Asian Music Awards
Three more singers performed after Kim Se-jun's set, and then the Ares Music concert finally drew its curtain.
It had been a roaring success. The audience had been a crucible of frenzy and feeling, and the firsthand reviews flooding the internet were no exaggeration — they were praise from the first word to the last.
The bill had featured nearly ten singers. Not a single harsh word had been leveled at the night; it had been a flawless show. And even among that unbroken stretch of acclaim, one performance stood apart.
Kim Se-jun's.
The reactions of everyone who had seen him were frighteningly consistent. Online opinion drowned in nothing but praise. A set that had delivered both emotion and sheer entertainment — people were already starting to demand a solo concert of his own.
The internet overflowed with admiration, and one old man was watching that tide of public opinion with considerable interest.
"Hmm..."
He stroked his chin as he watched a clip someone had uploaded of Kim Se-jun's stage — the young man in hanbok, plucking a gayageum — and the comments stacked beneath it.
"He might just do."
A figure who brought traditional Korean culture fully to life and still won the public's genuine affection. He would be perfect as their promotional ambassador.
"What do you think?"
The old man looked across the desk at the rail-thin, bespectacled man seated opposite him.
"I like him. Judging by the response, he's popular, and it doesn't look as though the talent is lacking either. I dug a little further, too — this young man's father turns out to be Kim Chang-yong."
"Oh. Chang-yong, the Intangible Cultural Heritage holder?"
"Yes, sir. That's right."
It was a name strangers to the field would not have known. To the two of them, it was a familiar one.
"If he's Chang-yong's son, then the skill is the real thing."
"Exactly. And they do say a tiger never sires a dog. Kim Chang-yong's son is bound to be a fine young man in character as well. His fan service already has something of a reputation online."
The old man nodded at the words, spoken as the other pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"Good. Start moving on it. And the other plan — is that proceeding well?"
"Yes. Nothing is confirmed yet, but KM Media has been sending positive signals."
The old man's mouth curved, just slightly, at the thoroughness of the work. On his desk sat a nameplate that read Hong Seong-won, Head of the Korean Culture Promotion Agency.
"Ah. It dropped..."
Same as every other morning, Kim Se-jun opened his eyes and checked the charts — and let out a thick sigh of disappointment.
Simcheongga, the song he had made with Kang Yu-na, had held first place with an iron grip for some three months. With the year's end, it had finally surrendered the top spot. On the weekly chart it had lasted eleven weeks, a record anyone would have been satisfied with, and a fall that would not have been strange at any moment. Still, watching the rank slip left a hollow little ache in his chest.
"You really can't ignore the power of Christmas."
The song that had broken theirs had been released to catch the holiday. A tender love song, the kind that warmed a cold winter through.
"Nothing I can do about it."
He got out of bed and shook the disappointment off. The rank had already fallen. Clinging to it would only wear him down.
If I think about it rationally, it only dropped one spot.
Consoling himself, he hurried to get ready. What was done was done. Brooding over it would have been a foolish thing.
Kim Se-jun's first appointment of the day was a meeting — with the Korean Culture Promotion Agency, which wanted to name him their promotional ambassador. Both Ares Music and Se-jun himself were looking at the offer favorably.
It's been a while since I heard that name.
The Korean Culture Promotion Agency. In the life he had lived before his regression, as a gayageum master, they had helped him more times than he could count. They had been one of the few organizations that actually sponsored him. He had no bad memories of them, and their proposal was a solid one, so he walked into the conference room in a genuinely good mood.
Lee Hae-jin and Ha Dong-jun were already in their seats. They exchanged smiling greetings, and Ha Dong-jun got straight to the point.
"So what do you think of this?"
"I like it. The Korean Culture Promotion Agency is a public organization, and the image fits me rather well, doesn't it?"
A singer who played the gayageum. He was made to be an ambassador for Korean culture. A situation in which both sides could win — and they had almost certainly approached him from exactly that angle.
Ha Dong-jun agreed.
"We're positive too. The image lines up, and they're even offering to throw advertising into the deal."
"Oho..."
Se-jun let out a faintly wry sound of wonder. Before the regression, in his years as a gayageum master, he had been named a promotional ambassador once. Back then, an advertising offer had never even come up.
