Amplifier Now
The pre-release single led straight into an invitation for EBS Amplifier Now. A flagship EBS music program that's been running for over twenty years. Compared to radio shows or music programs that have aired for decades, it might seem short-lived, but it had its own strengths. As a public educational broadcaster, EBS didn't chase profits or buzz at all—they invited artists purely based on the production team's tastes and convictions. Plus, it was held in a tiny venue with about 200 seats. Exaggerating a bit, you could see the musicians' pores up close, and everything was performed live without any backing tracks. It was a program that tested a musician's raw skill—obsessive, almost pure. That meant no mega-stars appeared. It featured international artists like Jason Mraz or Twenty One Pilots before they blew up worldwide on tour, or acts like Loundess or Fourplay who were big overseas but not in Korea. And indies who hadn't shone yet but clearly would soon. It was famous for booking unknowns. But that also meant opportunity. Even as an educational show, it was terrestrial TV. And it was renowned for its top-notch quality. A crucial step toward major label status... EBS Amplifier Now occupied that exact spot.
He said he'd check with the label first, then hung up. There was no way the company would object to something like this, so his decision would become the band's—and the company's—decision (or so he figured, anyway). He didn't really need to consult them. Truth was, he just wanted to stall on giving an answer.
Amplifier Now...
She'd never appeared on it, but she'd heard plenty. Even during the indie boom in the 2010s, the show had played a big role. Sure, with all the media now, it didn't carry the same weight, but legacy media appearances still packed a punch on their own. Just look at the buzz from a single radio spot that no one was even expected to hear.
Logically, she should accept without hesitation. But...
Can I really go out there like this?
The only released track right now was one new song, Sky Garden. The album was still tentatively titled Album 1, and the rest were deep in production. Arrangements, re-recordings, tweaks to the setlist—they were making progress, and they could rehearse and perform, but locking in this gig would make the schedule even tighter. Unavoidably so.
Lately, she barely went home. Aside from minimal sleep and quick jogs for conditioning, she was glued to the company studio—Lee Hyein had to beg her to come home.
I've still got some gas in the tank, but...
The others? Who knew. She'd pushed the girls to the brink, nearly sacrificing their personal lives entirely. The water was sloshing right at the rim—could she pour in more without it spilling? They were bound to explode any second, so she expected a "no, too tough" from them.
"What the hell."
An impromptu meeting with just Go Kyung-min, Jeong Yu-young, and the band members. After briefing them, the two adults looked pensive. But Choi Iseo shrugged it off like it was nothing.
"No issue joining. Dude, why worry? We just do it."
"Um... I'm okay, too..."
"No problem here."
Against her expectations, they agreed so readily it threw her off. Even if they were dead serious about the band, they were teens. How could they so cheerfully sign up for more time-sucking commitments after just a short while?
Kids these days really sacrifice the present for the future, huh...
She met their eyes—and jolted. Hollow gazes, souls half-gone. As Jeong Hyeona might put it from her otaku shows: "eyes without highlights."
"We can handle it! No problem!"
"...Feels like there might be."
Her mutter got drowned by Iseo's shout.
"Nah! Sleep? Crash hard when you're dead tired. Fun? Later. No chance like now! Rehearsal time!"
"If not... now... we can't..."
"No issue, no issue."
Words from an era before work-life balance. Yoo Seoha looked half-mad. While Go Kyung-min and Jeong Yu-young beamed proudly at the members, she glanced at the ceiling.
Everything they were saying? She'd drilled those exact lines into them while cracking the whip.
Sorry... I'm sorry... I never wanted it this bad...
The girls, half-brainwashed from endless lashings, parroted "we can do it" like soulless nutcrackers. Staring out the window, guilt gnawed at her. What the hell am I doing to these kids? As an adult, this is unforgivable...
"Hello."
"Ah~ Hi there. Nice to meet you. This must be guitarist Ha Suyeon. And this is...?"
"Jeong Yu-young from our company."
"Hi! Jeong Yu-young here! Nice to meet you! Here's my card!"
"Oh, thanks, thanks. Sit down first. Coffee's getting cold."
A small conference room at EBS. She took a seat at the table with americanos and snacks. Jeong Yu-young was handing out cards to everyone in sight—even the obvious intern and cleaning lady.
"You got the basics from our staff, right?"
"Not the details—just the date, time. Nothing else."
