‘What is this because of the PD?’
Inside the car, where there were no cameras, the older girls were watching my reaction, apologetic in ways both obvious and subtle.
‘Did I... act too wronged?’
I sometimes forgot because I usually called them “unnie,” but whether in terms of social experience or simply age, the fact remained that all the members were, essentially, younger-kid types.
“Is it really bothering you that much? You seriously don’t need to feel sorry.”
“It’s just...”
Perhaps because of her particularly thoughtful and worrisome personality, Naeun unnie was especially like that.
‘Is it because she’s new to society...?’
Well, for an ordinary high school or college student, having even a million won in their bank account was enough to make them feel incredibly secure.
“Unnie, it’s really nothing. Haven’t you seen how much my piano cost?”
I quickly searched up an article on my phone and showed it to them.
[ShortTop News] Debonair’s Lee Dohee—The Price of Her Piano Is a Whopping
=(Reporter Han Jinhee) The price of the grand piano owned by Lee Dohee (18), a member of the girl group Debonair currently living in a dormitory, has become a hot topic.
Lee Dohee has long displayed exceptional skill and knowledge of the piano, even winning grand prizes in various piano competitions. Videos of her playing the piano have also repeatedly become hot topics on YouTube.
Among them, the piano played by Lee Dohee in one of the behind-the-scenes videos uploaded to Debonair’s YouTube channel was revealed to be a product of the luxury brand Steinway, with a price reportedly close to 350 million won.
Netizens who saw this expressed various opinions, including, “How much money does an eighteen-year-old have?”, “This is why everyone wants to become a celebrity,” “It’s an expensive instrument, so it makes sense that it costs that much,” and “If she likes the piano, I can understand it.”
//
“Th-three hundred and fifty million...?”
It had actually been two hundred million since it was secondhand.
I also showed them the receipt from just now.
Lunch: 323,000 won.
Even eating beef with my family would cost about that much.
“The PD is only doing this because it’ll be fun. It’s a famous plotline from way back. Making the panelists spend money on variety shows.”
I recalled something I had heard in passing.
“Those variety-show panelists acted wronged all the time, but apparently they didn’t care even if they spent a few hundred thousand won. They were supposedly earning several hundred million won per person every month, so would a few hundred thousand even register? It was all exaggerated for the sake of entertainment.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. And think about the fact that it was in the early 2010s. It’s been over ten years. Do you know how bad inflation has been since then? Especially in the entertainment industry.”
Once the unnies received their settlements, they would understand.
“Is that so...?”
In the first place, with a production budget of this scale, there was no reason for the unnies to worry much about producing their own content.
If anything, we were spending far more on treating broadcasting-station personnel to celebratory dinners for winning first place on a music show.
“So what I mean is, acting wronged like those seniors is more entertaining, and it’ll be easier for the viewers to watch.”
Yes, rather than me showing off how much money I had.
The fans would curse out the company, but there was nothing I could do about that.
Looking at how there were more members of the public saying things like, “An underage girl bought a piano worth hundreds of millions?” “What a waste of money,” and “This is making me question my life,” it was obvious.
“You know what I mean, right? Let’s just make our show fun. Even if I act wronged, it’s just a concept. A concept. Okay?”
“Got it. You’re learning from our senior again, unnie.”
Only then did Naeun unnie smile as if she were reassured, and I gave her a small smile in return.
* * *
Fuck, I hadn’t meant for them to work this hard.
“Lee Dohee is the loser! The loser!”
“Naeun unnie, nice!”
“Oh no... Dohee’s going to have to sleep on the floor...”
Don’t clap like a seal while sounding so apologetic.
“......”
I really was wronged here, you know.
***
After losing the bottle-cap-flicking game—
I had no bed, so I lay down on the living-room sofa and tried to take a nap.
From the thumbnail, to the baseball batting cage, to lunch, to deciding our rooms at the dormitory...
I felt we had already gotten enough material for an entire episode.
Now let me rest...
“Shouldn’t we do something else, too?”
“Dohee, let’s play another game~”
But perhaps deeply moved by my insistence that we should work hard, Naeun unnie and Wooa unnie quickly organized their belongings.
