Chapter 329

Chapter 329

“Congrats.”

“Congratulations.”

It was January. I bowed to the industry senior I’d bumped into in the corridor of the venue hosting the Gold Disc Awards. It was one of the final awards ceremonies, and unfortunately, we hadn’t managed to get a daesang here.

Not that it was ever going to happen. The only categories at this award show were physical albums and digital tracks. There was no artist award, which was a combination of several criteria, which meant the results were very easy to predict.

Youngrin took one, and VTIC the other. The latter being the group this bastard belonged to.

Cheongryeo smiled cheerfully. “Best Group and Best Performance… You got a few good awards today. The fans must be very excited.” He was saying that no matter how much the fans had tried, sales had dictated the outcome—which naturally meant no daesang for us.

“Yes. We worked really hard, so the fans really showed up for us. Not that our efforts can compare to your album daesang,” I said. I was referring to the fact that we’d beaten them in terms of votes, at least.

“Haha.”

“Hahaha.”

We shared friendly laughter, and the staff in the corridor watching seemed touched.

Cheongryeo abruptly stopped laughing, a change coming over his face. “So… You were going to tell me something when we were able to meet next. Have you thought about it?”

Oh, right. I’d agreed to speak with him more regarding what I’d experienced in Ryu Gunwoo’s body. Not that we’ve had the opportunity to do so, since we’re both extremely busy because of award season.

I ended our little staring contest and said neatly, “I found the person I was looking for. He’s going to help us with what we were planning.”

“Aha.” Cheongryeo narrowed his eyes. “I would be interested in meeting him together.”

“Perhaps, if we get the chance,” I said.

He seemed to have understood that I’d located Big Moon and that he would help deal with the system.

I suppose that’s enough said in this setting. This wasn’t exactly a topic we could talk about in an open corridor. I just needed to ensure he would cooperate in the future.

He grinned. “I’m curious what kind of help he will provide. Any other problems?”

“Problems?” I asked.

“Yes. I heard you were creating an independent label. That’s more complicated than it seems, you know.” Based on his tone, the bastard seemed to already know about the conflict between T1 and the agency, too.

“It’s fine. It’s going well,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. We’re currently just focusing on our plans for the next year. We’re hoping to optimize our promotional cycle to get the best results.”

In the end, our goal was to set a new K-pop record. It would be great, of course, if we could steal the physical album daesang from these bastards while we were at it. I shrugged. I knew he would just try to annoy me by commenting on how difficult that would be. Getting ready to fire off a retort, I looked at him expectantly.

He simply muttered, “Ah… All right. Do your best.”

I stared.

“Maybe this year will be a bit easier.”

What?

“M-Moondae!” a voice called to me from behind.

I continued to watch him closely, however. He simply shrugged and turned away.

“Easier?” I asked.

“You said you were going to do your best. Let’s talk again when we have the time,” he said.

That was it.

What is he plotting? He’d consistently been rather vicious whenever we talked about our groups’ performance throughout the year. He would no doubt be confident about next year’s as well. Oddly enough, he seemed… bored. What was the matter with him? He didn’t even have to enlist for another six months.

I stared uncomfortably at the back of his head, then looked away. Should I be searching for shady VTIC rumors on the internet or something? I wasn’t sure if this change boded well or ill, or if I was just being too sensitive.

“Sorry. I was just saying goodbye,” I said.

“Yeah. I-it’s okay.” Ahyeon came up to me, seeming a little tense as he watched Cheongryeo leave. Then he turned to me and smiled.

“We met Youngrin and were saying hello!”

“Yeah? Let’s go, then.”

“Yeah!”

I followed him down the corridor. When I rounded a corner, the other daesang winner was smiling at me.

“Moondae.”

“Youngrin.”

Youngrin had won the digital music daesang the previous day—this awards ceremony was split into digital and physical categories over two days. But she’d also received the main award for the physical album category today as well, so she’d come to both nights, in addition to performing on stage.

Artists will generally only participate on one of those days—the one where they get a daesang. It was rare for anyone to do as she had done, and quite assiduous of her.

“So a new year has finally started. I’m looking forward to seeing great things from you this year as well,” she said.

“We’ll do our best.”

Youngrin smiled politely, but the dancers behind her began to make a fuss, fidgeting a little.

Huh? She seemed to notice my gaze, since she introduced them.

