Damn Idol, Episode 90
But Gu Taehwan, who had no idea of that fact, couldn't help but be bewildered.
"The indie gig was a failure."
"What do you mean, failure? Everyone's improving. Though there's still a lot left to be desired."
"What about the buzz?"
"Ah, that?"
Truthfully, Han Sion had been lost in other thoughts until Gu Taehwan spoke to him.
So he was a bit slow to grasp the essence of the conversation.
"You thought that just because we performed a few times in the indie scene, we're fighting Ryan Entertainment?"
"Aren't we?"
"Not at all. Didn't I tell you from the start when the fight would begin?"
Han Sion had clearly said this:
"We'll start our activities in three weeks."
"Three weeks?"
"Because that's when episode 10 of Coming Up Next airs."
Since episode 8 aired today, that meant two weeks remained.
"Then what we're doing now is purely for our singing skills?"
"For now? How is it? Do you think you've improved a lot?"
At Han Sion's question, the Three Months and One Hundred Days crew nodded.
The period hadn't been long, but the number of performances was enormous.
Because of that, the situations had been diverse as well.
There were small-theater performances where they went onstage to tremendous cheers, and times they had performed under cold, hostile gazes.
There were even times when a drunk picked a fight, or the DJ messed with the EQ and the MR came out strange.
It was almost amazing that they had experienced all of this in just one week.
Their skills couldn't help but improve.
"So stop thinking useless thoughts and write up an error log for yesterday's performance. You haven't done it yet, right?"
As Han Sion said, there had been a performance yesterday, which was a Thursday.
Most performances were clustered on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, but that didn't mean there were no weekday shows.
Weekdays had the advantage of cheaper rental fees and lower competition for bookings.
So they had gone to a performance yesterday, and it had been different from anything before.
It was a performance of 100% pure hip-hop with absolutely no vocals.
What Three Months and One Hundred Days learned there was a sense of rhythm.
Hip-hop fans didn't necessarily hate songs.
But they only liked songs that made them nod their heads.
Whether it was a rock beat or an R&B beat, the crowd only responded if they could naturally ride the rhythm.
There is a word in jazz called "swing."
Swing is the core of jazz, but defining it with words was truly ambiguous.
Groove, feeling, vibe...
No matter what word you added to explain it, it remained ambiguous.
If you compared it to pansori, it was "han," and if you compared it to rock, it was "spirit."
But whether a performer was swinging or not was easy to tell.
Because you could see whether or not the audience was able to enjoy the rhythm.
In a similar sense, yesterday the members of Three Months and One Hundred Days had been able to feel the power rhythm held.
Because the audience, who had been listlessly clapping under the streetlights, completely transformed when a rhythmic song came on.
In that sense, the one who stole the show was Gu Taehwan.
Gu Taehwan, whose innate sense of rhythm was gradually blossoming, received an even bigger response than Han Sion—at least for yesterday.
However, as if unable to stand it, Han Sion suddenly rapped and stole back the mood.
Thanks to that, the members of Three Months and One Hundred Days were also startled to hear Han Sion's rap.
They had heard him rap during NOP's "Boy Scout," and he himself had seemed confident in rapping, but—
'They hadn't known he was at that level.'
They didn't know if it was some kind of friendship buff, but it was to the point where they could believe he was an active pro rapper.
Then Choi Jaeseong raised his hand high.
"Trainer Han Sion."
"What."
"My muscle soreness is terrible."
"Later on, you'll end up waiting for muscle soreness, so enjoy it now."
"Ah, no way."
"I'm serious. There will come a day when you'll feel upset wondering if you slacked off on your workout when you don't feel any muscle pain."
"...If we get to that level, won't we become all bulky?"
Han Sion snorted at Choi Jaeseong's question.
"If muscles grew that easily, why would bodybuilders exist?"
Choi Jaeseong had faltered for a moment at Han Sion's cynicism, but this wasn't what he had been trying to say.
"I have something I'm curious about."
"Speak."
"Yesterday, when Taehwan-hyung got a bigger cheer, it seemed like you suddenly rapped. Is that right?"
"..."
Han Sion's expression changed slightly.
It hardly showed, but who were they?
They were a team that had been sharing hardships and joys for over three months already.
The members' eyes sparkled at Han Sion, who felt the sting for the first time in a while.
Because teasing Han Sion's rarely seen bumbling nature was truly fun.
"That didn't happen."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"But why did you suddenly rap something that wasn't even on the cue sheet? And you borrowed the MR from the rapper in the previous slot."
"It was an MR I had tried making a rap verse for, too. I just suddenly got excited."
"Hmm."
"And I was curious how my rap would be received in the hip-hop scene."
"Hmm."
"Besides, the mic setup there was geared more toward rappers than vocalists. The reverb was low, and the EQ settings weren't great either."
"Hmm."
Choi Jaeseong was only repeating "hmm," but Han Sion's excuses flowed effortlessly.
Incomprehensible professional jargon poured out.
But the more he did that, the clearer it became that Han Sion had rapped with impure motives.
Because the usual Han Sion never explained his actions.
And so, when Choi Jaeseong uttered his eighth "hmm," Han Sion finally confessed the truth.
What I just said is the truth without a single lie, but I rapped because the response to my solo stage seemed a bit lacking.
"One-sided trade, successful."
Everyone burst out laughing at Choi Jaeseong's words.
After that brief pleasant chat, Han Sion clapped his hands together.
"Hey, hey, focus."
At first they wondered if he was trying to change the subject out of embarrassment, but he wasn't.
Something they needed to hear had come up.
"You know we have five performances tomorrow, right?"
"It's an unprecedented number."