They came out into the living room and kept pressuring me to produce more footage.
Why was I unable to rest even though we were filming this with my money...?
“Chiyo~”
Wooa unnie clapped her hands and urged on someone who had been looking out the window beside her, as if calling a puppy.
Chiyo unnie was imitating a short-form video she had watched yesterday.
“Boss. Oh my goodness... Boss Dohee.”
She grabbed my body and shook me back and forth, making me bob around in every direction.
“Oh my goodness...”
It probably wouldn’t produce much footage anyway, but the rookies, filled with enthusiasm, were determined to overcome this peaceful atmosphere in which there wasn’t a single decent shot to be had.
Looking at my members, I wondered how I could possibly rest.
“Good grief...”
My miserable lot in life...
I lightly tapped Seoyun unnie’s butt, which was wedged into this narrow sofa and occupying part of my spot.
“...I wasn’t asleep.”
Fix your hair.
* * *
“We have to eat again later, don’t we?”
“We do.”
“And we have to go grocery shopping.”
“We do.”
“Two people.”
First, a practice song.
“Everybody shake it, shake it!”
“For you and meee~”
After everyone enthusiastically belted out a randomly selected song, completely ignoring both pitch and rhythm,
the evening wager, using the karaoke machine, began immediately.
Each person could sing for a maximum of two minutes, or just the first verse of a song.
“Yes, I’m main vocalist Kim Seoyun.”
“The judges are going to be evaluating your self-introduction, too.”
“Hello↗, I’m Kim Seoyun↗. It’s a pleasure to meet you↗.”
The judges were three staff members from the production crew.
“You understand my feelings, right, judges~? My feelings! 486! I love youuu~”
The staff judges’ smiles stretched from ear to ear at Seoyun unnie’s aegyo.
“Yes, 486!”
A folksy melody began flowing from the speakers.
[Number 486—Seosan Fishing Village]
The living room instantly became raucous.
Everyone burst into laughter and applause, unable to hide their admiration and astonishment at Seoyun unnie’s song-selection skills.
“Pfft, Seosan Fishing Village.”
“Wow, apparently it’s a song from 1977.”
“She’s screwed.”
I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe.
“Hee-hah-hah-hah.”
My cheeks already hurt.
This content was actually pretty good.
“...Oh.”
The adorable expression Seoyun unnie had worn while showing off her aegyo had vanished.
She was now letting out a hollow laugh with a completely deadpan expression.
“Tambourine, tambourine.”
Still, determined to do her best, Kim Seoyun grabbed a tambourine and began slapping her knees to the melody, doing a simple little dance to liven up the mood.
Her effort was admirable, so we clapped along in four-beat rhythm.
—Clap! Clap!
At last, the first verse began.
“Shall I harvest oysters⤳ or gather abalone⤳♪”
At Seoyun unnie’s inexplicably competent performance,
“Seosan~ fishing villaaage⤻”
I simply couldn’t stop laughing.
* * *
[Aegyo 40 points + Excitement 54 points = 94 points] [Can the main vocalist sing trot well, too? 91 points] [88 points]
—Average! 91 points!
“Nice!”
An unexpectedly high score.
As Seoyun unnie walked back in with a jaunty step,
“Hello~ Judges, please be kind to me~”
the next contestant, Wooa unnie, stood in the center.
“Fighting~”
“Your self-introduction lacks individuality and effort?”
“Are you asking the judges for a biased ruling?”
“Boo, Jiwoo-a.”
“Yes. I’ll go with number 123.”
“What does 123 mean?”
“Is there some special significance to it?”
“Even her song choice lacks individuality... Good grief.”
Wooa unnie pointed with an outstretched finger, her face expressionless.
The three people heckling her were:
Lee Dohee, Kim Seoyun, and Kimchi.
One wench, two wenches, three wenches.
“One, two, three.”
“Gasp...”
“It’s, it’s okay. I’m your unnie.”
“...Applause!”
[Number 123—Winter Rose]
A gentle, old-fashioned R&B melody began to flow.
“I was too young to understand... I didn’t know back then...”
None of us could openly criticize her, but we whispered among ourselves.
“Ugh, it’s boring. The mood’s sinking...”
