Chapter 341

Chapter 341

“Moondae, the ginseng liquor is totally sold out,” Big Sejin said.

I stared at him, then unlocked my phone to check out the social media post uploaded by the company that sold the DIY ginseng liquor kits, which had gone viral.

- Thank you all so much for the unexpected love for our product. I don’t have words. I will be donating part of the proceeds in the name of TeSTAR Park Moondae. (person bowing emoji)

As this suggested, the All-Star Music incident had become a meme on the internet. We’d dealt with the problem with a cheery vibe and good timing, thus the outcome was incredible. The twist had been funny to most people, and the way we’d dealt with it couldn’t have been more perfect. The news had spread just about everywhere. As it turned out, more and more amusing elements to the story were emerging as people looked further into it.

- I see it now! Even the account name is obviously TeSTAR! All-Star Music LOL

- They lied about being students so they could avoid making a contract (image)

- They must have been screaming inside when Ruins Factory contacted them. They were nearly forced to debut a second time

That All-Star Music had officially arranged the boss theme music for 127 Section was brought to the public’s attention once more, and there were even humorous posts that described our feelings at the time—purely guesswork—with a series of images.

Looks like everyone’s pretty happy in the end. As a result, we didn’t need to defend ourselves against any more pointless controversy.

- Am I the only one who feels that this is a carefully orchestrated viral campaign?

└ Just watch this video of the daesang-winning idol TeSTAR apologizing (link)

└ If they were planning this, why would they have lied and said they were students? This was obviously unintentional LOL

People didn’t want their fun to be ruined. They’d already changed their minds once after being very critical, so reverting would be tiresome and not fun at all. Quite a few of the fans, of course, were disgusted and angry at those who had cursed TeSTAR out only to change their minds.

However, they were relieved to see the situation had turned around so fast. Their current focus seemed to be on recovering after all the review-bombing that had gone down from both camps on the streaming platforms.

The plagiarism accusations ended up being a pretty big deal. I considered how much we should encourage the memes, which were multiplying without end, before putting an end to them.

“Wow, isn’t this one fun? Why doesn’t Raebin upload something where he’s copying this one?”

“That sounds all right.”

In order to improve our fans’ moods, we’d already agreed to react to the memes ourselves at least once.

I hope we manage to wrap this all up at a good place. I shrugged. If possible, we would win over Korean audiences this way, then describe what happened as an amusing anecdote once we went to the US. It was the perfect thing to talk about on a talk show, and it was related to the movie.

This plan was not to bear fruit, however, since foreign online personalities beat us to the chase.

“…?”

The first person to do this was a gaming WeTuber from the US. The All-Star Music account had first become known to gamers because of this WeTuber, who was a fan of 127 Section. He’d spotted a chance to snatch up some views, and had taken it right away.

[K-pop boy bands are everywhere… I’ve been duped!]

Using a clickbait title, he filled the video with the sort of praise and open marveling that would please the K-pop fans.

“Oh my f*cking god. So the owner of this channel is a K-pop band, and they’re the same ones from Cosmic Gunner?”

“And this game collab trailer video was by them, too, right? Not actors?”

“How is it possible that these guys aren’t pro actors?”

“They write their own music? So they made the soundtrack for the movie, am I right? Of course, they did! This f*cking channel is theirs in the first place!”

Everything he said, as he dramatically pressed his hand to his forehead in exaggerated shock, was more than enough to get the K-pop fans going, while also igniting the average Korean’s pride in what their country had produced. Because he had so many American subscribers, the fans of Limestone movies who grew interested in the game universe learned of the incident.

- So they copied… themselves? That’s hilarious LOL. Thanks for sharing

- I think I’ve just fallen in love. What should I watch first? :D

- Please stop saying K-pop at the end of every sentence. TeSTAR is a unique group that doesn’t confine itself to that definition!

In fact, even those who generally didn’t like K-pop or had something against it were saying that we should be considered an exception.

