Little Pink Starfish

No matter what kind of fan one is, there’s always some level of dissatisfaction with what they love.

Even people who passionately support a particular soccer player will shout “Why didn’t you shoot?!” and movie fans will often complain about plot points.

It was the same for idol fans, and Sedalbaekil’s fandom was no exception.

They truly loved Sedalbaekil, but of course, they had their complaints.

Surprisingly, however, those complaints weren’t about the group’s activities.

Though Sedalbaekil never made an official statement, everyone knew they were under pressure from Choi Daho.

As a result, they couldn’t do the typical activities everyone else did, and instead kept doing what no one else did (or could do).

Indie concert guest spots, or appearances on Color Show, for example.

But that was truly remarkable.

In the history of Korea’s entertainment industry, no one had ever beaten capital before—and even less so in K-pop idols.

Idols are inherently capital-driven because of the massive upfront investments and promotional costs. They are inevitably tied to capital.

Anyone familiar with the idol industry understood just how difficult a battle Sedalbaekil was fighting.

They were lucky to have gotten this far.

So, unless they were newcomers to the idol scene, TT didn’t have major complaints about Sedalbaekil’s direction.

Because their boys were geniuses. They believed one day they would defeat Ryan Entertainment and do whatever they wanted.

But…

This was precisely where the fans’ frustration lay.

What exactly did Sedalbaekil want to do?

Did they even want to be idols?

They didn’t feel very idol-like.

There were hints even during Coming Up Next, but it wasn’t so noticeable.

They were competing against the traditional idol group TakeScene, and the time travel concept was used actively.

But starting with Resume, which leaned toward bedroom pop, things got ambiguous.

Even then, Resume could still be considered easy listening.

It was an unfamiliar genre for 2017, but true to its name, it was pleasant to listen to in a bedroom.

However, Colorful Struggle was not K-pop no matter how you looked at it.

The problem wasn’t that it was rock-based contemporary R&B, but rather the emotions the song conveyed.

The lyrics were entirely in English, and aside from Choi Jaesung, no one danced during the Color Show performance.

Even Jaesung’s dancing was more like a device that stacked the drum sounds.

Of course, some didn’t mind these aspects.

They liked Sedalbaekil itself, not specifically as an idol group.

Still, even they felt a certain regret.

Their boys were undeniably geniuses.

Perhaps the first true geniuses in idol history—and possibly even in Korea’s entire music industry.

What would it feel like if they did a proper idol song?

That was what made them wistful.

But since Colorful Struggle had done so well, these complaints remained buried.

Entering Billboard purely through local word of mouth without any promotion? Impossible.

Who could dare criticize such a song for not being idol-like?

It had already become a sacred cow in Korea’s music industry.

The complaints resurfaced because of news about Sedalbaekil’s upcoming promotions.

More precisely, because rival fandoms saw it as an opportunity.

[Sedalbaekil’s promotion song? Colorful Struggle + pre-release album track]

Many people had grumbled about Sedalbaekil monopolizing all the buzz, but since they had stayed outside of the mainstream idol industry, the pushback had been mild.

There was even some sympathy because they were being pummeled by Choi Daho, the infamous villain of the idol scene.

But now, Sedalbaekil was entering music show promotions.

This meant they were becoming competitors within the idol industry.

And extremely threatening ones at that.

Colorful Struggle was too successful; any clumsy attack might cause backlash from the general public.

So…

-At least they know when to strike while the iron’s hot.

-But are they leaving TT off the boat? Hehe.

-Will there be a fan chant?

-I doubt it? Their music doesn’t really suit fan chants.

-If it were me, I’d stay quiet even at music shows out of embarrassment;;

-Why even be idols? Wouldn’t it be better to just do R&B? Hehe.

-The pre-release track will probably be like that too, right?

They began targeting Sedalbaekil’s idol identity with passive-aggressive questions.

For rival fandoms, this was a smart move.

They could undermine Sedalbaekil and position them as non-idols.

That way, even if Sedalbaekil outperformed them, they could dismiss it: “Why compare us to a non-idol group?”

It was a cheap tactic, but a smart one.

For Sedalbaekil’s fans, it was obvious—but infuriating.

They all vowed not to react since any response would be meaningless, but it wasn’t easy.