“She’s definitely going grocery shopping.”
“So boring... Wooa’s definitely getting skipped...”
.
.
.
They say the world has diverse standards when it comes to listening.
“But seriously, how did she get that score?”
[Sweetness: 84 points] [My mother used to sing this song all the time. It brings back memories: 82 points] [Her face has the right attitude: 86 points]
The judges’ standards were becoming suspect.
—Average: 84 points.
“Thank you~ Thank you~”
* * *
“Hello, my name is Kim Jisu.”
“Are you trying to deceive us from the very beginning of your introduction?”
“She’s obviously Japanese.”
“E... Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.”
“Japanese on a Korean broadcast...?”
“Ah~ The broadcasting commission might send us a warning over this.”
“Unnecessary.”
I poked Naeun unnie beside me.
Say something, unnie. We need to get more footage.
She hesitated.
“...I was going to do it after my turn.”
...The only person after her was me.
“I’ll go with number 8500!”
[Number 8500—You Got It]
—Ching! Boom-boom, thump!
The subdued R&B mood from moments ago disappeared, replaced by a cheerful drumbeat accompanying the instrumental intro.
“Huh? New Kids on the Block?”
“Isn’t this a famous song?”
“Chiyo might know it?”
“I just looked it up. Apparently this song made the Billboard top ten.”
Of course, she looked like she had no idea what it was.
Her lack of clear pitch was one thing.
“Firsht time worhs a greaht time~ Hou!”
Unlike the people before her, who had at least tried to sing the melody even when they didn’t know the song,
Chiyo unnie was dancing and enjoying herself with nothing but completely offbeat, toneless rap.
But surprisingly...
“...This is pretty good?”
“...Why is she good at this?”
Was she a natural...?
Maybe it was because the song had a vaguely hip-hop feel, but as she lazily performed basic moves in a nineties New Jack Swing style to match the rap, it made the stage itself overflowing with entertainment value.
.
.
.
“Pant, pant... This is hard.”
Buoyed by the members’ unexpected admiration, Chiyo unnie gradually burned through more and more of her stamina until she collapsed, sprawled and gasping, onto the sofa.
Meanwhile, the judges wrote down their scores one by one with serious expressions.
It had been an exciting performance that seemed destined for a high score.
“This one’s really 인정, 인정. I acknowledge it.”
“Unnie, you’re a genius.”
“Chiyo, you absolutely tore it up.”
The score got torn up, too.
“Huh?”
[Dance: 40 points, Pitch: 0 points, Stage Direction: 35 points = 75 points] [Not a trace of the original singer’s emotion remains, but it was the coolest stage: 76 points] [Pure emotion... 77 points]
Average: 76 points.
The judging was cold.
* * *
“Standing in that spot is much more nerve-racking than I expected.”
“It feels like when I auditioned to join the company.”
“It really does.”
Feeling pressured, Naeun unnie stood in the center of the stage—or rather, the living room—with a timid, fidgety posture.
“......Haa.”
“Please introduce yourself.”
As if she had made up her mind, Naeun unnie thrust her hand forward and shouted,
“Hello, I’m... Magical Girl Naeun!”
Magical Girl was the nickname she had been given during this promotion... Hmm.
Everyone let out a groan as Naeun unnie, the oldest member, covered her face in embarrassment.
“Ah...”
“Confidence is what matters...”
“Ugh...”
Everyone except me.
“Our unnie is so cute! The best! Fighting!”
Since I was next, I had to increase the number of allies on my side, even if only by one.
“Then I’ll go with number 0113.”
January 13th—the day of our moving debut.
And then an extremely familiar melody began to play.
[Number 113—Gapdol and Gapsun]
“Ah, everyone knows this song.”
“Even Japanese people know it.”
“E...?”
Wooa unnie even began reminiscing about the past.
“I performed this at my kindergarten talent show.”
“Huh? Really?”
“Yeah, wearing a hanbok with yeonji-gonji makeup. I think I even have a video of it. I’ll find it and show you later.”
Meanwhile, Naeun unnie overcame her embarrassment and began singing the verse with remarkable traditional flair.
