Little Pink Starfish

It had become difficult to define a single song by a single genre.

In the past, craftsmen who consistently worked within one genre dominated the market. But now, it’s those who adapt their music to what the public enjoys who hold the power.

The expansion of the pop music industry also led to more genre crossovers and bold experimentation.

Likewise, Gladly Adrift by Onsaemiro—released five days ago—couldn’t be defined by just one genre.

Fans who loved Onsaemiro called it easy listening.

Critics who followed Han Sion’s compositions used terms like retro pop or newtro pop with a retro feel.

Lastly, when composer Han Sion was asked about it, he simply shrugged and said, “Guitar song.”

“A guitar song?”

“Yes.”

“But there’s barely any guitar sound in it?”

Han Sion’s answer was strange.

Gladly Adrift barely featured any guitar sounds.

That’s not to say guitars weren’t used. They appeared meaningfully in the intro and bridge and even carried parts of the melody.

But it wasn’t a sound that only a guitar could create.

Moreover, in the most important parts—the verse highlights and chorus—the guitar had no role.

It was just a background instrument.

“Still, to me, it’s a guitar song.”

And that was because of the song’s personal origin story.

The original version, Boat, was written a long time ago.

He didn’t remember exactly when—maybe around his 7th or 8th regression—during his time in the U.S. underground.

On the streets of New York, there were many buskers who gave brilliant performances with junk guitars.

Han Sion became friends with them and performed impromptu on the streets every day.

It was a time when he still had musical innocence.

When hearing a good song made him smile, and he believed his next life would be better than the current one.

The melancholic spiral of being a regressor began when he became uncomfortably certain that his musical growth had plateaued.

When you lose hope for the future, it’s easy to fall into depression.

While shedding the bitter memories of his For The Youth days on the streets of New York, he suddenly felt like he was floating on a boat.

Among the waves of passing New Yorkers, carrying nothing but a guitar case like a tiny boat, drifting aimlessly.

That’s how Boat was born.

And it became the first hit that helped Han Sion leave the underground.

It was different from something like Selfish.

Once musically complete, Han Sion usually aimed for mainstream hits. But Boat wasn’t written with that in mind.

It was just a melody that came to him—one that happened to become a hit.

He revised it many times afterward.

As his skill improved, he saw all the clumsy parts.

So the guitar, which originally formed the core sound, was pushed to the background, and the piano took over the main melody.

Even so, whenever Han Sion heard the melody, he still thought of New York.

Cold days with visible breath.

Snow-covered New York streets.

A guitar case and a hot coffee in hand.

Walking around with those.

That’s why, to him, this song was a guitar song.

Of course, that’s not something you can really explain to others.

And even if you did, it wouldn’t mean much.

What mattered now wasn’t the origin of the song—but how successful it had become.

And…

“Onsaemiro.”

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you happy? You seem… calm.”

“It’s not that… I’m too happy. I don’t know how to express it.”

“Hmm. So you’re saying personal success feels better than Sedalbaekil’s success?”

“Absolutely not.”

The success was massive and sweet.

Because the release of Gladly Adrift was a surprise drop, it didn’t shoot straight to the top of the charts.

But within four hours, it topped all real-time charts, and by 24 hours, it hit number one on the daily charts.

And it stayed there for five straight days.

It was practically guaranteed to win 1st place on next week’s music shows.

Onsaemiro’s solo activity didn’t end there.

If you’re going to do solo work, it needs to be in album format to be meaningful.

Because only then does the demon count it.

Gladly Adrift was just a pre-release.

A 10-track physical album was scheduled to follow.

Onsaemiro suggested a 4–5 track mini-album, but Han Sion shook his head.

Mini-albums don’t count.

Even if released physically.

Of course, the demon’s counting system wasn’t governed by strict rules like “6 tracks is a mini, 7 is full-length.”

What mattered was perception.

If people think it’s a mini-album, then even a 20-track physical release won’t be counted.

It proved once again that the demon cared deeply about human perception.

The same applied to bulk purchases.

If a fan genuinely wanted to buy 100 copies, every copy would count.

But if they bought even one begrudgingly, it wouldn’t.

That’s why Han Sion never linked fan sign events with album sales.

So the success of Gladly Adrift was only the beginning of Onsaemiro’s solo album.

And though there was no official mention, the first person to catch on was, of course, Titi.

-Doesn’t feel like this ends as a single, huh?

-Feels like there’s a mini-album coming?

