Riding the Wave

According to the public, it was "one of the most anticipated works of 2026." Naturally, attention was hyper-focused on it. The pressure to succeed, the expectation of triumph, and even the jealous eyes waiting to see just how far it could go. It was a drama tangled in a web of countless emotions: You from the Next Door.

And now, with only two episodes aired, the filming set was in a state of pure festival. The dark, heavy cloud of pressure—the constant, suffocating thought of we have to succeed!—that had hung over the set every day had long been washed away by the spring rain of soaring viewership ratings. And this celebratory atmosphere was manifesting in other places as well.

"Whoa! Music Director!"

"Ah, hello."

Though he held the title of "Music Director," it was a director in name only, lacking any real authority. He was respected, but that was the extent of it. Compared to the people actually making the "main show," a music director's position was naturally lower on the totem pole. But that hierarchy only reared its ugly head when the atmosphere on set was gloomy and miserable. On a set where future success was practically guaranteed, a completely different vibe took over.

"Seriously, that OST this time... what was it? The Moment I Meet You? I've been listening to it non-stop. How did you pull that off? I had no idea you could write a song like that."

"Ah, well, I didn't actually write that one..."

"I know, I know. Of course I know. That's not what I mean. What I'm saying is, wasn't picking that band—Group Sound, was it?—wasn't that all thanks to your keen eye, Director Park? Huh? Am I right or am I right?"

"Ah, well, if you put it that way, I suppose so."

"Director Park, we're expecting great things from you. Music is crucial to a drama, after all. Let's make this a hit together. Fighting!"

He had stopped by the set on business. The person talking to him was a middle-aged supporting actor who usually wouldn't even look his way, barely offering a half-hearted nod and a muttered "Hello" before passing by. Yet, the moment the drama started doing well and rumors spread that the OST was playing a major role, he had rushed over to act like they were lifelong friends. Hyuntae scoffed at the absurdity. He began walking to finish what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he came for, but a sudden thought gave him pause.

The OST definitely played a massive role... but if it were me, could I have made a song like that?

The situation had escalated past people listening to the OST because of the drama; now, people were tuning into the drama because of the OST. Analysts were even attributing a portion of the terrifyingly steep rise in viewership ratings to this very phenomenon. Hyuntae wondered if he could have ever achieved such a feat. Was it truly possible to make people watch a show solely because of its soundtrack?

No, I couldn't.

Since he knew his own limits, he quickly reached a conclusion. The people capable of such things were exceedingly rare—true geniuses. And Ha Suyun was undoubtedly one of them.

The music video, which was just a haphazardly stitched-together montage of scenes from the few aired episodes, had easily surpassed 4 million views long ago. It was a record none of Group Sound's previous tracks had ever come close to achieving.

"Yes, this is Section Chief Jung Yuyoung of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Label Echo Sound. Ah, yes. Hello. Um... we have some scheduling conflicts, and the artists themselves are... well, there are a few things we need to consider. Let me check and get back to you immediately. Thank you."

The phone calls were relentless. The moment she hung up, it would ring again a few minutes later, over and over. If it were just one person or organization, she could block them as spam, but that wasn't the case. Every single call was from a different person, a different organization.

"Yes, this is Section Chief Jung Yuyoung of Label Echo Sound. Yes, hello. Yes, I'm aware. The schedule? Um... we'll have to review that again. If you could give me your email address, I'll send you a detailed response. Yes. J-E-O-N-G, as in Jung... Yes. Yes."

The sheer volume of calls was paralyzing their daily operations. As she was answering yet another call, someone slipped quietly into the office. Strolling casually across the room with an instant coffee packet clamped between her lips, the person headed straight for the pantry. She was the very source of this chaotic storm.

"Suyun!"

"Yes?"

"We keep getting flooded with variety show offers! Are you really not planning on doing any of them?!"

"Yes."

"Just doing one would help so much...!"

"I don't really see any reason why I need to go on them."

