The Unintended Wave

Suyun had sung on a new EP before. Her voice was featured on "Gray Days" and "Sternstunde," tracks from Group Sound's very first EP, Plastic Nostalgia. Since then, however, she hadn't sung on any official albums. The reasoning was simple: Iseor's vocals were deemed a much better fit for Group Sound's music. Iseor possessed what people commonly called a "cute" tone—round, breezy, and gentle. Suyun was different. Her voice was naturally low, yet her upper register was incredibly high, and her tone had a distinct, sharp clarity. It wasn't that she couldn't sing, but if they had to choose the voice that truly belonged in their songs, Iseor was the obvious choice. Even Suyun, the composer, agreed.

But "Paid Wi-Fi" was a song that demanded Suyun's vocals. It was a track that traversed the extremes of low and high registers, requiring a voice that could rumble deeply one moment and scream piercingly the next. In typical Group Sound fashion, the song focused more on the instrumental arrangement than putting the spotlight entirely on the vocals. Yet, unlike their previous tracks, it possessed a certain quality that made it incredibly satisfying to both sing and listen to.

"I should probably sing this one."

Suyun had made the decision to take the microphone without much thought, and it wasn't treated as some monumental event within Group Sound. It was just a "sure, why not" kind of thing.

"We debuted at number fifty-five today."

"That's a great start. Let's keep working hard, everyone!"

Thus, neither the members of Group Sound nor the staff at Label Echo Sound had any idea that while the song's quality would certainly help with promotion, the real explosive reaction would come from a completely unexpected direction.

It started with cover YouTubers.

After seeing "Paid Wi-Fi" enter the charts and climb at a rapid pace, YouTubers quickly uploaded their own covers to ride the wave and rack up views. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sheer volume of covers was staggering, made possible by the fact that the vocal difficulty of "Paid Wi-Fi" wasn't prohibitively high.

Once the song began to spread through these covers, a second wave of content pushed it even further.

These were secondary creations utilizing movie characters, celebrities, and the currently trending AI technology—the classic hallmarks of a viral hit.

People are not driven solely by financial gain. Honor and fame are also powerful motivators. And the internet is teeming with people who gladly volunteer their time and effort just to obtain a sliver of that "fame" or "prestige." After all, there are online moderators who endure constant abuse just to keep a digital badge while deleting NSFW posts in the dead of night. Compared to them, the people voluntarily promoting "Paid Wi-Fi" were acting on pure logic. Group Sound was currently the hottest artist in the industry, and their new release was generating massive buzz. It was only natural to ride such a massive wave.

But because this was entirely outside the expectations of Group Sound and Label Echo Sound, the results they received were utterly mind-boggling.

"Twenty-first?"

"Yes. Twenty-first."

Suyun furrowed her brow, suspecting a joke, and leaned in close to Manager Jung Yuyoung. But Manager Jung's expression was perfectly serene. It was the face of someone speaking the absolute, unembellished truth.

"You mean twenty-first on YouTube Music? Inside the Top 100?"

"Yes, exactly. Want to see?"

At Manager Jung's words, Suyun let go of her chair and leaned her face toward the monitor.

"Didn't you say it was fifty-fifth last time?"

"Yes, we did... but the rank suddenly shot up."

"I knew our PR team was capable, but I didn't realize they had the power to push a song into the top twenty."

Suyun muttered the words absentmindedly before quickly tapping her own lips, realizing she might have sounded slightly dismissive. But Manager Jung didn't seem to mind at all.

"We didn't actually do much. We did run some short-form viral campaigns, but honestly, this song doesn't really fit the short-form format. We weren't expecting much from it... but the reaction came from somewhere else entirely."

With those words, Manager Jung pulled up a bizarre video thumbnail. It was a grotesque, unfamiliar image of North Korea's Kim Jong-un holding a smartphone and smiling brightly.

"What is this? Pyongyang Sound?"

"Take a listen."

"Isn't listening to stuff like this a violation of the National Security Act? When I was young... I mean, anyway, back in the day, wasn't listening, watching, or talking about North Korean content enough to get you dragged away under the National Security Act...?"

"What in the world are you talking about?"

Confronted with an image that defied all logic, Suyun's mind had momentarily slipped back several decades. Having lived through an era where actual spies roamed the streets and merely mentioning North Korea could get one waterboarded, her concern was only natural. It was so deeply ingrained that her speech pattern had slipped, almost exposing her past.

But under Manager Jung's bewildered gaze, Suyun reluctantly overcame the primal fear imprinted in the DNA of anyone who had lived through that era, and clicked the video.

"Pfft!"

She couldn't help but burst out laughing. The song was sung in Kim Jong-un's voice, synthesized perfectly through AI. Kim Jong-un was dancing, and then Kim Jong-un was getting shot. It was a video entirely devoid of seriousness, yet the view count was already in the hundreds of thousands. The comment section was overflowing.

"The National Security Act for watching this? It'd be pretty weird if they arrested you for this."

"I suppose so."

