Chapter 309

Chapter 309

The comment left by T1 Plays, the company that had acquired the development team behind 127 Section, had been left on the theme song that Raebin had worked on alone. This comment, which hadn’t even been there a full day, had been flooded with excited replies from people who had noticed that it was left by the official T1 Plays account.

- Let’s f*cking goooo

- LOL they’re doing their job well!

- We’ve been waiting for this

- Get this comment up there in likes!

It almost felt as if the track was about to be picked for a cinematic trailer or something. There were even a lot of foreigners who were sounding off with foreign memes rife with emojis.

“Huh…?” Raebin seemed dazed, his brain overloaded by a situation he hadn’t seen coming.

Hilariously enough, I felt the same way.

How did this happen? I’d known that the reactions online would be good, but that didn’t mean it was supposed to make such a strong impression. How could a game parody video uploaded by a new account get this popular in just a week? I’d let it be because it was an anonymous account, but this situation could not go on. I unlocked my phone, searching for the cause of all this chaos.

Is it the algorithm at work again? It wasn’t. The cause was more artificial than that. 127 Section had run out of steam in Korea, leaving only dedicated fans. It had experienced a drop in public appeal and sales. But perhaps because something about the game appealed more to foreigners, overseas it had become a steady seller, backed by a very powerful group of die-hard fans. As a result, many overseas game WeTubers lived and died for the game, and one of them seemed to have seen the video in question during a livestream.

And his subscriber count is…

[25.92 million]

So of course our video got a lot of views. Someone perceptive at T1 Plays had noticed, leading to our current situation. The question was, what were we going to do about it?

“What do we do?”

“I had no idea.”

We’d been saying “I have no idea” over and over in the last few minutes. That was how ridiculous the situation was to us. Was Raebin about to start a second career as a professional composer? Was that even possible? Someone in the industry had been duped by one of our videos, which had not at all been our intention when we’d uploaded it.

Eugene’s hand shot into the air, like he was in school. “Let’s do this! It’s fun!”

I thought you’d say that.

“Wait a second! Wait!”

“We need to think about this, Eugene!”

Eugene was about to suggest a vote, but Chungwoo and Lee Sejin were quick to try to slow him down. I watched them closely and said, “First of all… If he accepts, he’ll have to give them his real name and bank account number when he signs a contract.”

“They’ll know it’s us right away.”

“Yes.”

I could already see them using TeSTAR to promote their game if that happened. Because both companies were affiliates, T1 would see no reason to keep them from doing so. It was a funny little anecdote that both TeSTAR and the game could benefit from.

And everyone will suspect some kind of ruse… Naturally, coincidences that benefited both parties were likely to be seen as obvious marketing deceptions.

- Yuck. They’re using TeSTAR?

- Look at them, trying to attract idol fans to breathe life into a dead game

- This is driving me nuts. What is f*cking wrong with the marketing people at T1? T_T

It would be stupid to attract that kind of criticism ahead of a potential daesang. The public had already accused TeSTAR of not being good enough for the Rookie of the Year awards we’d received. Getting the daesang was important, yes, but whether the public thought that we deserved it had an impact on the success of my mission.

Even if we try to stop that from happening, the moment someone higher up at T1 gets it into his head to do something else, we’ll be f*cked. I couldn’t let that happen.

An unlikely candidate spoke up with a serious look on his face.

“Wh-why not use the name of a family member?” said Ahyeon, probably making this suggestion because he didn’t want Raebin’s accomplishment to go to waste.

“Well, that sounds like a pretty good idea, actually.”

“I like it!” Eugene said.

“No. The moment people find out, we’ll be charged with tax evasion,” I said gravely.

That was for certain. It was a sensitive issue these days, anyway. We’d have to be careful.

Bae Sejin, who’d already been through a rough patch with the general income tax during the first year of our debut, swallowed nervously. “Do you think we should… just ignore it, then?” he asked.

