The Echoes of Kingdom
An anonymous record label official stated, "That is not the only problem." Pointing out the behavior of the publisher and Studio Red Rock, they added further explanation. "Very few people would deny that [Kingdom] was a key factor in the success of Train Trail. Group Sound created an incredibly spectacular opening track, after all."
"However, it is not well known that Red Rock and the publisher tried to completely scrap and rewrite the track itself near the end of [Kingdom]'s production."
The interview with the official who requested anonymity was published alongside several others. It bore a sensational headline: [Exposing the Rotting Reality of the Japanese Manga and Anime Industry!!]
It certainly had less impact than the first scandal, which had sent shockwaves through the entire anime community, or the second interview, which had openly attacked a major publishing house and aired grievances about the current state of the manga landscape. While the first and second rounds of interviews had named specific names, this third interview kept everyone anonymous, serving more as a compilation of various industry horror stories.
Yet, because of that very nature, the interview resonated even more deeply with consumers.
It laid bare the incredibly toxic subcontracting system of the anime industry—the young animators who had to work in silence even after being subjected to what Koreans would call "passion pay." The countless people in the manga industry who suffered endlessly without ever receiving proper credit. And, as a prime example, the band Group Sound, who had created the massive hit opening track [Kingdom] but almost missed out on the spotlight entirely due to the heavy-handed pressure of the publisher and the animation studio.
The anonymous official continued, "Fortunately, the artist who was supposed to take over the track refused, saying they couldn't do such a thing and that it was unconscionable. Thanks to them, things went back to how they should be. But if they had accepted it without a word, the artist name displayed before 'Kingdom' would be very different right now."
Of course, the story wasn't entirely accurate. The actual proposal Studio Red Rock had delivered to Group Sound was along the lines of, "Wouldn't it be great if we just gave the vocals to the other artist and released it under a collaboration name?"
And Suyun had conveyed the exact facts to the reporter during her interview.
"Rather than publishing it exactly like this, wouldn't it be better to make it a bit more sensational?" the reporter had asked.
"Uh... well. Do whatever you want with it," Suyun had replied.
Suyun hadn't bothered to stop the reporter from sensationalizing the facts. After all, she had told the truth, so what was the problem? She had even recorded the entire conversation, so she had nothing to fear. (That particular topic had come up at the very end of the interview.)
Besides, it wasn't even Suyun who had said it. It was just an "anonymous official."
Even if that "anonymous official" happened to be suspiciously well-informed about the contract and suspiciously defensive of the band's position.
Regardless of Suyun's stance, the interview set public opinion ablaze once again.
In modern Japanese animation, a significant portion of revenue comes from merchandise. While they do earn income from TV broadcasts and increasingly from OTT platforms—and profits have grown even further as physical media transitioned from DVD to Blu-ray—those revenue streams are relatively minor compared to merchandise sales.
The revenue structure for Train Trail was no different. Although they had signed a fairly large contract with an OTT platform, the payout didn't even cover the production costs. For both the publisher and Red Rock, they were bound to lose money if merchandise didn't sell, especially since they had split the investment 50:50.
But who buys merchandise? While new fans brought in by the anime do buy them, the core buyers are the fans of the original work. An anime adaptation is essentially a catalyst for an explosive increase in merchandise sales.
Due to this massive scandal, the fans of the original work closed their wallets. Only a few fans who claimed, "I don't care about that stuff," opened theirs. While sales hadn't dropped to absolute zero, the numbers were nowhere near enough to break even.
To make matters worse, even the physical single of [Kingdom]—which they had prepared quite extensively in anticipation of high sales—was now expected to suffer a severe drop in revenue following this interview.
"Sir, I heard the CEO sold his Ferrari."
"Oh dear..."
"What do we do?"
"Well, we just have to keep making it well. If we mess up the production just because we're ruined, our company will literally collapse."
The actual episodes of the Train Trail anime were airing smoothly. The animation quality was still good despite some slight dips, the keyframes were decent despite being scaled back, and the storyline was solid and engaging. It was a formula that made it hard not to be popular.
But despite making it so well and achieving high viewership, the final report card was expected to be a sea of red ink. Furthermore, having alienated the fans, it seemed highly unlikely they could ever recover their reputation with a second season.
Even if they tried to ask the publisher for help, the publisher was currently dealing with a disaster of their own—their flagship author, the lifeblood of their magazine, had decided to pull out and flip the table. The publisher was in an even worse state than the studio, which only had financial losses to worry about, so there was nothing to be said.
"Sigh..."
In the midst of this, the producer of Studio Red Rock pulled out a cigarette and lit it in the smoking area in front of the building. This was already his third one.
Where on earth had things gone so wrong?
If only we had listened to the original author...
But it was already too late for that. They would have had to completely tear up and redesign the entire anime's blueprint. Assuming that was a point of no return, what about after that?
The only conclusion is that I should have stood my ground against those publisher bastards back then.
If they had at least kept the opening track secure, they could have sold quite a few physical singles. They could have sent the band to external events to generate some revenue. Then, they could have at least broken even despite the hit to their merchandise sales. Since it was a money-making venture, the band wouldn't have had any reason to refuse either.
But if they tried to propose that now, the band would undoubtedly reject it.
