Chapter 72: First Day of Work Anniversary (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 72: First Day of Work Anniversary (3)
The performance version of Spark’s debut song, Flowering, begins with the sound of a heavy iron door swinging open.
As I turned my body in time with the beat, I saw the back of Lee Cheong-hyeon, who was in charge of the debut album’s intro.
Cheong-hyeon sat with one knee up, resting his chin on his hand as he locked eyes with the camera. He was undoubtedly wearing a meaningful, mysterious smile—one that was playful without being over the top.
I didn't even need to look to know. I’d watched him through the mirror countless times during practice.
And then...
"Shall we go?"
Cheong-hyeon’s voice, sounding almost like a narration, coolly signaled the start of the song. Simultaneously, the stage erupted in bright light.
A bright, cheerful accompaniment filled the air. This was the part Cheong-hyeon had poured his soul into for days.
‘I-wol Hyung, is there a way to keep the cold imagery while making it feel as refreshing as summer sunlight?’
‘Try looking at some refer—no, reference images while you work. Like a photo of a blue sky over a snowy field.’
‘Whoa, Hyung, you’re a literal genius!’
He didn't even realize that he was the real genius. Who else but a genius could write a song that felt like a "warm iced americano"?
I thought to myself as I danced to the song I’d heard thousands of times.
Are my movements perfectly synced with the members?
Did I accidentally go off-pitch during my part just now?
Why is this still the first verse? It feels like I’ve performed 130 verses already.
I was anxious, worried that I was the only one flailing about. It didn't help that the other Spark punks were doing perfectly fine on their own.
Cheong-hyeon’s composition was both elegant and flashy.
Jeong Seong-bin and Park Ju-woo didn't miss a single note, and Kang Gi-yeon handled his part without a hitch.
Choi Je-ho was nothing short of perfect. Even from my position at the back of the formation, Je-ho, standing at the center, looked so massive it felt like he was right in front of my nose.
I was the only one. The only person who didn't belong on this stage.
My heart hammered against my ribs. At this point, I felt like I deserved a pat on the back just for successfully finding the cameras with the red tally lights.
However, failing to maintain my composure was dangerous. An unstable state could lead to an accident at any moment.
‘Stay calm.’
I took a shallow breath during a formation change.
‘You know you won't mess up as long as you do exactly what you practiced.’
I muttered it like a mantra under my breath. Even then, I quickly cleared my mind, terrified I might forget the lyrics.
The minute or so of the performance blurred past before I could even get a grip on my senses. My head spun with vertigo.
It was hot.
I was suffocating.
I couldn't get in their way, but I felt like I was becoming a burden to them...
Just as those thoughts rose up along with my ragged breath.
Just as the six of us gathered into formation and the melody reached its climax.
The exact moment when every member had to sing the first chorus together.
The fans I had briefly spoken to earlier caught my eye.
Their faces were slightly flushed, and their hands gripped their slogans tightly.
I couldn't hear them through my in-ears, but their mouth shapes made it clear they were cheering loudly amidst the indifferent fans of other groups.
And then...
[Congratulations on your debut]
I saw a paper banner with those four words printed in large letters.
My stomach churned. An emotion difficult to put into words swirled inside me.
Whether it was because of the lights or something else, my face felt hot...
"Until the world heats up and catches fire!"
The melody Cheong-hyeon had stayed up all night perfecting finally saw the light of day.
My heart raced again.
"Look here, I’ll show you a magic that only happens once."
Why did the lyrics I had to sing have to be like this?
It would have been better if the focus were on the other members instead of me.
This song, this stage, and this audience were all for them.
As I was lost in those thoughts, the chorus returned to me like destiny.
I tightened my grip on the microphone so I wouldn't drop it.
Then, I took a powerful step forward and sang.
"Let the alarms ring, let the cheers explode."
"Until our hearts boil over and spill out!"
The harmony—the one the six of us had ground our souls down to record, finding the perfect blend only at the very last second—hit with a thrilling, perfect precision.
Now, I felt like I could hear the cheering even through my in-ears. Or perhaps I actually heard it.
The fact that there were lyrics for someone like me to sing, that those cheers included me, and that there was a place for me within these layers of melody...
All of it was so foreign yet so kind that the fleeting moment felt like a long, beautiful dream.
The stage was a success.
Park Ju-woo and Jeong Seong-bin perfectly executed high notes that sounded like they could shatter ice, and Kang Gi-yeon fulfilled his duty without missing a single lyric.
Lee Cheong-hyeon, a natural-born performer, did even better in the actual show than he had during practice.
If they had debuted with a ballad instead of a dance track, they wouldn't have been able to show this kind of impact at the start. Thinking about that made UA’s past decisions feel even more regrettable.
Choi Je-ho was practically flying out there.
Even in the midst of that chaos, I could feel the audience’s eyes gravitating toward him. I realized once again that he was truly born for this.
After successfully finishing the first recording, the area below the stage turned into a sea of tears.
As soon as the staff gave the "Okay, good job everyone!" signal, half the members burst into tears, making me wonder how they had even held it together from the rehearsal to the main take.
