Ah, Fuck!
“Ah, fuck!”
“Jeong-ah. Jeong-ah. We're just a little worked up right now. Calm down! Let's settle our minds.”
“Do we even have the energy for that right now? What the hell are those bastards?”
“Huh? Who? Black Label?”
Choi Jeong was flabbergasted.
“Not them, the pricks from their company.”
“Aah~.”
The manager shut her mouth.
The G&X rookie development team that promised to get in touch never did. “Just hold on a bit longer,” they said. “Good things come to those who wait.” They were all buddy-buddy when they were selling something, but now? Not even a courtesy text asking how she's doing.
“Let's not hang all our hopes on Black Label. Jeong-ah. We've got urgent business to wrap up right now.”
“Exactly. That's why I'm even more pissed off. What the hell is going on?”
Choi Jeong grabbed a box of snacks from the shelf and hurled it at the floor. Her tantrum was far from over.
“What the fuck are they playing at? They bitched about having a ton of tracks ready? The more I think about it, the madder I get. They said they didn't have any, but maybe they're just not contacting us because they don't have anything lined up on their end.”
“Jeong-ah. Got it. I'll give G&X a call later and follow up. So for now, let's focus on what we need to do. For real.”
The manager checked the time. Not much left.
They could fill as much footage as they wanted, but this was Kickkick Band's finals stage. They hadn't even nailed the intro.
Lazy-ass Choi Jeong was trying to cheat her way through.
“The PD said we just need to fill about a minute no matter what. So that kid can just bang on the drums half-assed, right?”
She turned her ire on the drummer maknae, who was pretending not to hear.
The maknae, twirling his drumsticks, kept up the act. He feigned ignorance and fired up a mobile game.
The manager shot the kid a glare following Choi Jeong's pointed finger, then let out a defeated sigh.
“Nah, that won't fly.”
“What's not to fly? Drums are crucial in band music.”
“What if it airs as a sneak peek? What if PD Jo decides to drop this on YouTube just to stir up some aggro? Our public image is toast. Text votes, all that? Done.”
“Then what the hell do you want me to do?! What am I supposed to do with this bullshit dumped on us out of nowhere?!”
The sparks flew toward the assistant director quietly filming them.
“What do you want me to do? Huh? What exactly? If you spring a mission like this on us out of the blue...!”
“Uh...”
She'd heard he was a rookie assistant director hastily pulled from another production team. Sure enough, rookies were easy targets.
Choi Jeong recalled what Falcon had told her.
She scratched her head.
“That bastard earlier. What was his name... That Black Label composer guy.”
“Huh? Falcon? Seo Hyun-woo?”
“Yeah. That fucker said the song we do today doesn't have to be the same as the one for the main stage. So that should work.”
“Huh?”
Leaving the still-clueless manager behind, Choi Jeong racked her brain.
“Hey, hey. What's your name again?”
“Hyung... This is too much, seriously. I'm Ji-hoon. Choi Ji-hoon. You said earlier we'd get along great since we share the same surname.”
Choi Jeong flashed an awkward grin.
“Hey, sorry. You get it, right? We're swamped right now, that's why. Ji-hoon-ah.”
“Yes.”
“You said you wanna get famous, yeah? Wanna show your face to the whole country?”
***
“How's it gonna go?”
Won Ji-min whispered.
As it was rehearsal, some teams were on edge before the main stage, while others brushed it off casually. It showed.
The tense ones were bringing their real main-stage tracks. The latter were teams like me, faking it with decoys.
Of course, not 100%. Just by my standards.
One of the tense teams, Kim Won-sam's rehearsal wrapped up. All the teams clapped like audience members.
If we had to pin a genre on it, it was ticklish sing-rap. Trendy Auto-Tune vocals mixed with fast, melancholic rapping. Emotional lyrics that could snag some fangirls, but nothing threatening.
Whatever. Kim Won-sam had momentum.
No fakes for him. From mic levels to minor stage movements—everything was sincere.
Too busy prepping this one track to bother with tricks, probably.
Normally, I'd applaud sincerely at that mindset, but I held back.
Right now, my eyes were locked solely on Digdag.
They communicated opinions swiftly, as if it were already their turn.
“Yes, Kim Won-sam's performance really tugged at the audience's hearts. Next up, Kickkick Band!”
MC Joo Seong-hwan, itching to clock out early, barreled through without fluff, and Kickkick Band took the stage.
The moment they climbed up, Choi Jeong asked the camera director.
“Focus more on this kid today than on me.”
The young guy settling in behind her at the drums.
“Huh?”
Won Ji-min was startled.
“Why?”
“The drummer's different. He wasn't that young before.”
Member swap.
