Episode 173
As I ran back to the dorm, I imagined how the members would react to my proposal.
There was a high chance they’d be troubled, asking how long it had even been since our first album came out and why we were already making a second.
But considering the personalities of Sedalbaegil’s members, I also thought they might not oppose it outright.
Wouldn’t they suggest releasing a few single albums or mini albums as a buffer before putting out the second album?
That was what I had expected.
I never imagined this reaction.
“Sure.”
“Let’s do it.”
“The sophomore jinx won’t be a problem, right?”
The members nodded far too coolly, then went right back to focusing on the board game.
“……?”
I was a little flustered.
I had thrown a tantrum, sure, but was this really something that could be decided this easily?
Absurdly enough, however, the mood wasn’t right for me to keep talking.
Because everyone was staring at the board game with life-or-death determination.
Half bewildered and half awkward, I stood beside them with nothing to do and watched the board game.
“Done! It’s over, right?”
The winner was Gu Taehwan.
“Ah……”
“Scammer.”
“You were holding on to the Bank Run card the whole time?”
The members let out sounds of regret, cleaned up the board game, then looked at me.
“You want to play too?”
“No, that’s not it…… Are we really okay to prepare our second album?”
“I said let’s do it.”
“We don’t need to release a mini album or single album first?”
“Do you want to? Then we should.”
Of course I didn’t want to.
Because the devil only counted physical album sales.
But that was my situation. Weren’t the members’ positions different?
As I froze for a moment from the cognitive dissonance, On Saemiro laughed as if he found it ridiculous.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Sion break down.”
The one who gave me the answer was Gu Taehwan.
“That’s prejudice.”
“……”
“If we were normal people, we wouldn’t have thrown everything away and come to Sedalbaegil.”
There was no subject, but Gu Taehwan knew exactly what prejudice I had.
That singers who had achieved a certain degree of success focused not on music, but on success.
That instead of continuing to struggle through music work, they wanted to earn money comfortably.
That they wanted to balance out their lives.
Yes, I had that prejudice.
No, calling it simply prejudice was difficult, because it was also something I had experienced from many people for far too long.
But Gu Taehwan was saying Sedalbaegil was a little different.
That they weren’t normal either.
Just like me.
I felt like we’d had similar conversations a few times before, but it seemed I was still doubting my teammates.
I felt like this was the second time I was making this resolution.
That until Sedalbaegil disappointed me, I wouldn’t be disappointed in them too hastily.
Then Lee Ion spoke.
“Do you have something in mind for the second album? Or do we need to start thinking now?”
“I have something in mind.”
“While making the Apple ad?”
“No. While watching Masked Robbers.”
“Us? What is it?”
Lee Ion and Gu Taehwan’s eyes widened.
It had been a vague idea, but it became concrete while I was performing with GOTM.
Not long ago, I had thought this.
A song from my previous life must not become the greatest song of my life.
If that happened, it meant my ability had stagnated, and that I was looking backward.
For someone like me, who repeated infinite regressions, looking backward was the worst possible thing.
So in this round, I had to write the greatest song of my life.
I wanted to do it, and I felt confident I could.
“Ion hyung and Gu Taehwan.”
“Huh?”
“Choi Jaeseong.”
“Yes?”
“Me and On Saemiro.”
“Yeah?”
“We’re going to release the second album as units.”
“You’re releasing the second album as units? You mean three albums in total?”
“No. It’ll be one album.”
“Isn’t that nonsense?”
The members didn’t understand what I meant, and I didn’t want to explain yet.
I wanted to show them.
But one thing was certain.
I would show them magic.
Magic that had never once been attempted in the history of K-pop—no, in the history of popular music.
Under the name of Sedalbaegil.
* * *
Chris Edward was meeting Sion again for the first time in several months, after having met him at Seaside Heights.
At Seaside Heights, Sion had looked relaxed.
It might have been the ease that came from the place itself, but Edward had also sensed that something had changed mentally.
Should he say Sion had let go of his obsession and become more at ease?
Whether that would help him musically or harm him, Edward didn’t know.
For some people, obsessively practicing every day helped improve their skills, while for others, playing whenever the impulse came helped improve their skills.
Art, and music, belonged to a category where formulas didn’t apply.
But……
“You lunatic.”
“Why are you cursing at me all of a sudden?”
“Because I can’t believe it. Why do you get better every time I see you?”
At Edward’s words, Han Sion gave a small laugh.
“My skill is the same. I’m not in a range where I can improve that easily.”
“But you’re different every time I see you.”
“That means your eye has gotten better. Your discernment has improved, so you can see my ability more clearly now.”
Dumbfounded, Edward shook his head.
In the meantime, the band gathered.
After Han Sion left yesterday, the players hadn’t slept a wink.
They had remained sitting in the practice room, continuing to play their respective instruments.
That was how shocking the performance Han Sion had shown them, and the teachings he had delivered, had been.
“Now, then……”
Just as Han Sion began to speak, he paused.
“Come to think of it, I still don’t know your name. What’s the band called?”
“It hasn’t been decided, and there are two candidates. One is BOTY.”
“Boty? Don’t tell me it’s Band Of The Year?”
“That’s right.”
“I think everyone’s going to think of Battle of the Year. It’s a street hip-hop competition with a long history.”
