Chapter 25: "Perfect!"
"Perfect!"
I knew that already.
"As a composer myself, I'm always hesitant to comment on choreography like this or that, but one thing was crystal clear."
Was Bitboy always like this? Sure, back in casual settings, he'd loosen his tongue after a few drinks. But that was usually when talking about girls. When it came to work, he wasn't the type to hand out "praise" lightly.
"The moment I first heard the song, I thought it was monotonous. That was arrogant of me—a hasty judgment. And that I was wrong... well."
Right now, in Korea, the top composer was him—Bitboy, me. A guy brimming with confidence and self-love, enough to boldly declare it. And here he was, putting himself down to lift up Black Label.
"...About five seconds in, it hit me. This is the melody that can properly put Black Label on the map. That plain beat flowing along suddenly clicked perfectly when Black Label started dancing to it."
"Exactly! Perfect match! Soulmates! That word just wouldn't come to me."
Seon Ha-rang clapped as she jumped in on Kim Min-hyuk's words.
The good momentum naturally spilled over to the next seat. Bitboy was just a side dish anyway—irrelevant. The real influence on the live audience came from the judge currently holding the mic: Seon Ha-rang.
"To cut to the chase, it was great. Fantastical, maybe?"
With so many stages in a day requiring heavy movement, the production team had brought in extra special judges to manage the regulars' stamina. Seon Ha-rang was one of them, and true to her "special" title, she was exceptional. A first-gen soloist unfamiliar with the idol label, unlike those typical singers who stirred up scandals every peak comeback, she maintained a spotless private life with zero controversies and kept performing.
People said it all the time: Seon Ha-rang was still in her prime. With her endless string of "Nth peaks," her glowing review of Black Label? That was GOAT status.
She didn't say much. Just one line, and every Black Label member was floored. Especially Ray, who shivered with goosebumps, deeply moved.
"In my eyes, the stage Black Label just showed is the textbook debut for a girl group, don't you think?"
"Whoa! That's the ultimate praise for idols, right?"
With Joo Seong-hwan hyping it up, Seon Ha-rang rode the wave into her full critique.
"First off, the stage was easy on the eyes."
Easy on the mouth, she said, but her brow furrowed. Probably shading Opaz. Sure enough, one Opaz member flinched—like the thief whose foot burns first. They must not have wiped off all the oil in time; it was still glistening and dripping down their faces.
"Not just visually—the song was easy to listen to, and it calmed my heart. I don't even know what label to slap on it. Good positioning? Well-controlled dynamics in the choreo? More than that..."
Seon Ha-rang locked eyes with each Black Label member as she spoke.
"It felt natural. You all looked so pure, and watching the stage put my mind completely at ease."
"For three whole minutes, I felt like I was in a fresh flower garden."
"Oh! Yeah! That's exactly it!"
A relaxing stage. A refreshing one. While Black Label was swept up in an emotional whirlwind, I couldn't help but chuckle alone. What would have been just a cute, green debut against normal opponents had been pushed to peak pure impact by Opaz's oil sabotage.
"Watching Black Label, I even wondered if this is what first love feels like—for a guy."
The praise kept pouring like a drought-ending rain, enough that Joo Seong-hwan had to cut in briefly. The head PD must have figured they'd milked enough footage, signaling with a throat-slash gesture.
Time for Opaz. Taking the cue, Joo Seong-hwan shifted his gaze.
"Alright, now what did our judges think of Opaz's stage? Seon Ha-rang?"
Her warm gaze vanished. She gripped the mic and stared down Opaz.
"Well... I have nothing to say. But first off..."
She paused like she was timing an ad break.
"...It was the worst."
From heaven's end to hell's gates.
***
"Good work."
I offered encouragement as Black Label came down after wrapping the shoot.
"You've done the most work, oppa. What did we even do?"
The sticky oil had dried and crusted; Won Ji-min peeled it off her soles as she descended. The Black Label manager rushed over with socks and shoes for the members.