-At least it’s better than forcing them to do what they don’t want. Hehe.

-Was it really such a problem that needed ‘forcing’? Hah.

As this silent war raged beneath the surface, something unexpected appeared.

[Could you perhaps help us choose our promotion song T.T?]

A bait had been thrown.

Actually, they didn’t even know if it was bait, but the word “promotion song” caught everyone’s attention.

‘Please, let it be something like Resume.’

‘Resume would be enough.’

‘Something like Resume but with a bit more performance…’

Thinking along those lines, TT rushed to the official site and saw that the notice came from the Poll Board.

Were they really being asked to pick the promotion song?

Since they had said it would be Colorful Struggle plus a pre-release track…

‘Could it be a sneak peek of the album?!’

Their hearts racing, the fans clicked on the first post on the poll board.

Inside was not an audio file, but a video.

Not even a YouTube link, but a direct upload.

‘Can the servers handle the traffic?’

Some wondered, but there was no problem.

The video played smoothly, showing the practice room with all five Sedalbaekil members staring into the camera.

They began to sing…

‘Huh?’

It was an all-too-familiar song.

Colorful Struggle.

The only thing missing was the intro from the Color Show version that started with Han Sion’s guitar. Otherwise, nothing had changed.

They weren’t even dancing.

The five of them just stood there singing, almost like an a cappella group.

Of course, the quality of the singing was outstanding.

But the fans tilted their heads.

They were asked to pick a promotion song—so why was Colorful Struggle being shown?

Was this a mistake? Were they supposed to upload another song?

Or was there some hidden trick?

They watched the entire video, but nothing changed.

It was just Colorful Struggle.

As soon as the video ended, their phone screens flickered.

Automatically, it switched to the second post.

Another video, same practice room setting.

Not knowing what was going on, the fans refocused.

And once again, it was Colorful Struggle.

Same formation, same song.

By the first few bars, most fans assumed it was a mistake or a glitch.

There was no reason to post Colorful Struggle twice on the poll board.

Disappointed, many were about to close the app—

Suddenly, an unfamiliar sound, absent from the original song, was heard.

Click!

Like someone slamming a light switch.

The lighting dimmed slightly.

At the same time, Sedalbaekil’s voices vanished, leaving only the beat.

Some with keen ears noticed something.

The beat felt slower.

Not wrong—but more accurately, the pitch had dropped.

Click! Click! Click!

The switch sound now matched the beat rhythmically.

With each click, the screen darkened and the pitch lowered further.

Soon, the beat became sluggish and heavy enough for anyone to notice.

Then a strange sound like radio static or scrambled radio frequencies blended in.

Szzzt.

The beat, once slow and heavy, began to morph.

Lo-Fi.

A genre where sound is deliberately degraded to create a cozy, textured feeling. In the actual Lo-Fi scene, the vibe mattered more than sound quality.

Not pristine, polished sounds—but the gritty undercurrent of urban nights with a loosened necktie.

In that sense, it was the exact opposite of Colorful Struggle, which had been a meticulously calculated masterpiece.

‘…!’

As the fans focused intensely, they instinctively sensed it.

The beat was ready.

Something big was coming.

At that moment.

Pop!

The dim screen suddenly lit up—but not brightly, more eerily.

Under reddish lighting, Sedalbaekil stood in oversized, worn striped suits, exuding a strange aura.

Then Lee Iion stepped forward, licking his lips.

[…Did you rock it?]

Boom!

With the sound of an explosion, a harsh synth dropped like a bomb, cutting off any remaining rational thought.

And so began Sedalbaekil’s powerful choreography.

---

The 24-hour vote ended.

‘So what they wanted us to choose was…’

‘Between versions of Colorful Struggle?!’

The result was obvious.

6% vs. 94%.

The second version won.

But not just because it was more idol-like.

Colorful Struggle had achieved incredible success.

A half-baked remake could have ruined everything.

But the rearrangement was perfect.

It was astonishing that a rock-based contemporary R&B track could transform into Lo-Fi chipmunk soul so flawlessly.

There was no awkwardness.

And they kept the original melody and vocal line mostly intact.

In other words, it retained the original’s brilliance while arming itself with refreshing newness.

This would work.