Damn Idol Chapter 100
Of course, not everyone was criticizing Han Sion after only reading the article titles.
-The trash reporter bastard is ruining someone’s life again. It’s not like he said it in a normal interview; it came out on Downfall Detector. It’s just a variety show.
-Shouldn’t they be cursing the production team? They’re the ones who asked a rookie idol questions like that.
-But isn’t Downfall Detector supposed to be a place only criminals go on?-?? You haven’t watched the show, have you? Just go watch it.
-Honestly, this episode was the hopeful version of Downfall Detector. Looks like the trash reporters found something to latch onto.
-Does Han Sion not have an agency? There’s way too little defense against this nonsense.
There were also people who had watched the program and defended him.
But that alone was not enough to soothe the anger of the Drop Out fandom.
Whatever the circumstances of the remarks, Han Sion’s remarks themselves were facts.
-I get that Downfall Detector is originally that kind of show, but wasn’t his attitude wrong?-Yeah. The moment it looked like his private life might come up, he immediately used his right to refuse, but he judged his senior idols so damn easily.
-He was answering almost without even breathing.
-I guess after getting a little popular from the show, he thought he was some kind of real genius.
-Those are all things that would get settled at Sido’s level.
-It wouldn’t even reach the leader.
Han Sion’s remarks contained many things that rubbed the Drop Out fandom the wrong way.
The question about which was the better song between “Selfish” and “Three Months and a Hundred Days” was one, and so was the question about which side he was rooting for between Drop Out and NOP.
But that did not mean NOP’s side was looking kindly upon Han Sion, either.
-Fuck, we got tangled up again for no reason because of some nobody, and now the issue’s only gotten bigger.
-Those washed-up Outs made a comeback with no damn sense of business ethics.
While the NOP fandom was happy about NOP’s comeback, they did not welcome it becoming a “versus Drop Out” narrative.
Unless NOP crushed them overwhelmingly, it was a game with nothing to gain.
On top of that, the momentum of the new song Drop Out had brought out was not ordinary, either.
So from the NOP fans’ perspective, they hated being tied into the same frame as Drop Out, but because of Han Sion, an issue had erupted.
There was no way they would like it.
Amid all this, the fans of Three Months and a Hundred Days, especially Han Sion’s fans, were deeply worried.
For certain issues, no response was the answer, but this was not one of them.
They absolutely had to respond, and they had to do it within three days.
By the filming schedule of
A day had already passed, so if more than four days went by, NOP would make their comeback, and from then on, no response would work.
If NOP won, it would be used as material to mock Drop Out; if NOP lost, it would be used as material to mock NOP.
In the meantime, the image of Three Months and a Hundred Days would be consumed in a negative direction as much as it possibly could be.
‘As expected, you have to beat the company up periodically…….’
‘We need to send an inquiry to the company…….’
‘What on earth is the company doing…….’
In the meantime, the fans of Three Months and a Hundred Days had no choice but to arrive at the same conclusion.
That Three Months and a Hundred Days had no company.
And then, at that moment.
The official SNS account of Three Months and a Hundred Days, which they had wanted so badly, was opened.
‘They’re opening an SNS account now?!’
When they had no idea what Drop Out and NOP’s fans would do if they swarmed over there?
But the fans who saw the first post uploaded to the SNS account could not help but fall into confusion.
And it was the same for not only the fans, but the general public as well.
“What is this……?”
* * *
“Hmm.”
After checking the filmed footage for Take Scene’s music video, Choi Daeho smiled in satisfaction.
It had come out well.
It was exactly the picture he had envisioned when he planned the team called Take Scene.
On top of that, though the ending had been a little lacking, the existence of Three Months and a Hundred Days had been a great help in improving Take Scene’s skills.
Through Coming Up Next, Take Scene had become desperate and gained the mindset of underdogs.
In a sense, it could even be said that Han Sion had helped them.
While thinking such thoughts, Choi Daeho accessed the internet and checked the articles attacking Three Months and a Hundred Days.
Honestly, this was not Choi Daeho’s preferred method.
From the beginning, he had decided on “no response” as his stance toward Three Months and a Hundred Days.
Just as Han Sion had expected, Choi Daeho had known the contents of Downfall Detector in advance.
However, it was not because he liked the content of the broadcast, or because he thought Han Sion would fall into ruin and nodded along.
It was because he thought that if they were cast members of a program that had broken past ten percent viewer ratings, it would look clean for them to appear on a variety show at least once afterward.
Otherwise, there could be talk of outside pressure or blacklists.
On top of that, hadn’t Han Sion gone on a variety show that created gossip all on its own?
In that case, they could naturally frame it as “he ruined his first variety show appearance, so he can’t go on any more.”
That was why he had simply left it alone.
And yet the issue surrounding Downfall Detector began to spread far beyond the level Choi Daeho had expected.
It was an atmosphere where it was difficult to keep silent.
So instead, he had decided to pour out articles with a critical tone, and once things quieted down, turn the speakers off again.
The reporters probably would not have wanted to miss an issue like this, which was perfect for inflating views.
Most likely, after NOP made their comeback, a few more articles would come out before disappearing.
Just then, Choi Daeho’s phone vibrated, and Team Leader Park’s name appeared.
“Yeah, Team Leader Park.”
-President! I think you need to check SNS!
“Why? Did someone cause trouble?”
-Three Months and a Hundred Days opened an official SNS account……!
“Got it for now. I’ll check and call you back.”
Choi Daeho thought Three Months and a Hundred Days had written insults about him on their SNS account.
He also thought those twenty-year-old kids had held back for quite a long time already.
But the content uploaded to SNS was not something like that.
