Little Pink Starfish

The members of Sedalbaekil knew that their leader, Han Sion, had a cold and calculating side to him.

That side showed strongly during the filming of Coming Up Next, and although it had lessened since then, it still revealed itself often.

At the same time, they also knew he had an intense obsession with “his people.”

It wasn’t easy to step inside Han Sion’s boundary.

But once you were in, he never gave up on you—no matter what.

Like when he clashed with CEO Choi Daeho.

In fact, Han Sion and the other members of Sedalbaekil had slightly different views about the ending of Coming Up Next.

Yes, toward the end of Coming Up Next, the members cheered for Han Sion to debut.

They didn’t want him to be eliminated alongside them—they wanted him to debut with Take:Scene.

But that wasn’t out of some lofty notion of “saving” Han Sion.

It was just… he was too much of a genius.

It didn’t sit right to have someone like that fail because of them, and they also knew about his personal situation.

He wanted to sell 200 million albums in hopes of a miracle—his parents waking up.

So it wasn’t a hard decision to ask the production team and Lion Entertainment to let Han Sion debut.

But Han Sion seemed to believe that this decision had “saved” him.

We didn’t do something that grand…

Of course, this was because Han Sion was a regressor.

Through countless regressions, he had met countless comrades—but none quite like the members of Sedalbaekil.

This difference in perspective is why the members were a bit baffled when Han Sion clashed with CEO Choi Daeho for their sake.

CEO Choi Daeho wanted Han Sion until the very end.

Outwardly he attacked and acted sharply, but if Han Sion had reached out, Choi Daeho probably would have taken his hand.

That’s how much he coveted Han Sion.

The only ones who didn’t know this were Choi Daeho and Han Sion themselves.

In the end, Han Sion fought Choi Daeho for “his person”—and he won.

So the members of Sedalbaekil knew that Han Sion wouldn’t give up on Choi Jaesung.

He would definitely pull off some magical stunt to bring him back.

Like merging three unit albums into one full album—something like that.

But none of them had expected this kind of reckless method.

“…What did you say?”

Choi Jaesung, who had been speaking slowly and quietly the entire time, suddenly raised his voice in disbelief.

“You heard me.”

“No, I mean, I did hear it, but…”

It was only natural for Choi Jaesung and the other members to be dumbfounded.

He can’t sing anymore, so he should rap?

Is that supposed to be a joke?

---

I don’t like well-meaning lies.

Most “good intentions” are just value judgments based on personal standards.

But in this case, I truly believed it was good intention.

Everyone wanted Choi Jaesung to return, and he had talent as a rapper.

It was just a chance encounter in a far-off world, but his appearance in AMA’s Freshman Cypher was enough evidence.

So I lied—wholeheartedly.

“I didn’t say anything because you liked singing. But from the very start, I thought you had more talent for rap.”

He’d probably believe it.

In all other matters, Sedalbaekil might not be easy to sway, but when it comes to music? They’re fanatics.

Like heretics who believe in the Church of Han Sion.

So even if I claimed I made fermented soybean paste with red beans—

“You actually expect me to believe that lie?”

…He doesn’t believe it?

“It’s not a lie, though.”

“You’re really saying I have talent for rap?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m me?”

“You just know by looking at someone?”

“Of course. If I hadn’t recognized Goo Taehwan’s talent during the B Team selection, he’d be a total write-off.”

“A write-off…”

Goo Taehwan made a sour face, but it was true.

Back then, he didn’t even realize he had a sense of rhythm and only sang medium-tempo ballads that required expressiveness.

When I brought up Goo Taehwan, the other members seemed uncertain, too.

“But, like… Sion isn’t the type to lie in such a dumb way…”

“Could it be real?”

“It’s so sloppy it feels real.”

What do you mean sloppy?

I thought I’d laid the groundwork pretty well.

Either way, I was confident.

Top-tier talent is determined at the DNA level.

I’ve confirmed that across countless regressions.

Maybe in one of my many lives, there was only one instance where Choi Jaesung rapped.

A fluke of endless coincidences.

Because I don’t remember any Asian person succeeding in rap in America.

But once is enough.

If he had that level of competitiveness then, he has it now.

That’s what true talent is like—unyielding.

After staying quiet for a while, Choi Jaesung finally spoke.

“But Sion-hyung, you’re bad at rapping.”

“Me?”

“I only saw you rap once—during the B Team selection.”

Ah, true.

I haven’t rapped in this life.

“If you lined up every rapper in Korea, I’d be standing at the front.”

“You sure about that?”

“Absolutely.”

I may have been crushed by legendary rappers, but I was a Billboard top-tier rapper.

Not #1, but top 0.1%—definitely.

