Chapter 64
CHAPTER TITLE: The Three Make the First Stage
“Everyone, take care on your way.”
“Who are you calling little kids? We’re all over thirty. Why are you so worried?”
“Still… it’s just a mother’s heart. Really, you don’t have to pack my lunch?”
“Aigoo, it’s fine. Just hurry and go inside.”
By now Jeong Nam’s wife had become as anxious as if she were sending her own young children to their first stage. Even though the performers were in their thirties.
Jeong Jaemin forcibly steered her back toward the building while Namhun climbed into the driver’s seat of the van that would take them on the national tour.
It was an older diesel vehicle, already over two hundred thousand kilometers on the odometer. Namhun had long since adapted to the latest model Carnivals, so the unfamiliar feel of this one made him wince slightly.
*Still better than a manual transmission. At least that’s something.*
The actual president of Onjeong Entertainment and one of the Trot Four Heavenly Kings, Jeong Nam, and the president of D-Sync Entertainment, Kim Changsu, were about the same age and wealth.
Both sat in the billion-won club.
But the difference between their companies was night and day.
“The car is pretty old, isn’t it?”
Jeong Jaemin opened the passenger window and glanced at Namhun, a playful lilt in his voice.
“Not really… it’s a little smaller than I expected.”
Namhun answered carefully.
“Smaller? Hahaha, you’re calling it poor, right?”
Jeong Jaemin laughed, then opened the door and slid into the seat.
“Welcome to reality. Idol agencies do matter—appearance counts—but we’ve already passed that stage. As long as the car keeps rolling, that’s all that matters.”
“True.”
“New car? That’s just more cost. Better to be frugal and spend the savings on my artists.”
His words clicked into place.
The man who ran the company the opposite way was the old president of Evil Spirits.
Indeed, agencies that went bankrupt through careless management were far from rare.
Next, Bang-gun, Han Taejin, and Woo Yeonjeong climbed in, settled in, and buckled up.
Jaemin turned around.
“Everyone wearing seatbelts? We’re starting.”
At that, Bang-gun said with a teasing grin, “Let’s hurry and earn enough to buy a brand-new car!”
“Yeongjung-ah!”
Woo Yeonjeong shot him a warning look. Bang-gun just grinned wider.
“You need goals, otherwise you won’t work hard. Right, hyung?”
“Yeah. As long as you kids succeed, I’ll pick you up in a limousine. No worries.”
* * *
It took about four hours to reach Damyang.
“Still made it here quickly.”
“Because the roads are better than when you were constantly on the road. Once you’re out of Seoul, it’s smooth sailing. Sorry about the driving, I’ve been at it since early morning.”
“Ne.”
The three who had risen before dawn, visited the shop, and now sat with drooping eyelids were fading fast.
“Hey! We’re here! Wake up!”
“Ugh…”
One by one they stretched and sat up.
Jaemin told them, “There’s no waiting room here, so Yeonjeong, get ready in the van. The rest of you guys, go to the bathroom, change, and rest.”
“Understood.”
“Unnie, I’ll draw the curtain for you.”
“Thanks.”
Namhun drew the makeshift curtain between the front and back seats so Yeonjeong could change, then did a light warm-up.
“Start time is one. We’ve got some time.”
“Yeah. You and I will eat lunch and go.”
“What about hyung and unnie?”
“They said they’d skip lunch because of the pre-show meeting. I’m resting until then.”
“Even the rehearsal?”
“Most agencies don’t do rehearsals, but this is a new company run by an old acquaintance. We agreed to let them borrow some equipment too.”
Having spent years in the band scene, Jaemin was proficient with every kind of instrument. He had even worked as a session musician and sound engineer.
“Just don’t tell the others what I’m doing, okay?”
Namhun nodded.
He had figured out that Jaemin wanted to look after the three of them without them knowing.
*Like a real family company.*
The impression about Onjeong that Ori had once given him suddenly surfaced.
* * *
In the middle of a forest path lined with dense bamboo, a makeshift stage had been set up.
Sunlight dappled through the leaves while the faint chirp of forest birds filled the air. Behind the stage, technicians were adjusting the lights.
Namhun looked around and said, “The atmosphere is really nice. But doing a trot performance here seems a bit out of place, doesn’t it?”
