Plan B: Plaster Repentance
Plan B. Plaster Repentance.
They weren't as popular as Catnip due to the "band" outlier factor. I hurried over and greeted them.
"Hello."
"Yes, hello."
Plaster Repentance's leader, Kang Woo-chan, greeted me brightly. I glanced at the atmosphere, then at the iPad another member was fiddling with. Records of searches done on the provided iPads showed that a few composers had already come and gone.
Eh, nothing unusual there.
"I'm the composer Falcon."
"Ah, Falcon! Yes. Are you here to propose to us?"
No unnecessary chit-chat. Kang Woo-chan cut straight to the point with a clean line, hitting only what mattered.
"Yes."
As soon as I answered, another Plaster Repentance member scurried over, having apparently checked the beat I'd uploaded, and shook their head.
Ah, strike out.
Kang Woo-chan tilted his head.
"Hold on a sec."
He asked my permission, then gestured for the rest of the members to pop in earbuds. His face showed much the same dissatisfaction as the member who'd openly dismissed it. With a puzzled expression, he turned to me instead.
"We listened to the beat you uploaded, but you do know we're a band, right?"
"Yes."
"Uh... I just don't quite get why you'd come to us. You seem to make great idol music."
That's because I know you're a group that can climb high. Because I know you can dance too. I knew everything, but I couldn't throw straight pitches with the time crunch. It'd probably backfire.
"If I can, I'd like to show the viewers the diverse sides of band Plaster Repentance."
"Our diverse sides?"
From behind leader Kang Woo-chan, the maknae-looking kid waved drumsticks as he asked.
"Yes. People think, 'They're a band, so they'll do band music.' It's a stale prejudice. Instruments are just tools for diverse sounds—why not show diverse music?"
"Ooh."
The drumsticks showed mild approval, but Kang Woo-chan's eyebrows twitched, his mood slightly soured.
"Sorry, but we haven't even hit the top in this genre yet. As you said, we can do other music, and showing that might be important."
Kang Woo-chan politely expressed his refusal.
"But we're a 'band' first. We want to focus on this field. Sorry."
"...Okay."
First confession, second chime. I knew the program's outcome thanks to the future, but the live broadcasts were spotty. I hadn't anticipated the players' personalities.
Damn.
Who knew they had such strong pride. I licked my lower lip and scanned the gymnasium.
Catnip seemed done already, shaking hands with a composer from a major agency with a storied past and exiting the venue.
I couldn't go back and grovel with a plaster repentance apology for undervaluing their band music. It was over.
Kang Woo-chan didn't know my personality either.
I checked the scoreboard. Remaining time: 97 minutes. An hour, thirty, and a smidge left.
"Hm..."
I closed my eyes once, then slowly raised my eyelids.
I could probably find players that matched me.
***
"What do you think?"
Black Label huddled in a corner, holding a meeting. They calmly checked beat after beat from the composers who'd uploaded to the provided iPads. Won Ji-min kept asking the other members.
"Nothing really grabs you, right?"
"It's not that nothing grabs me... there's too many. Way too many."
Hye-soo looked glum. The filming site was too noisy to properly judge tracks. It wasn't just the ears getting confused. With everyone bustling back and forth, focus was impossible. Even when a decent track popped up, other players had already snagged the composer.
"Not easy."
Ji-soo pulled out her earbuds and said.
Yeah, not easy. Won Ji-min glanced at the VJs scurrying around as busily as players and composers.
"They want us to act desperate."
And hoping we'd mess up. Using these minor moments to build viewer tension. Even better if we edged toward elimination.
"Hm..."
Won Ji-min turned to the scoreboard. 82 minutes left. Factoring in stage prep, time was razor-thin.
Maknae Ray spoke up.
"Should we go hunt one down now?"
The gymnasium center was a flea market frenzy.
"We're not total rookies, so people will recognize us."
"No. That'd be the wrong move."
Won Ji-min shook her head. Ray was right—we weren't total newbies from powerhouse G&X. Snet had even assigned extra cameramen to follow us. No big hit, no nothing. They were grinding their teeth early for an unpredictable hype card. This half-fame could boomerang into pressure.
Won Ji-min voiced her thoughts.
"The quest core isn't just pairing composer and player."
Pass this round two prelim, and it's straight to the prelim stage. It's about their combined instant stage flair. They could prioritize a composer fitting Black Label's color more.
Hye-soo's finger, flicking "next track" icons relentlessly, paused.
She immediately handed the earbuds and iPad to Won Ji-min.
"Unnie. What about this one? Feels solid to me."
"Lemme hear."
A composer she'd never seen—newbie? But plugging in earbuds and hitting play, the crisp intro sound ruled out rookie status.
Too polished? No need to deny. Not jaw-dropping masterpiece, but solid. Yeah, solid.
Idol staple: bright, refreshing sound driving the track. No overkill composer flexes begging for praise. Strong roots, ample neutral space for the vocalist to infuse color.
But tuning's end is stock—originality held up too. No, with good choreo, it was plenty.
Why's cliché a cliché? Proven hits people love. Botch it, it's stale; nail it, safest bet.
This track nailed it. Bland intro, familiar melody hook, but tight structure. Solid.
Bright, upbeat pop girl for fresh debuts. Effortless synth intro to clean chorus.
Won Ji-min muttered unconsciously.
"Hye-soo could blast high notes here."
Or dance break before verse two.
"Unnie, thoughts?"
Ray rolled her big bunny eyes for input. First track eating this much time.
"...I-I think it's good."
Won Ji-min stammered, passing earbuds around. Everyone, check it.
Others focused on sound; this visualized the stage crystal-clear.
"Ooh! Not bad at all?"
"Yeah. Unburdensome track—we can showcase our charms."
Three-plus years idoling let them gauge smash potential; consensus formed.
Won Ji-min stood, done shopping.
"Great. This one?"
"Yeah!"
"Me too!"
Unanimous.
Ray's sharp jab.
"But where's this composer? What if they're taken?"
Won Ji-min nodded.
"Can't be helped."
She dusted her palms, exuding confidence.
"We'll just prove we're better."
And lenses locked solely on Black Label, capturing every frame.
***
"Aaaah—! No! This won't do!"
Joo Seong-hwan bellowed, shaking the gymnasium.
"The Demon King's revival looms. At this rate—at this rate! The world might fall to the Demon King!"
Supreme Beat Contest production staffer Yeon Mi-yeon. Nights blurred into oblivion. Cap mashed low over matted hair. Half-dazed, staring at Joo Seong-hwan.
"That guy's something."
The madcap concept PD Jo Young-soo spat in a huff.
Supreme Beat Contest. Pulled from some manga, winner needed "responsibility" from pre-meetings onward.
Right. Responsibility matters. Idols crash hard post-fame. Tough for producers spinning wheels.
Snet too. Thought he'd wised up on responsibility. Wrong.
Martial tourney motif demanded tension-building villainy.
Villain? Month-long camp births them naturally. Producers just MSG-slice in edits.
His half-joking banter got brushed off amid exhaustion. Who foresaw this in their ears?
"Our hero must save the world from the Demon King. Hurry! Demon realm opens soon. Everyone! Give it your all!"
Straightforward levels for ranks—intentional?
"What backlash you courting post-air. Our PD sunbae."
Just "gutsy" echoes as Yeon Mi-yeon grabbed a camera. Concept's concept; paycheck demands footage.
"Hmm."
Any decent pairings?