Chapter 62
“Let’s take a break for a while. Come back by ten.”
At those words, the kids put away their instruments and stepped outside for a while. Afterward, Myeongjeon let out a deep sigh. They looked completely lost and dejected—in modern parlance, as if their ‘mental state had shattered.’
It was understandable. No matter how much Myeongjeon had told them beforehand, it was hard to accept that weeks of effort could be reduced to nothing by a single remark from someone else.
Even people in their twenties and thirties—or even older adults who had lived long enough—would have trouble enduring that. What about these kids?
‘Still, this is a bit much.’
Myeongjeon had thought the kids would have mostly recovered after a week. But when he saw them a week later, there was no sign of recovery at all. They were still gloomy. They looked as though their minds had drifted far away.
As he worried, the kids came back in one by one. Their expressions were still dark. Seeing those faces, Myeongjeon tilted his head slightly.
“I thought you’d all be okay after a week, but I guess I was wrong.”
The kids flinched at Myeongjeon’s words. He smiled bitterly.
“I’m not scolding you. The root of the problem is ultimately me. But I also think you may be worrying too much.”
“No, it’s just…”
Iseo started to speak, then closed her mouth again. Myeongjeon gestured for her to continue.
“I’m not trying to criticize or blame your decision, Suyeon, but won’t the school-violence issue keep following us? Even if we get past this moment, the problem still won’t have been completely resolved.”
At Iseo’s words, Myeongjeon tilted his head again. According to his plan, the school-violence issue was supposed to be resolved somehow, cleanly.
But how could he make them believe it would be resolved?
Myeongjeon had the entire plan and all its details in his head, but the other kids didn’t. Even so, how could he give them confidence?
“Don’t worry. I’ll resolve it before the end of this year.”
“But…”
“Trust me. What you—or rather, all of you—are worried about will never happen. I’ll take care of it somehow, so don’t worry about it.”
Myeongjeon spoke firmly. At his response, the kids’ wavering expressions gradually settled down.
In a situation like this, what mattered was giving them strong reassurance rather than explaining all the logic and details. It wasn’t for nothing that people said being long-winded was a bad idea.
‘Besides, practicing in this situation probably wouldn’t help much anyway…’
For that reason, Myeongjeon began thinking of ways to lift the kids’ spirits. Something that would give them a change of pace and motivate them about music again.
Looking back on the past…
‘There’s no suitable way.’
Faced with that sobering reality, Myeongjeon’s mouth felt bitter. After all, ‘Seo Myeongjeon,’ unlike ‘Ha Suyeon,’ had no idea about things like that. He had lived in an era when the only options for a change of pace were entertainment and exercise.
‘No, there has to be something suitable. If I look hard enough, I’ll find it.’
Myeongjeon racked his brains. A way for the kids to get a change of pace and find their motivation for music again…
Nothing in particular came to mind, so Myeongjeon scratched his head. In that case, would he have no choice but to use the classic method that had been widely applied throughout all times and places?
“Wait a moment. I’m going to make a phone call.”
Myeongjeon quickly made a call. After a few rings, a voice came through. As he answered, Myeongjeon thought:
In any case, the answer was to keep them busy. If they were busy, they wouldn’t have time to think about things like that.
* * *
A few days later.
“How have you been?”
In response to Hwiseok’s perfunctory greeting, Myeongjeon answered that he hadn’t been doing well. Hwiseok gave an awkward, bitter smile and sat down in the chair in front of Myeongjeon.
“Did you get the problem resolved?”
“Not at all.”
Hwiseok’s question referred to the ‘problem’ involving the school-violence allegations. Right after deciding to withdraw from the competition, Myeongjeon had called Hwiseok and told him that the making-of video must not be released.
At first, Hwiseok hadn’t understood at all—he had even asked whether Myeongjeon had taken money from someone—but he fell silent as soon as he heard it concerned school violence. Things were especially noisy over issues like that these days.
“Why don’t you come over to our side? We can take care of everything.”
Just as Myeongjeon was about to speak, Hwiseok spoke up. From the confidence in his voice, Myeongjeon couldn’t tell whether it was actually possible, but Hwiseok at least seemed to believe it was.
“I’m fine.”
But Myeongjeon refused the offer.
Of course, getting a record production company—or, even better, an entertainment agency—involved would make things easier. The same would be true of any other company, not just Hwiseok’s. They would smooth things over beautifully, one way or another.
