Flapping Wings

In truth, physical album sales had ceased to be a meaningful metric in the Korean music market a long time ago. Ever since the rise of digital platforms like Bugs and Soribada, the Korean physical album market had entered a steady decline, and by the time Melon emerged, it had practically become a corpse. Since then, the only people who still talked about an artist's physical album sales were idol fandoms, boasting about their achievements with a sense of pride: Our kids sold this many copies this time! A total smash hit!

There was a brief resurgence of physical albums centered around the indie scene, but even that came to an end as indie music integrated into mainstream streaming sites. We were now in an era where releasing a physical album was practically a financial loss. Because of this, the sales of Group Sound's first album were nothing short of a miracle—and because of this, they failed to receive the attention they deserved despite achieving that very miracle.

This trend even carried over to their promotions in Japan. Their miraculous achievement of selling eighty thousand copies in Japan and twenty thousand copies in Korea during the first week was dismissed by the general public as, "Don't idols sell that much anyway?" It wasn't out of malice or ill intent; people genuinely just didn't know any better.

To some extent, it was an understandable reaction. Physical album sales were heavily influenced by the size of a fandom. In this day and age, it was common for obscure boy groups to easily sell a hundred thousand copies, while slightly more prominent ones sold hundreds of thousands and sold out the KSPO DOME. In an era where such news was commonplace, numbers like ten thousand or eighty thousand copies simply failed to register as impressive to the average person.

Group Sound's fans and core band enthusiasts were deeply frustrated by this, but there was nothing they could do about it. They could only yell into the void, "They're way more successful than you think!"

However, the rumors that had recently begun to circulate had a completely different premise.

There had been plenty of instances where Korean artists' songs were featured in Japanese anime—TVXQ, 2PM, Younha, and BoA, to name a few, had contributed openings, endings, and insert songs. But things had changed since the early 2020s. After the pandemic, YouTube had come to dominate the world, and Japanese anime had simultaneously established an incredibly strong presence online. A well-crafted anime song could easily rack up tens of millions, a hundred million, or even over five hundred million views on YouTube. Major Japanese bands had begun to tie up with massive anime projects, specifically crafting songs tailored to those animations. Since that shift, no Korean artist had managed to land such a deal.

Under these circumstances, the rumor that Group Sound would be handling a track for Train Trail—a series guaranteed to be a massive hit—was not something people could easily brush off. Of course, it was still just a rumor, and nothing could be certain until the song actually came out, so it wasn't quite at the level of making America nervous, Japan tremble, and China kneel. However, it was more than enough bait to get rock listeners incredibly hyped.

Group Sound's fans jumped on the hype train, actively promoting the band. It was a perfect opportunity. They even threw in, "Let's use Tycoon since our girls are advertising it!" and went around spreading the word about the platform, even though Group Sound wasn't actually Tycoon's official advertising models.

As for the anime otabus... they simply went wild. They were a group with a notoriously low ignition point anyway. They flooded online communities with posts like: Who is Group Sound?, Why are they so pretty?, 3D girls are actually worth watching, Is Tycoon any good?, and Is Train Trail worth watching? Is it fun?

"I mean, it's only been a few days since the video went up... isn't this the highest view count among all our sponsored videos? It hit nine hundred thousand views in just three days."

"I know. Our subscriber count has gone up significantly too."

"If we keep going like this, we might really be onto something. Shouldn't we buy in low right now? If we wait until the Train Trail promotional video ends, it might be too late."

"Hmm..."

The executives at Tycoon were caught in a very happy dilemma, while the publisher of the Train Trail manga was delighted by an unexpected boom in sales. The butterfly named Group Sound was flapping its wings with increasing force, preparing for the storm it would eventually unleash.

"Will it be okay?"

"Why?"

"Uh... I just keep wondering if there was anything else we should have revised."

At Tokyo Skytree Station, Suyun and the girls had sent the email a day before the deadline and immediately headed out to shoot content. Although the next volume of Train Trail was set in a different region, they had come here because of Hyun-ah's insistence: "Tokyo... Sky... Tree is... one of the main symbols of Train Trail...!"

"It's only the first draft anyway," Suyun replied. "If there's anything that needs fixing, we can just adjust it after we get their feedback."

"I suppose... Ah, but I keep thinking we should have added one more note to that part."

Suyun looked at Iseor, who was still doubting herself despite having produced an incredibly solid piece of work. Most people in the creative arts were like this, but still...

I must have been like this in the past too. No, I was probably even worse.

At least Iseor had created something genuinely good. In her past life, Suyun had spent every single day agonizing over changes to songs that absolutely no one would ever listen to anyway. It had been a truly pathetic waste of time. Realizing that Iseor was already in a much better position than she had ever been, Suyun turned her gaze to Hyun-ah, who was excitedly explaining things to the camera with Tokyo Skytree towering behind her. Judging by how unusually fluent her speech was, she seemed quite excited.