[Three Months and a Hundred Days’s Independence Diary, Episode 1! Coming Soon!]
It was a promotional post for self-produced content, commonly called their own content.
Choi Daeho, dumbfounded, tried to check where on earth it had been produced, but he could not find the production company.
It seemed they were planning to distribute it through a YouTube channel.
There was a link to the official channel of Three Months and a Hundred Days, which seemed to have been opened along with the SNS account.
But Choi Daeho thought Team Leader Park was making too much of a fuss.
He had not expected these guys to make their own content, but it was not such a serious matter.
In the current situation, which was full of negative issues, it was a self-destructive move.
But that was Choi Daeho’s misconception.
Because there was not just one post.
[The guest for Episode 1 is! Drumroll!]
There was no guest’s name.
But with a single photo, it was possible to tell who the guests were.
The people sitting side by side with Three Months and a Hundred Days were—
“……!”
—Drop Out, whose stock had been rising day after day with “Selfish.”
* * *
At a villa with a full view of Santa Monica Beach, Yankos Greenwood sipped his wine.
Yankos Bolero Greenwood.
The old man, called a master of pop jazz, had started music rather late.
After all, even until he was twenty-five, he had never thought of becoming a musician.
He had studied law and had only thought he would become a lawyer one day.
That had always been a regret.
If he had become a musician even a little earlier in his youth, he could have done so much more.
He could have created something more radiant and polished it.
The improvisations he used to play with all his might at the jazz bar he went to whenever he got stressed while preparing for the bar exam.
The guitar riff he played while asking a beautiful woman on a date.
The contrabass he had taken up to express a moment’s amusement.
Those pure impressions remained, but he could no longer remember the music from back then.
Because he was an old man.
So after releasing his album, he spent days on end watching the sunset fall over Santa Monica Beach, and one thought suddenly came to him.
This was enough.
He should retire.
If he had achieved both number one on the jazz chart and number one on the jazz album chart with his final album, then he had done well.
This was also why Yankos Greenwood, who had never enjoyed media exposure, had appeared in HBO’s documentary.
Once he thought this was the end, the desire to record even one more thing took hold.
The filming day was today.
Inside his villa, HBO’s staff were already clattering around as they installed all sorts of things.
Time passed like that, and as the filming time approached, young musicians carrying expensive wine rang the doorbell.
Pablo Jan Czek.
Chris Edward.
Roman Cold.
Karif.
There were names he knew and names he did not.
Of course, he had probably heard all of their music at least once.
Because the four people before his eyes were the ones leading the Billboard charts of the current era.
“It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Greenwood.”
“Call me Yankos comfortably. I’ve enjoyed listening to your music as well.”
Yankos Greenwood spent quite an enjoyable time with them.
The young musicians dug into his past works as if they had made up their minds to do so, and they told him anecdotes related to his own albums that he himself no longer remembered.
“So? Who do you think is number one in jazz guitar? Yankos? Bolero? Or Greenwood?”
At Yankos’s question, everyone burst into laughter.
It was a joke filled with the confidence that the number one in jazz guitar was none other than himself.
It was a pleasant time.
He liked the beginning of the filming that would continue for the next week.
The next day, they all improvised together and held a party.
The day after that, the filming was delayed slightly because Yankos Greenwood was not in good condition.
His coughing would not stop.
So he sat in a spot with a full view of the beach and rested, when he sensed someone approaching.
Chris Edward.
The young producer, who could play the piano at a high level, was walking over with a smile.
“Yankos. How are you feeling?”
“Good. The fact that I’m only this uncomfortable means my time with you all is enjoyable.”
“That’s a relief.”
Chris Edward sat down and let out an exclamation at the wonderful scenery.
“This is a perfect spot.”
“Isn’t it? When I was young, I never imagined I’d be able to live in a house like this.”
Yankos Greenwood and Chris Edward looked out at the scenery without saying much.
How much time had passed?
Perhaps thinking he had enjoyed the cool breeze enough, Chris Edward opened his mouth.
“There’s a piece of music I’d like you to hear.”
“Do you have a concern?”
“No. It isn’t my concern. If anything, it’s the kind of music that might become Greenwood’s concern.”
“How meaningful.”
When Yankos Greenwood shrugged and held out his hand, Chris Edward handed him earphones.
The moment he put them in his ears, the music began to play.
It started with a slow guitar melody.
It did not have a big band sensibility.
Rather, it felt like a guitar solo being played in a pub or a jazz bar.
It was an excellent performance.
Guitarists these days had a tendency to become too immersed only in the expression of sound.
But for the expression of sound to emerge, the expression of emotion had to come first.
In that sense, this performance was quite skilled.
However, it was skilled only technically; emotionally, it was fresh and green.
Behind the slow-flowing melody, he could almost see the joy and sorrow, the ambition and anguish of someone very, very young.
At that moment, drums and contrabass joined the music.
There was no sound of a trumpet, but he felt as if it were looking toward its own place, as though it could enter at any moment.
Yankos Greenwood immersed himself in the music.
It was perfect swing and syncopation.
The use of blue notes was a little clumsy, but rather, that added an unpolished savor.
Around then, Yankos Greenwood closed his eyes.
Within the music, he saw himself.
He recalled his youth, when he had played clumsily but passionately.
Wouldn’t the young version of himself, whom he could no longer remember, have played a song like this?
The things filled to the brim inside this……
At that moment, Yankos’s thoughts returned to reality.
Click.
Because the music had stopped.
“It’s a short, one-minute-and-twelve-second source.”
“…….”
All kinds of thoughts stormed through his head, but there was only one thing Yankos could say.
“Who on earth made this music?”