“That’s not a good idea, either.”

We’d already gotten attention once. If we continued uploading arrangements to the channel, we’d probably continue to get offers.

With Raebin’s talent, that’s completely unsurprising. And then there were all the amused comments. If there was no reaction, it might only rouse more excitement, since it would be strange for someone not to respond. There would be people who would try to get the song and its accompanying situation viral.

Maybe we should get rid of the account. I’d wanted to leave the account intact, since it had a sort of symbolic meaning in that it had helped Raebin overcome his slump. In order to avoid that, we’d have to do things… the straight and narrow way.

“If we want to refuse, we should probably explain why,” I said.

“You’re right.”

It would be great if we had an appropriate excuse everyone could easily accept. A time would come when interest would wane if we continued focusing on uploading arrangements.

“Hey! Come up with something. You’re good at this sort of thing!”

“What? Me?” Big Sejin said with a nonplussed laugh.

Bae Sejin flinched. They’d been polite for roughly a year now, but it seemed their patience with one another was running low.

At least they’re being open about how they feel. Big Sejin, at least, gave his opinion instead of engaging in a useless quarrel with Bae Sejin.

“I think the person who deserves the most credit should get to decide! What do you think, Raebin?” he asked.

“Huh?” Raebin, who’d been in deep thought with his mouth slack, jerked to attention. He said cautiously, “I’m… fine with turning it down!”

“You’re not disappointed?”

“No! I made the track at our retreat, and the idea was just to have fun. I’m grateful and just having fun with the comments and reactions we’ve received!”

“Well, if you say so, Raebin.”

“Okay!”

The conversation concluded once we’d thought up an appropriate refusal.

“I think school could be a safe excuse.”

“Yes. Make it sound a little smoother.”

We uploaded the following comment to the video.

- I’m very grateful for the contract offer, but I’m too busy with my studies T_T. I’m happy just being able to share my work on WeTube like this

It was a conservative reply that wouldn’t attract any criticism, and the reason for refusing was common enough to avoid suspicion.

That’s the end of it, then. Everyone else probably thought the same thing, but that wasn’t how things unfolded.

***

“Wow. This person is tenacious.”

A few days later, we found another comment from T1 Plays in the replies section of our pinned comment.

- You’ll be even happier… if you get paid for your music (winking face emoji) We can establish a contract with just the music you’ve already made, so please don’t hesitate to get in touch! Good luck with your studies! (smiling face emoji)

And people actually seemed to like this boring attempt at a joke, since they kept on replying to it.

And it’s starting to get attention on community websites…

[Ruins Factory is doing its best to recruit a composer]

[Is the arrangement that good? Seems a little complicated to me]

[Big corp working hard]

Someone was taking screenshots of the WeTube comment section and sharing them, apparently amused by the situation.

- LOL

- Focus on timely updates for the game if you have time to browse WeTube!

- Accept the contract! Accept it!

It almost made us feel like party-poopers if we were to turn the offer down again. There would be people, of course, who criticized the employee for being so insistent.

And that’ll result in a mess we don’t want… Debate would ignite like wildfire, and if it came out that TeSTAR was behind the music, then we’d really have trouble on our hands.

This could turn into a huge controversy if we don’t handle it right. And because it was attracting so much attention, more people were offering criticism or compliments to the video, all with their own agendas. The reason that we’d made the account in the first place was slowly being forgotten.

F*ck. This was such a hassle. We were already busy enough already since we were preparing for the concert. The situation seemed to be making Raebin feel bad.

“I’m so sorry you have to worry about this when we’re so busy with important stuff…” he said.

I grinned. “Are you apologizing for being talented?”

“N-no, that’s not what I meant, of course!” Raebin said, shocked. But he didn’t seem to know what else to say, so I asked him another question to keep the conversation going.

“You probably agreed to refuse because that seemed to be the most elegant solution, not because you found the offer overwhelming. Is that right?”