At Suyun's reply, Yuyoung beat her chest in sheer frustration. Suyun merely offered a faint smile in response before disappearing back to her desk.

Even just one appearance would be such a huge help.

Since The Moment I Meet You was first revealed at the end of the drama's first episode, the number of calls they had received was—with only a slight exaggeration—more than all the casting and appearance requests they had ever received combined. From obscure media outlets they had never heard of to prime-time variety shows that everyone in the country knew. Yet, Ha Suyun had rejected every single one of them. Well, to be precise, all except one.

Aside from this interview with a music webzine, Suyun had rejected every single casting offer. Of course, she had agreed to appear on music-focused programs like Kim Ji-yeon's Music Letter, but since those shows didn't have immediate open slots, there was nowhere for them to perform right away.

We should be rowing while the tide is high.

Section Chief Jung Yuyoung shook her head to clear the thought. Actually, there was no need to worry. When the tide rises too high, you don't even need to row—the current just carries you. And that was exactly the situation they were in now.

People were discovering their music on their own and eagerly awaiting the concert without any promotion. Watching the screen, Jung Yuyoung picked up the ringing phone once more. "Yes, this is Section Chief Jung Yuyoung of Label Echo Sound," she repeated. Time flowed by, and as the concert ticketing date drew near, an email arrived.

It was an invitation to the Korean Music Awards.

"Hello, everyone. I am Ji Jong-hyuk, your host for the 23rd Korean Music Awards. It is a pleasure to be here. This year's Korean Music Awards is co-hosted by the Korea Creative Content Agency, the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism, and the evolving cultural platform..."

A small studio. A modest crowd. But there was an abundance of cameras. Compared to the intimate scale of the stage, the anxiety etched on the faces of the attendees felt incredibly heavy.

"The nominees for Best Rock Album at the 2026 Korean Music Awards are as follows. First, Group Sound's Becoming a Star. Next..."

After a brief opening address, the awards ceremony commenced immediately. The first category was "Best Rock Album."

"The winner of the Best Rock Album at the 23rd Korean Music Awards is... congratulations! Group Sound, Becoming a Star!"

Amidst a roar of applause, Suyun and the girls walked up to receive the trophy. It was a sleek, beautifully designed award. Their acceptance speech was brief, primarily because they knew they would likely have to speak again in the next category.

"The nominees for Best K-Pop Album at the 2026 Korean Music Awards are as follows. First..."

The ceremony continued. They were off to a fantastic start. Having already secured both Best Rock Album and Best Rock Song, Group Sound had achieved a remarkable feat while some of the industry's biggest names walked away empty-handed, hanging their heads in disappointment.

"The nominees for Song of the Year at the 2026 Korean Music Awards are as follows. First, Group Sound's Garden in the Air. And next..."

With the genre-specific categories out of the way, the real battle had begun. As the nominees were being read, Suyun stole a glance at her surroundings. The previously relaxed attendees sat up straight, and reporters readied their notebooks and phones. A famous rapper in attendance stroked his chin, staring ahead, while idols adjusted their postures, glancing nervously at their managers or producers.

Beside her, Iseor's fist clenched tightly. Hyun-ah wore a visibly tense expression. Seoha was trying her best to look indifferent, but her stiff posture only betrayed how deeply she cared.

What's the big deal?

Suyun tried to tell herself, but she couldn't deny the tension tightening in her own chest. Indeed, what was the big deal? In truth, music awards held little real value. An award was merely a score given by others based on their own arbitrary standards. The music existed independently of it.

And yet, despite knowing this, even Leonardo DiCaprio, who spent years chasing a single Oscar, must have known that an award had little to do with his actual acting ability. Still, he desperately wanted that Oscar. Why? Because at the end of the day, every human being craves validation for their achievements.

Lost in these idle thoughts, Suyun unconsciously clenched her fists. Through her tense gaze, she watched as the presenter's lips slowly began to part.