Choi Jeong Digs His Ear with His Pinky Finger
Choi Jeong was digging at his ear with his pinky finger.
He'd just come out of the bathroom. Had he washed his hands? Not a drop of water on them? No dryer noise loud enough to carry outside either. He definitely hadn't washed them.
Disgusting.
……Yoo Yeon-ha grimaced without realizing it as her thoughts reached that conclusion. Choi Jeong did the same.
"I can't hear you. Can't hear a thing. Say it again."
Choi Jeong shook out the finger he'd been using on his ear.
"Why do you think you're below Black Label?"
Choi Jeong stared down Yoo Yeon-ha, who pulled her mask back up over her nose. Jang Ha-na, caught between them, stammered uncertainly.
"S-Sunbae… Um… I think there's a misunderstanding? We weren't trying to trash-talk you or anything…."
"Misunderstanding? You straight-up said Giggle Band can't win, right in front of me? And that's a misunderstanding?"
"No misunderstanding. It's a fact. I never trashed you."
Yoo Yeon-ha, suddenly channeling her Digdagun persona, cut in sharply. Digdagun didn't waste words. She had to maintain her 'mystery' concept. Digdagun only said what was necessary.
"Uh?"
"Think about it, Choi Jeong-ssi. In a sports match where there's a clear winner and loser, if someone says one team's favored and the other's the underdog, or it's gonna be tough—is that trash-talk?"
Digdagun shrugged. The whole scene made no sense to Jang Ha-na.
"Shoulders back."
Jang Ha-na broke out in a cold sweat, trembling in confusion. Yoo Yeon-ha placed a hand on Jang Ha-na's shoulder, patted it a few times, and left it there. Arm-in-arm now, she shot Choi Jeong a fierce look, signaling: Don't say another useless word.
"Hey, you from Giggle Band."
"What? That's not my name, it's our group—"
"Don't care. I don't know that stuff. Anyway, you think Giggle Band's got the win in the bag? Huh? We're all banding together just to check Black Label, and that's barely enough. Then you come out of nowhere with that baseless arrogance, bragging like you're gonna take it…."
Yoo Yeon-ha eyed Choi Jeong up and down.
"It's hilarious."
"Hey! You little—"
"Jeong-ah! Jeong-ah! What's going on?"
A potbellied guy who looked like Giggle Band's manager came rushing up from behind. His heaving gut jiggled like his ragged breaths. The buttons on his barely-buttoned shirt looked ready to pop.
Unlike Yoo Yeon-ha's supportive arm around Jang Ha-na, the manager used Choi Jeong like a railing, leaning his wobbly bulk against him to catch his breath.
"Haa~ Whoop~ Haa~."
He was struggling. Couldn't even stand straight. The manager needed time to recover, but to Yoo Yeon-ha, it was a waste. She bowed slightly, dragging Jang Ha-na along.
"Looks like we've said all we needed to. We'll be going now. Not much time left till the finals stage."
"Hey! Where do you think you're— Where you going? You just say your piece and bounce like that…."
Choi Jeong reached out to grab Yoo Yeon-ha, but missed. Instead, the manager clamped down hard on his hand.
"Hey, hey. Jeong-ah. What're you gonna do, pick a fight with them?"
"Hyung, this is about my pride. You hear what those punks said? Fucking rude as hell."
"So what? You gonna grab 'em and beat 'em up?"
"No, seriously!!"
Choi Jeong stomped his foot. Irritation boiled up from his core, condensing into his sole before slamming down.
"You didn't hear the start, hyung."
"I heard plenty. Predictions on who wins and loses—you do that shit too. Every day. Who's gonna take second after me? That Jang Ha-na girl? Black Label? You're stressing over it."
No comeback. The manager had watched Choi Jeong closer than anyone. Everything he said was straight facts. Choi Jeong shut his wide-open mouth.
The manager dragged him toward the parking lot. Even if they were alone, it was an open space. There was that saying: daytime whispers reach the rats, nighttime ones the birds. He almost voiced the proverb but swallowed it—too old-man-ish—and just opened the car door. Choi Jeong climbed in, door slammed shut.
"Why drag me all the way here?"
"To talk in peace."
"Not 'go ahead,' but 'to talk'?"
The manager grinned.
"You talk, I talk."
Choi Jeong cracked a wry smile.
"Ah~ So it came out? That song."
"Nah. Anyway."
'Choi Jeong, you first.'
The manager gestured upward. Choi Jeong cracked open a canned coffee from the van's stash.
