“You got this.”
“Go do well, okay?”
“Lee Dohee is… well, she’ll figure it out on her own. I’m not worried.”
“Seoyun, you have to let go of Dohee’s shoulder if she’s going to leave.”
For some reason, the unnies seemed more fired up than I was, even though I was the one about to perform.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“We’ll be moving now!”
I followed the staff calling for me and headed toward the back of the stage.
Even from behind the stage, I could hear it.
—Waaaah!!
The pleasant roar of cheers pouring down on the singer performing before me.
If someone played a hip-hop boom bap made of drums and bass right now, I felt like I’d get hyped too, in a good way.
‘Like a Coral Blue song, or with a real hip-hop feel.’
I laughed at the pointless thought.
“Suuup, hoo…”
Then I closed my eyes.
Hardening my face into an expressionless mask.
Until even those cheers felt like noise to me.
Unlike my usual direction, this song had a fairly dark feeling.
Even so, the name of the new song I’d written was “I DO(到喜).”
I do.
I am Lee Dohee… pfft.
It sounded like a title that was just PR for myself.
But in truth, this solo song had two major roles.
“Hoo…”
First, it was a pre-release track meant to make everyone look forward to the delayed comeback day.
Second, it was a statement that rather than getting into some dirty war of words, Lee Dohee was the type to be acknowledged through results.
Simply put, this or that aside, it was true that I didn’t like Mwave either, and since I was already releasing a new song at WMA, it was a simple-minded revenge of, why not try refreshing the viewership ratings while I was at it?
“Seven minutes remaining!”
‘In the end, the stage has to become a hot topic.’
That was why the direction of my solo song focused more than anything on performance value and intensity.
A song everyone could immerse themselves in.
That was definitely a different matter from how difficult it was to play on the piano.
In fact, among the highly difficult pieces that had won me the overall grand prize at competitions, there were quite a few melodies that didn’t move me much even when I listened to myself play them.
Those were simply flashy and fluid techniques closer to marvel than immersion.
And that kind of stage should be seen as closer to a raw show than a performance.
A stage was like sports.
In basketball, if someone used a solid physique to push their opponent back with force, then stepped back and easily made a two-point shot, that also made them an incredible player.
But what drew out romance and cheers in and of itself was, in the end, the slam dunk that made the court go bang!
Because showmanship, performance in sports, was movement.
And.
Showmanship, performance in music, was the song itself.
An attractive melody like a slam dunk.
Only then would intensity burst out.
That was why I had to avoid a format armed with mere difficulty.
The next thing I thought about was the kind of feeling the people I was targeting would like.
“You’ll be going up in five minutes! Please get ready!”
That was simple.
As I’d told the unnies earlier, the main age group of the people I would be performing for was still in the middle of the Y2K boom.
A style popular in that era that could evoke Y2K sensibilities.
However, there was one more premise attached here.
This stage wasn’t meant to become a topic only in Korea; I wanted it to go viral globally.
Because our next comeback album had been made with both the Korean and American markets in mind.
‘Because of my unnies, I have to work hard too.’
We were trying this and that to get to number one on Billboard.
Of course, I didn’t even have to think hard before an idea came to mind.
A style that was popular in Y2K and encompassed all the previous conditions.
It had been used representatively by a singer called “Sweetbox” in the 2000s, Koreans had gone wild for it.
Even in the 2020s, idols used it frequently as well.
And originally, it was a culture born from Black American music, from hip-hop.
A modern composition method everyone could easily accept.
Sampling.
It even suited me very well.
When you said sampling, classical music came to mind.
And classical music was also my main strength.
‘Even if I’ve never once tried sampling before.’
Then all I had to do was decide which piece to borrow.
Something with outstanding performance value.
A melody with good immersion.
A masterpiece everyone would be familiar with.
And if it was connected to the 2000s…
‘This is exactly the third movement of Moonlight Sonata, isn’t it?’
As expected, the flow of the past was no different.
People had diligently enjoyed rhythm games on 2G phones, including Moonlight Sonata.
‘Then it’ll have to be Moonlight Sonata’s third movement…’
But what kind of appeal would there be in straightforwardly sampling the melody of Moonlight Sonata’s third movement and shoving it in?
I wondered what kind of performance I could show with that.
“Please stand by now.”
“Yes.”
I moved my feet toward the stairs leading up to the stage.
“Um… fighting!”
“Yes.”
I had composed myself, so my expressionless reply came out cold.
Still, I raised my thumb slightly.
It was because they were saying it as a fan.
“…Hoo.”
Anyway, the answer to the question of what kind of appeal, what kind of performance, I could show by straightforwardly sampling the melody of Moonlight Sonata and shoving it in was.
There wasn’t one.
In the end, it would be an uninteresting stage.
Was there anyone who didn’t know I was good at piano?
It might sound like empty praise, but even the classical music industry and pianists acknowledged me. Thankfully.
Even during my first year of high school, when I briefly rested from being an idol, I went back into competitions and won the overall grand prize, so there was concrete proof too.
So, if I went on stage now and simply played the third movement of Moonlight Sonata for a bit.
‘It’d be predictable… and obvious things aren’t fun.’
If that was what I was going to do, I wondered why anyone would watch an idol stage.
They’d listen to a pianist better than me.
