God Se-jun
The day after the university festival wrapped, Lee Hae-jin and Ha Dong-jun summoned Kim Se-jun in a hurry.
"The response has been great, but..."
Ha Dong-jun spoke in a low voice, scrolling through the reactions to Kim Se-jun's stage from the night before. The reviews of yesterday's festival performance were overflowing with praise. What had begun as audience write-ups on a major Korean community app had spread to other forums in a matter of hours — a reminder, if anyone needed one, of just how far Kim Se-jun's popularity now reached. A mere university festival stage, and the conversation had spilled into communities that had nothing to do with campus life.
Kim Se-jun had seen those reactions himself and smiled with quiet satisfaction. It was proof that the crowd had enjoyed themselves every bit as much as he had.
"Yesterday was a lot of fun. When people started singing along to my songs... for a second there, I felt like I was flying."
"Yeah. Even I got that rush just watching, and I'm a third party. I can only imagine what it was like for you as the singer."
Ha Dong-jun shook his head.
Up to that point, everything had been wonderful.
Someone had filmed Kim Se-jun's stage and uploaded the video. It wasn't as lavish as a concert, but the sight of hundreds of people singing the same song in a single voice left a lingering impression even on those who hadn't been there. If that was how the public felt just watching the footage, the emotions Kim Se-jun had felt as the man at the center of that stage were beyond words.
"All of that's fine. That's all great. But why — why did you have to go and say something like this and make everything so complicated, Se-jun?"
Ha Dong-jun pressed a hand to his forehead and held out his phone. On the screen, Kim Se-jun was telling the audience he would donate his performance fee.
That declaration — that he would donate the entire fee — was drawing a feverish response online. Young people crushed under murderous university tuition were calling him God Se-jun, and some were even saying they ought to send him straight to the National Assembly.
"The reaction's great right now, sure, but what about the blowback? You're basically going to be volunteering at every university festival from now on. And other singers are about to get dragged because of you. Hoo..."
Ha Dong-jun let out a deep sigh, the disappointment he had been holding back finally showing on his face. Maybe it was because they had only ever seen Se-jun handle things well. His careless remark stung all the more for it.
Lee Hae-jin felt much the same, and the regret sat heavy in his chest.
Watching the two of them, Kim Se-jun gave a small nod. Even he had to admit that going ahead with something like this without consulting them at all had been too much.
"I'm sorry. I should have at least spoken with you first."
Kim Se-jun bowed his head slightly, and Ha Dong-jun exhaled another long breath.
"What's done is done. We'll do every university festival this year for free and put out a statement asking people not to go after other singers."
Lee Hae-jin nodded. As far as he could see, that was the best they could do. But then his eyes caught Kim Se-jun's lips, which had started to move.
"Something you want to say?"
"I... this just occurred to me, but what if I kept doing university festivals for free from now on?"
"What?"
"What are you talking about?!"
Both men reacted sharply, and Kim Se-jun continued in a calm voice. It was an idea that had sprung up the moment he heard Ha Dong-jun speak. It had come to him in a rush, but he didn't think it was a bad one.
"With a little packaging."
"And how exactly do you plan to package this?"
"You know those charity concerts singers do at the end of every year? This would be a charity performance. Instead of a year-end charity concert, we frame the university festival sets as charity performances and do them every year."
"...!"
The improvised idea was apparently convincing enough that Ha Dong-jun and Lee Hae-jin's mouths fell open at the same time. Reading their faces, Kim Se-jun pressed on with growing confidence.
"Honestly, doing it just this year looks too transparent, doesn't it? Sooner or later people will start talking. If we're already here, wouldn't it be better to just own it as a concept? University festival income isn't bad, but when you think about it, it's only a month of work. This way I protect my image and maybe even put a lid on the damage to other singers, don't I?"
"Hoh..."
Lee Hae-jin stroked his chin. Ha Dong-jun sank into thought.
Se-jun was right — university festival fees weren't bad, but for someone at Kim Se-jun's level, they weren't something he'd miss terribly either. Besides, under the banner of a school festival, the unwritten rule of the business was to accept fifty to seventy percent of one's usual rate. In terms of income alone, it wasn't a catastrophic loss.
"The concept is good, actually."
"Yes. And the image boost would be enormous. Especially with people in their twenties — they'd go wild for it."
"That's true. Students struggling with tuition isn't going to change anytime soon."
Lee Hae-jin nodded as he spoke, and Ha Dong-jun picked up the thread.
"If you announce you'll donate the appearance fee every time, universities will come looking for you every year, so we'll need to decide how many campus shows you do in a year. And sure, there might be some pushback from other singers at first, but give it time and both the industry and the public will come around. As long as we package it so it makes sense."
"Se-jun. How long have you been sitting on this?"
Lee Hae-jin asked with a meaningful smile, and Kim Se-jun waved a hand.
"I didn't have any of this in mind when I made that announcement yesterday. Like I said, it just came to me when I heard the vice president talking."
"For something that just came to you, it's not bad. Really. If we're already in this, maybe we just brazen it out and run with it."
"Do you think the other singers will accept it?"
Ha Dong-jun nodded at Kim Se-jun's question.