Pop!
As the tab cracked, he spoke.
"I've been thinking."
Everyone was saying the same thing. Giggle Band was gonna pull a Tokik Band.
"I'll talk to the composer hyung, but for this genre, maybe we try something fitting for the finals."
"What're you saying?"
"Something different from our usual vibe."
Choi Jeong spat as he spoke. It hadn't started that way. Unlike Japan, Korea was a band music wasteland. Core fans kept it alive, but the scale was tiny. Still, it was comforting.
'Having core fans at all is something.'
With their solid base, if Giggle Band could just jump into a big show like Cheonbihoe with tons of viewers and have a blast, people would rediscover rock or whatever band music. No doubt. Why? 'Cause they were good. And every round, the effects were bigger than expected. Fans popped up from nowhere, they were even favorites to win. Momentum was high. Keep it up, and victory was in the bag. Composer hyung was already eyeing cars with the prize money. Another boom might hit.
If not for Black Label.
Choi Jeong ground his teeth.
"Everyone says we're just screaming noise."
"So?"
"Thinking we go softer this time. Keep the band identity, but something warmer. Like country music."
The reply wasn't quick. The manager, who'd always backed Choi Jeong's music, hesitated this time. Long deliberation.
Choi Jeong finished his canned coffee before the manager finally spoke.
"Jeong-ah. Let's rethink this."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Save that for a full album or single. For this stage, let's stick to what we do."
"Why?"
"Well… obviously, we're Giggle Band. We got here with the music we're best at. Our unique sound no one else can—"
"Black Label did it too?"
"Huh?"
The manager took a solid hit. Big mistake. No taking it back. Choi Jeong was hooked deep.
"Black Label won with this song, that song. Even against Rock Origin. Why can't we? Our cheers, fanbase, votes—they're all bigger."
"Jeong-ah. I usually respect your call, but…."
In quarters or semis, against anyone, he might've cheered it on. But this was finals. They needed to peak like the others. Fans expected Giggle Band's tough sound to pierce their stuffy hearts with something refreshing.
"So, hyung."
"Yeah?"
"What'd G&X say? Where's Black Label mastering their song? Falcon?"
"Nah, they said their track's not out yet."
"What? Then… no help at all. That bastard's just screwing with us, right?"
"Not that… Suddenly they're scouting an underground rapper."
"Huh? No way… featuring?"
***
Should they look into a feature? He was seriously considering it. Might even boost stage quality.
No, it was certain. It would.
"Yo~ you! Hey~ what your name~!"
Where'd she prep that?
"My name is Le-le-le-le-le~ Ray!"
That ridiculous snapback and sunglasses. Untraceable source. Rappers had to be sexy, she said, tying up her long T-shirt on one side. Left midriff exposed.
"Can't you skip that?"
"Why~? Everyone does it."
"Ray, you don't need to."
"I wanna do it right."
Ridiculous fashion wasn't skill. I waved my hand downward. Ray sat, turned off the Bluetooth mic.
"How was it?"
"Shocking."
Truly shocking. Was the potential my eyes saw in Ray glitching? If I could go back, I'd sew shut the mouth that bragged yesterday. Her skill was that jaw-dropping.
"Shockingly good, right? See?"
I held back. Starting harsh would just crush her. No help there. What mattered was her drive. I tapped my temple; Ray ditched the glasses and snapback. I asked,
"You were all writing lyrics together yesterday—got 'em done?"
"Yup!"
Ray pulled a crumpled A4 sheet from her pants pocket. Folded four times, it looked sat on and crushed forever—lifeless paper. I carefully unfolded the frayed edge.
This life, I'm doing it no matter what!
Star★ The protagonist is me! ★
I've come this far!
Up there! To the very top! ★
I pointed at the star at the end.
"What's this? Stars at every line?"
"Literally, 'cause I'm gonna be a star. Stuck 'em on. Good, right?"
"Wanna try it?"
"Huh?"
"Yeah. I'm no rapper, so lyrics alone don't give me the vibe. Not like before—lower the energy a bit?"
"……Lower the energy?"
Ray raised the character Bluetooth mic. Power on! Lights in the character's eyes.
"Ahh—!"
Ray checked volume, then murmured the lyrics. Toned down from before, you could feel this stage was no joke. Serious intent seeped through. Still rough in spots—16 bars needing polish. Breathless by the end, delivery sped up. I raised a hand.
"Slower, please? Too fast now."
"Okay."
"From the top again."
Ray nodded, spitting the first word.
Stars filling up.