“They’re debuting from my agency next year. Say hello, guys.”

“Hello!”

It seemed they’d been allowed to perform as dancers, to gain experience on stage. This was common practice.

Ahyeon watched with a proud smile on his face, then said quietly to Youngrin, “You must care about them very much…”

“Does it seem that way? You’re right. I’ve taken charge of producing their music.”

“Youngrin…” the trainees said.

The trainees, Youngrin, and Ahyeon made for quite a heartwarming scene. I had no intention of taking part.

If Youngrin is producing, their music will be excellent, at least. I mentally cataloged this information about the new group and parted ways with Youngrin.

Returning to the lobby, Ahyeon fiddled with his hands as if reminiscing. “We’re… no longer rookies.”

“No. Not anymore,” I said.

TeSTAR had reached its fifth year now that the new year had passed. It had been three and a half years since our debut, so we were officially no longer rookies. We’d have to start keeping an eye on up-and-coming idols from now on.

And we have two groups that came out directly after us as well. I thought of the two groups that were also from Idol Inc. Depending on what we did from now on, however, we might remain in the same agency as them, or perhaps we wouldn’t. Would we escape this agency and become a direct subsidiary of T1, or hang around and whip them into submission?

“Hmm.”

In truth, the moment that Raebin had shared his opinion, we’d already practically decided.

Many of the members are attached to the people working in the Planning Team and the A&R Team. The people who called the shots in the agency were annoying as hell, but of course, the members didn’t want the staff we knew so well to suffer.

This was all the more true given their similar ages. As the season progressed, I could see that the other members were leaning toward this sentiment more and more, including Bae Sejin. He seemed to consider the subject from various angles, eventually coming to a conclusion during last night’s practice.

“It might be better to stay if the net effect is the same. It will teach them a better lesson.”

It was the moment we’d basically reached a unanimous agreement.

I grinned, then said, “Ahyeon.”

“Huh?”

“Who do you want to silence first if you stay?”

“S-silence?” He seemed taken aback but soon recovered his composure. “Oh… Not silence, exactly… I want them to be more considerate of the people they work with, and stop tormenting them… Us, the other staff, the other idols…”

“Yeah.”

Demanding that they stop torturing the people who worked for the agency on a psychological level, and instead treat them humanely—that was a very good justification for staying. I grinned.

“That sounds good.”

“Th-thanks!”

A few days later, we won the only daesang at the final awards ceremony—the Korean Gayo Daesang—and brought the season to a successful close. We had a brief hiatus before our next tour, and the agency finally began to show signs of bending—though I doubted they really wanted to.

***

Those little bastards! The director sat at his desk, silently cursing up a storm. He didn’t usually swear like this. His reason for doing so now was simple. Some young entertainers were up to no good and were about to destroy his spotless record at a time that was very critical in his career.

Do you think you deserve all the credit for your success? You’re only doing so well because the corporation turned you into a palatable product! It was the endless instances of financial support and quick decision-making on the agency’s part that had allowed the group to win a daesang at all.

The director had intended to grace his portfolio with those daesangs before stepping away to pursue a new line of business. He didn’t care whether they formed a new label or not after that. However, he hadn’t wanted anything to go down during his tenure, desiring a clean handover to his successor when the time came.

Those f*ckers! They don’t know a thing about patience! They’d kicked up a fuss immediately after their first daesang, and now he was in a position of checkmate. The member who had given that stupid speech was the one who bothered him most—Park Moondae.

That bastard is full of tricks. He should have recognized this as soon as Park Moondae proposed that addition to the contract. It was clear that his lack of a proper education was what had led him to resort to such low-handed and vulgar methods, instigating the others around him to participate in a witch hunt.

The man fumed as he reached for his Bluetooth keyboard. In any case, the stupid board members had antagonized the parent company and there was only so much he could do. The terrible state of affairs, however, actually gave him hope.

If I can turn things around here, this crisis will turn into an opportunity. TeSTAR hadn’t agreed to T1’s offer right away and was still stalling for time. No doubt they were scared and loath to have to start completely from scratch. In this situation, if he managed to persuade them to start their label as a subsidiary of the agency, he would still look like a talented director in the financial statements before he took his leave.

I’m going to go on the offensive! He set aside his professional English vocabulary and the relaxed tone that he usually employed, instead writing a message to TeSTAR in as frank a tone as he could manage.