“Gapdol and~ Gapsun lived in the same village~”
Unable to hold back in the face of such merriment, I brought down the metal spoon in my hand against the table and added an enthusiastic interjection.
“Eolssu! Jihwaja, how wonderful~”
Naeun unnie had the kind of classical beauty and pure, beloved-by-Koreans actress-like appearance that made her seem especially suited to this.
“Such a pretty bride~”
Every one of her swaying gestures now summoned the image of a young bride dressed in a hanbok.
“They pretended they weren’t~”
A high score was practically guaranteed.
[Now I understand why Gapdol dropped out: 94 points] [Let’s make Gapdol pay a hundred times the taxes: 95 points] [Newlywed, how can your bearing be so elegant? 92 points]
Naeun unni was now in first place, achieving an average of 93.7 points.
* * *
“Hello, I’m Jospehine 조세핀, and I’m from America.”
Now it was my turn.
“Wasn’t it Rahee?”
“Why Josephine of all things?”
“Anyone can tell you’re Lee Dohee.”
“You seem like one of Mr. Rabbit’s bunch~”
Even Naeun unni was throwing in her two cents now, but I paid no attention.
“My family usually calls me Yosephina, so you may call me that as well.”
In this kind of variety show, playing up the concept was important, after all.
“Then I, Yosephina, will be doing… 8282.”
“What does that mean?”
“Could it be ‘quickly, quickly’?”
“8282? An American…?”
“People from my hometown have always liked doing everything quickly, quickly.”
“Huh? People from my hometown too…”
“Oh my, are you from America as well…?”
“Ah, nice to meet you. I’m Brittany.”
“Ah, Brittany!”
Once Seoyun unni played along, the members all said that, judging by appearances, they must be from the same hometown as me and proceeded to give themselves English names one by one.
“—G. Elegance?”
“—OH, Jimmy.”
“—NA. Silver… Wait, are you calling yourself Na Silver because you’re Naeun? You’re not serious, are you?”
In any case, the song was finally revealed.
[Number 8282—ONE]
The atmosphere instantly turned festive.
“Metallica?”
Even if they didn’t know the song, there was no way they didn’t know the band.
They were artists whose names everyone had heard at least once.
The problem was that they were a heavy-metal band…
“Heavy metal… Ah.”
I quickly opened the sheet music.
Strictly speaking, looking at the sheet music was against the rules, but no one was stopping me.
Besides, even if you looked at the sheet music, singing an unfamiliar song skillfully on your first attempt was no easy task.
But that didn’t apply to me.
I, Lee Dohee, had perfect pitch.
A genius who could look at sheet music and immediately hear each note in my head.
I waited for the interlude to end and for the notes to be revealed.
“…No, when is the song going to start?”
“Ah~ The judges are getting bored.”
After the seemingly endless interlude, the notes finally appeared along with the count of one, two, three, four.
The notes flashed rapidly through my mind.
‘Ah, so this is the kind of song it is!’
It had a somewhat gloomy emotional quality.
At last, I murmured the first line after the long wait.
— I can't remember anything
Can't tell if this is true or a dream
“What? She’s good!”
“Ohoho~”
“Yosephina, do you know this song?”
As everyone’s voices of admiration rang out at my unexpected ability to pull it off—
— Deep down inside I feel to scream
This terrible silence stops m
Now, the third line.
— Now
I stopped.
“That…?”
“Unfortunately, that’s as far as Yosephina got. Two minutes have already passed.”
“No, I couldn’t even sing three lines!”
Later, I looked it up and found out it was Metallica’s “ONE.”
The song was over seven minutes long,
with the instrumental interlude alone taking up about a minute and forty seconds.
No wonder it had felt like it took all day.
Still, the judging had been fair.
[Perfectly captivating from the first line; there wasn’t a dull moment during the incredibly boring opening because we were busy looking at her face: 95 points] [A performance that leaves a lingering impression: 87 points] [Boss Dohee is the best: 91 points]
“Huh?”
An average of 91 points.
I immediately leaned against Naeun unni and went to sleep.
Chiyo unni and Ua unni would get their share of screen time on their own now.
Since they wouldn’t make me cook anyway, I figured I could sleep for quite a while.