"And there's more—"
Ha Dong-jun was just launching into an enthusiastic rundown when a knock sounded and two men came in: a well-built old man and a painfully thin, middle-aged man in glasses. At the sight of two such familiar faces, Se-jun offered a warm greeting without letting anything else show.
Hong Seong-won and Park Ji-won. He had seen both of them often in the life before. They were good men, with a deep interest in and pride for their country's culture — and if they had a flaw, it was only that the pride sometimes tipped over into something closer to nationalism.
"A pleasure. Hong Seong-won."
"Park Ji-won."
A light handshake, and the meeting began.
"This is our proposal. Please look it over and let us know what you think."
Park Ji-won drew a sheaf of papers from his briefcase and passed them around.
"Hmm..."
The three of them examined the documents with care. Se-jun set his personal gladness aside and went through every page with a professional eye.
Pretty standard.
He read it through more than once and found nothing that grated. Stripped of the dense official language, the offer was simple: shoot one commercial, wear the title of promotional ambassador, and attend a handful of their events. That was all. No matter how he turned it over, there was nothing in it that could hurt him. For a proposal of that size, the contract fee they were offering almost felt like getting paid to do nothing.
"Ahem. Everything else is fine, but I think we'll need to review the figures a little further before we give you an answer."
Wow...
Se-jun looked over at Ha Dong-jun in surprise. He had thought the money was more than enough. Leave it to a businessman never to approve anything on the first pass. Ha Dong-jun was laying groundwork to push the contract fee higher.
"Of course. That part is entirely open to discussion, so please review it and get back to us. Ah — and one more thing."
Park Ji-won paused and glanced sideways at Hong Seong-won. Seeing the old man's head tip in the slightest of nods, he went on.
"This isn't confirmed yet, but there's something we ought to tell you in advance."
"Please."
"We're currently working out an arrangement with KM Media, which broadcasts the Asian Music Awards. If Se-jun were to sign with us, he would need to structure his stage according to that arrangement."
"An arrangement?"
Se-jun asked it back, and Park Ji-won pushed up his glasses and smiled.
"It isn't a proposal that would do Se-jun any harm. It's simply that we've become a sponsor of this year's Asian Music Awards, and we've put something together as part of that."
He stopped for a moment and swallowed. Then he began to speak again, and with every sentence a brighter light gathered in Se-jun's eyes.
The plan the Korean Culture Promotion Agency had assembled was, as it turned out, far more interesting than he had expected.
The Asian Music Awards. In name and in fact, the largest music awards ceremony in Korea — a show whose influence reached well beyond the country, into K-pop fans across all of Asia. As K-pop's stature had risen, the awards had risen with it. The ceremony traveled from one Asian city to another each year, and it was widely praised for the sheer, overwhelming scale of its productions.
And for Kim Se-jun, who had released two hit songs this year and firmly established his place, an invitation was only a matter of course.
"Hyung-nim. This year's Asian Music Awards is in Japan, isn't it?"
They were on the way home after the day's schedule. At Lee Joo-sung's question from behind the wheel, Se-jun swallowed the coffee he'd been holding in his mouth.
"Yeah. Osaka, Japan."
"Heh heh heh."
Lee Joo-sung let out a low laugh at the answer. Se-jun assumed the sound was packed with the thrill of a man about to board a plane for the first time.
"We're not going there to play around."
"Ah — that isn't why I was laughing. I was smiling because it makes me happy that Hyung-nim's music is being recognized overseas."
Not the answer he had expected. Looking at the back of Lee Joo-sung's head, Se-jun found a fond smile spreading across his face.
What a good kid.
K-pop's popularity across Asia was in a league of its own, and thanks to that, Se-jun's own name had been spreading through the region little by little. He had heard that a dedicated, almost cult-like fan base was already forming in Japan, where this year's Asian Music Awards would be held.
MeTube had a lot to do with it, too.
The MeTube channel he had opened last time. As the videos piled up, comments had begun appearing in every language — Korean, of course, but English as well, and Japanese on top of that.
The popularity in Japan was a bit of a surprise, though.
Southeast Asia he had expected. K-pop was so huge there that his name was bound to travel with it. Japan, he had not seen coming at all.
Was it because of the koto?
The koto — Japan's traditional plucked zither, so close to the gayageum. Perhaps, watching him play, they felt something like kinship.
I should just be grateful.