But what would such favors cost? Would it really be nothing more than kindness bestowed with a casual ‘Thanks for joining our agency~’? Was this something he could simply accept gratefully?
No.
From his experience in his previous life, Myeongjeon knew very well that no favor came without a price. What would happen if he joined a company to resolve the school-violence issue? He might be bound by a slave contract. Or they might promise to help resolve the issue, then do nothing at all, sending him on an endless tour circuit before abandoning him.
That was why Myeongjeon had no intention of approaching an agency or record label until this issue had been resolved.
“So is that really why you asked to meet—the Juhyeon concert session?”
“Yes, that’s right. I’d appreciate it if you’d consider us.”
Hwiseok scratched his head as though this were giving him a headache. In any case, the previous problem had somehow been resolved with the director’s input. But these kids serving as concert session musicians? That was a different matter.
But then Hwiseok remembered what the director had told him not long ago. “Those kids will be a huge hit if we can just sign them. Sign them no matter what! Do them a favor! Make them feel like they’d regret it if they didn’t have us!” Was that how it had gone?
Hwiseok agreed with that to some extent. A band of four high-school girls—and they had the skill to back it up? It was practically impossible for them to fail.
And that wasn’t something only Hwiseok knew. Everyone else knew it too.
Hwiseok had been casually asked several times recently, “Do you know how to contact those Group Sound kids?” By now, everyone knew that record production companies and entertainment agencies were running themselves ragged trying to sign the “pretty girl band.”
‘At least we still have priority for now…’
Unlike the other companies scouring for their contact information, Hwiseok’s company, [Entline], still had a connection to the leader, Ha Suyeon. That allowed him to keep talking with her and continue making his pitch, but…
The problem was that these kids—or, more precisely, ‘Ha Suyeon’—showed absolutely no interest in Hwiseok’s company, [Entline].
‘Well, what can you do? The director said to accommodate pretty much any reasonable request.’
Hwiseok considered trying something else, then gave up. Well, he had to do as his superior told him. What else could he do?
“I’ll talk to the director.”
* * *
“It’s been a while. How have you all been?”
While Juhyeon and the kids exchanged greetings after not seeing each other for some time, Myeongjeon greeted the staff member from Juhyeon’s side.
“I’ll explain the conditions in a moment, but… they’re exactly as our team leader told you. Juhyeon normally doesn’t use session musicians at his concerts. But the director suddenly ordered us to do this, so we decided we might as well hear you out.”
“Yes, I understand.”
The staff member continued speaking with a slightly displeased look. If the concert team or the sound team came back with anything “negative”—her word!—they would reject them immediately. Even if both teams liked them, they would still be rejected if the singer didn’t like them.
‘So basically, if anything comes up that they can use as an excuse, they’ll reject us.’
Hwiseok had clearly said that things had been worked out with this company. The director’s words, which Myeongjeon had heard secondhand, had been the same. But was the on-site judgment different?
Myeongjeon thought it was only natural. This male singer named ‘Juhyeon’ seemed to be fairly well known. The only people who immediately obeyed when a company gave an order were rookies. Once someone had become established, it was only natural for them not to listen.
“Those are all our conditions. If you’re willing to take the session test, please give us your answer by the date I mentioned earlier and come prepared with the songs. We’ll provide sheet music and whatever else you need.”
At her words, the four high-school girls looked lost in thought. She sighed deeply to herself.
What on earth was going on? The director, the president, and all the other executives were completely useless. She was already busy preparing for the concert, and then they had suddenly called and said, “Looks like we need to use session musicians for Juhyeon’s concert. Is that possible? Take a look.”
Of course, she knew that performing live with a band instead of an MR track would make the overall sound more vibrant.
She also knew perfectly well that a band made up of four high-school girls serving as Juhyeon’s session musicians would obviously become a hot topic.
But whose concert was this? It was ‘Juhyeon’s,’ wasn’t it? Why did everyone keep focusing on the side attraction? They were barely supporting the singer himself, yet they kept trying to milk something out of these strange extras…
“We’ll do it.”
“No, send us your answer by email. This is business. We need it in writing.”
At the answer from the girl who appeared to be the leader, the staff member replied curtly without thinking. When Juhyeon nudged her from beside her, she came to her senses a little.
‘But can you blame me?’
She knew these kids hadn’t done anything wrong. But what could she do about disliking them? They had probably only made a proposal. Still, if they hadn’t made it, there wouldn’t have been this waste of time either…