[Syainakeu] Damn Idol 1-127
Damn Idol Episode 1
INTRO. Prologue
I know saying this out loud would get me thrown into a mental hospital, but…….
I made a contract with the devil.
Thanks to that, I’m repeating an infinite cycle of regression to achieve the goal the devil set.
So what is my goal?
200 million albums sold.
Damn it, I know.
You probably think I’m high or something, right?
You can’t even believe a devil exists, let alone that such a being would care about album sales.
But well…….
It can’t be helped if you don’t believe me.
Sometimes, even I think I’m crazy.
Anyway, what I want to tell you is that I’ve attempted countless challenges until now.
Ballad, rock, hip-hop, blues, alternative, even gospel.
I’ve tried every genre there is.
And I didn’t just sing.
Composition, producing, playing instruments like keyboard and guitar…….
I tried everything I could do.
You all called me a genius, but I’m not.
I’m just someone with a bit of talent who obsessed over one thing for a very, very long time.
I even spent decades with GOTM.
So I think it’s time to admit it.
GOTM was the best team, the best band I could ever make, but.
It wasn’t enough to sell 200 million albums.
Ah, I definitely don’t mean that any of you were lacking.
I told you. It was the best band.
I was the one who fell short.
This is my first time leaving a message like this before regressing, so I’m probably rambling a bit.
I just wanted to say that I’ve been grateful to you all.
Truly.
…….
This is embarrassing, so I should change the subject.
What should I talk about?
Should I talk about how Dave and I were on the same team three times even before GOTM?
He’s better now, but he was quite a sight when I first saw him.
Extremely pathetic.
If I recall correctly, the first time we met was at a drug rehabilitation center in Chicago…….
* * *
Click.
Han Sion, having finished recording, rose from his seat and drew the curtains.
A spectacular LA night view, the kind found only in luxury hotels, welcomed him, but he felt nothing.
Because this life would end tomorrow.
And probably in the next life…….
“Damn idol.”
I suppose I’ll have to challenge myself with the thing I least wanted to do.
Album 1. Regression Once Again
“-Grammy Award Album of the Year! The glorious winner is……!”
“-Gram Of The Minute!”
“-GOTM! Congratulations!”
The moment the band GOTM’s name was called, the four men sitting beside Han Sion sprang to their feet and cheered.
“Fucking Grammy! We’re Grammy winners!”
“What are you doing! Leader! Get up!”
“Sion!”
The music celebrating the award erupted, lights burst, and applause poured down.
All glory permeated the air.
But Sion’s face was utterly impassive.
Of course, everyone assumed he was suppressing his emotions.
How could he not be happy?
How difficult had the journey been for GOTM, fronted by an Asian vocalist, to achieve such success in America?
Meanwhile, Sion, now on stage, looked at his friends and took the microphone.
“Thank you for everything. All of you.”
It was a greeting with a strange nuance.
As if this were the end.
“I will never forget. No matter how many more lives I repeat, there will never be a band more perfect than this.”
The crowd waited for Sion’s next words, but that was all.
Without even glancing at the trophy the presenter held out, he walked off the stage.
The audience was momentarily bewildered by the unexpected situation, but soon their curiosity was piqued.
They thought it was a planned award performance.
The Grammy cameras, thinking the same, followed Sion’s retreating figure, but…….
He never returned.
“Sion!”
“Leader!”
The GOTM members, belatedly coming to their senses, went searching for their leader.
But Sion was nowhere to be found in the Staples Center.
Hours later, all they discovered was an old recording tape left in Sion’s lodgings.
* * *
At the same time the members were searching for their leader.
Han Sion was at an intersection.
It defied common sense.
He had moved over 40 miles (64 km) from the Staples Center in a matter of minutes.
Moreover, the countless drivers on the road seemed unable to perceive someone standing in the middle of the intersection.
Vroooom-!
Even as a massive truck brushed past him, the hem of Sion’s clothes did not stir.
They occupied different spaces.
Sion, who had been staring at the hazy sky with sunken eyes, lowered his head.
A tiresome message was visible.
[Mission failed.]
At that moment, the intersections began to overlap.
Intersections exist everywhere in the world.
There must be hundreds in LA alone, and tens of thousands—perhaps hundreds of thousands—across the United States.
How many would there be on the entire planet?
All those intersections converged on Sion and overlapped.
Color vanished.
When all colors mix, what remains is ultimately black.
And so, when the entire world was shrouded in black.
[Regressing.]
He was nineteen once more.
* * *
Beep—beep—
The firefighters dispatched at 3 AM were speechless at the horrific scene.
Veteran firefighters can instinctively tell upon arrival whether a site is an accident scene or a death scene.
This was a death scene.
A passenger car that had collided with a freight truck at an intersection had been crushed beyond recognition.
“Recover the bodies quickly, identify them…….”
It was then.
The youngest firefighter, having run to the scene, shouted.
“Th-they’re alive!”
Incredibly, all three family members inside the crushed car were still breathing.
The severity of their injuries was far less than the scale of the accident suggested.