Whatever the reason, the existence of overseas fans who loved his music filled him with thanks — and still did not quite feel real.
"Hyung-nim. Do you think Ye-eun will have her day in the sun like you?"
Lee Joo-sung's question pulled Se-jun out of his thoughts. He could not quite hold back the laugh that slipped out of him. In his memory, Lee Ye-eun had taken home the Grand Prize at the Asian Music Awards at least twice.
He looked out the window as he answered.
"Don't worry. Everything's going to work out."
"Have a good trip. Take care of yourself."
"Yes. Thank you, sir."
December 15th. The day Kim Se-jun and Lee Jin-ah left for Japan. Lee Hae-jin had come all the way to the airport to see them off.
"The Asian Music Awards will be a good experience. It isn't often in a lifetime that you stand on a stage that size — and performing for a foreign audience, on top of that."
"Yes. I'll take it as a foundation and come back stronger."
Lee Hae-jin smiled and patted his shoulder. As boarding time drew near, Kim Se-jun and Lee Jin-ah started walking.
The moment they settled into their business-class seats, Lee Jin-ah let out a groan.
"Ugh... I'm wiped."
She had had schedules right up until dawn. She had every right to be running on fumes.
"Get some sleep, noona."
"I will. What about you?"
"I don't think I can sleep. I'm too excited."
His face was full of anticipation. Looking at it, Lee Jin-ah let out a long sigh.
"Aigoo... Se-jun. Don't get your hopes up too high."
"Sorry?"
What was this, now? Se-jun's eyes went round, and Lee Jin-ah offered the advice in a carefully serious voice.
"Honestly, idols go over much better overseas than people like us. Most of the crowd will be idol fans. So we're more like the opening act. Don't expect some huge roar of a response during the performance."
"Ah..."
Her eyes were full of worry. Advice born of experience, no doubt. He understood exactly what she was afraid of — that he would fly out with his heart too high and come home disappointed.
"Well. You're a strong favorite for Best Rookie, so you'll have it a little better than I will."
She said it and pulled on her eye mask. Se-jun turned his face to the window.
A sideshow, huh...
It might be true now. That did not mean it had to stay true in the future.
Osaka's international airport — Itami Airport — was a sea of people. It was not only their flight. Other singers had come in on the same plane, and their fans had packed the terminal in solid ranks. Every time an artist appeared, the crowd screamed and shook their banners, and Lee Jin-ah's worry hardened into certainty.
The banners they were holding. Most of them were printed with idol names and nicknames.
Gotta admit, this is a little deflating.
It was a cold shoulder he had never tasted in Korea, and Se-jun wore a bitter little smile. Even the security team paid him no attention at all, throwing themselves entirely into escorting the idols.
The bitterness was still settling when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
"...!"
He turned his head and found several dozen people watching him with shy, uncertain faces.
"I'm your fan. Please..."
The English was clumsy. A sheet of paper and a pen were held out toward him.
"Haha..."
And behind that first person, a line. Men and women, young and old, and in their hands every kind of gift — a portrait of his face drawn by hand, sweets that looked homemade, boxes wrapped with painstaking care.
"Joo-sung. Grab all of that, quick."
"Yes, Hyung-nim."
Lee Joo-sung had not seen this coming either. Flustered, he started gathering their presents.
"Arigatou gozaimasu."
It was one of the few Japanese phrases Se-jun knew. He put his whole heart into the thanks, and their faces lit up. He took a photograph with every one of them and left an autograph for each. A brief, sudden little fan meeting, sprung up out of nowhere.
One man addressed him in surprisingly serviceable Korean.
"I-I'm a real fan. All of us are rooting for you. We listen to your songs a lot here in Japan. Do your best!"
Something in his chest pulled tight.
This is almost too much luxury.
The presence of fans, felt in a country so far from home. It was a luxury he had no words big enough for.
"Thank you. Truly."
He bowed at the waist. Lee Joo-sung shot him a discreet, anxious look. It was time they slipped out of the airport. Catching the restlessness, Se-jun offered the crowd one last greeting.
"Thank you. I think I have to go now. Arigatou gozaimasu."
With that, he turned his back and started walking. Their voices followed him the whole way — calling his name, over and over — and Kim Se-jun carved a deep vow into himself.
This performance. He would make them proud they had become his fans.