“Doesn’t matter. If we considered every little thing like that, what could we even do?”
“I don’t think it’s bad. It’s a little childish, but band names are supposed to have that flavor.”
“What are you talking about? Your team’s name is the most childish in the world.”
“Sedalbaegil is a cool name.”
“Like hell it is.”
“What’s the other candidate?”
“Gram Of The Year. It was Dave Logan’s idea.”
After saying that, Chris Edward tilted his head.
Because an unreadable emotion had suddenly appeared on Han Sion’s face.
But the emotion vanished in an instant.
“Boty is better.”
“Really? I liked GOTY more.”
“It’s not great. We need something to call you for now, so let’s go with Boty.”
No one here would know this, but GOTM’s name had also originally been GOTY.
Han Sion had replaced GOTM’s members several times, but he had kept the guitarist, Dave Logan, and the drummer, Andrew Gun.
GOTY had been Dave Logan’s idea.
Because a regressor’s memories were always mixed together, whenever Han Sion upgraded a team, he would slightly change its name.
At first, it had been GOTY, and after he replaced the members once, it became GOTM.
Back then, the M had not stood for Minute, but Month.
Next came Gram Of The Day, and when the final members were confirmed, it became GOTM.
“In any case, the performance is more important than the name.”
“What are you going to do about vocals?”
“For now, we’ll only use guest vocalists.”
There were more bands without vocalists than one might think.
Bands like Blotted Science and Maybeshewill had enjoyed considerable popularity without vocals.
They were commonly called instrumental rock bands, but BOTY was not that kind of band.
Instrumental rock bands excluded lyrics from their songs entirely or minimized them, while BOTY’s concept was to continuously use guest vocalists.
This was part of HR Corporation’s promotional intentions.
HR Corporation had a stronger production line than any other company, but lacked players.
In particular, they rarely had bands loved by the traditional white market.
So, after working on songs as a project with the people Han Sion had recommended, they had gone ahead and created a planned band outright.
A company on HR Corporation’s level would have had the eye to gauge their talent.
Thinking about it, Han Sion had never heard who the vocalist for the song was.
This was not because he had no interest in the song, but because it was a tribute song to GOTM.
It was a song he had made while thinking of GOTM, who existed in a finished time no one else knew, and he had handed it back to the GOTM members through Chris Edward.
So there was no place there for Han Sion, who had been the vocalist and second player.
He wanted them to use it however they wished.
But Chris Edward brought up something unexpected.
“We’ll have to think about it after finishing the recording, but you’re also among the candidates.”
“Me? Who says I’m doing it?”
“There’s no reason not to, is there? It’ll help your team activities too.”
“No thanks. For this song, I’m satisfied with composing it.”
Because it was a bond that had ended.
Having said that, Han Sion gathered the GOTM—no, BOTY—members.
Then he began directing.
Their performance couldn’t improve in just one day, but they could gain a clear direction.
If an artist understood his directing, Han Sion was a director who could draw out results more outstanding than anyone else in the world.
“Guitar! The beat was right, but your heart was late. Don’t follow from behind. The electric guitar is a six-string orchestra.”
“Drums. Don’t rush too far ahead. Why does the frame of a house need to be flashy? The other members will fill in the flashiness.”
“Bass! Don’t get buried.”
“If you’re going to do it like this, it’d be better to record each person separately and touch it up with machines. And that would mean you’re not a proper band.”
Kang Seoku, who was filming all of this, honestly found it a little puzzling.
Among the artists gathered here, Han Sion was the youngest, and his career was the shortest.
Moreover, while it was true that Sedalbaegil had succeeded, wasn’t their history far too short?
But not a single artist rebelled against Han Sion’s harsh words.
They merely gritted their teeth and followed along, as if his words were scripture.
‘Is Han Sion’s directing that precise? Or are these people humble?’
Neither was the answer.
The correct answer was that every artist here sincerely believed, “Han Sion is above me.”
A long time passed, and a great many tracks were steadily piled up.
“Let’s stop here. We’ll do the rest the day after tomorrow. Everyone, get some sleep.”
Chris Edward thought this should be enough, but Han Sion said they had only reached exactly fifty percent, and scheduled one more recording session.
As the utterly exhausted members were about to disperse, Dave Logan caught Han Sion.
“Why are you saying you won’t do the vocals?”
“In America, I’m a nobody. Get the song sung by someone more famous.”
“Are you telling us to get the song sung by someone more famous, or by someone better?”
“Someone more famous, obviously.”
“Is there no singer better than you?”
“There might be, but probably not within a song I composed.”
Han Sion said that and tried to leave, but Dave Logan was persistent.
“If HR points to you, will you refuse?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Han Sion couldn’t answer, but not because he had no reason.
He had a reason, but he wasn’t confident he could explain it.
For him to sing together with GOTM was to remain in the past.
His present was with Sedalbaegil.
Even if the song he made with GOTM—no, BOTY—became a huge hit, he didn’t think he would be happy.
So in the end, Han Sion could only say this.
“Because I have a team.”
Han Sion left like that, and two days later, they recorded once again.
And at last, the hundred percent Han Sion had aimed for was completed.
It might not have been a perfect score in absolute terms, but with the current BOTY members’ abilities, it was a hundred.
At that moment, HR Corporation made a proposal.
About the idea of having Sedalbaegil sing the song.