Moreover, a boy who looked to be in his late teens was perfectly conscious.
“Heaven has helped.”
What followed was a rapid series of actions.
The firefighters transported the injured to the hospital and cleared the scene.
Around the time the rescue operation concluded, police and reporters arrived.
Now it was time to determine blame and sensationalize the accident.
As the team leader was preparing to withdraw, the youngest firefighter, who had first confirmed the survivors, approached.
“Chief, did you see that boy?”
“I saw him.”
“Isn’t it strange? How can he be so calm?”
“It’s better than him screaming and crying.”
“But still, that was…….”
“Quiet.”
However, the team leader also felt an eerie discomfort deep down.
The boy, awake and aware while his parents bled profusely and lay unconscious in the driver and passenger seats, was remarkably calm.
He relayed his parents’ personal details to the fire brigade and even made specific requests.
To transport them to a certain hospital in Seongnam.
Because his parents were doctors there.
That unbelievably calm demeanor definitely inspired an eerie feeling.
The boy was not trying to be calm.
He truly appeared completely unaffected by the terrible accident and his parents’ condition.
“……Stop talking nonsense and radio headquarters.”
But the firefighters didn’t know.
That the boy, Han Sion, had experienced this exact situation countless times and had now resigned himself to it.
Because this ‘intersection’ was his regression starting point.
* * *
“Patient Han Sion. How is your body?”
“I’m fine.”
“Is there anywhere uncomfortable or that feels strange?”
“No.”
It was tiresome.
Accident date: December 7, 2016.
Discharge date: January 6, 2017.
An unchanging schedule.
There was nothing I could do during the month-long hospitalization.
Using future knowledge was only possible after being discharged and returning to daily life.
That’s why the hospital was always tiresome after a regression began.
“Isn’t that kid a bit strange?”
“His parents are in a coma, but his attitude…….”
“That kid gives me a weird, creepy feeling.”
Of course, I knew that this weariness and impassiveness of mine appeared monstrous to others.
But pretending to be sad was impossible; this entire situation had been repeated far too many times.
Besides, there was no reason for me to make a good impression on the nurses or ward patients muttering about me…….
“Ah, damn it.”
There is.
Come to think of it, in this life, I had to debut domestically.
Until now, I had crossed over to America immediately after discharge, but not this time.
The moment I become an idol, their gossip could affect my image.
That night, I burst into tears in my hospital room.
Startled by my crying, nurses rushed in, and I received an IV for dehydration symptoms.
Because I had deliberately not drunk a single drop of water all day.
“They say it was because the shock was too severe. He couldn’t accept it as reality…….”
“Loss isn’t something you feel immediately, after all.”
“He can’t be okay. Both his parents fell into a vegetative state overnight.”
“Oh, how pitiful…….”
Thanks to that, public opinion within the hospital completely shifted.
And so, the tiresome month passed, and the discharge day—who knew which number it was—approached.
“Sion. Call me as soon as you get home, okay?”
“Yes. Don’t worry.”
“Uncle will come straight to your house after work.”
“It’s okay. You can’t keep doing this forever.”
“Still…… I’ll come today.”
“Alright.”
The person pouring out worries and holding me back on the day of discharge was not my real uncle.
But he was far more precious than the relatives who only coveted the inheritance of my parents, who had fallen into a vegetative state.
Gim Hyeonsu.
A junior of my parents from medical school and a doctor at the same hospital.
Someone who had tried to take my parents’ place from the moment they were declared to be in a vegetative state.
Honestly, Uncle Hyeonsu was often annoying.
Calling incessantly, visiting, worrying.
It wasn’t just when I was in Korea; it was the same after I crossed over to America.
Which regression was it again…….
I think it was when I was playing guitar in Chicago. At the time, I was a drug addict.
I had been prescribed and was taking antidepressants classified as narcotics and became addicted.
Well, it’s common in America.
But when Uncle Hyeonsu found out, he took a leave of absence.
And then he followed me around all day like a manager.
Until I completely quit the drugs.
He is a grateful person, an unwavering person.
If it weren’t for Uncle Hyeonsu, I probably wouldn’t have endured the early days of regression.
“I’ll call you.”
“Okay. But what’s that in your hand? Looks like a notebook?”
“Ah, I was bored at the hospital so I doodled a bit. It feels like a waste to throw it away.”
Uncle Hyeonsu smiled.
“Yes. Expressing your emotions is a good thing. You want to be a singer too, after all.”
“I used to.”
“Huh? Not anymore?”
“No. I’ll be a singer. Though I’m not sure if it’s out of hope.”
“Hmm?”
“By the way, Uncle. Stop overeating. If a person overeats too much, they get something called reflux esophagitis.”
“Hey, you. Uncle is a doctor. Reflux esophagitis is more of a chronic condition than something caused by overeating…….”
“Anyway, eat in moderation.”
Even though I said it every time, it didn’t change the fact that Uncle suffered from reflux esophagitis, but it was a habit.
After saying goodbye to Uncle like that, I got into a taxi.