The Camera Dives Deeper
The camera delved even deeper, gripped like a remote in the hand of a kid tuning into Curiosity Heaven. It captured a chaotic sprawl of notes scribbled every which way.
Shim Yu-jeong, who couldn't just belt out the song on the spot, turned to me for some elaboration. She tapped the mic repeatedly, her mouth smacking with a dusting of kimchi powder. Had she even eaten on time? These kids were grinding in their own way, no doubt.
Black Label was one thing, but she had to be dying to know how this matchup even happened. A girl group clashing with a trot singer in the round of 16. Even if it felt like a fluke, they'd risen on pure, zesty skill. Two players gunning for the 10-20s and 50-60s demographics. Polar opposite charms, but the picture felt predictable somehow.
Song contest shows like this had been around longer than you'd think. The network was racking its brains for a fresh angle, and right on cue, this juicy twist leaked out. Killer looks and intense sword-sharp choreography? Nah, they were stepping up with trot of all things. Knowing full well how fast trot fandoms explode in that scene.
"Wait, you do know who the opponent is, right?"
Shim Yu-jeong shrugged, directing her interview request my way. Her team, shadowing Black Label, wasn't just hoovering up footage like a mockumentary. They spliced in mid-scene chats for that fake-doc vibe.
"Pardon?"
"Your opponent. The opponent. It's the trot singer Rakwon..."
Shim Yu-jeong trailed off, her face screaming, Good luck with that.
"Strictly speaking, it's not trot."
"Huh? But I caught a snippet earlier, and it sounded like..."
It probably did. The interview unfolded leaning against some wall in the auditorium, half-protruding from our spot. Midway, Rakwon and 350 strolled by. Even the junior AD didn't miss it, zooming in on me eyeing them.
Should I poke the bear? Rakwon had glided to the round of 16 like a serene lakeside—no waves. Or more like dominated her way up. No real adversity. That's why she was fair game. A pebble toss wouldn't sink her, but...
These weren't the types who flinched first. A blind biter like her probably hadn't faced real heat yet. Let's see how she reacts.
"But it is trot."
"Huh? You just said it wasn't..."
Shim Yu-jeong scratched her brow, missing the nuance, settling in to hear me out.
I pressed on calmly. "If we're splitting hairs, semi-trot maybe."
"Semi-trot."
"Yeah. Rakwon's been spreading trot love through Cheonbihoe to tons of fans, and honestly, I dig trot too."
A little white lie for the round of 16? Whatever it takes.
"Wanted to give it a shot. Trot's one of those genres with sky-high barriers."
"Y... yeah?"
"And there's no rules saying songs have walls, right? Idols can't touch idol tunes only, ballad singers banned from rock—nah, no such law."
"True. But this is tournament time now. Single-elim, and a flop means Black Label's out. You cool with that?"
She's saying weigh the opportunity cost.
"I just want Black Label to show their full charm on this stage..."
"That's Black Label too."
"Pardon?"
I shot back at her surprise. "Like I said, no law says Black Label has to stick to certain music. If they make the stage fun, that's Black Label."
"Whoa!"
Shim Yu-jeong's weary eyes widened. She signaled one of the cameras tracking Black Label. Another lens swung my way amid the pack.
Huh. This might actually get some real screen time.
The production crew swarmed Rakwon, no question. We were just extras at best, so why not pour it all into the stage? Provocation aside, time for a pivot.
Right on cue, Shim Yu-jeong tossed another. "So, what's Black Label's trot pick?"
"Folk song."
"...Folk song?"
Yeah, bought it from some mystery shop—who says that? I stuck to basics.
Thought about flexing, I whipped it up solo, but nah. It reeked trot so hard, nothing else fit. But claiming an unverified track? World’s vast, crazies everywhere. Never know who’d drag me.
And drags hit the kids hardest. I glanced over at Black Label grinding choreography. They'd take the brunt.
Sampling? Own it. That's ethics.
"We sampled."
"Ah, got it. Splice?"
Shim Yu-jeong name-dropped a sampling site she'd picked up somewhere, but I just shook my head. I'd flashed enough face. Spotlights back on Black Label.
Let People Know Black Label!
🎁 Black Label Search Count:0 / 10,000
Eh, they'll edit it fine.
**
"Nailed the interview?"
"Yeah."
"Our turn now."
Hye-soo waved toward Won Ji-min, mid-interview at the auditorium wall spot.
Back with the crew, Black Label turned factory mode. Already divvying lyrics and choreo. Lyrics? Peeking over shoulders worked, but their choreo assembly line baffled me.
Let People Know Black Label!
🎁 Black Label Search Count:0 / 10,000
Can we pull eyes per the quest? Last time, this time—key's Black Label buzz. Now they're straight-up begging for traffic spikes. Right call? When do I even raise these kids? Isn't this enough? Wanna ping the system, but nah, short.
"Um... Hye-rin-ssi."
The junior AD who'd returned with Won Ji-min called out vaguely.
"Yes?"
Hye-soo, closest name match, turned.
"...Me?"
"Yes. Hye-rin-ssi. Interview possible?"
"Uh... me."
Hye-soo dropped her gaze to her name tag on the tee. The junior AD followed, jaw dropping.
"Ah, sorry! Hye-soo-ssi. My bad."
"No worries."
Hye-soo threw up double peace signs, fighting pose full throttle. Cameras still rolling. No bad vibes allowed. She flashed a bright grin, patting the junior's back.
"You'll cover other singers too—easy mix-up. Totally get it!"
"Th... thanks. This way then?"
Black Label cycled through interviews. But the calls felt obligatory for the others. Unlike Won Ji-min's marathon, they zipped back quick. Can't hog one member forever—filler face time, probably.
Sucks, but inevitable. Managers crave any exposure; composers squeeze extra lines from even weak links. Black Label never had weak spots, though.
Pre-interviews wrapped as Hye-soo—not Hye-rin—returned.
"Where we at?"
Hye-soo, maknae energy, lifted the mood. Minor hiccup. Brush it off. ADs shadowing dozens—name flubs happen, or no airtime. But these 17-18-year-olds knew: all that sweat for Won Ji-min's one shot.
Maknae's pep helps, but it's sticky. Won Ji-min, sudden villain vibe, clammed up. So I broke it.
"Concept."
"Right, concept."
Won Ji-min volleyed my lob.
"Toss ideas for concepts. I'll compile."
Leader mode: wrangling input. But nada. Choreo fit the melody somewhat, but no vibe yet.
So I pitched. "B-grade vibe? Straight-up, cringey meme."
"Cringe? Oppa, we're idols?"
Ray panicked, group image shield up. Think, kids. Flop this, no image to save.
These two, sans Won Ji-min. One vocal ace, one variety whiz. Variety girl's no slouch vocally either. No one nails B-grade like her.
I laid it out steady. "We can't crush Rakwon pure trot."
Even maxing Black Label potential on show...
"Y-yeah."
Won Ji-min nodded.
"Doesn't mean we lose. Not buying it. It's not a sing-off scorecard."
Hye-soo caught my glance, volleying. "Then?"
"Singing great matters, but stage is about captivating. Flaunting your charisma."
"...My charisma?"
Quest for 10k+ Black Label buzz. Hye-soo needs no skill boost now—it's the spark.
"Yeah. Looking cool counts, but I want you owning this stage your way."
"My way..."
Hye-soo trailed off, confidence gap mirroring her words. Time to fill it.
"Hye-soo, you wanna make your name stick too."
I tapped my temple. "Plant yourself in heads. That's what I mean."