Little Pink Starfish

As Sedalbaekil began stepping up their public activities at Choi Jaesung’s request, and with various things happening beneath the surface…

To the public eye, the entertainment world didn’t look all that different from usual.

But in reality, it was.

The entertainment industry, or show business.

Call it what you want—this world of alchemy that turns public interest into money has one indispensable pillar.

The press.

And now, those working in media were faced with a decision.

“Hm. So it’s confirmed?”

“Yeah. Han Sion is basically dropkicking Fade while he’s hanging off a cliff.”

“There’s no proof Fade was the reason Choi Jaesung got injured, right?”

“Doesn’t seem like there is. And even if there was, it wouldn’t hold much water.”

“Han Sion really handles things in strange ways. Very troublesome…”

“What should we do?”

The media is like a choir.

When everyone opens their mouths in unison, it becomes a song.

Sometimes, that song is a glorious praise anthem.

But if the voices in the choir are all different?

It becomes noise.

So media warfare is fierce.

Because whoever becomes the dominant voice determines the winner and the loser, completely and absolutely.

Sure, in history, there have been rare cases where the loser became the winner.

But usually, the one who wins early stays the winner till the end.

And now…

Han Sion’s SBI Entertainment and Choi Daeho’s Lion Entertainment each wanted to be that winner.

With the career of one singer, Fade, hanging in the balance.

Naturally, the press had little interest in facts.

“Which side’s more profitable?”

“It’s hard to say. Lion is big, Sedalbaekil is soaring high.”

Lion Entertainment had size, and Sedalbaekil had altitude.

The ‘decision-maker’ paused for a moment, then chose Sedalbaekil.

Seeing this, the ‘person who spreads decisions’ tilted his head.

He knew his superior had taken a fair amount from Lion Entertainment in the past.

“May I ask why?”

“Han Sion seems crazier.”

“Excuse me?”

“Think about it. Lion Entertainment doesn’t need Fade. How much of their revenue could possibly come from him?”

“That’s true.”

“But Han Sion isn’t like that. It’s do or die for him. So he’s desperate.”

It sounds convincing at a glance.

But in reality, it makes no sense.

The media always sides with the top dog.

They don’t bet on the underdog just because he seems desperate.

Did the decision-maker notice the doubt?

He smirked slightly.

“Who says Lion’s the top dog? Seems like it’s a fair fight now.”

“No way…”

“No, seriously. These guys… they’ve got an insane amount of retained earnings.”

“SBI Entertainment does?”

“Yeah. Even the National Tax Service was shocked. They said they’ve never seen that kind of internal reserve compared to revenue.”

“How’d they earn it?”

“That’s the funny part—they seem to have made most of it through investments.”

“Investments?”

“Yeah. Not reinvestment into the company. Almost all of it was external.”

“That’s bold.”

“Right?”

As the decision-maker nodded in satisfaction, the subordinate realized something.

That kind of smile doesn’t come from hearing someone else has money.

It comes when someone else’s money ends up in your pocket.

“Still, let’s not be the first ones to jump out. Choi Daeho must already be on edge.”

“Understood. I’ll play it by ear.”

“Oh, and next time I go drinking with SBI’s exec, you come with. You should make a connection.”

“Yes, sir.”

In show business, people saw Han Sion as a genius.

A boy—no, a young man—brilliant in both music and intellect.

But in reality, he wasn’t just a genius.

He was someone who had observed, participated in, and dominated this field longer than anyone.

Something no one could know—but Han Sion had never played a losing game.

---

-The winner is…!

-<The Real Original>!

Goo Taehwan had become the Masked Singer champion.

Well, to be precise, the episode where he became champion had aired.

In reality, he’d already defended his title for two consecutive weeks.

Just yesterday was another recording, and he successfully defended again.

By the way, netizens had named a singer called Jang Soohyeong as the top candidate for The Real Original.

-lol it’s definitely Long Life Big Brother

-yeah LLBB for sure

-who’s that?

-Jang Soohyeong lol

-damn I’m mad I just got it

I didn’t know him personally, so I watched a clip—and honestly, I don’t get the confusion.

Aside from his unique tone and high vocal range, everything else was a downgrade compared to Goo Taehwan.

Rhythm? Not even close. Expression? Different league.

Jang Soohyeong’s camp kept their mouths shut.

Thanks to the buzz, his musical benefitted from some nice free marketing.

They’ll probably stay silent until the reveal of The Real Original’s identity.

Can’t hurt.

That’s how the game is played in this industry—everyone using each other.

While Goo Taehwan was blowing up on Masked Singer, Onsaemiro started dance practice for her single.

Composition and recording were already long done.

It wasn’t a new song—I just picked one from my old unreleased tracks that fit her.

It was kind of similar to <Selfish> in tone—a song I’d originally planned to drop during a dating scandal.

In Hollywood, even dating is business.

