Whale That Detects Landmines
Ha On-ha, looking as if he had just been physically repulsed, flung his smartphone onto the blanket and rubbed both arms hard before pacing around the room.
“Whaaaaat! That is seriously disgusting! If you hadn’t told me yesterday, I might’ve gone to Gye Tae-seok’s place and gotten dragged into this for nothing!”
“You are making my head spin, Ha On-ha.”
“Wow! My hands are shaking...!”
He truly seemed to have been frightened half out of his wits. Whatever happened to the honorific hyung he had been attaching to Gye Tae-seok’s name; it had vanished without a trace.
“What is all this commotion? Tell me in detail.”
Neoul propped himself up, yawned in a daze, and asked, “Was the debauched Gye Tae-seok caught at last while eating drug toast?”
Since Baek Yuri had told him not to say the words out loud, he had obediently added the unnecessary detail as well.
Ha On-ha answered in bewilderment. “He didn’t eat toast. He probably only ate the first thing.”
“How unfortunate.”
“He was drunk and causing trouble in front of the neighboring apartment’s door. The person living next door called the police, so he got caught.”
What was more, because the heavily intoxicated Gye Tae-seok had filmed himself mixing drugs into his drink with the self-cam he’d brought to record his first-broadcast reaction, there was now undeniable evidence.
The two participants who had visited Gye Tae-seok’s place to film a reaction video had watched the broadcast over fried chicken and beer, then fallen asleep right away. They stated that they had no idea Gye Tae-seok was taking drugs while they slept.
But even before the test results were out, a flood of articles with sensational headlines had already been released.
“I did tell the members to be careful after hearing you, but... I guess they didn’t take it seriously.”
He had gone out of his way to say something, even though they weren’t particularly close. Honestly, if people spoke to you, at least listen. Tsk.
Ha On-ha pressed a hand to his forehead as if it hurt.
“What exactly did you say?”
“Just that Gye Tae-seok’s eyes looked off.”
Was that really hinting at something? That sounded like plain, direct speaking to me...
Neoul stared at Ha On-ha in disbelief, then asked, “If you get caught doing that... drug thing, what happens?”
“I’ve never done it or been caught, so I don’t know the details, but I’d guess your name gets marked with a red line. Your life is over. As you just saw, articles start pouring out too. And then you go to prison.”
“Ah, so you are locked in a cell.”
“Yeah. It’s illegal, and the evidence is obvious. Of course he won’t be able to keep doing idol activities. FLu will probably notify Gye Tae-seok that he’s being removed soon and put out a statement too. Maybe the other two will also... ”
If the two others were innocent, their test results would come back negative, but even so, merely having been there with Gye Tae-seok carried a high risk of dragging down their image.
And if the wait for the police investigation and test results dragged on too long, it could interfere with filming, so their withdrawal was a real possibility.
To think he would have to step down with the worst possible label hanging around his neck, that of a drug user.
Ha On-ha shuddered as though merely imagining what would have happened if he had been unlucky enough to be tied to Gye Tae-seok made his skin crawl.
“Thanks for telling me in advance. I’ll treat you big-time later~”
“Enough. It is not so difficult to say a few words.”
At Neoul’s words, Ha On-ha made a skeptical face.
“Honestly? If it were me, I wouldn’t have bothered saying anything.”
“Why not?”
“Because it feels like I’d be slandering someone for no reason, without evidence. And if I said something, I might just be the weird one. At times like that, it’s easier to keep your mouth shut.”
Then, more seriously, he added, “Thanks. Really.”
With a face free of any teasing, Ha On-ha promised to buy him a meal later no matter what, then went out, saying he should show the news to Yeo Do-bin as well.
Neoul tidied the bed and was just about to get up when he recalled the raw, vicious comments he had seen in yesterday’s live chat.
So it was said that I gave the impression of having never learned anything.
Back when he’d heard praise comments, he had eagerly learned Hangul, wanting to read them himself. But once he was finally able to read anything and everything, there were far more cutting remarks than kind ones.
If they act like that in front of cameras, they must be even worse behind them.
Look at that face, lol. Total trash character lolol
I thought he seemed nice, but what is this T_T
And now, what about this? Were they still cursing him out?
