Chapter 525
Chapter 525
Steer Kim Rae-bin’s life wasn’t bad.
Of course, his group was plagued by misfortune, and he wasn’t allowed to produce or compose his own songs the way he wanted.
This weighed heavily on his heart and occasionally brought on bouts of insomnia.
However, Kim Rae-bin had a family he could confide in. On nights when his schedule wasn't packed, he would usually step out onto the balcony to make a phone call.
—Don’t worry too much, Rae-bin. That’s just how professional life is. Newcomers don’t get to do whatever they want.
His older sister often comforted him by citing her own similar experiences, always adding words of encouragement at the end.
—As time passes, you’ll get the chance to do the work you want.
And Kim Rae-bin believed her.
He would end the call by expressing his gratitude and checking on their well-being before quietly returning to his room from the balcony.
Sometimes, he would be reprimanded.
“Don’t stay out there too long.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ryu Cheong-woo would simply nod and walk past. More often than not, a tense Kim Rae-bin would let out a sigh of relief once he was gone.
Still, it’s not bad.
Kim Rae-bin was the type to find the silver lining in any situation.
“Kim Rae-bin, go to sleep!”
“You go to sleep too.”
In this group, he had a friend his age with whom he had been a trainee since they were teenagers. For someone who found it difficult to get close to his peers, this was a welcome comfort.
And besides, hadn't he already debuted, experienced various stages, and gained the experience of releasing songs?
Overall, my situation is something to be grateful for.
Thinking this way, he didn't sink into depression or despair like some of the other members. Instead, he poured all his energy into his activities and carried on.
A few years passed as if they would never end, and then, like a lie, they reached a clean, abrupt conclusion.
The group disbanded.
—Take care, Cha Yu-jin.
A sense of lethargy and burnout inevitably found Kim Rae-bin. It was only natural after five years of struggling and giving his absolute all.
But Kim Rae-bin didn't let it consume him.
I’ll rest for a bit and then carry out my plan!
He had already made up his mind about his new career path.
A singer-songwriter!
Even if Steer’s run had ended on a lackluster note, they had still managed to go on small tours and sell hundreds of thousands of albums.
With the money he had saved—excluding what he had sent home—he could invest in equipment and set up a decent studio.
And if the opportunity arises, I want to try promoting with songs I’ve made exactly the way I want.
There were still countless things he hadn't tried. He could continue to improve!
With those thoughts, Kim Rae-bin returned to Gangwon-do and settled into a peaceful daily routine.
Up until then, he had been recovering slowly.
—Ryu Cheong-woo Hyung: How have you been?
It was the same when he received a text from the eldest member and former leader about two weeks later.
Ah.
Kim Rae-bin reflexively straightened his back, trying to maintain a state of alert tension, before realizing he didn't need to do that anymore and forcing himself to relax.
As he typed out a reply like, "Yes. I am doing well. Thank you for asking...", he suddenly realized he could now use his smartphone freely.
Specifically, the internet.
—Rule number three: Do not access social media without permission.
During their group activities, Ryu Cheong-woo had monitored the members with strict discipline, much like a boarding academy. Consequently, Kim Rae-bin had naturally lived a life distanced from the internet for several years.
That had continued until now.
He hadn't been particularly interested in it anyway, and since he only used it occasionally to upload songs anonymously to platforms, he hadn't felt much inconvenience.
But that had been a group rule.
It doesn't apply now, does it?
Steer had already disbanded.
Logically speaking, there were no flaws in that reasoning. Any hesitation he felt was simply due to his own lingering fear and learned prohibitions.
He almost felt a bit gloomy, but he soon regained his sense of purpose.
Alright!
Kim Rae-bin first sent a polite reply to Ryu Cheong-woo.
Then, after a moment's hesitation, he began searching for his own name on social media to see some feedback.
—He’s handsome today too (Photo) #KimRae-bin
—King Rae-bin... Black Rabbit Emperor (Video)
—I miss Rae-bin ㅠㅠ
Posts from their final promotion period and affectionate messages looking for him—since his recent whereabouts were unknown—poured in.
His heart almost ached, but he scrolled through the posts with a sense of wonder and gratitude.
There are still many fans on social media.
His ability to distinguish between active accounts and "dead" or inactive ones had vanished after years of staying away.
He browsed through popular posts using only his real name as a search term for a while, then thought of another method and switched tabs.
Let’s look at various places.
The moment he searched his name on a search engine...
...?
He saw a peculiar post on the first page.
—...Kim Rae-bin, Cha Yu-jin, Min Jung-hoon, Steer, T1, VTIC, Mirinae, T-Holic.......
It was a post that seemed to have randomly mashed together all sorts of group names and individual names.
Why is it structured like this?
Kim Rae-bin mindlessly clicked on the post. The page changed, redirecting him to a different search engine.
“...!”
It was a gossip forum.
The place that had been a hotbed for all sorts of rumors during Idol Inc. A post that had been uploaded a few weeks ago and had reached the top rankings unfolded before Kim Rae-bin’s eyes.
=====================
[I heard Steer disbanded]
(Article Screenshot)
Back during Idol Inc., I really thought a legendary boy group was coming out, but somehow this feels a bit hollow.
=====================
Then he realized why the post had such a strange structure.
The post, which had hundreds of comments, was covered in keywords designed to catch search results.
He instinctively looked down at the top comments.
And then.
Long sentences with an insane amount of conflicting opinions flooded his vision.
“…….”
Kim Rae-bin wasn't good at guessing the hidden intentions of people who spoke in circles.
However, he was more than capable of analyzing and distinguishing linguistic rules and the characteristics being described.
So he realized.
They were talking about him.
Kim Rae-bin forgot to breathe as he continued to check the related content.