"Anyway, thanks to videos like this... we got completely unexpected promotion. To the point where we might have to consider this kind of route for our future marketing."

"It's funny, but... is it really that influential?"

"Absolutely."

Manager Jung scrolled through several online communities, showing posts featuring secondary creations of "Paid Wi-Fi." While some had low view counts, many had exploded with engagement, and the vast majority were uploaded voluntarily by users.

"In the case of Hanging Gardens, it was consumed as short-form content, which captured the teens and early twenties. But Paid Wi-Fi is being consumed primarily through online communities. And today's Korean online communities are directly connected to the late twenties to early forties demographic—even up to the fifties. It connects us directly to the age group with actual purchasing power, which is exactly who we wanted to target."

With that, Manager Jung showed a second set of community posts regarding the album Becoming a Star. The long list of titles made it clear that most of them were detailed reviews and impressions.

"People who read reviews and think, 'Ah, this content must be good,' are highly engaged consumers. They've already exhausted all the content within their own boundaries, so they're looking to cross over. But these secondary creations and humor-filled memes can reach low-engagement consumers who normally wouldn't care at all."

Manager Jung then pulled up a video of a rookie male idol group. The moment a female staff member spoke, the group shouted something in unison.

"It's exactly like this."

"No, but what is..."

"I know that one!"

Startled by the sudden voice beside her, Suyun flinched and looked over. Iseor had slipped into the room at some point. The others didn't seem surprised, having apparently watched her walk in.

"Make some noise when you walk in, will you?"

"I was stomping my feet the whole way!"

"...So, what is that?"

"The kids in the hallway do that all the time. Like, they go like this..."

Iseor suddenly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stomped her foot, jumped, spun 180 degrees in mid-air, landed with her arms thrust downward, and shouted:

"Siuuu!!"

"What are you doing?"

"You asked what it was, so I showed you. That."

"No, I meant what is the... never mind."

Suyun cut herself off and fell into thought. Regardless, she understood what Manager Jung was trying to say. Their music was no longer just for the "highly engaged music fans" who had been their primary audience; it was now being consumed by the "low-engagement public" through these memes.

I don't entirely love it, but...

She believed music should ultimately be judged as music, but they had already come too far for such purism. After all, they had used viral marketing for Hanging Gardens from the very start. Whether they became a meme or a source of humor, if it meant more people would listen to their music, then that was a good thing. That was Suyun's conclusion.

Still, with the charts climbing like this... it would be great if we could do a live performance on broadcast. Before the year-end concert.

Suyun tapped her phone thoughtfully. Should she contact the PD she met during EBS Amplifier Now? Or maybe the people at Aurora, or some of her other industry contacts?

"Practice live?"

"We have to."

A spoon clinked against the table. As the surrounding patrons turned to look, Hyun-ah stared at Suyun, not even daring to pick up her spoon. Seoha looked as if she had misheard, while Iseor asked once more.

"Can't... can't we rest just a little bit? We weren't supposed to start practicing yet. Just until the livestream with Aurora! Let's rest until then, and then we'll practice."

"I was planning on doing that, but did you hear about our chart results?"

"Yeah."

"I heard we're in the top ten on YouTube, and we're starting to climb Melon too. We're in the top twenty on iChart."

Suyun nodded at Seoha's words. It wasn't just YouTube Music—Group Sound's home turf—but traditional music platforms like Melon, Genie, Flo, Vibe, and Bugs. Their song "Paid Wi-Fi" was carving out a place even on charts usually dominated entirely ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠by idols.

"So, to keep this momentum going, I think we need to do a live performance soon. If there's no broadcast to appear on, we can host our own livestream, or do it during our stream with Aurora. Either way, we need to practice in advance so we can keep the tension high and run all the way to the Gymnastics Arena concert..."

"Suyun..."

"Yeah?"

"Only... people like you... enjoy that..."

"Pwahaha! As expected of Hyun-ca Cola! She's absolutely right. You're the only practice-obsessed freak here!"

Seoha slammed the table, looking thoroughly vindicated by Hyun-ah's blunt truth. The cafe's patrons glanced over once more before quickly averting their eyes.

"No, the more you practice, the better. It's how you improve."

"We know it improves our skills, but shouldn't we actually have a life too? Fine, let's say we push through to the year-end live. But running all the way to the Gymnastics Arena concert? That is actually insane."

Is it...

While Seoha retorted to Iseor's complaints with a "Hey, why are you agreeing to the year-end live so easily?", Suyun twirled a strand of her hair. Hearing them put it that way, they might have a point. Pushing themselves at full speed for several months might be overdoing it.

"But if you want to be good at music, that's what you have to do."

"We're human too, human!" Iseor cried out dramatically.

Suyun twirled her hair again. The girls were incredibly stubborn. Perhaps she should delay the practice schedule as she had originally planned and just focus on the year-end concert... Just as the thought crossed her mind, her phone began to ring.

"Hello, this is Ha Suyun."

"Yes, go ahead."