The PD rubbed his forehead, pondering where to start.
"Date's as discussed. Since it's a Group Sound special, full hour. With editing and setup, probably an hour and a half to two."
Two hours. She twirled a strand of hair. Even playing their full set wouldn't fill it. Probably...
"Can we do unreleased tracks or extended live versions?"
"Totally fine. Right, Group Sound doesn't have tons of songs yet?"
"Yeah. Official releases: last EP, this single, audition tracks. We'll need unreleased and covers to pad it out."
The PD scratched his head, silent. After a beat, his half-bald pate nodded.
"Cool. Not full broadcast anyway—covers get issues, we cut and YouTube it. No biggie. And unreleased premieres? We're grateful. Who knows, might be the next I'm Yours."
Jason Mraz's smash hit had its world TV premiere on EBS—a fact every Korean music fan knew. That's what he meant.
"Artists get it, but platforms too—magazines, papers, YouTube. We're TV. Media folk have that pride, y'know."
He stroked his forehead again; sweat glistened. Hot-blooded type? she wondered.
"Varied, sure, but mine's like 'I told you so!' I called this one's rise! Bragging on my eye for talent. Bottom-fishing? Yeah—bought low when no one else did. Proves my vision."
He eyed her: arrogance tinged with hard-earned confidence.
"Group Sound... not tons of tracks, but growth like this? Rare. Indies grind floors for 3-4 years post-album. You're skyrocketing. Especially..."
His hand tapped the laptop: Sky Garden playback. Rising music #6. He showed Melon realtime chart— their song peeking at the bottom.
"Debut just a year... Major debut in sight so fast? Rare in Korean history."
He slapped the materials. "Now, logistics?"
Jeong Yu-young jumped in: "Thanks! Mind if I ask about stage setup and directing scope...?"
"Why the hell do I gotta come here?"
"Dude! You're here, so shut up and watch. Gonna whine all night?"
Her grumble earned a shoulder smack from her friend, now changed into a black oversized half-zip fleece. Huge Group Sound letters emblazoned across it—official merch from some event, apparently.
"What, baseball fan?"
"They didn't drop official stuff..."
Her friend fumed. Ridiculous, she thought. Just days ago, bored at a café, the girl had screeched about discovering some weird band track. Now? Buying merch, winning tickets, dragging her along as a full stan.
"Kinda crowded, huh. Thought it'd be dead."
"Dude, over 4,000 applicants. I basically made your ticket."
"4,000?"
For this? She couldn't fathom it. Sky Garden was good, sure, and the other tracks her friend shoved at her were solid. But this much hype?
"That's the line."
"Oh."
Following, she scanned the queue—nothing like expected. Rock and bands? Old folks' music, right? But here: mostly 10s-20s, balanced gender, few over 30.
"Hi everyone! I'm Kim Ayoon, president of the Group Sound fan club!"
A sudden voice and applause. Nearby, three folks with paper bags.
"To celebrate the show, we made unofficial merch! Cool if we hand 'em out?"
Most cheered "Yes~!" She eyed the line: siblings, office-lady types, gaggles of high school girls. Eclectic crowd.
"Dude, jackpot."
Her friend snatched hers from Ayoon, gushing. Cute anime-style character: short bob.
"Want one?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure."
Hers: ponytail guitarist. Friend glared jealously.
"What."
"Trade?"
"Nah."
Ignoring the teeth-baring, she pocketed it. Staff waved them in.
Inside: pitch black. Purple spots dotted the seats; stage invisible in shadow. Folks groped for seat lights.
"Atmosphere's killer, right?"
"Just dark and annoying."
"Fucking philistine."
She ignored the jab—routine. Their seat? Dead center front. Prime view. Friend whooped; she stared into the dark.
Then, a figure emerged. She startled.
"Hello."
Not just her—whole room froze. But the figure from the shadows continued casually.
"Group Sound, Ha Suyeon here. It's been forever. First time seeing you all since the audition... feels great. Gotta thank EBS and staff for making this happen—wanna say thanks."
That weird ending. Laughter rippled; she blinked. What...? Friend was already gone: "Fuck... so cute..."
"Ahem! Anyway. No setlist today. But the song you just heard—or came from hearing—I think starting there fits best. That's my take, so..."
Lights flooded from backstage. Blinding—squinting past, she saw the kids take positions, stars behind them.
"Here we go. Sky Garden."