As little as Neoul knew of human behavior, he could still make a rough guess. He didn’t know how fast articles spread, but soon enough public opinion would probably turn sharply.
Neoul searched for the articles on his smartphone. When a related video appeared, he followed the link and went straight to the comment section.
Holy crap, drug user
So this was not Idol Travel, it was Idol Trouble lolol
┗ Trouble lololol
┗ There really are a lot of problems lol
Looks like Gal Neoul had good instincts, damn
┗ Did he mean the rotten smell from his soul was the smell of a drug user...?
┗ Wow, then shouldn’t Kim Ji-rok be tested too?
┗ Why are you yanking Ji-rok’s hair too?; the fact that Gal Neoul has garbage character is true, and Gye Tae-seok using drugs was just a coincidence...
┗ Saying he smelled the odor of a soul is obviously a roundabout way of speaking. He noticed and kept his distance.
What the hell, Gal Neoul lol. What is he, a drug-sniffing dog? lolol
┗ A drug-sniffing whale
┗ Maybe a mine-detecting one...?
The arrows of blame that had once been aimed at Gal Neoul had already shifted in a rush to Gye Tae-seok and the other two. In the meantime, Neoul had been given new labels such as “drug-detecting humpback whale,” “good at reading people,” and “has a sharp eye for character.”
Neoul imagined the people behind the sentences written with consonants and vowels. People who flared up, flared out, then flared up again, like living sparks.
If you placed meat on top of their heads, it seemed like it would sizzle and cook nicely.
This is a little...
Interesting.
Neoul remained the same, and the lecherous Gye Tae-seok still looked like a dolphin harassing a blowfish. Yet he was astonished by how the situation could reverse so completely overnight, as if someone had flipped a hand over.
In Dragon Palace, no matter what I did or did not do, there was never this much reaction.
And unlike the quiet sea, where there was no internet, no broadcasts, and no smartphones, news on land spread like wildfire no matter where something happened.
Watching humans pour out reactions the way waves ripple wildly even from the smallest wind was surprisingly entertaining.
Broadcasts and articles, then...
If he used this properly, might he be able to gather the finest rabbit-faced humans in the world all in one place without going to find them himself?
Neoul rested his chin on his hand and stared blankly at the smartphone screen, deep in thought.
* * *
One by one, the guests who had come for the first broadcast reaction shoot left, and the once noisy house became quiet in an instant.
There were roughly three weeks left before the next filming.
In that time, Neoul planned to learn the Hangul and spelling he still lacked, and to dig up more information about rabbit-faced celebrities. He also needed to tell Won Hasin about the conversation he’d had with Baek Yuri.
But then...
“Why are you still here?”
“Huh?”
Yeo Do-bin had been trailing after Neoul, hovering uselessly around him like a puppy. At this rate, he really did seem like Sangsangi following along behind him.
Neoul had been agonizing over how to tell the difference between an, eon, and anch, when he finally shoved the pen and notebook aside. Then he looked at Yeo Do-bin as if to say: if you have something to say, say it already.
“Um... you know...”
“What is it?”
“I... I have a favor I’d like to ask...”
A favor? Suddenly, what sort of favor?
Neoul had no idea what Yeo Do-bin might ask of him, and his eyes went round.
“Speak.”
Yeo Do-bin fidgeted and glanced about nervously before carefully getting to the point.
“Th-that song... the self-composed one you sang for the ranking evaluation. Ripples, right? The m-melody is so good...! I was wondering if I could maybe do an arrangement...?”
“An arrangement?”
“Y-yeah. Since it’s such a good melody, I thought it would be nice to add a good accompaniment that suits it... It’s very different from the kind of work I usually do, so that makes me want to challenge myself too... I really want to try working on it once!”
Yeo Do-bin spoke with both fists clenched, his expression extraordinarily solemn.
“Do as you wish.”
It seemed he was talking about adding instrumental accompaniment.
I thought he was asking something difficult.
Neoul granted permission offhandedly and picked up his pen again.
Composing the melody had been nothing more than a pastime he’d hummed out in Dragon Palace when there was nothing else to do. To someone like Neoul, who had no particular attachment to the song and no concept of copyright, Yeo Do-bin’s request was no great matter.
