Little Pink Starfish

[WTF I was on my way to a café with my friend and suddenly ran into Sedalbaekil!]

[(Photo)(Photo)(Photo)]

[Looks like they’re busking in Hongdae!]

-Huh? Is this a shoot?

-No cameras! Looks like they just came out to busk on their own!

-Is the company out of its mind? This seems dangerous.

-Sedalbaekil isn’t that famous.

-I heard Sedalbaekil’s vocals are so heavily tuned that it’s unethical lol. Let’s see how their live goes.

-lol it’s hilarious how Drop Out and NOP stans keep getting triggered by Sedalbaekil all week, haha.

-For real lol. Every time a Sedalbaekil post pops up on the community boards, they show up like clockwork.

-But seriously, some YouTubers who do music analysis say their vocals are over-edited.

-Yeah I saw comparison videos too. Maybe Han Si-on is the real skilled one rather than Sedalbaekil?

-I haven’t seen them. Why Han Si-on though?

-The vocals were heavily edited, and Han Si-on did all the mixing and mastering himself.

-Lol please. As if their idols don’t get touched up.

-Not to that extent lol. This was practically sound creation, not just editing.

Just as Han Si-on had anticipated, rumors questioning Sedalbaekil’s skills were starting to leak.

The general public often underestimates how much influence idol fandoms have over public discourse.

They think it’s just fans chattering among themselves below the surface.

But a lot of idol-related issues start within fandoms, get picked up by reporters, and spread to the public.

Whether good or bad.

Whether grounded or baseless.

That’s why Sedalbaekil’s fans couldn’t shake off the feeling that things were dangerously precarious right now.

Unless something big happens, these baseless rumors might drag on for a while.

Given Sedalbaekil’s fandom situation, this was risky.

Sedalbaekil wasn’t some unknown rookie group.

They debuted on a variety show with over 11% ratings, and the certified genius Han Si-on kept generating buzz nonstop.

But their fandom was still small.

There hadn’t been time or opportunity for the fans to solidify into a core.

Honestly, fandom activity seemed livelier back when they were competing with Take Scene on Coming Up Next.

And in this kind of situation, a fragile fandom’s cohesion weakens even more.

Fatigue builds, but there’s no fun content to relieve it.

There’s also no cathartic moment to shut down the people spreading nonsense.

It was becoming a hard time to be a fan.

So these kinds of comments were emerging.

-There’s honestly nothing to enjoy right now.

–Resume blew up but there’s no stages, no music show appearances.

-I got into them for their skill but they’re not proving anything;

Of course, most people posting these comments weren’t real Sedalbaekil fans.

Either casuals, multi-fandom dabblers, or trolls.

-Please. Their show ended barely three months ago. Isn’t it impressive enough they hit number one already?

-What are you talking about? Their self-produced show has great views.

-Real fans don’t talk like this.

-Take Scene isn’t doing anything either. Why do people only complain about our group?

Fans reacted harshly, but deep down, they knew the logic was hard to deny.

So they wanted Sedalbaekil to do something…

‘Busking?’

It was ambiguous.

Not bad, but didn’t seem likely to have much effect.

And with no cameras around, it didn’t even seem like content for their self-produced show.

It literally looked like a casual outing between the members.

It was nice that they were close, but the complete lack of urgency was frustrating.

Without a company guiding them, they clearly couldn’t read the situation properly.

‘They should’ve at least collaborated with one of those YouTube street karaoke guys.’

Though even that wouldn’t be great.

YouTubers desperate for views might pull something risky, and it could end up looking cheap instead of earnest.

But even that seemed better than just randomly busking.

That’s what the fandoms were thinking.

But what was about to happen was far beyond what they imagined.

---

Resume was currently number one on both the daily and weekly digital charts.

Sedalbaekil hadn’t lucked into a gap in the charts.

Drop Out and NOP still held second and third, respectively.

So when Resume’s intro started playing, the crowd naturally erupted in cheers.

For many, it felt like incredible luck to randomly stumble upon this moment in Hongdae.

But not everyone felt that way.

Among the gathered crowd were people who didn’t care for Sedalbaekil or even felt hostility.

Not necessarily Drop Out or NOP fans.

Some people are just like that.

‘I read online their vocals are all editing.’

Some thought that.

But then, as if to silence those thoughts, Goo Tae-hwan’s voice rang out.

Woo— Hello

People who regularly enjoyed busking were surprised the moment they heard Goo Tae-hwan’s voice.

The sound was so clear.

Most buskers just run both the beat and vocals through a single high-powered speaker.

In contrast, Sedalbaekil had set up a mixer and four speakers.

Naturally, the sound quality was better.

But even considering that, it was too clean.

A level of clarity you rarely hear in busking.

It soon became clear.

This wasn’t just equipment.

