Chapter 126: Dispatch Duty (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 126: Dispatch Duty (2)
“Who did you say you’re in a unit with?”
Inside the returning van, I asked again, doubting my own ears.
Choi Je-ho answered nonchalantly.
“All-over sunbaenim.”
“Oh, for the love of…”
Of all the groups, it had to be the worst one.
Since Berion was partnered with me, they were out of the running. That left four groups—how on earth did he end up pinpointing All-over?
“What’s wrong with All-over sunbaenim? Is it because they’re close with Parte?”
Lee Cheong-hyeon, sitting in the front seat, turned around to ask.
But I couldn’t give him the real answer. I couldn’t exactly tell Cheong-hyeon, who was still just a high schooler, ‘Yeah, they’re going to jail in a few years, so I was planning to ignore them in advance.’
As a member of society, I wanted to show these growing sprouts only a bright future and a hopeful world, but it wasn't easy.
‘I guess it’s better than a "growing sprout" being in a group with All-over.’
Lee Cheong-hyeon was paired with Log. Two members had come from their side, and since Cheong-hyeon was the youngest of the three, it seemed like he’d been quite pampered over there.
‘If it’s a relationship that isn’t meant to be good anyway, it might be better to send the kid whose social skills are already non-existent.’
Thinking positively made me feel more at ease. I decided not to hold back on words of encouragement for Choi Je-ho.
“Feel free to cause a scene if you want. If you’re annoyed, say you’re annoyed. If you want to speak your mind, speak it. Just don’t use profanity. Got it?”
“Didn't you tell me once to erase the word ‘no’ from my head?”
“Did I tell you to skip practice or be uncooperative? Do everything you’re supposed to do, but don't keep your mouth shut while doing it.”
As soon as we arrived at the dorm, I split the stage production budget I’d received from Idol Dynasty Annals in half and put it into two envelopes.
When I wrote Choi Je-ho’s and Lee Cheong-hyeon’s names on each envelope and handed them over, they looked at me with expressions that asked why I was giving them this.
“You need money to avoid being looked down on wherever you go. Take one each.”
“What about you, Hyung?”
“How much money could I possibly need for a vocal stage?”
“Still, this isn't right.”
Choi Je-ho opened the envelope and reached inside.
I grabbed his hand as he tried to pull out the bills.
“I’m not just giving this to you for free.”
“…”
“Keep your head in the game so the stage isn't embarrassing. What did I say you have to do when you receive money?”
“You have to work as much as you’re paid…”
Lee Cheong-hyeon muttered like a programmed vending machine.
Anyway, if you guys don't pull enough screen time, forget the money—you won't be allowed out of the underground practice room.
*
Neat semi-casual outfit: check.
Backpack that maintains its sharp frame even with a laptop and diary inside: check.
Two boxes of Vita600, totaling less than 30,000 won: check.
My preparations for visiting Berion’s agency were perfect. I was nervous since this was my first "dispatch duty."
‘I-wol, what’s with the drinks?’
‘I heard it’s impolite to visit someone’s home empty-handed.’
‘Well, yeah, I guess…’
Though he looked a bit skeptical, the manager drove me to the front of Berion’s agency.
After a brief discussion on the last filming day, we had agreed to prepare for the 3rd Competition at Berion’s agency, "Green Line."
‘We could have come to UA!’
‘I appreciate the thought, but I’ll have to pass. UA only has one large practice room.’
‘Ah…’
And that was that. Choi Je-ho and Lee Cheong-hyeon were likely relying on other agencies by now as well.
I gave one box of drinks to the security guard at the entrance. I didn't forget to introduce myself, saying I’d be coming by for a while and asking for his cooperation.
They say the old ways are best, but for some reason, Green Line looked better than UA. At UA, forget security—we’d be lucky if the place didn't get looted.
Lost in thought, I followed a staff member’s guidance into the practice room, and the Berion members scrambled to their feet.
“Hyung! Welcome!”
“Hey. This is a little bribe to ask for your cooperation during the competition prep.”
“No, you didn't have to bring anything!”
Berion welcomed me with a fuss. I was glad they didn't give me the side-eye for trying to wipe my hands clean with just a box of drinks.
“We agreed to think of songs we wanted to try singing. What did everyone bring?”
At my words, the Berion members took turns sharing their opinions.
Unfortunately, there wasn't a single idea that made me think, ‘This is it.’ They seemed to feel the same, as a brief silence followed their suggestions.
“Then, before I mention the song I brought… I listened to all the cover tracks you guys uploaded to MeTube.”
“Gasp. You listened to all of them?”
Yeo Seong-chan was genuinely shocked.
There weren't that many to begin with, were there? Compared to the sheer volume of Spark’s self-produced content, listening to those was nothing.
I told them to correct me if I got anything wrong, then gave a brief briefing on the vocal characteristics and preferences I’d identified for Berion.
First, Berion’s main vocal, Cha Se-han.
Like a trendy modern group, Berion didn't strictly divide positions, but Cha Se-han was clearly the best singer among them.
His range was quite wide, but because the pitch of Berion’s songs had been fairly consistent, he hadn't really had the chance to show off his capabilities. Perhaps because of that, he tended to cover songs with dramatic progressions.
