick fighting cheer?”

As Han Iro addressed everyone,

“Hold on.”

I stood up from my chair.

“I need to go to the restroom.”

“Wow, Ryu Eunyul, you really can’t read the mood.”

Han Iro sighed in disbelief.

“That’s Eunyul’s charm.”

Min Heejae smiled, brushing his hair back.

“I suddenly feel like I need to pee too…”

Jeong Noeul furrowed his brow, feeling the tension creep up.

---

Ssshh—

Water gushed out from the edge of the sink.

I held my hand under it.

Then quietly stared into the mirror.

<It’s almost time.>

Suddenly, Star’s voice echoed in my head.

<This stage must belong to us, creature.>

“Why?”

I asked in my mind.

<Why? Isn’t it obvious?>

Star replied with a playful tone.

<The Demon God is my daughter. In every aspect, I surpass her. So too must my contractor surpass her contractor. I can’t allow my contractor to be inferior.>

“Geez.”

Usually, it’s said there’s no parent more outstanding than their child.

Thinking that, I finished washing my hands, dried them with a tissue, and said aloud,

“Anyway, fine.”

“This is titled Vanessa Bernstein’s concert, but on our stage, we have to be the stars. I have no intention of being a side act.”

Raising the back of my right hand, I added,

“In that sense, our interests align. You seem ready to go all out too.”

In response, a fly suddenly buzzed into the room.

The filthy-looking fly lightly landed on the back of my hand.

Rubbing its front legs together, it spoke with laughter.<I will join you on stage once more in this form.>

It’s something I’ll never get used to.

To step onto a stage with a fly.

In this era where every entertainer contracts with their own constellation, and countless constellations appear alongside artists on stage,

“Alright, let’s go.”

I stepped onto the stage with the fly.

<Yes, let us go.>

With a smile, I moved forward.

There were still many days left to live, and many stages left to stand on.

Therefore, countless songs yet to be sung.

A faint breath carried a melody as it flowed out.

It must surely symbolize the shape of life.

So let’s sing.

From now on, always.