Goo Tae-hwan was simply that good at singing.

Far beyond what ordinary people could manage.

The same went for Lee Ion, Choi Jae-sung, On Sae-mi-ro, and Han Si-on as they took their turns.

“Holy crap.”

“They’re insanely good.”

There was barely any difference from the recording.

If anything, the raw atmosphere made it sound even better.

Even distant passersby stopped in their tracks to listen.

“Wow, those high notes.”

“Who are they?”

“Is there some famous singer here?”

Even though Sedalbaekil was entirely hidden within the thick crowd.

When the first song ended, deafening cheers erupted.

“Hello, we’re Sedalbaekil!”

“We’re planning to busk for a while, and today is our first time.”

“We’ve prepared seven songs! Let’s get right into it!”

They didn’t say much, but moved smoothly.

They had experience performing in the indie scene.

And they had learned by watching Han Si-on on stage.

Sedalbaekil performed three songs in a row:

Seoul Town Funk, Crossroads, and Sedalbaekil.

All songs previously released on Coming Up Next, and all had once hit the top of the digital charts.

And yet, they performed them shockingly well.

They even sounded better than when performed on stage with full props and outfits.

‘What the hell is this live?’

It was a weekday, so there weren’t many other buskers around.

But there was one regular busker, who watched with his mouth open.

He knew Sedalbaekil had a good reputation for vocals, and that Han Si-on’s solo songs were often covered in the indie scene.

But this level of skill was something else.

Even if he tried to blame it on sound quality, any musician would know.

This was a skill gap.

Jealousy welled up.

Deep jealousy.

They had reached a realm he could never touch despite years of singing.

Then his eyes met Han Si-on’s.

Han Si-on grabbed the mic.

-We’re going to take a short break. Could you sing a song for us?

The speaker broadcast Han Si-on’s voice, and everyone turned to see who he was looking at.

The busker froze under the sudden attention.

“M-me?”

-Aren’t you here to busk?

It was hard to deny with a guitar slung over his shoulder and a speaker in his hand.

Part of him wanted to run away from the overwhelming attention.

But it was funny, really.

He had come out to busk for attention, yet now that he had it, he wanted to flee.

So he nodded.

As Sedalbaekil members encouraged the audience to cheer, applause poured out.

Han Si-on asked him a question as he stepped onto their makeshift stage.

Those nearby could hear, and many were filming.

“Hi there. Do you usually sing while playing guitar?”

“Usually, yeah… Is that okay?”

“What song were you planning to sing?”

“I was going to do Love on Me by Nod…”

Han Si-on nodded.

The song had peaked at #7 on the Billboard Hot 100 and was even more popular in Korea.

Some foreign artists just naturally fit Korean taste, and Nod was one of them.

Love on Me was especially beloved in Korea.

A good choice, and a song Han Si-on knew well.

“Would it be okay if I played guitar for you?”

“Huh, you… Han Si-on?”

“Yes. I think I can have some fun with the electric guitar.”

It was an unexpected but welcome offer.

When else would he get to perform with a celebrity?

Though he had never seen Han Si-on play guitar before, he seemed confident.

Still…

‘Electric guitar doesn’t really fit this song, does it?’

He thought.

Not that it was impossible — electric and acoustic guitars are the same instrument, after all.

But in terms of expression, it felt like a bad match.

Even so, he just nodded.

The weight of so many people watching was too much.

As Han Si-on set up the guitar, he smiled and said:

“The beat and melody are exactly the same. I didn’t change a thing.”

“Huh?”

“Here we go.”

Han Si-on started playing abruptly.

The busker was flustered.

It didn’t sound like Love on Me at all.

The sound was aggressive and dazzling.

No — beyond dazzling — it felt like an air raid.

Love on Me wasn’t this kind of song.

It was more like a gentle breeze swaying dandelions on the roadside.

But Han Si-on’s version felt like dandelions blooming on a war-torn battlefield under aerial bombardment.

And yet, just as he said, the beat and melody were intact.

The busker was momentarily disoriented but started singing anyway.

And was shocked.

The song flowed surprisingly well.

At some point, he couldn’t hear Han Si-on’s guitar anymore — only his own voice filling his body.

Yet the rhythm and melody still drove into his brain as if being injected.

He felt possessed.

Suddenly, deafening cheers jolted him out of his trance.

‘Where am I in the song?’

He spun around in surprise and saw Han Si-on no longer holding the guitar.

He was clapping and smiling.

The song had already ended.

More cheers and applause erupted…

And the busker found himself tearing up.

Not because of the crowd’s response.

He was overwhelmed by a musical euphoria he had never felt before.

The crowd, moved by the scene, shouted even louder, and Sedalbaekil members clapped along.

But there was one person who couldn’t relate at all.

‘What the hell? Why is he crying?’

That was what Han Si-on was thinking.