Not a bad opening bid for the US market. If people kept going on about making an exception for us, it would invite aggression from other K-pop fans. It hadn’t reached that point, however, so I wasn’t worried about it just yet.

If it had ended here, on this pleasant note, I could have shared the whole incident as a fun little episode on a talk show. The problem was a new person involved themselves.

“Park Moondae! Take a look!”

“…?”

I watched the WeTube video that Bae Sejin was showing me on his phone. It was a scene from a talk show.

“Jason! Can you tell us a story from the set that nobody has heard before—something rare and unique?”

“Haha!”

“If you don’t share, I’m going to pass out right here, and all the staff are going to hold you responsible!”

“Oh, all right! All right. Let’s see… There was a very interesting incident during some of the additional filming we were doing—the cameo appearance of some foreign stars!”

The supporting actor from the pub scene had spoken about us on an American TV show.

“Do you remember him?”

“Nope! Not at all!” Eugene said.

“Man, listen to this guy. He didn’t even speak to us even once, but now he’s got a lot to say.”

He seemed to have resorted to this because he’d run out of things to talk about on shows, and because he’d mentioned K-pop on his own social media in the past.

“They performed for real on that tiny set, like it was a live stage, you know? And I was like, wow. K-pop bands are killer performers!”

“But then when it came time for them to act, it was like they were pros at it, you know?”

“Not only that, it turns out they had a secret WeTube channel where they posted music arrangements that nobody knew about.”

“What kind of band are they? Did they receive some kind of special training?”

This guy hadn’t even spoken to us, but he was piecing together what the staff had told him very smoothly.

“He’s giving us a good introduction, at least.”

“Yeah.”

I wondered if this was a biased way to think about it, but he was likening us to some sort of super group. The American audiences seemed to be eating it up.

The story is a fun one to begin with.

“I should have asked for their signatures, but they disappeared as soon as they were done. I hope to see them again in the next movie in the Cosmic Gunner series.”

This comment, made by a cast member of a popular movie on a talk show that aired during prime time, made huge waves. People who were curious about this amazing band that had been in the movie, but hadn’t really troubled themselves with finding out more, were now very impressed. The algorithm led them to TeSTAR performances, videos about the plagiarism incident, and our game collab trailers.

- I can’t f*cking believe it. So they wrote this amazing song, “Black Hole,” in just four days?

- They’re like gods to us fanatics

- Do they have any more English songs? :(

└ They made a lot of great songs in their own language, too (link)

- I don’t know how this will sound to you all, but I think the fact that they came from a survival show suits them perfectly

It seemed that we were now being accepted by American audiences as oddballs from Korea who were also extremely smart.

That’s not really us. But I fully intended to make the most of it. I nodded. This was far from the climax to this whole series of events, however, since something unfolded only a few days later that left all the members slack-jawed.

“Th-this…”

Ahyeon was clutching his phone, the SongBoard 200 album chart open on its screen.

[2. <Cosmic Gunner> Special Edition / new!]

“…!”

The movie’s album was in second place. The credit line simply read “soundtrack” instead of “TeSTAR,” but regardless, it was an incredible achievement.

“Oh my god!”

“Wh-what! I sort of expected something like this, but it’s still shocking!”

That wasn’t the end of our new success. The main theme for the movie, which we’d made, made it onto the SongBoard Hot 100 chart as well.

[9. Black Hole / new!]

“Holy cow!”

We were in ninth place. We’d heard, of course, that every few years a movie soundtrack got first place on a SongBoard chart, but none of us had suspected that we’d reach a single digit placing.

I did not expect that.

“Hey! Raebin’s about to pass out!” Eugene said.

“No, I’m not… But this song was put together in only four days, without much thought, and I even made the mistake of reusing a sample. I’m not sure if this song deserves—”

“Okay, never mind. Raebin’s fine.”