“What? Well, yes, but…”

“That’s good enough for me. Ignore all this crap. The concert comes first.”

“Right… Sounds good!” Raebin seemed relieved by my words.

Big Sejin grinned and threw an arm around Raebin’s shoulders. “Yes! We have to show everyone what we’ve got at this concert! And how hard we’ve been working to prepare!” he said.

This was true. We didn’t really have the time or energy to worry about what some game company was up to. The more we focused on the setlist that Big Sejin had come up with, the more details required our attention.

He’s pretty useful, I thought to myself, looking at Big Sejin. If there were any gains to be had, he was pretty good at going after them realistically.

That’s why he played the biggest role in my plan. In fact, the curriculum I’d come up with when planning the mountain retreat wasn’t actually done just yet.

The final step still remained. Since Raebin had recovered his confidence within only a few steps of our plan, we were now taking steps to prevent him from losing his morale even during a slump. We were going to make him feel that his efforts were worthwhile and worthy of praise, while also making it so that he was unable to involve himself in any part of the production process. That was what the upcoming concert was about.

***

“My heart’s about to explode.”

“Me, too.”

The graduate student was in the midst of freaking out with her friend, Moondae’s fansite master, who sat in front of her and slightly to the side. There was also a third party sitting nearby who wasn’t at all excited to be there.

Why am I here? This person was their friend. She’d been recruited to help with ticketing, but surprisingly, all three of them had succeeded, resulting in an extra ticket. Her friends had worked hard to persuade her to come and that, combined with her own curiosity, had led her here… and she was already regretting it.

I should have scalped the ticket online. She’d been afraid she would be caught, which could impact her job hunt, but sitting in this uncomfortable chair, she was already feeling disappointed about how her night was turning out.

I could have bought a hundred auto-draw gachas with that money! Indeed, she was a modern-day mobile gamer who did not hesitate to spend on money-hungry gacha games.

This group is so famous that I relented, but… She looked at her friends, who were chatting with great excitement. She shook her head.

This is a bit embarrassing, too. The lightstick in her hand was so fancy that she wanted to hide it away. But she had no choice but to keep holding onto it. Everyone at the concert seemed to share the same feelings of excitement.

Ugh. Seriously! She was slowly starting to resent her friends for bringing her here, when a gentle announcement began to play over the speakers.

“Hello everyone.”

“Oh my god!”

“Damn,” she said. Why were people so excited? She balked at the screaming coming from all around her.

“We have an announcement for those of you attending TeSTAR’s ‘Wave for Me’ concert today.”

The male voice quietly described the required concert etiquette. While it was nice to listen to, there was something odd about the tone being used. The vocabulary selection seemed more suited to a theater than a concert, but she didn’t notice much more than that.

“…please enjoy the concert.”

The graduate student wore a huge grin as she mouthed to her, “That was Moondae!”

What? The lights went out.

“Let’s enter the waves…”

The voice delivered a final announcement before the start of the concert. The crowd fell silent, and a quiet sound began to wash over the venue. It was the sound of waves. An orchestra and electronic notes joined the sound.

The soft, clear notes were from a song she’d heard before.

TeSTAR’s debut song, right? The very next moment, however, another powerful melody joined in. She knew this song, too. A few seconds of that, and the next accompaniment played.

What’s going on? This was an overture—the sort of opening style used for an opera or a musical. One difference was that the goal here wasn’t to introduce the music. Everyone present already knew the songs. They were being played to help aid in the audience’s immersion.

Pretty cool. The lights came back on, this time powerfully blue in color as they washed over the audience. It wasn’t static light, however.

“…!”

Light blue and dark blue rippled through the venue. The air shifted, and there was a hiss as dry ice released gently waving smoke from below.

“Wow.”

The lights, the waves, the cool smell, and the music that echoed gently in her ears… All her senses were working together to buy the illusion that the concert hall was underwater.