Little Pink Starfish

While Mix Way and Sedalbaekil were clashing over “first-week sales – digital chart scores – music show performances – post-first-week sales,” SBI Entertainment remained focused on a steady Spread strategy.

They weren’t trying to dominate any single category—they simply worked to ensure Sedalbaekil’s music spread far and wide by any means.

Thanks to that, Choi Jaesung’s DROP began to gain traction overseas, and international K-pop fans finally started to recognize Sedalbaekil properly.

Since Sedalbaekil’s first album, The First Day, was being exclusively handled by H&R Corporation, their workload was a little lighter.

Meanwhile, SBI Entertainment began to feel certain that DROP’s popularity was no passing trend.

At first, they thought it might be a short-lived buzz, but it wasn’t.

So SBI Entertainment turned its focus to promoting the album STAGE SIDE B, which included DROP.

Most overseas fans who loved the sound of DROP didn’t even realize it was from a K-pop unit album.

“Choi Jaesung, you’ve got recording to do. Here’s the guide file and lyrics.”

“What am I recording?”

“English version of Side B.”

“……You’re not saying I have to re-record the entire album, are you?”

“I am.”

“Oh, God……”

“What’s the problem? You don’t want to promote overseas?”

“I do.”

“Then?”

“I just don’t want to record with you.”

“That’s rude.”

“You don’t see my hands shaking? It’s a reflex at this point.”

“Your tongue’s shaking too.”

“Exactly why I shouldn’t be singing.”

In truth, the Sedalbaekil members had grown far more comfortable being directed by Han Sion.

Especially with this second album—compared to their first—it was said to be many times easier.

But DROP, and Stage Side B, were exceptions.

DROP was a synth-pop song with a New Jack Swing influence, and Side B overall was full of electronic funk.

Which meant Choi Jaesung had to handle funky, rhythm-heavy singing.

He couldn’t drag the notes, nor cut them too short.

He had to sing just right somewhere in between.

That’s where rhythm and funk live—in the subtle balance of continuity and breaks in sound.

This was driving Choi Jaesung nuts. During DROP’s original recording, he even said it felt like Coming Up Next all over again.

So he was visibly nervous.

He had struggled even singing this in Korean—how much worse would it be in English?

But then Han Sion said something unexpected.

“I’m not doing it this time.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yeah.”

It meant someone else would be directing the recording.

“Where are you going?”

“America. For two days.”

“Why?”

“Colors Encore. Remember?”

“Uh… no? What’s that?”

“You really don’t remember?”

Back during the Color Show filming, Chief Manager Poul had shown up on-site.

He and Han Sion had this conversation:

“So what’s your next goal? Planning to promote in the States?”

“Not really. Maybe our next U.S. appearance will be for A Colors Encore shoot.”

Poul had taken that as a joke.

A Colors Encore—true to the name—was a program showcasing additional performances from artists who had previously appeared on the Color Show.

But not just anyone could be invited to Colors Encore.

There were two requirements: First, the original Color Show video had to be a hit.

Back then, Sedalbaekil had the skill, but not the name recognition. Success wasn’t guaranteed.

Second, there had to be clear confidence that an Encore performance could create buzz.

Where the original show was about introducing musicians, Encore was more about backing them.

And again, this didn’t really apply to Sedalbaekil’s situation.

They were still struggling just to release albums in Korea, thanks to Choi Daeho’s interference.

So Poul had no choice but to treat Han Sion’s words as a joke.

But Han Sion had spoken confidently.

“When our EP drops, Colors Media will probably reach out first.”

In the end, he was half right, half wrong.

It wasn’t an EP—it was a full album—so he was wrong there.

But Colors Media had reached out first—so he was right.

“Now do you remember?”

“Hyung, I think you’re seriously mistaken about something.”

“What?”

“You were speaking in English with that Poul guy. How was I supposed to understand any of it?”

“You understand a decent amount of English.”

“Like, enough for daily life stuff.”

“Ah…”

Han Sion shrugged, realizing something he hadn’t considered.

In truth, he didn’t even know why Colors Media had requested a meeting.

The second album had already been released, and it had started distribution in the U.S.

Actually, more than 150,000 of STAGE’s week-three sales came from overseas.

But the difference between that and the first album was huge.

TFD’s foreign sales came from connoisseurs of specific genres.

Fans of pop-jazz (or jazz-pop) had found TFD through Jankos Greenwood.

Blues lovers bought it because of Donald McGuss.

But the second album, STAGE, was being bought by K-pop fans overseas.

That was a massive difference.

Now that new markets were engaging, SBI Entertainment could potentially sell even more to existing niche ones too.

‘Not that we have the resources at SBI right now,’ Han Sion thought.

Still, he accepted the meeting with Colors Media without hesitation.

“Anyway, do a good job with the recording. If it sucks, I’ll redo it from scratch when I get back.”

“Who’s the director?”

“You know them.”

