Kang Seok-woo PD’s explanation was simple.
The variety show would be divided into Season 1 and Season 2, with Season 1 filmed domestically and Season 2 abroad.
What the production team wanted to show in Season 1 was Sedalbaekil’s character and music.
“Sedalbaekil is too little known compared to their fame and achievements. Especially how they work, how they practice, etc.”
Some of it had been revealed through self-produced content, but expecting the entire nation to watch self-produced content was unrealistic.
On Coming Up Next, they had to hold back a bit to avoid looking too good during the take scenes.
At that moment, Lee Ion raised his hand and asked a question.
People often call me Confucian boy, but I’m the American macho. Lee Ion is the real Confucian boy.
To actually raise his hand to ask a question.
“Would people even be interested in our music work?”
“Normally, no. For most singers, music production footage is just a 30-second segment.”
But now, they were.
Sedalbaekil had created buzz with the great masters, appeared on Color Show, and even entered Billboard.
“We’ll be able to go much deeper into the music than in typical variety shows. And if you’re preparing a single or mini-album, you could promote it too.”
But since focusing solely on music wouldn’t offer enough variety, they were given a money-making goal.
“How long will this run?”
“We’re thinking about 3 months for domestic filming, though it could be adjusted by a few weeks depending on circumstances.”
“What exactly does ‘hiding our identity’ mean?”
“Exactly what it says.”
If they wanted to earn money through public appearances, they’d have to use special makeup to hide their faces, and they couldn’t use the name Sedalbaekil for online activities either.
“The money you earn will become Sedalbaekil’s travel budget. Except for transportation and lodging.”
Kang Seok-woo PD then added that the show wouldn’t literally be filmed with only the money they earned.
The amount Sedalbaekil earned would be matched by the network’s production budget.
He also suggested that it would look good to donate the money Sedalbaekil earned.
“So that’s the production side’s proposal. What do you all think?”
“If we’re talking about music sales, the revenue wouldn’t be settled immediately, right? If we spend 3 months making music but release it late, the settlement might come 3 months after that.”
“We’ll consult with experts. With the level of popularity you’re at, we can estimate roughly how much would be settled during the 3 months.”
“If we perform at regional festivals while hiding our faces but have cameras following us, wouldn’t that look weird?”
“We’ll disguise it as a documentary about an unknown indie musician.”
The Sedalbaekil members and Kang Seok-woo PD continued with a Q&A.
In my opinion, this isn’t a very good variety format.
For an unknown musician, making money purely through music is hard.
Even if you busk all day in Korea, would you even make 100,000 won? After transportation and food expenses, there wouldn’t be much left.
Of course, if I seriously sold compositions to entertainment agencies, I could make money…
But that wouldn’t be very entertaining for variety.
However, Kang Seok-woo PD shook his head at my remark.
“We want maximum realism.”
“Realism?”
“Yes. This plan isn’t coming from ignorance. Leave the entertainment value to us. You just try earning money through music.”
According to Director Seo Seung-hyun, Sedalbaekil’s debut had already shaken up the industry.
Trainees were quitting, the indie scene was thriving, and demand for composition skills had skyrocketed.
The belief had spread that if you’re good at composing, you can succeed as a solo artist or idol even without an agency.
Kang Seok-woo PD, echoing Director Seo’s words, said it was fine whether Sedalbaekil showed the despair or hope of being independent—as long as it was real.
Oh?
In that case…
“Kang Seok-woo PD.”
“Yes?”
“What if we make an enormous amount of money within those 3 months?”
“That’d be good, wouldn’t it? Is there a problem?”
“You said the network will match the amount we earn for production costs.”
“Correct.”
“Then what if we make, say, 10 billion won?”
“Ten billion?”
As Kang Seok-woo’s eyes widened, the writers nearby chuckled as they frantically took notes.
They thought it was nonsense.
Of course, ten billion was ridiculous.
An unknown artist wouldn’t get appearance fees.
But I deliberately exaggerated to lead the conversation.
“No matter the amount, it’s fine. The network will match it.”
The format of the program seemed decided.
The hope of independent musicians, the despair of the network.
“Ah, we’re still discussing a few title options, but we’re leaning toward ‘Self Made.’”
Something like putting our name inside Self Made.
Se(dal)lf Made, for example.
With that, the variety meeting ended.
We returned to the dorm that now felt like home and had a meeting among the members.
“A meeting for variety? We haven’t even started filming yet.”
I shook my head at On Saemi-ro’s remark.
