After filming ended.
The cast and crew exchanged farewells. Yuna, too, kept bowing as she made her way through the crowd and arrived at her destination. After greeting the staff, she stopped in front of Suyeon, who was about to leave the set.
“What is it…?”
“Do you have some time? Why don’t we have a cup of coffee?”
She entered the café, hiding her nervousness. Suyeon had followed her, but she looked at Yuna as if to say, ‘I followed you for now, but I have no idea why you called me.’ Yuna told her to sit, ordered coffee, then sat across from her and opened her mouth.
“What’s your MBTI?”
“…Pardon?”
It was the ultimate secret weapon her fellow idols had created for Yuna, who had trouble striking up conversations with other people during her idol days. Their advice had gone something like, ‘Not many girls dislike MBTI, so start the conversation with that!’ And thus, the ‘MBTI technique’ had been born.
But how should one describe Suyeon’s expression after hearing that? It was almost devoid of expression. Her face seemed to say, ‘You believe in that stuff? I’m really disappointed. No, I wasn’t expecting anything in the first place.’
‘Thank goodness. She doesn’t believe in it either.’
Relieved that Suyeon was the same sort of person as her, Yuna sighed inwardly and sat awkwardly at the table. Then Suyeon asked her a question.
“What was your MBTI again…?”
“…Pardon?”
It was a question that flustered even Yuna, who didn’t believe in things like MBTI. But Suyeon quickly said, “No, never mind,” then added, “So, what was it you wanted to see me about?”
“Well… it’s nothing hugely important or anything. I just wanted to get to know you.”
Yuna handed her a business card. It was one the agency had made, bearing the name Lee Yuna, singer. Suyeon accepted it and turned it over. The albums Yuna had released during her idol days were listed on the back, along with her stage name from that time: ‘Haeyeon.’
“I’m actually not very good at beating around the bush. So I’ll just be direct. Honestly, I have a feeling that you’re going to succeed, Suyeon. And not just a little—you’re going to become a huge star.”
It wasn’t anything Yuna had systematized, but after spending years in the entertainment industry, she had gained a kind of experience, a sort of big data. She had developed a sense for who would make it and who wouldn’t. And that experience was telling her, as she looked at Suyeon, ‘That girl is definitely going to make it.’
“That’s why I want to get close to you. It’s a calculating thing to say, but that’s how the world works, isn’t it? Everyone lives by making calculations.”
“That’s true.”
Yuna thought that it was advantageous to establish a connection early with someone who seemed destined for greatness. What did people call it? A long-term investment. People remembered those who lent them a hand when they were struggling, so if she could, she should invest as soon as possible.
“If you ever have questions about female vocalists or anything related to the entertainment industry, feel free to contact me anytime.”
“About the entertainment industry?”
“I was an idol, after all. I still have connections from those days. I can at least do that much for you. Nothing too major, though.”
Suyeon smiled warmly at those words. Yuna smiled back and thought that, somehow, she and this girl would get along well.
* * *
In fact, the program Kim Gaeun was currently filming was a pilot. Of course, it wasn’t the sort of program with a life as short as a fly’s, getting cut immediately if it failed after one attempt, like a regular network show. But it couldn’t exactly be called completely secure, either.
That was why two of the six initial cast members were fairly recognizable people. They were entertainers who would normally be above appearing on a program for a subchannel—unless it was Producer Jung Taeyoung’s main channel.
Gaeun’s original plan had been to build the program around those two people and add the other four around them. The mainstay of the supporting cast would be former idol Yuna. Suyeon was supposed to be the special treat among the side dishes.
But as filming continued, and as Gaeun watched the footage, she found herself deeply conflicted.
‘Every single bit of footage is too good to throw away.’
They say versatility is synonymous with incompetence. The same was true of television. It was rare for someone to be good at every role. But at least in the footage filmed today, Suyeon had displayed remarkable versatility. She was funny when she used her so-called ‘old-fogey’ humor, cute when she played around with her manner of speaking, and musically talented—the quality that mattered most on a music variety show.
On top of that, she had created the natural emotional moments that absolutely had to appear in a healing-oriented program like this. Her performance was nothing short of a treasure.
‘Maybe because she’s young, but she’s truly optimized for new media…’
Thinking that, Gaeun called the staff together. It was time to hear what everyone else thought.
“What do you think we should do?”
It was a question thrown out without any context. But every staff member understood what she meant. At this point, after filming had gone smoothly, there was only one thing Gaeun could possibly be worrying about.
Yet no answer followed the question. Understanding a question didn’t mean they could answer it, after all. That was only natural.
“I…” One of the production staff members raised a hand and answered. “I still think we should stick to the original plan.”
“Why?”
“Since it’s the first broadcast, there will probably be a lot of fans of the existing cast members. If those people don’t get much screen time, won’t we receive bad reviews?”
Gaeun stroked her chin and pondered that. Then objections began to emerge among the staff.
“I don’t think that’s right. Fans aren’t the only ones who’ll watch the show. Ordinary people will watch it too, so does it really matter?”
“Dedicated fans are the ones who spread word of mouth.”
“We specifically went to the trouble of bringing them on. Not showing them would be a little…”
“Is that really important? The entertainment value of the show matters more. Why worry about something like that?”
As the debate continued, someone raised a hand and spoke.
“For now, let’s take the safer route. Suyeon’s footage was entertaining, but that doesn’t mean the other two were boring. And just because we went in that direction this time doesn’t mean we have to do the same thing next time.”