"Like I said, they might grumble at first, but eventually they'll treat it as your signature thing. Other singers don't get dragged for doing charity concerts, do they?"
"And any complaints about why you didn't come to our school can be handled first come, first served."
Lee Hae-jin's remark was the last word. The three men shared a small smile.
The next day, Ares Music began circulating a press release far and wide: going forward, Kim Se-jun would perform at university festivals for free. The declaration that this wasn't a one- or two-time gesture, but a lifetime commitment, won enormous public praise, and Kim Se-jun's image soared through the roof.
The wave of goodwill toward Kim Se-jun sometimes spilled over into criticism of other singers — but whenever it did, there were people ready to speak up in their defense.
On top of that, once their own artists started taking heat, the fandoms stepped in to defend them, and the people who had been tearing down other singers were buried in a matter of moments.
If spring had come early, was summer rushing in after it?
By the end of May, the sunlight that had wrapped everything in a gentle warmth had turned fierce. The heat had pushed past pleasant and into something that truly bit, and Kim Se-jun's songs began to slip, little by little, down the digital charts.
"A shame."
Kim Se-jun murmured it under his breath, looking at his tracks, which had by now settled somewhere around the top ten. Unlike Simcheongga, which had held number one for quite a long stretch, this time he had kept the summit for about two months.
"Well. They'll climb again next year."
The disappointment was real, but thinking of next year brought a smile to his face. This track was an annuity, plain and simple. When spring came around again, it would carve its name back onto the charts.
"Anyway. Set the disappointment aside... next up is the OST, isn't it?"
Kim Se-jun stroked his chin, thinking of the meeting with the BBS drama department a week from now.
Taejo Yi Seong-gye. The historical drama that had put the finishing jewel on the entire genre. In the era Kim Se-jun had lived through, no sageuk after it had ever surpassed that work.
It was a meaningful enough production that he wanted to be part of it — but there was another reason he was determined to attach his name to this one.
Yi Seong-gye was pretty popular in Iran, wasn't he?
For Iranians who had already tasted Korean historical drama through Dae Jang Geum, Taejo Yi Seong-gye had landed perfectly — and the warmth hadn't stopped at Iran. It had played well across the Middle East. Which meant that whatever he contributed to this OST would ring in their ears as well.
A week later, when Kim Se-jun arrived at BBS Broadcasting Station, Kim Byung-seo — the general director of Taejo Yi Seong-gye — greeted him with a bright face.
A divine move.
There had been that recent incident. The man already had a rock-solid fan base and was, by any fair measure, the hottest rising name in the country — and then, just days ago, he had won the affection of the entire nation all over again. The moment they put out an article saying Kim Se-jun was joining their drama's OST, people were going to pay attention. There was no question about it.
"Shall we head to the conference room?"
Kim Se-jun followed Kim Byung-seo's lead, and another man came in behind them.
"Park Jun-young. I'm the sound director."
"A pleasure. Kim Se-jun."
After the brief exchange of greetings, Park Jun-young offered him a warm smile.
"We're placing a great deal of hope in you, Se-jun."
Kim Se-jun answered the bright voice with a smile of his own.
"If you set the bar too high, won't you just end up disappointed?"
"Not at all. Is there a singer in Korea who suits a historical drama better than you?"
Kim Se-jun shook his head at the question.
"Well, that's true enough."
Park Jun-young was right. Kim Se-jun could say with confidence that no singer in the country had a musical style better fitted to a sageuk than his own.
"I should mention first — the song we'd like to ask you for isn't the main theme. Is that all right with you?"
"Yes. That's actually better, if anything."
Park Jun-young's cautious tone was wasted on him. Kim Se-jun answered with an easy, open expression.
The concept I've already got in mind could never work as a main theme anyway.
The OST concept he had been turning over from the start was not some vast theme meant to encompass Taejo Yi Seong-gye as a whole. It was a character piece — and not even centered on Yi Seong-gye, but on the supporting roles.
"If that's genuinely all right with you... do you happen to have anything in mind already?"
Park Jun-young looked at Kim Se-jun with open anticipation. Every song this man had released so far had been not only fresh, but a genuine ear-catcher — nothing but masterpieces.
"Yes. I've had a concept in mind since the moment I first received the offer."
"Oh!"
"What is it?"
At those words, a bright light kindled on both Kim Byung-seo's and Park Jun-young's faces. Every song this man had touched had been a hit. Their OST would surely be no different.
"It's a remake, first of all."
"A remake?"
"Like Lotus last time?"
A little of the air went out of both men's voices. The thought of recycling a concept he had already used once left them faintly disappointed.
"A remake... for a historical drama OST. All right. And?"
"And it's also in the form of a response song."
"...A response song on top of that?"
Unlike Kim Se-jun, who had worn a gentle smile the entire time, the light on the two men's faces vanished in an instant. The expectant looks were gone, and neither of them bothered to hide the letdown.
Kim Se-jun gave a quiet little laugh at the pair of them.
"Hayega."
"Pardon?"
"And Dansimga."
"Hayega and Dansimga... ah!"
The two men understood at last, and their pupils blew wide.
"Two sijo that have been handed down since the Joseon era. I intend to remake those two verses and sing them as a response song."