As if they were vomiting out things they could no longer hold back, comments with a similar tone had been posted as recently as a few hours ago.
If these had been sentences made up purely of groundless slander and malice, Kim Rae-bin would have been hardly affected.
He might have realized that they simply wanted to dump the responsibility for Steer’s failure onto someone, and a member they already disliked happened to be there.
However, each sentence Kim Rae-bin saw had a logical structure. A very analytical one at that.
Why there were problems with Steer’s producing and marketing, why the part distribution was unfair and problematic, and why all of this was caused by Kim Rae-bin.
In fact, one-sided arguments based on analysis sounded like the truth. Especially to someone in a state of panic, reading posts expressing intense criticism and contempt toward them.
Calm rebuttals—like the fact that he hadn't been involved in the overall production and that more than half of it was mere speculation—didn't come to mind.
Opposing opinions like "Are these people all crazy?" weren't very visible either.
All this criticism just seemed persuasive.
Furthermore, these "fans" weren't just criticizing.
Affection for others, resentment, a sense of injustice, and exhaustion were embedded in their words.
“…….”
And so, Kim Rae-bin began to agonize, rubbing his hands which had turned as cold as ice.
How much did I do wrong?
Whether he had committed a grave mistake.
“…….”
He became silent.
He was never the type to be good at social small talk, but his tendency to speak kindly and talk endlessly about things he liked vanished as if it had died.
Before even three days had passed, his family eventually asked him out of concern.
“Rae-bin, is something wrong?”
“…….”
“Kim Rae-bin!”
“…The thing is,”
In the end, Kim Rae-bin confessed everything to his sister—from the post he saw on a certain gossip forum to the anonymous sites he had visited through the links there.
“Why did you look at that!”
His sister was horrified and began to pat him comfortingly. Kim Rae-bin felt his heart grow warm, but he couldn't help but ask.
He needed an answer.
How much of the blame for Steer’s failure lay with him?
But his sister cut him off with a stern expression.
“Rae-bin. Those people are all out of their minds. Why do they hate a celebrity so much instead of living their own lives? You weren't like that at all, so don't look at things like that anymore. Okay?”
It felt like she was blindly defending him, so he couldn't quite accept it, but he couldn't keep questioning her either.
This was because the more they talked, the more pained his family seemed.
The day he saw his grandmother wiping away tears alone in her room, Kim Rae-bin made up his mind to find the answer himself.
Lying in bed before going to sleep, he resolved to think it over carefully and judge without being afraid.
So, he thought as hard as he could.
First...
If he organized the numerous criticisms and points raised, they could be broadly divided into two causes.
Thesis 1.
—The quality of the albums dropped because of Kim Rae-bin’s producing.
Kim Rae-bin had not been able to participate proactively in producing. He was only given assignments. And since the company modified the results as they pleased, he hadn't been selfish.
However, being well-intentioned and being competent were not the same thing.
So, it’s true that it was my fault for not handling it more wisely and asserting my opinion.
Kim Rae-bin concluded that he needed to reflect on this.
Next was Thesis 2.
Kim Rae-bin tossed and turned in bed, feeling a lump in his throat. He barely managed to form the sentence in his mind.
—Kim Rae-bin monopolized the good parts but couldn't pull them off properly, causing a huge negative impact on the team.
Kim Rae-bin... had tried his best to pull off the parts he was given.
He really had.
But maybe that wasn't enough.
Looking at the analytical posts, they explained in detail why those parts should have gone to someone more suitable instead of Kim Rae-bin, who was "hogging the parts."
Furthermore, there was empirical evidence.
Our group didn't succeed.
He hadn't pulled off the important parts attractively enough.
Therefore, the possibility remained wide open that it might have been more beneficial if someone else, rather than himself, had handled those impactful parts.
And if the fans thought so... then it must be true.
“…….”
So, perhaps the answer was simple.
—Conclusion: Kim Rae-bin has no talent as an idol.
It was right to do producing, just as he had first intended when he was young.
He breathed in and out, trying to think correctly.
In a positive direction.
I also felt there were problems with the elements of our title tracks that these fans are criticizing.
His eye for music was still decent. So, it was okay to continue with that work.
Yes. Let’s do that.
Kim Rae-bin reached a conclusion and finally felt his thoughts settle.
He would make music.
I can at least do that.
Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, he committed to his revised plans for the future.
“…….”
Tears didn't fall, but for some reason, his heart felt empty and sorrowful.
TeSTAR’s dorm.
Kim Rae-bin met the pouring memories as if he were being drenched by a waterfall. Rather than just remembering, the emotions of that time were as vivid as if he were experiencing them again.
It was as if he were hearing words that someone had barely managed to pour out after holding them in for so long.
Just as one would deeply empathize and feel pity upon hearing a close acquaintance sorrowfully confess their worries.
To Kim Rae-bin now, that "someone" was himself.
“…….”
His two hyungs were still talking in the living room.
However, he stumbled back into the quiet, dark room, turning his back on the living room where the dim light leaked through.
He sat at his desk and opened his laptop.
His mind felt numb and pale, as if he had been struck with cold water.
But the final question that had emerged at the end of his data collection was resurfacing.
Clearly.
—Who am I as a performer?
This needed to be revised.
Shorter.
—Who am I?
And more specifically.
—At this moment, who am I?
He quietly placed his hands on the laptop and tried to accept what he was feeling now without distorting it.
It was an emotion he had been able to avoid tasting deeply until now because he had debuted with TeSTAR.
It was the fundamental element that revealed itself most starkly when he was at his weakest.
Irreversible failure.
Pain.
“…….”
Kim Rae-bin decided to speak about pain.
A few weeks later.
[TeSTAR ‘Overture’ Comeback Trailer]
The teaser was released.