“No, I’m telling you, if it’s boring, we should cancel it!”
“It’s not something that gets canceled that easily.”
Opinions were divided. Gaeun quietly closed her eyes as she listened to the staff. Which path should she choose? Both sides had a point. There was the argument for playing it safe with the first broadcast, the argument for pursuing entertainment value, the argument that they shouldn’t worry about any of that, and the argument that the show needed to be entertaining to make an impact.
Gaeun opened her eyes. She had always enjoyed taking on new challenges. That was why she had come here, too. She could have quietly learned under Producer Taeyoung, built up her career, and challenged herself to produce programs from a more secure position. Yet she had deliberately jumped to a subchannel and begun producing a program.
“We’ll center it around Suyeon.”
And given her temperament, pushing Suyeon was the right choice. Suyeon was a girl who would become famous even without Gaeun’s help. Now that things had turned out this way, Gaeun felt she ought to at least be able to say, ‘I discovered her!’ Otherwise, what would be left of her pride?
* * *
After Group Sound’s activities were temporarily suspended because of ‘a member’s college entrance exam issues,’ Seyoon was living a listless life of clicking around on YouTube. The performances at Paradox, which had been held a couple of times a month, had also come to a complete stop. The only new content consisted of footage from ‘Kim Jiyeon’s Music Letter’ and a Japan travel video uploaded to the [White Room] channel.
“At this rate, I’m going to starve to death…!”
Seyoon screamed and wailed. Even when her younger brother, Sehyun, saw her and clicked his tongue in dismay before retreating to his room, she paid him no attention. That bastard pretended it had nothing to do with him, but every night he went to the Group Sound or White Room channel and said things like, ‘Didn’t they upload a new video?’ He was incapable of being honest with himself…
But criticizing her younger brother left Seyoon with nothing. In the end, all it proved was that both siblings were suffering from the lack of Group Sound content.
In an attempt to soothe herself, she opened a fairly famous channel and watched a video. A seemingly new and rather entertaining program about ‘busking’ had been uploaded.
She turned on the video and, a few seconds later, let out a horrified scream.
“Aaaah!”
“What? What happened?”
Sehyun hurried in at the scream that shook the entire house. Seyoon couldn’t say a word and merely pointed at the monitor. Sehyun narrowed his eyes at the screen she was pointing to, then screamed without realizing it himself.
Because ‘Ha Suyeon’ was there.
The two of them solemnly set out a glass of water in front of the monitor and bowed once. After smacking Sehyun on the back of the head when he tried to bow a second time, Seyoon respectfully poured the water down the sink and started the video. She hoped with all her heart that their Suyeon hadn’t been ruined.
And the sight of Suyeon who appeared before them was shocking in itself.
Mostly in a good way.
“I don’t understand-dae-yo.”
“I can do at least this much well-dae-yo.”
“That kind of ulterior motive isn’t easy to fall for-dae-yo.”
Suyeon had adopted the ‘-eoyo’ way of speaking some time ago. If she had spoken that way from beginning to end, even her fans would have assumed she was using such a bizarre manner of speech because she wanted to stand out on television.
But in most cases, Suyeon spoke normally. It was a little strange that she used two styles of speech—one stiff, like “That sort of situation doesn’t seem likely,” and one warm, like “I’ll try it first.”—but that was how things were.
To Seyoon, the ‘dae-yo’ manner of speaking seemed like a byproduct of an error that had occurred while Suyeon was changing from the first style to the second. During the Invasion 2024 era, Suyeon had used the first style of speech.
‘That makes her even cuter.’
A high school girl who had used stiff speech was gradually trying to adopt a softer, age-appropriate way of speaking. How could that not be cute?
And the second shocking point was the performance Suyeon had shown.
- ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ
- I think it must have been difficult for someone that age to do this song justice. She’s a proud Korean student. I’m looking forward to her future.
- Look at that grandmother crying ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ
- Her skill is beyond question, and her presence and atmosphere are absolutely insane.
- Ha Suyeon!!
- This is seriously incredible.....Not a single thing is lacking: her dynamics, emotion, and tone are all perfect.
- I can’t understand why that person had to pass away so young ㅠㅠ They say heaven takes geniuses first, and I guess it’s true.
Whether sorted by recommended or newest, the comments were filled with praise. Seyoon was a little annoyed that the praise focused more on the original song than on Suyeon’s skill, but she didn’t dwell on that. There was something else that shocked her even more.
‘Wasn’t she originally only doing band music? Like, nothing but rock…’
Up to this point, Suyeon had shown only what people called ‘strong music.’ No matter what kind of song she played, she would pick up an electric guitar and charge fearlessly into a solo, creating a storm with the tremolo arm and bends. That was the Suyeon Seyoon knew. Her first appearance at Juhyeon’s concert had been different, but since then, that was all Seyoon had seen from her. She had assumed Suyeon only played that kind of music.
But she didn’t.
Her band, her singing, and her idol persona were showing through this program why she played rock. A deeply evocative voice, acoustic guitar playing overflowing with expression—those were the kinds of things the public loved like crazy. And even with all of that, Suyeon was still making band music.
Simply because she herself loved bands. Seyoon loved that. It made her feel that Suyeon was sincere about the ‘band’ and about ‘music.’
‘There’s no way I can’t promote this…’
Seyoon opened Facebook and Instagram, which she rarely used, copied the link to the YouTube video, and shared it. She wasn’t the only one. Countless Group Sound fans were doing the exact same thing.