No surprises. The outcome was exactly as I'd predicted.
I turned. What was obvious to me was a shock to them; Opaz sobbed uncontrollably on their way down.
"Good work."
Ji-soo's greeting went ignored as they huddled under blankets and headed to their waiting room. Brushed off, Ji-soo forced an awkward smile.
"Guess the tears blocked their view of me."
"Let's go."
I grabbed her and followed Black Label's heels to the waiting room. On the way, Ji-soo kept babbling nonsense. The situation must feel surreal to her.
We'd won. Okay, maybe "victory" sounds too grand. But the spotlight they'd struggled under for years—where Black Label was Opaz, and vice versa—had shifted. They'd been mere backdrop for senior rookies with a seniority gap, extras in dramas. Now, Black Label had leveled up to supporting role.
The future had changed, and even I felt dazed. The ones living it must feel it more.
"We've been underground too long."
In a well. Now look up and climb.
...I almost said it but held back.
"Huh? What?"
Back in the waiting room, Ji-soo—sugar-crashing—was devouring chocolate, wrapper and all. Her mouth was smeared with it. Emotions freezing solid.
I shook my head and asked, "Tasty?"
"Yeah, super tasty. Fans gave it to us before the stage."
"Eat up."
I flashed the sheepish smile she'd worn earlier.
The 16-strong round was done—no mistakes, stages nailed. Now back to composers' turn. Mine was up; time to craft a killer track so these kids could shine on screen again.
Opponent TBD, but from the bracket: boy group Fist or trot singer Rakwon. One of them against us.
"Ah..."
Frustrating. No breakout stars like Opaz. Big trouble. Luck ends today—pure fandom and skill from here.
Won Ji-min handed me a sandwich, head bowed. "Oppa, fans sent this as tribute. Want to try?"
I looked up slowly. "Fans?"
"Yeah. Fans."
Like Seon Ha-rang said, her fresh smile felt apocalyptic.
"Wait a sec."
"Huh?"
Has to be. That guy's a money fiend.
Money-crazed, so he'd chase the buzz from the teaser straight to Black Label's stage. Before the crowd cleared, I bolted from the waiting room.
***
Park Jin-seon fiddled with his camera. Scrolling thumbnails on the display, he grinned in satisfaction.
"This is insane, right?"
Finish editing, print merch, and the cash rolling in would be nuts. This was pure gold. A taste of success.
Quick-handed shady homma B-cuts were already sweeping communities. Won Ji-min's stage shots had drool-worthy suckers lining up.
└That's why they're third tier. lol
"Oh ho."
Word of mouth on Black Label was already spreading. Other hommas smelling the cash too. But nail the edits, and they were nothing.
Time to head home. Tens of millions awaited Park Jin-seon.
As he grabbed his dangling lens and turned to leave, someone seized him.
"Hey."
The man, still catching his breath, bowed deeply. Hands on knees, panting hard.
"Hold on."
"Who are you?"
Park Jin-seon stared piercingly at the bowed figure. No fan vibe, manager? He'd tailed enough idols to spot managers, but this face was new. Same building, so Black Label or Opaz staff? Newbie maybe. Better draw lines early.
"Ah... looks like a misunderstanding. I'm not doing anything illegal."
He hid the camera behind his back.
"This stuff actually helps the girls more, you know."
"Yeah, I know. Not here to stop you."
Breath steady now, the man spoke calmly. He straightened and fixed Park Jin-seon with a stare.
"I'd actually love if you posted more."
"Huh?"
Uh...
"Uh?"
Park Jin-seon pointed at Seo Hyun-woo.
"...You're Falcon, right? The composer with Black Label."
"Yes. That's me."
Falcon pulled out his phone.
"Seen this?"
Fast hands. He played the just-uploaded OpazSupreme Beat Contest preview clip.
"Got a favor to ask about this."