-Already hyped for next week’s music show. Don’t think she’ll just perform one song…

Actually, the atmosphere inside Titi hadn’t been great lately.

As online communities tend to exaggerate human extremes, public sympathy over Choi Jaesung’s accident had long passed.

What remained was frustration over inactivity.

Despite the massive success of the 2nd album, there hadn’t been many promotions.

Fans with strong individual biases blamed Jaesung and expressed it quite harshly.

On the official fan café, which had strict etiquette policies, complaints were rare.

But on personal SNS, it was a different story.

-Shouldn’t Jaesung just leave and let them promote as 4?

-He barely had any presence anyway lol

-If he didn’t win SNUMZ, there’d be nothing worth defending

-He only won because Han Sion arranged the song, let’s be honest.

Every idol fandom goes through member-related tensions, but this time it was understandable.

But when Sedalbaekil announced their “solo activities” and Onsaemiro and Eon achieved visible success, the mood started to shift.

Rumors circulated about Eon appearing on more shows, and that Onsaemiro’s single was just a pre-release for a mini-album.

-My cousin works at MShow and said Sedalbaekil is filming their self-content as a 4-member group.

-Why would a broadcast station know about self-content?

-It’s probably airing too. Like Self Made.

-Oh, then it might be another one with PD Kang Seokwoo? Since it’s MShow.

-Could be.

Talk of group variety shows came up.

And more importantly…

-This is definitely Taehwan, right?

-Yeah. 100%.

-It was confusing at first, but the arrangement style and that signature tension in the intro? It’s him.

Rumors began spreading that <The Real Original>, the two-time Masked Singer champ, was Goo Taehwan.

Titi fans had been saying this from the start, and many were convinced.

Goo Taehwan hadn’t even bothered to change his voice or singing style.

He sang exactly as he always did—his fans could hear it instantly.

But the general public hadn’t accepted it.

-Sedalbaekil fans say it’s Taehwan.

-Why?

-They say his voice is really recognizable.

-I thought it sounded like Jang Soohyeong?

-Jang Soohyeong said on SNS it wasn’t him.

-Wait, really?

-Yup.

-But that could be a lie too, no?

-True… but would he really go that far?

-It’s kind of a rule though—Masked Singers always deny it when guessed.

-Yeah, that’s fair.

Because the public image of idols didn’t match what they imagined of The Real Original.

In a way, idols had it rough.

Once labeled an “idol,” you had to prove yourself far more than others.

But Titi had already accepted that The Real Original was Goo Taehwan.

His voice was one thing, but more telling was that he was the only member with no solo activity.

Eon was doing variety, Onsaemiro dropped a single, and Han Sion was preparing a group show.

Goo Taehwan hadn’t done anything.

That made Masked Singer the perfect explanation.

-I kept saying it and no one believed me.

-Even my own mom won’t believe me. She insists it’s some old veteran singer.

-If it really is Taehwan… and he does a “graduation” episode…

-Total chaos, right?

While Goo Taehwan’s more action-oriented fans were trying to get into the audience for Masked Singer,

A different kind of complaint started to form among Han Sion’s solo fans.

-Why is only Sion doing a team show? He’s the leader, but still…

-No solo work for him?

-He’d probably get paid the most for variety appearances too…

-Is his U.S. work counted as solo activity?

They just wanted Han Sion to do more.

But that was a misunderstanding.

Because out of all Sedalbaekil’s solo activities, Han Sion’s would be the most shocking.

Today was the first filming of Show Me What You Got.

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I know what Show Me is.

But it’s my first time competing on it.

Wait—no.

I once made a cameo.

Back when I was active as a rapper on Billboard, I briefly appeared as a guest judge on the U.S. edition of Show Me.

I’d forgotten.

I think it was post-COVID.

Anyway, Korean hip-hop is inextricably linked with Show Me.

Honestly, it’s kind of deformed.

Before Show Me, hip-hop was underground.

But with the show’s success, it suddenly went mainstream.

But that wasn’t thanks to hip-hop—it was thanks to the variety show.

When Show Me was canceled, hip-hop’s popularity plummeted.

Then it slowly recovered.

But that’s not something I need to worry about now.

Right now, hip-hop is selling well in the mainstream.

The timing’s actually pretty perfect.

After COVID, K-pop culture surged, while hip-hop culture faded.

So I’m appearing on Show Me while it’s still hot.

Well…

“What should we call you?”

“Hmm… Masked Man?”

“Ah. Okay, Masked Man. Show us what you’ve got.”

First, I need to pass round one.