Life is bitter... he thought, lighting another cigarette. Regretting it now was utterly useless.
If you asked people to name the "most successful Japanese anime song," many names would pop up. For example, A Cruel Angel's Thesis, Agape, Idol, or Zenzenzense. Countless songs would be mentioned because there is no single standard for what defines "most successful."
However, if you asked for the "Japanese anime song with the highest YouTube views," only one name could possibly come up. That is because the answer is clearly defined.
It is Uchiage Hanabi (Fireworks).
This song, which racks up a hundred million views every year, was created by Kenshi Yonezu, who once active in the subculture scene, has now become a major mainstream artist. A beautiful melody, a vocal line where a man and a woman harmonize exquisitely, and a fluidly animated music video. Despite being a well-made song with no flaws, it had one major issue: the original anime was a flop.
Although it was a theatrical anime based on a short drama, the general consensus was that it fell spectacularly short of the original. Yet, completely independent of the anime's reputation, Uchiage Hanabi continues to be played on people's playlists. Just as Koreans start hearing Cherry Blossom Ending when spring arrives, there is a saying in Japan that you start hearing Uchiage Hanabi when summer comes.
What is the point of this story?
Even if an anime completely flops and gets buried under a mountain, the opening song itself can still be a massive hit.
Indeed, thanks to [Kingdom], Group Sound achieved immense success.
"Yes. Actually... all of our members participated in composing this song."
"Oh... that's interesting. Usually, it doesn't work that way, does it? I don't know much about composing, but I thought there was usually one member who handles all the songwriting..."
"That's true. For Kingdom, our leader, Ha Suyun, did most of the composing. We actually thought of doing it that way too. But..."
"But?"
"Suyun said she wanted all the members to participate. Especially Hyun-ah, because she's a huge fan of the manga and knows it so well. She said since Hyun-ah is a fan, she'd obviously want to participate..."
"Wow, that's wonderful."
They didn't perform live, but they appeared on radio shows where they could talk about music. They even received an email from a famous Japanese music broadcast asking about an appearance on Music Station.
"Suyun-nim."
"Yes?"
"We got an email asking if we can perform at university festivals in Korea. They want us to play Kingdom along with a few tracks from our first album. And we're getting a ton of inquiries from Japan too, asking if we can perform songs centered around Kingdom."
The event inquiries, which had already been coming in, began to pour in at an noticeably increased rate from a certain point.
The number of fan club members had clearly skyrocketed, and fans were practically crying out for performances.
The song [Kingdom] had firmly engraved the name of Group Sound into the Japanese rock market—no, the entire Japanese music market. It was engraved so deeply that even if they did nothing, it wouldn't fade for at least a few years.
While their general public recognition was still growing, they had transitioned from "a band that music enthusiasts would know" to "a highly promising rookie that even ordinary people should listen to."
So many things had changed. All because of a single song.
But some things remained exactly the same.
"T-Today... I'll try it..."
"Try what?"
"Hosting..."
It was "Otaku-ology 101," a collaborative project with Tycoon that had started as a promotional content series for Train Trail. Although the anime's run hadn't ended on a good note, that was Red Rock's problem. Hyun-ah and the members had enjoyed sightseeing in Tokyo while filming the content. Yesterday was the release of the final video, and today was a special live broadcast scheduled to mark the conclusion of the show.
It was a broadcast designed to be enjoyed not just by Group Sound fans, but by Train Trail fans as well.
"Wait, why all of a sudden?"
"If you look at the comments... there are a lot of... comments saying I should host. They're asking why it's always Iseor-nim..."
"Well, that's obviously because..."
Hyun-ah showed her a few comments. Comments like [Hyun-ah seems like she'd be a great host lol] or [Hyun-ah's speaking skills have improved so much!].
Looking at them, Suyun twirled a strand of her hair. Who hosted didn't really matter. It wasn't a big deal, and Hyun-ah was the type of person who knew that well. Yet, the fact that she was bringing it up meant... was that it? Did she want to show that she had grown?
"Y-You said... if there's something I want to do... I should say so...!"
"Sure, whatever. If you think you can do it, go ahead. But... are you going to be okay speaking?"
"...Pardon?"
"You're stuttering a bit even now."
"N-No, I'm not! I'm fine. Lately, I've gotten m-much, much better..."
"You seem to be stuttering right now, though."
"I'm not!"
Suyun looked at Hyun-ah skeptically, but eventually nodded. In truth, this wasn't even her decision to make. If the production staff said okay, then that was that.
"Will you be alright?"
"I'll be fine!"
Watching Hyun-ah actually go to the staff and get the green light, Suyun raised an eyebrow slightly.
She really has changed since then. She's gotten a lot more assertive...
Recalling the day they had discussed taking on the Train Trail opening, Suyun twirled her hair again. It seemed that with effort, people really could change for the better.
"Hello! I'm J-J-Jung Hyun-ah... the MC for today's live broadcast... U-Um, what was it again? J-Just a moment. I can't, can't remember... Let me look at this..."
"I knew it~"
Though she seemed to start off okay, Hyun-ah inevitably began to stutter. Iseor casually stepped in next to her with a microphone, while Seoha burst out laughing at Hyun-ah's tone.
Suyun brushed her hair back as she watched the three of them.
Yep, people don't change that easily.