“Then could you win Show Me?”

Show me what you got.

Show Me, or SMWUG.

That hot rap competition show from a few years back—if that’s what he meant, then yes.

“If it’s a program that actually judges real skill.”

“If you win, I’ll rap.”

“…What?”

“There’s no credibility otherwise.”

Choi Jaesung smiled as he spoke, but something felt off.

This wasn’t like him—to act this way when making a decision about his future.

Usually playful, yes, but surprisingly mature beneath that.

I was thinking that when he added more.

“And I’ve got a condition for Ieon-hyung too.”

“Me?”

“If you graduate from Masked Singer with honors, I’ll try rapping.”

“What does Masked Singer have to do with rap?”

“You don’t know?”

“……?”

And that wasn’t the end of it.

He told Onsaemiro to release a single and hit #1 on the weekly chart, and told Goo Taehwan to get a regular radio DJ spot.

Radio?

Goo Taehwan?

“No one seems to know, but Taehwan-hyung is the funniest in our group.”

“Me?”

“You don’t know, which is exactly why you’re funny… If you do radio, it’ll be hilarious.”

“Me?”

“See? You’re already funny.”

By then, we weren’t dumb—we understood why Choi Jaesung was saying all this.

He was telling us to keep going.

To not stop just because he couldn’t continue with us.

“I honestly don’t know. What I’m really feeling right now.”

“Jaesung…”

“But I do have one thought. I hope that five years from now, we’ll look back on today and laugh. Like, ‘You were being so dramatic. Like you were the lead in some drama.’”

Choi Jaesung chuckled.

“I really hope I do have talent for rap. Because more than loving to sing, I think I just liked being loved by all of you.”

I responded sincerely.

“It’s true. Not a lie just to comfort you.”

He opened his eyes wide at that.

“This time it feels real…”

I had no idea what made this one different, but I’d been sincere the whole time.

After that, we chatted about small things and left the hospital room.

Just before we left, Choi Jaesung had one last thing to say.

“Show Me, Masked Singer, radio, single—those are all real conditions. If even one isn’t fulfilled, it’s off.”

We nodded.

It was going to be ridiculous.

After releasing our second album, our leader went to the U.S., then Jaesung had an accident and we stopped promotions.

Our fans’ frustration was still all over the internet communities.

And now, out of nowhere, we’d each start solo activities?

It’s going to be hilarious.

But…

If that ridiculousness can bring Jaesung even a little comfort, then it’s worth it.

So I said,

“In 2018, we’ll be on TV every time someone turns it on.”

“……”

“In 2019, let’s have you on there too.”

April 18, 2018.

That’s how we made our promise.

With eight months of activity left.

---

Ah, but before that—there’s something I need to finish first.

HR Corporation and Colors Media had been blowing up my phone since something apparently exploded in the U.S., but that can wait…

“You’re really going through with this? Lion Entertainment won’t sit still.”

“Let’s begin.”

Fade.

This bastard’s the one I need to crush first.

---

The saying “where there’s smoke, there’s fire” doesn’t apply in the entertainment world.

In this industry, smoke often rises even when there’s no fire.

There are people accused of school bullying when they never did it, and people rumored to have done drugs when they haven’t touched any.

Of course, if you dig deep enough, there are more people with skeletons in the closet than truly innocent ones.

More people get caught because their tails were too long.

But still—sometimes innocent people suffer, and suffer deeply.

“I really didn’t do it,” but once the smoke rises, the chimney is set aflame.

The problem is, most people make some mistake in their lives.

Maybe they didn’t do drugs—but smoked indoors?

Didn’t gamble—but took unregistered ad money?

Stuff like that.

So when smoke starts to rise in this field, you have two options.

Stamp it out ASAP, or hope something bigger comes along to distract everyone.

Ah, there is a cleaner option.

Retirement.

If you’re no longer a celebrity, you lose the weird “public figure” label.

In that sense, everyone in Korean showbiz recently came to understand one thing:

[Take:Scene’s Fade—caught using marijuana while vacationing in Japan?]

Someone is going absolutely nuts trying to surround Fade with smoke.

And it’s not the reporters fanning the flames.

Reporters want traffic—sensational attention.

Fade from Take:Scene isn’t high enough profile for that.

-Who’s this nobody?

-Lol it’s that guy, remember? The one who posted an apology to Han Sion.

-Oh, from Coming Up Next?

-Yep yep yep

But the fact that smoke is still pouring out means someone wants this.

Someone wants Fade to retire.

And it didn’t take long to figure out who.

Because every time SBI Entertainment had a meltdown, one name always popped up as an excuse.

Han Sion of Sedalbaekil.