I never actually dated anyone, but in Billboard or Hollywood, if you never have rumors, people start wondering.

The original title was <Boat>, but Onsaemiro renamed it to Gladly Adrift.

I thought, what kind of lame title is that?

But to my surprise, the A&R team liked it.

Said it fit Onsaemiro and the song really well.

I kept double-checking if this was just them playing office politics until the A&R director dropped a bomb on me.

Apparently, they’d been meaning to say this: my song title skills are kind of weak.

Even <Selfish> and <Resume> weren’t great, they said.

I was genuinely shocked.

<Selfish> is a good title.

Not just being stubborn—objectively speaking, many songs with that title have charted high on Billboard.

Same goes for <Resume>.

Sure, in Korean it sounds like “resume” or “self-introduction,” but that’s not the nuance here.

It’s more like “a prose record of my life.”

I do not suck at naming songs.

If it seems that way, it’s just a difference in cultural sensibility.

I was passionately explaining all this when Eon-hyung came over and pulled me aside.

Patting my back gently.

I didn’t appreciate it.

“……”

Anyway, the launch of Gladly Adrift was approaching, and Eon-hyung had started appearing on a few variety shows.

They hadn’t aired yet, but they would soon.

Although I still have no idea what content was filmed.

He won’t tell me.

Meanwhile, I was preparing for the first filming of Show Me in two weeks.

Not that there was much to prepare.

Just did a few exercises to adjust my vocalization technique for rap.

Singing is voiced like a string instrument; rap needs to hit like percussion.

That small difference is surprisingly big.

Once I felt decently satisfied, I played the track I planned to perform for the members.

“…Why is it good?”

“That’s unfair…”

“Do it again. Maybe you can mess it up more this time?”

I got some weird reactions.

I think our members might be a little strange.

Of course, I also spent a lot of time with Choi Jaesung.

He’ll be discharged soon and return to the dorms next week.

He seems to be thinking a lot, but he doesn’t look too bad.

And then…

79. The First Day
    .
    .
80. Stage

Finally, our first and second albums made it onto the Billboard 200.

Technically, they should’ve charted last week, but there were some complications.

Billboard only counts albums sold within the U.S.

And for <The First Day> and <STAGE>, things were a bit tricky.

The artists are superstars in Korea, but nobodies in the U.S. (except me).

So there were some statistical disadvantages, and HR Corporation and Colors Media had to negotiate fiercely with Billboard.

The U.S. cultural industry pretends otherwise, but it’s full of racists.

In the end, backing by HR and Colors Media proved to be a wise choice.

We solved the issue and made it onto the chart.

We essentially lost first-week sales, but that doesn’t matter—Sedalbaekil’s initial sales in the U.S. were never the point.

As expected, issue #312 or so of “Sedalbaekil Succeeds in America” articles exploded.

But this time, the response was positive.

Until now, all we had were buzzwords like “rave reviews,” “standing ovations,” or “praise from masters.”

But now we had numbers.

Billboard 200.

One journalist was even speculating whether we could hit number 1.

Realistically, that’s not possible.

But we might break the record for longest stay on the Billboard 200 for an Asian album.

In the midst of all this, PD Kang Seokwoo accepted our variety show proposal.

“This is the casting availability list. All top-tier.”

“This many people want to be on the show?”

“Half because they’re fans of Sedalbaekil, half because they really want to learn to sing, and half because they believe in the variety show’s success.”

“There can’t be three halves mathematically, right?”

“Han Sion, are you feeling okay? Where’s that sharp-tongued Sion of old?”

…Oh, maybe.

I guess I’ve been joking around with the members too much lately.

Or maybe it’s the depression from Jaesung’s accident leaking out this way.

Emotional swings are common for regressors—we bounce between mania and depression.

“Let’s talk business.”

“This is from the exec director. He’s asking if it really has to premiere on Sedalbaekil’s YouTube. Since it’s just self-produced content.”

“They want to premiere it on the channel?”

“Or at least do a simultaneous release. As you know, where it premieres will hugely affect the network’s investment.”

But I shook my head.

I’m not doing this music class show for ratings.

Sure, ratings matter—so involving a channel is still useful.

But there’s a bigger goal.

Besides, SBI’s internal reserves are overflowing.

We’ve got enough to fund multiple films or dramas, not just a variety show.

“Can I see clips of all the people singing?”

“All of them?”

“Yeah. All of them. Oh, and just between you and me…”

“Yes?”

“What’s your relationship like with Lion Entertainment?”

“Me? Nothing bad. Not great either.”

“Then when we produce this show, could you reach out to the lead of Take Scene for casting? Don’t hide anything—make it all open.”

“…What exactly are you planning?”

PD Kang Seokwoo’s face was full of confusion as I shrugged.

There’s no grand plan.

This is just the first step.

“So just wait patiently. When the time comes, I’ll make sure it all falls apart.”

To fulfill the promise I made to Choi Daeho.