Next was Yeo Seong-chan, who reminded me of a certain exceptionally social someone.
His strength was his clear, powerful voice. With solid vocalization, his stability was the best among the three. You could say his vocal style and personality were a bit different.
He was weak at emotional ballads. Instead, he showed quite a strength in songs featuring the "K-High Notes" that were popular for a time.
Finally, the leader, Moon Yeon-gyu, was a technical vocalist. He handled about 80% of the ad-libs in Berion’s performances. While his volume wasn't massive, his ability to hit notes accurately even in falsetto was striking.
Looking at it this way, the combination wasn't bad… but Berion wasn't an exceptionally talented vocal group.
This wasn't just about Berion. It was simply because the number of "superhuman" vocals in the idol scene was dwindling.
In a trend where agencies tried to cover the sharp decline in public appeal with solid fandom power or easy-listening tracks, many companies had opted for compromise.
Thanks to that, Jeong Seong-bin and Park Ju-woo were hailed as "Visual Main Vocals" as rare as thousand-year wild ginseng, enjoying the glory of being untouchable in terms of skill.
Anyway, to summarize, it meant I couldn't expect the kind of thrilling high-note directing I’d shown with Spark.
That was why I’d racked my brain so hard until I clocked in at Green Line today. I’d never craved Jeong Seong-bin’s help more.
But in the end, I found it.
A secret weapon of a song that would allow Cha Se-han to show off a killer high note for once, let Yeo Seong-chan boast his vocal volume, and give Moon Yeon-gyu plenty of room for ad-libs.
“Hey, what do you think about this song?”
I pulled up the opening video of an old animation on my laptop.
*
“Then let’s divide the parts like this. I want to try matching the harmonies to some extent—is everyone okay with staying longer?”
Kim I-wol asked. Even though it was a suggestion made in a gentle voice, there was a certain power to it that made it impossible to refuse.
‘Is it because he’s older?’
In Berion, where most members were the same age, distinguishing by seniority was meaningless.
Furthermore, for the leader Moon Yeon-gyu, the experience of being led by someone else was a novelty.
Moon Yeon-gyu’s memory of the first time he saw Spark’s stage was vivid.
No, not just Moon Yeon-gyu—everyone in Berion likely remembered it clearly.
Overwhelming skill compared to their peers who debuted around the same time.
Visuals and physiques that lacked nothing, paired with high-quality performances.
‘They came out with their teeth bared.’ That was the thought that naturally came to mind during their debut.
No idol watches their own debut stage with half-closed eyes. But idols who perform every single stage as if they’re prepared to die are rare.
Any rookie would do their best in everything, but Spark felt a bit different.
A group that does their best to deliver the best stage. That expression suited Spark perfectly.
There had been some noise in the early days of Idol Dynasty Annals, but Moon Yeon-gyu had still wanted to at least greet Spark.
Contrary to the controversy about them being disrespectful to other idols, everyone in Spark was kind.
He felt it would be such a shame if a group like this was undervalued due to false rumors.
Moon Yeon-gyu’s worries had been unnecessary. Spark performed every stage incredibly well and never missed first place in the audience vote.
They made it impossible to take your eyes off the stage, made you wait for the day the performance would be broadcast, and made you look up the performance video again once the broadcast ended.
If this happened once or twice, it might be luck, but Spark proved in the 2nd Competition that it was skill, not luck. As proof, Moon Yeon-gyu was also counting down the days until Spark’s 2nd Competition performance aired.
At the same time, he wondered.
What was it that made Spark’s stages so special?
As someone leading a group, Moon Yeon-gyu couldn't help but think about it.
Even if he asked them to tell him, they probably wouldn't, so he just hoped to learn at least a little by watching over their shoulders while they were on the same program.
Then, by a stroke of luck, he got to work directly alongside Kim I-wol, Spark’s producing member, on the stage planning.
And on the day of the first meeting, Moon Yeon-gyu realized how habitually they had been working.
Most people, when choosing a song, pick one where they can shine to some extent.
When given the chance to create a stage, they put forward the concepts they’d always wanted to do and found a compromise through coordination.
Kim I-wol, however, was different.
Kim I-wol thoroughly identified the capabilities of the people he’d be working with and considered what kind of song they wanted to sing as much as possible.
Unlike his cold appearance, which made him seem difficult to approach, his attitude was always moderate.
Kim I-wol had a talent for clearly explaining his intentions while gently persuading people.
When everyone else was talking about making a "cool stage," Kim I-wol seemed like someone who had already perfectly envisioned that cool stage in his head. It was to the point where Moon Yeon-gyu could imagine exactly what kind of stage would result just by listening to him.
‘He’s amazing.’
Moon Yeon-gyu marveled inwardly. At the same time, he was happy.
He had a feeling that through this stage, he and his teammates would grow even further.
However, the pleasant time was short.
“Then, shall we finish up the harmonies for now before we head out?”
Because for the sake of the ideal stage Kim I-wol envisioned, a mountain of high-intensity practice was waiting for Moon Yeon-gyu.