“Wait, who?”

“You’ll find out on the day.”

And with that, Han Sion flew off to America.

---

Once Han Sion left, the members of Sedalbaekil weren’t exactly in a good mood.

Anyone who really knew the group might assume the bad mood came from their schedule—after all, they were at a peak, having just trounced Mix Way, and now a core member was overseas.

But that wasn’t it.

The real reason was simple.

“Doesn’t it feel wrong? Why is Sion doing everything?”

“Going overseas for a meeting too… it’s a bit much.”

“But there’s no one else who can do it…”

They felt Han Sion was bearing way too much of the workload.

And that didn’t start with the Colors Media schedule.

It had started with the STAGE project—the publicly labeled 2+2+1 = 2 campaign.

STAGE was a major, borderline absurd project: three unit albums and one full-length album.

Calling it “major” and “absurd” might sound strange for K-pop, but the phrase didn’t come from them.

It was coined and widely circulated online.

-Full-length-level unit albums x3 + 1 real full-length album?

-And combining the unit albums also makes a full-length? LOL

-Basically the Korean Schoenberg

And every track—every single one—had been composed and arranged by one person.

In today’s music industry, that’s considered outdated.

The norm now is to gather as many producers as possible, run songwriting camps, exchange ideas, and assemble the best sound.

Having one “craftsman” do it all? Directing, recording, composing?

And he’s the singer too?

That’s something out of the 1980s.

But Han Sion turned it into something hip.

-If you’re insanely good, it’s hip lol

-Yeah, agreed

-Only ZION shows up in the credits for composing and arranging—so damn cool

Even though the public didn’t know this, there were tracks Han Sion remixed and remastered himself after being dissatisfied with engineers’ work.

-Shouldn’t the other Sedalbaekil members be bowing to Choi Daeho?

-Why?

-For letting them go solo as Sedalbaekil~ LOL

-Literally getting the best deal of their lives haha

-Barely any schedules, pick only the variety shows they like, album’s a hit, topping the digital charts

-If they were still under Lion Entertainment, it’d be way tougher with way less pay

-Pay and labor intensity lmaoo

-Still not wrong

So reading comments like that left a bitter aftertaste.

No matter how easily Han Sion could write and arrange music, the workload was insane.

Even when Choi Jaesung freaked out over recording Side B in English, it was really because he hoped Han Sion wouldn’tbe handling the session too.

“We should be doing something too, right?”

“But what Sion does… it’s not stuff we can do…”

The only task Han Sion didn’t handle was choreography.

Meeting choreographers, explaining concepts, reviewing and finalizing routines—that was handled by the other members.

Han Sion just learned the finished choreography.

But recently, there had been an incident where Han Sion suggested changing the choreography—and looked upset when they rejected it.

That left the members rattled.

Did he not like the choreography they picked?

Was this him showing it?

They whispered about it among themselves.

But after Sion’s birthday, he looked noticeably happier and even told the members “thank you,” which was rare.

In the end, they assumed his bad mood had been due to stress and exhaustion.

And understandably so, with Lion and Mix Way causing nonstop trouble lately.

“Let’s try thinking of a way to boost album sales ourselves.”

So, led by eldest Lee Ieon, the members agreed to take some initiative.

Not just with words—but with real action.

And with that, Choi Jaesung headed to the studio to record Stage Side B.

‘It’s probably CEO Lee Hyunseok.’

The only person with ears Han Sion would trust for recording—and someone Jaesung already knew—was Lee Hyunseok.

But when he got there, the person waiting for him was completely unexpected.

“Hello?”

“Huh? Judge?”

It was Chris Edwards—the special judge from Coming Up Next.

“What are you doing here?”

“WHAT?”

Choi Jaesung had to fire up Google Translate just to have a conversation before the session.

Unbeknownst to him, the night before, Chris Edwards had released a song.

The title? Players.

Or in Korean, Kkun-deul—a rearranged version of one of Han Sion’s tracks.

The session musicians were GOTM.

Han Sion had originally suggested BOTY—“Band of the Year”—but they’d settled on GOTM.

The vocals? Sedalbaekil.

They’d recorded the song at the suggestion of Andrew Bryant, CEO of HR Corporation, during the Self Made shoot.

Choi Jaesung was dumbfounded.

Even if HR Corporation had the rights to decide when and how to release and promote tracks, this was way too sudden.

But Chris Edwards simply shrugged.

“Think of it as a counter punch. We didn’t schedule this ahead either.”

“A counter punch?”

“Let’s just say it’s the closing statement to everything HR did to sell TFD.”

“What?”

“If you don’t get it, just go record. We don’t have time.”

And with that, Chris Edwards shoved Choi Jaesung into the recording booth.

He wasn’t in Korea for work. Nor was he here for vacation.

He had fled.

From the noise of Billboard.

But that noise?

Was something HR Corporation had orchestrated—

All for the sake of earning The First Day its diamond certification.