Coffee Calculations and Pilot Gambles
After the YouTube shoot wrapped up, the cast exchanged goodbyes with the crew. Yu-na bowed her head repeatedly as she wove through the crowd to reach her target. She greeted the staff, then stepped in front of Suyeon, who was about to leave the set.
"What's this about…?"
"Got a minute? How about a cup of coffee?"
They slipped into a nearby café, Yu-na hiding her trembling nerves. Suyeon, who had followed along, stared at her with an expression that screamed, 'I came, but I have no idea why you called me here.'
Yu-na told her to sit, ordered coffee, then took a seat across from her and opened her mouth.
"What's your MBTI?"
"…Pardon?"
It was the ultimate icebreaker her old idol colleagues had crafted for Yu-na, who struggled to chat with strangers. 'Almost no girls hate MBTI, so start there!' they'd advised, dubbing it the "MBTI Divine Skill." But Suyeon's reaction? Indescribable. Her face was utterly blank, like she was saying, 'You believe in that stuff? I'm so disappointed. Not that I expected anything.'
'Phew, good. She doesn't buy into it either.' Relieved that Suyeon was cut from the same cloth, Yu-na let out a silent sigh and settled awkwardly at the table.
Suyeon, eyeing her, tossed out a question. "So… what was your MBTI again?"
"…Pardon?"
It was a question that threw even Yu-na, who didn't believe in that nonsense. But Suyeon waved it off. "No, never mind. So, what's the real reason you wanted to meet?"
"Well… it's not some huge deal or anything special. I just wanted to get to know you."
Yu-na handed over a business card. The one from her agency, emblazoned with "Singer Lee Yu-na." Suyeon took it, flipped it over, and saw a list of her idol-era albums… along with her stage name from back then: Haeyeon.
"I'm not great at beating around the bush, so I'll just say it straight: I have a feeling you're going to make it big. Like, really big. A superstar, you know?"
It wasn't some scientific formula, but years grinding in the industry had given Yu-na a gut instinct—a big-data sense for talent. This kid's got it. That one's a no-go. And with Suyeon, it screamed, She's a sure thing.
"That's why I want to get close. Sounds calculating, I know, but that's the world, right? Everyone's playing the game."
"Fair enough."
Yu-na figured: Better to link up early with someone poised for stardom. Long-term investment. People remember who helped when times were tough, so strike fast.
"If you ever need advice on female vocals or anything entertainment-related, hit me up anytime."
"Entertainment stuff?"
"I was an idol, after all. Still got connections from back then. I can hook you up with that much, at least. Nothing massive."
Suyeon gave a warm smile. Yu-na smiled back, thinking, This kid and I are gonna click.
In truth, what PD Kim Ga-eun was filming was a pilot program. Not the cutthroat, one-and-done kind from major networks, but far from secure either. To bolster it, two of the initial six guests were semi-famous—celebs too big for a sub-channel gig, really. Ga-eun's plan was to anchor around those two and spice it up with the other four.
The ex-idol Yu-na as the reliable side dish. Suyeon slotted in as the surprise delicacy.
But as filming progressed—and Ga-eun reviewed the footage—she hit a wall of conflict.
'Every single clip is gold. Can't bear to cut any.'
Jack-of-all-trades meant master of none, or so they said. Same in TV. Few nailed every role. But Suyeon? In today's shoot, she aced it all.
Cracking boomer jokes for laughs. Cute speech quirks for charm. Killer music skills—the heart of a music variety show. And that natural, healing vibe these programs craved? Delivered.
Pure treasure.
'Young folks are just built for new media…'
Ga-eun gathered the staff. Time for input.
"What should we do?"
The question hung context-free, but everyone got it. At this smooth wrap-up point, only one dilemma mattered.
No answers came. Understanding didn't mean solutions.
"I think…"
A staffer raised a hand.
"We should stick to the original plan."
"Why?"
"First episode—those established guests have fans. Shortchange them, and we'll get backlash."
Ga-eun stroked her chin. Counterarguments bubbled up.
"Nah, not everyone watching is a stan. General audience too—no biggie."
"Diehards spread the word best."
"We invited them—feels wrong to bench 'em."
"Who cares? Fun factor first."
Debate raged. Someone raised a hand.
"Play it safe. Suyeon's fun, but the others weren't flops. No need to commit this episode to her."
"If it's not fun, kill it."
"It won't die that easy."
Opinions split. Ga-eun closed her eyes, listening.
Both sides had merit. Safe for debut. Chase thrills. Ignore fans. But impact needs punch.
She opened her eyes. She'd always chased new challenges—like jumping to this sub-channel instead of coasting under Tae-young PD.
"We'll center it on Suyeon."
It fit her style. Push the kid who didn't even need it. At least she could claim, 'I discovered her!'
With Group Sound's activities paused for "members' college entrance exams," Seyoon was living a listless life of endless YouTube scrolling.
Paradox gigs, once twice monthly, ground to a halt. Fresh content? Just Kim Ji-yeon's Music Letter footage and the Japan trip vids on [White Room].
"We'll starve at this rate…!"
Seyoon wailed. Her little brother Se-hyeon tsked pityingly and retreated to his room, but she ignored him. That punk pretends he's above it, but he checks Group Sound and White Room every night for uploads. Dishonest brat…
Bashing him changed nothing. Just highlighted their shared agony over the content drought.
To soothe her soul, she fired up a popular channel. A new busking-themed pilot looked promising. She hit play—and jolted in shock seconds later.
"Gahhh!"
"What? What?!"
Se-hyeon rushed in at the house-shaking scream. Seyoon just pointed at the monitor, speechless. He squinted—and screamed too.
'Ha Suyeon' was there.
They solemnly set water before the screen and bowed. Seyoon smacked Se-hyeon's head as he went for seconds, dumped the water, and hit play.
Please don't flop, our Suyeon…
Suyeon's appearance hit like a thunderbolt—mostly the good kind.
"I don't get it-eyo."
"I can handle this much-eyo."
"That scheme won't fool anyone-eyo."
Her recent 'eyo' tic. If she'd done it start-to-finish, even fans might think it was forced for airtime. But mostly, she spoke normally.
"That'd be tough."
Or "I'll give it a shot first."
Stiff formality mixed with soft warmth—odd, but whatever. Seyoon figured the 'daeyo' slips were glitches from shifting her old Invasion 2024-era stiffness to age-appropriate fluff.
And it's adorable. A high school girl softening her edges? Irresistible.
Second shocker: her performance.
Top or recent—pure praise. Sure, most lauded the original over Suyeon's skill, which irked Seyoon a bit, but she brushed it off. Bigger shock ahead.
Wasn't she band-only? Straight rock…?
Until now, Suyeon was all "hard music"—electric guitar solos charging ahead, vibrato arms and bends whipping up storms. That was Seyoon's image, post-Juhyeon's concert debut.
But no. Her band, her solo, her idol side—she revealed why she rocked out.
Raw, emotive voice. Overflowing acoustic expression. Stuff the masses adored.
Yet she chose band life. Just because she loved it.
Seyoon loved that. Felt true to band, to music.
Can't not promo this…
She opened seldom-used Facebook and Insta, grabbed the YouTube link, and thought it. A thought shared by countless Group Sound fans.