[Dear TeSTAR,

I’m cautious about writing this letter at all, since you are probably quite hurt by recent events. I can tell you one thing for certain… I’ve given a lot of thought to events up till now…]

He continued to write, describing how the agency had not been considerate enough of TeSTAR, and that there had been a lot of misunderstandings and errors in communication. He didn’t want the group to resent him or the working-level staff.

This four-step apology, consisting of an admission of the agency’s faults, an apology, intricate excuses, and an emotional appeal, never failed to work. His fingers flew over the keys.

[Of course, if you leave, it will be a huge blow to the agency. I know that it can’t be helped, but I’d like you to remember that the staff who worked at the agency and served you never had any ill intentions…]

He didn’t forget to emphasize the role of the staff. This director had a lot of experience with a variety of different businesses, and thus was able to zero in on the strategy that would have the greatest effect on TeSTAR with astonishing accuracy.

Proof of how incredible his letter had been, a reply came the very next day. It was sent by Chungwoo, TeSTAR’s leader.

[We read the letter you sent us.]

The message described TeSTAR’s discomfort and included polite rebuttals to the director’s message. It also carried a slightly gloomy tone.

[You had no intention of abiding by what you’d written in the contract. How can we trust you anymore? We just don’t know anymore.]

There we go! So the bastards really were conflicted. The reply hadn’t contained any sarcasm or personal insults, which meant there was wiggle room available. He wrote another letter, his enthusiasm on fire.

We had no intention of failing to honor the contract in any way. As embarrassing as it is to admit, we just don’t have enough manpower to…

A few more letters were exchanged back and forth, and he tried to meet with them in person, but TeSTAR backed out, citing their schedule. The director didn’t miss the importance of this point.

They’re uncertain. Talking face-to-face always led to deeper discussion, and they seemed to fear this. They were afraid that they would be persuaded.

I’m almost there. He analyzed their letters and read between the lines with extreme acuity. He cast more bait in order to try to satisfy them in his next message.

More staff for the independent label. Okay. I’ll approach this by suggesting unified management through the Management Office. If I offer to make them their own A&R Team, they won’t be able to refuse. With every letter he sent, TeSTAR’s replies grew more and more emotional.

Good! He felt satisfaction following every response, like he was clearing stages in a video game.

And finally, after the fifth letter, TeSTAR agreed to meet in person.

“Phew!”

It had taken a whole week to reach this point. The director notified the board that things were going well and prepared for the meeting with a clear head.

The moment they arrive, my problems are over. Last time, the problem had been the bastard who’d been in a coma, threatening legal action and whatnot like the petty little man he was. Talking sense into people in their early twenties was so easy it was a joke for him.

“Hello.”

The day of the meeting arrived, and only Ryu Chungwoo, the leader, showed up.

“I discussed it with the members, and we decided it would be best if I represented them alone.”

“Oh, I see.”

This was great news for him.

This is ideal. Chungwoo had been an athlete in the past, so he wasn’t exactly the studious type. The director had heard from the staff that he was gentle and didn’t like to create uncomfortable situations. Predictable people like him were the easiest to persuade, and he’d even shown up alone. The director had considered the possibility that Moondae, the crazy little bastard, might also come along.

They probably kept him from coming on purpose. Moondae was impulsive and rude. They hadn’t wanted him involved in a serious conversation.

That means they think this meeting is important. He sensed he was on the precipice of success. As Chungwoo put down his umbrella, the director offered him coffee.

“Latte?”

“Thank you.”

After making small talk for a while, Chungwoo broached the most essential subject in a low voice as he took his coffee cup in hand. The mood between them was gentle.

“We’re struggling to decide on a course of action. The majority of the members want to leave the agency, but some of them have changed their minds after the letters we exchanged with you.”

“I see. I’m rather curious to know what it is that’s bothering them most.”

“Well…” Chungwoo seemed conflicted and sighed several times.

Get on with it already! The director was growing impatient by the time Chungwoo spoke again.

“Phew. Well, there’s still the matter of trust.”

“Trust?”

“Yes. We’re lucky enough to have the opportunity to start our own label, but we suspect that other idols wouldn’t have been able to do the same.” Chungwoo smiled wryly. “I’m sorry to have to say this, but one of the members thinks that you’re lying to us. He’s very interested in guaranteeing rights for idols, and that sort of thing… He’s pretty outspoken, too.”