What a ruckus. This particular achievement warranted such dramatic reactions.

I stood among the members as they began to scream and shout like unhinged people, saying to Chungwoo in a low voice, “This didn’t even release on a Friday, did it?”

“No, it didn’t.”

The fact that we’d climbed so high on the chart even though we hadn’t gotten a full week’s worth of streaming was hard to believe. I checked the analytics.

Our on-air score isn’t bad, either. It seemed a wide variety of radio stations had played the song, even though few people even knew the band who had made it.

Props to big movies, I guess. The American market, its barriers against entry now disarmed, was the mother lode. Our plan had succeeded.

“Good.”

“Sh-sh-should we upload a thank-you?”

“Why not? Let’s share the SongBoard post, too!”

I nodded as I watched the excited members.

Before this energy and motivation dies off…

“We need to work on our next album as well,” I said.

“Oh.”

We were riding a wave. The least we could do was try to stay on it.

We’re going to cement our reputation before the Limestone popularity wears off. I cracked my neck.

Chungwoo, who was standing next to me, said gently, “Yes. These are even better results than what we hoped for when we discussed this plan at the last retreat. Good work, everyone, and… let’s make another great album.”

They all nodded eagerly. It seemed that seeing such an amazing pay-off was a great motivator.

“Y-yes!”

“We’ll do our best. We’ll make songs that people can enjoy, and not only those who are interested in the movie soundtrack, but existing fans as well!” Kim Raebin said.

“Good! Let’s go, TeSTAR!” Big Sejin said.

“Why don’t we eat, then get right to work?”

Riding the high of success, they began drawing up a tough-as-nails retreat schedule without needing any further encouragement. The vibes were good. I was a bit… grateful to them as well. My eyebrows rose as I considered the situation that applied only to myself—the mission to set a new K-pop record.

This means the days I have left are disappearing much more quickly than expected. According to Big Moon, he could only stay in Ryu Geonwoo’s body until August, which left only four months. I needed to complete the mission before then. If things went according to plan, there were plenty of potential records.

[Moondae, I’ve been loving “Black Hole.” Were you thinking about Cha Eugene when you wrote this, by any chance? The phrasing reminds me of him!]

Big Moon wasn’t even pressing me or asking any questions, which left a bitter taste in my mouth. Did it mean he didn’t even have any hope? I tutted.

I’m going to make sure you live longer, no matter what I have to do to make it happen.

“Now then, let’s eat and get out our laptops!” Big Sejin said.

So we decided to use the entire seven days prior to our tour in the US to work on a title track and concept. The problem, however, was that the best laid plans often go awry.

***

Four days passed without anything of note happening, the members hard at work.

“No more coffee from now on.”

“Moondae, persuade this guy for me.”

“Just give up on it,” I said.

Our concept was almost fleshed out, and the synopsis for the music video as well as the album design were also done. In fact, all we needed to do now was create a proper title track. We’d put our phones aside, even, as we focused on our work.

“Let’s take a ten-minute break!”

“Got it!”

It was a weekday morning, and I checked my phone for the first time in a while as we took some time to rest.

I wonder if anything interesting has happened? But instead of news, I noticed I had multiple missed calls.

[VTIC Cheongryeo]

“…?”

What? The fact that he was trying to contact me so out of the blue was what made it even more alarming. I thought for a moment, then called him back. He picked up instantly. It seemed as though his phone was already in his hand.

“Cheongryeo.”

“Moondae.” His voice was calm, but his next words were anything but chill. “Could you open the door, please?”

What?

“What door?”

“The front door.”

Wait, don’t tell me he… I didn’t want to believe it, but I walked past the living room where the members were scattered around resting and headed for the front door. I opened it with the chain in place, so I could glance out into the hallway.

“…!”

I was greeted with the expressionless face of a man holding a phone to his ear. It was really Cheongryeo.

Is he nuts? The bastard had come to our dorm without warning.