"Fortunately, two are in Hongdae in the early evening, and three are in Itaewon past midnight."
"What's fortunate about that?"
"Because there's plenty of time to get from Hongdae to Itaewon. Tomorrow, you'll have to move by subway or taxi."
"Why? What about you?"
"I can't go. I have something to do."
"Something to do?"
What Han Sion said next was surprising.
"I have to appear on a variety show."
"A variety show? There's a place that sent you an offer, hyung?"
"No. I contacted them. Asked them to shoot me once."
"Which one?"
Everyone couldn't hide their shock at the variety program title that popped out of Han Sion's mouth.
It was indeed a variety show at the peak of popularity.
But...
"Hyung, you're going on that?"
"Yeah."
"That's really career suicide..."
When Yi Eon, Gu Taehwan, and Choi Jaeseong put on worried expressions, On Saemiro asked a question.
Since On Saemiro usually didn't monitor variety programs, this program that Han Sion was appearing on was unfamiliar to him.
But soon On Saemiro's expression became similar to the other three.
Because Choi Jaeseong played the variety program on his phone.
However, Han Sion was calm.
"I'm not going to the pits."
"Really? Then won't you not even appear on the broadcast? That's the whole fun of it."
"Well. Isn't it about time a cast member appeared who avoided the pits?"
"What on earth does this hyung believe in to be so full of confidence?"
"Experience."
The members burst out laughing at Han Sion's words, which were extremely true.
But in the end, the members couldn't help but nod, trusting Han Sion.
"My filmed segment will probably air in about two weeks. Right when Coming Up Next ends."
Because they knew this was part of Han Sion's plan.
But at that moment, a sudden fear struck them.
They realized they had to go to the performance tomorrow without Han Sion.
Until now, whenever problems arose during performances, Han Sion had resolved them with extraordinary improvisation.
So the members of Three Months and One Hundred Days had been thinking, "We just need to sing well."
But not tomorrow.
So they had to do well.
If so...
'I'll have to take responsibility.' The oldest hyung, Yi Eon, thought.
'There's no one else with quick wits besides me.' Gu Taehwan also thought.
'Because everyone grew up like hothouse flowers...' On Saemiro thought.
'Because they're people lacking the self-awareness that they're idols...' Choi Jaeseong also thought.
As a result, a fantastic four-person responsibility squad had launched, but until now, they hadn't known about each other.
Actually, Han Sion didn't think it would be bad if the performance failed spectacularly.
Every singer in the world went through the process of failing performances.
If they weren't a regressor.
So Three Months and One Hundred Days would have to experience failure someday too, and if so, now was the right time.
Because there was no responsibility riding on the performance, and they weren't betting their future on it.
"And lastly, I'm planning to start album work from next Monday."
"Our album? A full-length album?"
"No. A full-length album would be too much, so we should go with an EP-sized volume."
"An EP means a mini album, right?"
"Yes."
"Will you do all the composing and arranging?"
Han Sion shrugged his shoulders at Yi Eon's question.
He had the ability to do so, but he shouldn't.
"I'll do the arranging, but for songs, I'll try to get them from famous people. Like Eddi."
"Is there anyone worth getting besides Chris Edward?"
"Well, I'll have to look. Nothing's certain besides Eddi yet."
Han Sion didn't say more, but he seemed to have some kind of plan.
Then On Saemiro brought up something important.
"The money?"
"Huh?"
"For now, the only money going out is for gas, right?"
"On Saemiro is right. Making an album costs money. What are you going to do about that?"
Coming Up Next was a program with over 10% viewership, but the performers' appearance fees were at most not even 3 million won.
They had only received this much because Coming Up Next was a team-based competition show.
Nationwide audition programs didn't pay appearance fees because they provided the intangible benefit of fame.
They sometimes paid the top 10 contestants after some time had passed, but not yet.
Of course, music revenue was settled.
But music settlements were paid three months after release, so none of the Three Months and One Hundred Days crew had received a settlement yet.
In other words, there was no way to cover the money needed for album production.
But Han Sion spoke as if it were obvious.
"Of course we have to put it on the books as debt. Didn't you know? Even the gas money is recorded as a fuel expense."
"Debt? Who do we owe it to?"
"Me."
Only then did the members realize Han Sion's plan.
The reason a man claiming to be his great-uncle had come during filming was because of the inheritance left by Han Sion's parents.
Han Sion had said he hired a lawyer because he didn't want to give his parents' money to such people.
They hadn't heard the result, but it seemed he had fortunately won.
But...
"What if we fail?"
"We lose the money."
"It's money we shouldn't be wasting like that."
"We just won't lose it. By succeeding."
Easier said than done; success couldn't be that easy.
The Three Months and One Hundred Days crew felt responsibility for the first time and faced reality.
They used the word "crew," similar to "club," but the stakes would gradually rise.
At first, it was Han Sion's money and their sense of responsibility.
Next, they would bet their time, and eventually their lives.
All the countless successes and failures, happiness and sadness in between would be recorded under the name "Three Months and One Hundred Days."
So they had to succeed.
They had to do well.
It was the first time they felt such desperation.
"Sion. The shoot is tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Go and do well. Honestly, I'm a bit worried... but I believe you'll take care of it."
"Of course."
"In exchange, we'll definitely succeed at tomorrow's performance and come back."
"Uh, yes."
And so the members were burning with blazing passion fueled by a heavy sense of responsibility, but...
Actually, Han Sion didn't think much of it.
Agency systems were all like this anyway.
They recorded training costs, accommodation costs, and album production costs as debt, then deducted them once revenue came in.
And so, within a slight misunderstanding, the members' passion burned bright.