‘Of course, the fact that I’m insanely pretty too is an important point…’
Anyway, there was also another huge issue called sampling.
The coexistence of pros and cons brought by a familiar melody.
A song you were hearing for the first time felt like you’d heard it over a hundred times.
It would certainly be received well, favorably… but in the end, people would get sick of it and tired of it quickly too.
That was a fact even this beautiful harmonic work Beethoven built while his hearing was fading couldn’t avoid.
The thirst of this strong German sixth chord wanting to go to the dominant.
The rhythmic crescendo expressing urgency.
The sforzando bursting into chords on the weak beat.
Even with all these elements shaped by talent, enough to make your heart swell just by looking at the opening score.
So, the sampling method I improved was this.
Borrowing the very distinct structural characteristic of Moonlight Sonata’s third movement.
The rising arpeggio.
That alone could give a sufficient sense that sampling had been done.
And if that was still lacking, then to make that feeling stronger.
The second distinct characteristic of Moonlight Sonata’s third movement.
Yes, this place right here, where the arpeggio ended.
The newly appearing bass line from measures 21 to 23.
A technique that makes the main melody stand out by simply repeating the accompaniment part played by the left hand in short notes.
The Alberti bass method.
I thought it would be good to draw inspiration from that.
Since I’d used not one but two distinct characteristics, this was definitely sampling!
‘Mm… Actually, rather than sampling, maybe this is more of a reference.’
But because of that, I was certain it would give an even stronger impression.
Everyone would go through a sequence of thought.
—Huh? I’ve heard this somewhere.
—Is it Moonlight Sonata?
—But isn’t the melody different?
—The accompaniment seems different too.
It would be an extremely short instant, but in that process, they would concentrate on and become immersed in the song.
Familiar, yet new.
A method that was intense but didn’t become tiresome.
Mm… it was a satisfying framework.
And if I’d steadily built the bones up to this point, now all I had to do was attach the flesh one piece at a time.
The melody, the development method, and the lyrics.
Also, since it was a modern song, the beat I would additionally add.
Of course, I hadn’t forgotten.
That this entire process of preparing the song was the first step for showmanship.
At some point, in the Korean entertainment industry, “viral” had become a negative word.
But to overseas fans, it was still a positive one.
So that those overseas fans would excitedly upload trend videos saying she, saying I, was going viral by word of mouth.
And so that the fans who were today’s audience could enjoy the moment of this stage even more.
“Dohee, you’ll be going up now!”
I hadn’t forgotten.
That everything had to be completed through the performance on stage.
* * *
Kim Seoyun hadn’t seen all the reactions yet, but from the vivid heat of the audience she’d felt on stage, she already had an idea.
The year-end stage she had put on with the members today had surely gone beyond just “not bad” and was probably climbing the real-time hot traffic.
That was a sense born from repeated experience.
‘Kim Seoyun’s vocals were insane again today.’
Still, as Seoyun sat in the artists’ waiting seats, such thoughts had long since disappeared into anxiety over the youngest’s stage.
‘…Ha, why am I worrying about her? Me first. Me first—I have to at least eat up the top vocalist spot among fourth-generation idols.’
Seoyun didn’t exactly think of herself as quick-witted.
If anything, she thought she missed a lot of things because she was emotional.
But for some reason, when it came to Dohee’s emotions, thoughts, and expressions, she felt like she could understand them right away.
Rather than intuition, it was a form of empathy that came naturally, as if she were feeling her own emotions.
‘Seriously, it’s not like we’re soulmates or anything…’
It was probably because they had always been together.
Because of that, she felt frustrated with Dohee.
This girl definitely liked them more than she expressed.
And perhaps because of that, despite being outstanding in terms of ability, she hid herself under the pretext of being considerate of them.
Her habit of not asserting her own opinions and trying to hide them.
Of course, given Seoyun’s challenging personality, that only wounded her pride instead.
So she had just blurted it out, as if making it happen by force.
Take us to number one on Billboard.
Because she knew, to a dreadful degree, that Lee Dohee, that the youngest, was the type to set a goal—just like her name—and simply keep doing it.
‘She says it’s not compulsion, but it is a mental illness. She really needs to get a psych evaluation once. Seriously.’
On top of that, after she’d poured out her emotions like that, Dohee’s natural aegyo had become a little cute, but sometimes her way of speaking was so arrogant it went past impudent and became irritating, making Seoyun wonder if she shouldn’t have said anything.
‘Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m getting pissed again. Should I just smack her once when she’s asleep?’
Still, sitting in the audience like this and waiting for Dohee to go up on stage made her feel unsettled.
They had always been beside each other on stage.
Maybe that was why she had pointlessly clung to Dohee’s shoulder earlier.
For some reason, her younger sister’s stage made her more nervous—
‘I don’t know. She’ll figure it out herself.’
So with that thought, she stared at the stage.
At the antique piano under the sunset-colored and blue spotlights on the darkened stage.
Just how was she planning to perform with that thing?
—Kyaaah!
—Fightiiing!
Then, amid the murmuring, and amid the implicit quiet, along with the voice of a fan shouting fighting,
Dohee walked out with a clicking sound, not even looking at the camera, expressionless.
Toward the piano.
Only sounds from the audience could be heard.
On stage, there was no sound at all.