Kang Gi-yeon sobbed only after rewatching the manager’s video several times to confirm he hadn't made any major mistakes. Lee Cheong-hyeon teased his friend while his own eyes were brimming with tears.
And then there was Jeong Seong-bin, whose sobbing at finally debuting after such a long wait made the area below the stage more than just damp—it was practically flooded.
Feeling like I didn't have the right to share in that overwhelming catharsis, I silently patted their backs and herded them toward the waiting room like a flock of sheep.
That was when Choi Je-ho spoke to me.
"You're not crying."
"I haven't suffered enough to cry," I replied.
"Is that so?"
"Why? Were you going to comfort me if I did?"
"Are you insane...?"
Je-ho shuddered in disgust and disappeared into the waiting room alone.
Cold-hearted bastard. See if I ever cry in front of you.
Baek Hae-won, a high school student in South Korea, was currently lying on her bed reflecting on her life during summer vacation.
As she lay on her pink bed, pondering how a human could possibly become an adult without going through their senior year of high school, her phone vibrated several times, desperately seeking its owner.
It was a familiar social media notification.
Hae-won hadn't posted anything recently. This meant there was no reason for her notifications to be going off like this.
With a puzzled expression, she picked up her phone. Someone was summoning her.
≫ But wait, don't they seem like @minamhunter’s type?
It was a tempting summons.
Hae-won immediately checked the post she was tagged in.
≫ It’s been so long since I’ve seen such handsome guys that my heart stopped and I ran to my private account;;;
└ I heard you were going to the N-Net recording... did you catch a big one?
└ Yes... I think I’m losing my mind. If I talk about this on my main account, I’ll get stoned, but I can’t keep this to myself.
└ But wait, don't they seem like @minamhunter’s type?
There, Hae-won’s long-time friends were blooming with interesting conversation.
Once upon a time, they had bonded over their shared passion for the beauty and charm of a certain boy group.
In other words, they had become cyber-friends while fangirling over their "babies" on social media.
It seemed like their love for their "babies" and their friendship would last forever.
But the only things that truly lasted were the shitty management of the group they stanned, the three syllables of their bias's name, and their friendship.
The agency had done a garbage job for four years straight.
Her bias, who showed no trace of his former glory, was aging faster than she was because he didn't take care of himself.
The final blow came when she saw her "baby," whom she used to see only in the entertainment news, appearing in the social section of the news instead.
Hae-won had never agreed more with the sentiment that an idol who makes their fans feel ashamed should just fail.
Do I really have to go this far for a hobby?
Hae-won and several other fans experienced a harsh reality check.
After much deliberation, they decided to abandon their former "home base."
However, there was one thing even they couldn't throw away, even as they worked hard to sell off the multiple copies of albums, posters, and merch they had stubbornly collected.
It was their comrades—the ones who had cheered for "their boy" together, cursed at those who insulted him together, and now, cursed at "their boy" together.
Hardship and adversity had caused their relationship to evolve from mere "fan-friends" to something deeper.
≫ It’s funny to say this when all the fans are leaving... but honestly, I don't want to lose you guys. Where else would I find such fun people...
└ Forget it, let’s all just make private accounts.
And so, Hae-won...
Or rather, the "Minam Hunter" and her band of about thirty outlaws, began to roam the vast entertainment industry like marauders in search of a new "honey pot" genre.
The process hadn't been smooth, so they each obsessed over their own men (whether they were real people, 2D characters, or 2.5D) on their main accounts and only gossiped on their private accounts, which embraced their every whim.
But now.
In a place that had recently only been updated with information like which pancake house was good.
Someone was calling Hae-won, saying an idol perfectly suited to her taste had appeared.
And these were the people who knew better than anyone how she had spent the last few years picking out only the visual members of groups to keep in her pocket!
Hae-won sent a reply immediately.
└ But why are you only tagging me and not telling me who they are? Is this all our friendship is worth? I’m disappointed --
As expected, a lightning-fast reply came back.
└ I thought the Hunter had already caught them in her net.
After a bit of back-and-forth, Hae-won finally got the name "Spark."
The information gathered by this group was reliable. At least they didn't jump to conclusions about a person's actual appearance based solely on photos plastered with filters.
With a fluttering heart, Hae-won typed "Spark" into the search bar.
And there she found them.
Inside the neat and clean profile photos were the faces of perfectly symmetrical, sculpted handsome men.
Hae-won immediately saved the photos from the portal site and ran back to social media.
≫ I’m about to faint right now.
This isn't false advertising, right????? If they look different in person than they do on screen, I’m suing you all for fraud.
└ Ah, a big catch~
└ False advertising? They’re the real deal.
Everyone was joking, but Hae-won was dead serious. And of course, the older girls were serious too.
Encouraged by her trustworthy colleagues, Hae-won found a stage video that had just been uploaded.
Wow. They only have one debut stage video.
They couldn't be any more "rookie" than this.
But her surprise was short-lived. As if possessed, Hae-won clicked the video, lured in by a thumbnail featuring a close-up of an incredibly handsome man.