Not rare for a one-man band like Kickkick, but not exactly common either. Especially not a sudden switch like today—cause was obvious. Clashing opinions, or Choi Jeong's bullshit.
Kickkick Band had made it this far—and blown minds—thanks to Choi Jeong's vocals clearing the air. Not an exaggeration to say tons voted just for her.
“Alright, let's start.”
At the assistant director's cue, Choi Jeong and the drummer locked eyes, signaled, and he eased into the beat.
Boring.
Holding back spoilers hard, it seemed—just drums meshing with Choi Jeong's voice. No lyrics.
She jumped an octave clean and crisp, cold tone that'd impress even Hye-soo, but... whatever.
This wasn't Kickkick Band's sound.
“What do you think?”
Even if I said no, Won Ji-min seemed fixated on Kickkick Band.
Business as usual. Same old music from Kickkick Band.
Unlike them, tension dropped further.
Not because of the repeat track. The melody washing over now, with the drummer immersed—that wasn't Kickkick Band's vibe.
Fake track. Didn't match my memories.
And especially.
Beat sense was trash. “Full of attention-seeking flair” meant he loved the spotlight, and the nuance between “has flair” and “full of it” made the rating worlds apart.
Like now. Du-du-du-du-du-dung, tack! Overkill fills burying Choi Jeong's voice.
Choi Jeong glanced back in panic.
Thanks to some broadcast savvy, she powered through the test stage unfazed.
“That's our prepared performance.”
The assistant director checked the stopwatch and signaled PD Jo Young-soo, who tilted his head.
Not satisfied, obviously. But singling out Kickkick Band would kill fairness.
Don't worry. Ray would pull all the aggro for us.
“Got it.”
Jo Young-soo gritted his teeth and wrapped Kickkick Band.
Then checked the script.
“Yes, next... Digdag + Jang Hana. Get ready.”
Digdag's Yoo Yeon-hwa stood from her chair. Of all people, they were the scariest.
Sticking to concept like pros. Yoo Yeon-hwa, mask up and hat low, tipped it in greeting.
Then winked at me.
“Eung?”
That wasn't me. Won Ji-min looked the most uncomfortable and muttered.
“What the hell. So annoying.”
Won Ji-min, saying stuff like that? I glanced down silently, but attention snapped away.
“Let's jump right in.”
Jang Hana ditched her signature acoustic for a bright, chic white electric guitar—perky yet refined like her character—and kicked off the song.
Rich sound from the intro. Fake or real main track? Unclear.
Good. Even as a fake, I wanted more—the vibe hitting my eardrums hard.
Like unearthing a raw gem; PD Jo Young-soo's direction feed lit up busily.
My head turned from him, eyes widening more than Won Ji-min's.
Sooner than expected. Not time yet, but the boss had arrived.
***
“That girl's not her, right?”
G&X Entertainment CEO Jung Pil-woon eyed the girl bouncing on stage.
His mouse-like secretary shook his head.
“No. She's not a Black Label member—she's Jang Hana, prepping finals with them.”
“Looks young. High chance of success.”
“Shall I bring her?”
“That'd stir up gossip about ethics.”
Jung Pil-woon sat tight. Supreme Beat Contest CP Kim Seok-moon came hustling over with greetings.
“Whoa, CEO! What brings you? A heads-up next time...”
“Just dropped by on a whim. And...”
Jung Pil-woon nudged; the secretary swiftly announced their presence to CP Kim Seok-moon.
“CP Kim Seok-moon. What should we even say to tip you off? We're just staff from one performer’s agency.”
Kim Seok-moon's brow twitched.
Hold up—the head of Korea's top agency personally showing for an idol on our recycled-content show?
No way. Suspicion confirmed via mic.
“Hello! Black Label here. Nice to meet you.”
Kim Seok-moon peeked at the stage.
“Ahh~ It's Black Label. Guess even G&X is paying attention.”
Hardly their league.
“I always keep tabs on our company's kids.”
Jung Pil-woon beamed with oily words.
Then asked Kim Seok-moon.
“How are they doing?”
“Hm...”
Kim Seok-moon pondered. What'd Jo Young-soo say? The golden child yanking ratings from the brink?
Not some cliché. He stroked his stylish beard, recalling.
No quick answer.
Jung Pil-woon showed faint disappointment.
“Nothing much to report, huh.”
“No, no. Not that. The PD hyped Black Label with some fresh slang the kids use these days... I can't recall exactly. What'd he call them...”
A punchy rap blasted through.
Jung Pil-woon shifted focus to the stage. Memory clicked.
Kim Seok-moon bellowed.
“Your team slays!”
“Pardon?”
“He said Black Label's 'your team slays'!”