Today’s topic isn’t variety, it’s about money.
Conveniently, the variety concept also involves money.
“It’s about settlement.”
“Settlement? Isn’t it way too early for that?”
We performed at eight university festivals in September, and far more events are booked for October.
Especially since album sales have exploded, our appearance fees have jumped.
October will be a big earning month.
However…
“The upfront investment was heavy.”
With this year’s income, breaking even will be impossible.
Especially when factoring in staff salaries and bonuses.
I feel responsible for that.
Our album will definitely surpass 1 million sales, and given steady sales, we could aim for 1.5 million.
It’ll likely be 2017’s best-selling album.
But we didn’t make much money from the album itself.
That’s because of the limited edition and the CD player that left us with almost no profit margin.
Originally, I planned to provide the CD player with my own money.
It was a personal vanity item.
But the members strongly objected, so it became an upfront investment, which severely cut profitability.
We didn’t lose money, but we hardly made any.
Only streaming revenue actually goes into our account.
Our revenue problem isn’t just the album—music videos too.
The State Of Mind MV turned out great.
But it cost a fortune to produce (far more than people estimate) and also counts as an upfront investment.
That’s why we didn’t make a Pin Point MV.
I don’t mind spending money, but the members do.
Even without saying anything, they’re concerned about the accumulating investment burden.
But it’s all because of me needing to sell 200 million albums.
If Sedalbaekil were a normal group, they’d capitalize on their album success by doing endless events, variety shows, and concerts.
That’s why I wanted to be honest.
Especially considering On Saemi-ro’s wallet situation, it’s important to settle some money soon.
Housing and meals are covered by the company card, but surely they want personal assets too?
“My proposal is: let’s settle half the profit and use the other half to reduce the debt.”
“Won’t that take forever to repay?”
Ion hyung asked, and I paused.
I had thought a lot about how to approach this conversation.
Until right before starting, I was still debating whether to lure them with smooth words or just be honest.
Normally, I would’ve chosen persuasion, but not this time.
This life is different—I decided to be straightforward.
“If we wanted, we could make far more money.”
When a singer succeeds, agencies make enormous profits.
But we don’t have an agency. Aside from activity expenses, everything is ours.
“What if we raise the album price for the second album, add random photocards? Maximize goods sales?”
We’d get criticized.
That success changed us.
And they’d be right.
For the first album, we had to play the ‘nice marketing’ game because of external pressures.
We needed the public and fandom on our side.
But starting with album two, we could maximize profits.
Wouldn’t it be worth the criticism for the money that would pour into our accounts?
That’s not all.
We could just release singles and minis, living off events and concerts.
Release a full album every 2–3 years.
“That’s what most artists do.”
And there’s nothing wrong with that.
Artists deserve to make money and rest.
But I don’t want that.
Even selling 10 million copies a year, it would take 20 years to reach 200 million.
I want to release albums every year.
Also release my own singles and producer albums.
So…
“I hope we never fully repay the investment.”
It’d be great if the members lived luxuriously off half the profit while the company remained forever in debt.
And I hope we never have to do variety or events just to pay off the debt.
I want Sedalbaekil to be about music first, money second.
I know it’s selfish.
I know it’s all for my goal.
But I wanted to be honest with the members.
After I finished speaking, the members blinked, then spoke.
“So basically… you’re saying you want us to keep doing this together forever, but dressed it up as a financial talk?”
“…?”
I blinked at Lee Ion’s comment.
What’s he talking about?
Then On Saemi-ro jumped in.
“I think you’re misunderstanding something. I already feel pretty luxurious right now.”
“Right now?”
“I get to sleep in a bed, sing for a living, eat what I want.”
“Well, that’s true…”
“Plus, if we get half the profit settled, aren’t we rich?”
Choi Jae-sung chimed in.
“I don’t really care about the money. I just want popularity.”
“Same here. My mushroom farm is doing great.”
My regressor’s negative emotions started creeping in.
They say this now, but 3–4 years later, won’t they be like everyone else I’ve met?
They’ll get angry, asking why we have to work so hard when we’ve succeeded enough.
But…
I’ve seen these members.
How they sacrificed everything for a week to record Resume under my direction.
How they were thrilled to receive a 70-point evaluation.
So I won’t judge prematurely.
Not until they disappoint me first.
“Alright. Let’s do that. But when you settle your earnings, make sure to save up plenty.”
“Why?”
Why? Obviously.
So we can buy Bitcoin.
Not now—about a year from now.
Thus, we made our stance.


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