“R-really? Is that okay?”
Yeo Do-bin, who had been hunched over and hesitant, suddenly lifted his head with a bright expression. His glasses slipped crookedly down his nose in the process, and he hurriedly pushed them back up, delight shining on his face.
“Thank you! C-could you maybe show me the melody score then? Or maybe a recording file...?”
“I do not have a score. I do not know how to write one.”
“Uh, uh...?”
In truth, Neoul couldn’t even read sheet music. Those strange, tadpole-like lines of symbols were as alien to him as human writing.
He had received sheet music both when learning the signal song and during the first team battle, but since he couldn’t read it, he had learned the songs by repeatedly replaying the video and listening.
Fortunately, when he heard a melody, he could instinctively catch the notes and imitate them at once, so not being able to read sheet music had never been a problem until now.
But Yeo Do-bin looked at him as though it made no sense at all that someone could compose music and yet not know how to write sheet music.
“Umm... Is there not much music education in Korea...? Didn’t they teach you at school...?”
Neoul resorted to the all-purpose excuse the Sea Witch had taught him.
“I would not know. I have never been able to go to school because I was ill.”
“Ah... I-I see...”
How easily he believed him, without a trace of suspicion. It was a very effective excuse indeed.
There was, however, one small side effect. Yeo Do-bin’s eyebrows had arched upward in a deeply mournful shape. He looked riddled with guilt, as though he had asked something thoughtless and made Neoul feel bad. And now that he heard Neoul had been sick, that weighed on him too.
After looking thoroughly heartbroken, Yeo Do-bin abruptly shouted, “Then I’ll teach you! How to read sheet music... and how to write it too!”
“Oh?”
Neoul stared at the Hangul notebook he’d been studying, then snapped it shut.
“That is a splendid idea.”
His spelling practice was already becoming dull, let alone difficult and confusing. It seemed better to alternate between studying sheet music and studying Hangul, if only to clear his head.
Yeo Do-bin, who had said he would go down to a relative’s house, delayed his train booking and gave Neoul an enthusiastic music lesson instead.
Perhaps he had a talent for teaching, because he explained things step by step with examples that made sense to Neoul. Thanks to that, Neoul came to know the names of every note hidden inside the melody he had been singing without thought.
Watching this, Won Hasin suggested that Yeo Do-bin just stay in the guest room.
“It’ll be a pain going back and forth from out of town.”
“Th-that... if it’s okay next time, could I do that...? My aunt and other relatives are waiting for me today.”
“That’s easy enough.”
“!... Thank you...!”
After the intensive lesson, Yeo Do-bin left after offering a polite goodbye with a satisfied expression.
He had neatly packed away deep in his bag the recording file from smartphone practice, along with the melody score for Ripples that he had written while teaching the light theory and having Neoul sing it.
* * *
After Yeo Do-bin left, Neoul sat across from Won Hasin at the dining table and summarized the conversation he’d had with Baek Yuri.
Won Hasin’s mouth dropped open as though he’d just heard of the most astonishingly self-sacrificing fool in the world. His reaction was one of utter disbelief and shock.
“What on earth is he thinking, just handing over his liver like that? Does he think he’s Mother Teresa or something?”
“Who is Teresa’s mother?”
“No, mother as in Mother Teresa, not that mother... Wait, is your translator malfunctioning?”
“......?”
Won Hasin, blaming the useless “human-language pill,” went on grumpily.
“Anyway, what I’m saying is this! Most people wouldn’t willingly give up a liver like Baek Yuri did!”
Neoul listened carefully and looked at Won Hasin.
“Even if losing a little of it will not kill you, that is by no means an easy thing. And especially to a complete stranger? Even giving it to family is something you ought to think over carefully two or three times, and this is beyond reason!”
“Is that so?”
“If I were a rabbit, I’d clamp my mouth shut and pretend not to know. No, most people would. That Baek Yuri fellow is just weirdly exceptional.”
“......”
“Damn it! Even an angel would back away, saying, ‘Uh, that’s a bit much...’!”
Won Hasin slapped the table again and again, saying he simply could not understand it.