"...So! Tokyo Skytree serves as a sort of symbol within Train Trail. It's a structure that reminds people of Japan's prosperous era before the radioactive fallout. At the top of the Skytree, a Rising Sun flag is shown hanging for some reason. While Korean readers might find this part a bit uncomfortable, it actually serves as a foreshadowing later on..."

"Seriously, are they filming YouTube or whatever even in Japan now?"

Hyun-ah's fluent explanation was abruptly cut short by a voice speaking in Korean. A man had appeared out of nowhere and begun lecturing her without any context. His hair was streaked with gray, but his posture was straight, and he didn't look particularly old.

"Dad! What are you doing!"

"Grown women... do you love Japan that much? I only came because my son kept begging me, but really... isn't this structure built by sucking Korea's lifeblood? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Huh? Back in the colonial era..."

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

The son quickly cut off his father's lecture, repeatedly apologizing as he tried to drag the older man away. But whether he was possessed by something or just deeply displeased, the old man kept trying to shout over his shoulder at Hyun-ah.

"Korean people... always forgetting the past. Huh? It's fine to travel to the Japs' land, but now you're flattering them..."

He has a point, but why is he suddenly taking it out on a kid who has absolutely nothing to do with him?

They said people lost their judgment as they aged. While speaking the truth was important, the timing of when to speak it was just as crucial. Suyun clicked her tongue and stepped forward to separate the old man from Hyun-ah, who had gone pale—but before she could, Hyun-ah opened ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her mouth.

"Old man."

"What?"

"Old man. Tokyo Skytree was built in 2012. Did you know that? It has absolutely nothing to do with the colonial era. And why is traveling to Japan considered flattering them? We're here earning money from the Japanese. More importantly, why are you meddling in our business? Thinking about it now, it's really unpleasant. Do you have some kind of relationship with me?"

Hyun-ah poured out her words in a rapid-fire torrent that made even the passing onlookers flinch. Watching her shut down a crazy old man with a force that could silence the most stubborn of elders, the rest of the band members stood frozen in shock.

She's really grown... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Suyun thought.

Though she hadn't exactly wanted to see her grow in this particular direction. If she could be this fluent in her everyday life, communicating with her would be so much easier. Why did she only get like this when she was excited or angry?

The day after the deadline.

"Uh... why is this already here?"

The Red Rock producer in charge of Train Trail was startled when he checked his inbox upon arriving at work that morning. It was true that the first deadline for Group Sound's opening song was yesterday, so it was technically normal for it to be there. However, the vast majority of musicians routinely missed deadlines, offering excuses like, "I couldn't get any inspiration," "Could you please extend the deadline just a bit?" or "I'll send it by this afternoon."

Having dealt with this constantly on other anime projects, he had learned that expecting a submission to arrive on time was a recipe for disappointment. He had opened his business inbox today fully expecting to send out a reminder email, but...

And they actually sent it yesterday morning. This is the first time in my life I've seen a band keep to a schedule like this...

Even before listening to the song or reading the email, his favorability toward them shot up. He scratched his head and opened the message. The email was slightly informal for a business format, but it carried a sense of genuine sincerity.

To go out of their way to explain the points they focused on... how meticulous. Is this how they do business in Korea?

It wasn't, but he couldn't help but feel that it might be. There had to be a reason why Korea was doing so well lately. Perhaps they had surpassed Japan, the land of diligence, by combining that same diligence with a unique sense of flair.

With those idle thoughts, he called the Train Trail staff into his office.

"The opening song is here? Already?"

"I know, right? I was expecting it tomorrow or the day after, but they are incredibly punctual."

"That's very surprising. Is it because they're from a successful country?"

"Does nationality really matter? The band members just seem very diligent."

"I suppose."

The staff gathered, exchanging casual chatter. The producer cleared his throat to draw their attention before speaking.

"The song is here, but it's not the final version. They'll likely fill out the rest of the track after receiving our feedback, so don't worry too much about any empty spots and just focus on the general flow."

"Understood."

"Even so, the core structure probably won't change drastically from this, so the animation team can start drafting the opening sequence. They mentioned that as long as we don't alter the main framework, they can adjust certain parts of the song to match the animation."

"No way. There's actually a band that does that?"

"I know, right?"

The staff murmured in amazement at this highly unusual approach. The producer felt the exact same way. He rubbed his hands together and spoke.

"Well then, I'm playing it."

A tense silence fell over the room. He swallowed hard and pressed the spacebar to play the audio file. The cheerful, rhythmic sound of a slap bass began to flow from the speakers, instantly captivating everyone in the office.