It was just the sort of thing he’d expect from young men with silly idealistic dreams in their heads.

They earn in the billions and yet listen to this rubbish. Ha! The director was of the opinion that this was utter nonsense but thought quickly to come up with an adequate response. It seemed that they wanted some kind of moral gesture that would fulfill their vain sense of ethics.

Other idols wouldn’t be able to… Huh. An incredible idea came to the director’s mind.

With this, I won’t have to make any concessions at all! He stifled a smile, adopting a grave expression.

“In that case…”

***

“I got it,” Chungwoo said.

“Wow!”

“Thank you so much! And on a rainy day, too!”

After the meeting was over, Chungwoo returned, smiling as he shared the photo he’d taken of a document in the group chat.

[The artists of T1 Stars can create contracts with subsidiary labels upon renewal of their contracts, provided they discuss the matter beforehand.]

This was a guarantee that anyone could join their label upon renewal of their contract.

“They really gave it to us.”

“Yeah,” Chungwoo said, shrugging. “I didn’t think he’d concede so much in those letters, either.”

“Yeah!”

“Moondae, you’re a wizard!”

We wrote those letters together. What are you talking about?

“It’s because we’re at an advantage here. All we did is make things a bit easier for them.”

They stood to lose a hell of a lot if we left the agency. If treating us better to get us to stay was an option, they were sure to try it. I’d just wanted them to make the offers voluntarily, instead of us having to demand anything from them.

This way, they won’t be able to complain later.

The members beside me snickered, however.

“Wow! So modest, huh?”

Forget it. I shook my head, smiling.

“Chungwoo, you’re even more impressive. You got almost everything we wanted, to the letter.”

“Well, I hardly had to do anything…”

Bae Sejin gave him a thumbs-up. “Amazing!”

“Uh, thanks.”

Bae Sejin seemed extremely moved by how much we’d managed to change the agency’s rules. He looked proud of our accomplishment.

It is pretty surprising. Allowing the artists to choose a subsidiary label no questions asked upon renewal—that was not a condition most large agencies offered.

It was probably only possible because of the unique nature of this particular agency. They were always going to land the season’s hottest group as they graduated from the audition show. The board probably thought TeSTAR was a special case by having such longevity and fully intended to drop the other groups after five years had passed and their popularity started to wane. They would still get the sales from the groups even if they defected to a sub-label.

Those idiots. Who would the groups that were certain they would last more than five years choose now? It would be the label the most popular, top-tier idols belonged to.

And if the idols maintain a good working atmosphere, the working-level staff are sure to come on board. It was a matter of influence. I exited out of the document on my screen.

We’ll steal from them little by little. At this rate, the label would grow, and the agency would be left an empty husk. I grinned.

“Everything seems to have worked out well in the end. Good work, everyone.”

“Good work!”

“Let’s decide on a name for our label!”

High-fives and laughter filled the living room.

What a cheerful little scene.

Something needed to be attended to before we had some fun with our new label though.

“We have to do something first,” I said.

“Huh?”

“We need to prepare for our next album.”

Raebin cocked his head to the side. “I thought we were going to work on it during our tour.”

“Yeah, we are,” I said, crossing my arms and smiling. “About that. Remember how we spent a day each week in the same room while on tour?”

Eugene’s eyes gleamed. He remembered immediately because the tradition had formed on his account.

“Right! Yes!”

“That was a pretty good suggestion on Chungwoo’s part.”

“Haha.” Chungwoo seemed somewhat proud of himself.

Big Sejin interrupted. “Wow! Should we gather up like that again to prepare for the album? Like with that composition retreat?”

“W-wow.”

“I like that idea!”

The members smiled at each other. I grinned as well.

“Sure. But I have an additional suggestion.”

“Huh?”

“Three days per week, not one.”

They fell silent.

“The tour isn’t going to be that busy. And one other thing.”

“Wh-what?”

I smiled at Bae Sejin. “We’re putting an album together. We’re going to have to go all in. These three days a week won’t be light-hearted and relaxing. It’s going to be crunch time.”

Lightning struck outside at that exact moment, casting shadows over the gaping members’ faces. I laid out my plan for our upcoming punishing K-pop retreat—TeSTAR version.