“Local events are usually organized by the local government. I heard they invested in this bamboo path and decided to promote it here. Only residents come on weekdays, so they booked a trot show. On weekends it’s supposed to be classical or a cappella.”
“It’s like a test stage.”
“Exactly. You’ve been in the industry so long you can tell at a glance. We had to explain everything to the kids.”
“Haha. It’s beautifully set up, but yeah, it does feel a little off for a stage.”
“By promising to preserve nature, we’re stuck with the sound problems that come with it. The first time I saw the setup I already felt stressed.”
“Is it that bad?”
Jaemin had barely circled the stage when he found the event manager and started a conversation, then returned.
“Give me a hand for a sec. Your ears are good.”
“Ne. What do you need me to do?”
“I picked songs that sound like a live concert—emotion-heavy trot. The MRs are soft, so I’ll focus on the vocals. Can you check from the audience if it comes through clean? There are a lot of trees, so the sound engineer is having trouble.”
“Ne.”
Namhun sat in the audience as instructed and watched.
Jaemin walked around with the engineer, fine-tuning equipment, then picked up the mic.
“Mic test… one, two… beep!”
A sharp feedback shrieked from the speakers.
“Ugh.”
The volume wasn’t loud, but Namhun’s sensitive hearing made him flinch anyway.
The engineer rushed to adjust, but the feedback only grew worse.
“Just a moment. Let me try.”
Jaemin slipped in and started fiddling with the mixer.
It improved a little, but the same problem kept repeating.
After a long struggle, they finally got a usable sound.
While they were working, Yeonjeong approached.
“Still setting up?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeonjeong-ah! Come here and try the mic!”
Noticing the problem had been on the high notes, Jaemin waved frantically.
Yeonjeong tested with a light song, but the voice didn’t reach the audience properly.
It cut too sharply on high notes and boomed too loudly on lows.
“This won’t work no matter what.”
Jaemin shook his head and sighed.
“The forest’s reflections, maybe…? The sound is getting distorted.”
“Can’t the equipment be adjusted?”
“I’m trying, but these kinds of environments are outside the specs of what we brought.”
Jaemin answered, frowning.
“No time. Haa… maybe I should just turn the volume down? That might be the best fix.”
As Jaemin debated, a phantom appeared.
[External effect – Rearrange speakers]
[Sound – +10]
[External effect – Frequency adjustment]
[Sound – +20]
He had seen the phantom for a while already, but it had taken time to understand the terms.
“Hyung, wait a sec.”
Namhun stepped closer.
“Hm? What is it?”
“The bamboo forest seems to be reflecting the sound.”
“Reflecting? Hmm…”
“Yeah. The problems keep happening at specific frequencies, so that’s probably it.”
“Specific frequencies? So it’s a specific note.”
“Yeah. If the speakers are aimed diagonally instead of from the stage side, the reflection will drop. And we can dial the bass down a bit and highs a little lower. That should stop the feedback.”
Jaemin listened, thought for a moment, then nodded.
“Sounds good. Honestly, I’ve never worked in a setting like this before. Let’s try what you said. Right now we have no choice.”
Following Namhun’s instructions, the staff moved the speakers and adjusted the mixer.
When the mic came back on, Yeonjeong began singing carefully.
“…One, two, three!”
This time the voice came through crystal clear.
Yeonjeong’s steady tone reached the audience without distortion.
“It sounds good. Let’s turn the volume up a little.”
In the final test they let her improvise freely.
No problems.
“Done!”
Jaemin shouted and ran over to clap Namhun on the shoulder.
“You saved us today. Without you, we’d have been in real trouble. Absolute pitch really shines when you need it. I thought you were just saying ‘frequency’ as a joke.”
Namhun smiled.
“I’m just glad I could time it right.”
“Good! Rehearsal’s over—let’s get ready for the real show!”
Jaemin called to the three of them.
The sound problem was solved, but the real work was only beginning.
Watching everyone hustle, Namhun exhaled in relief.
*We almost had a sound disaster on our first stage.*
* * *
Onjeong’s three performers had fewer than a hundred audience members for their first show.
“At least it’s a weekday in a tourist spot. We expected this.”
“Still, none of you look disappointed.”
Whether more or fewer spectators mattered was irrelevant.
After each solo, the three stepped onto the same stage and began their prepared joint song with bright expressions.
“Jaemin-ah!”
At that moment, someone appeared from behind.
“Hyung.”
At the word, Namhun realized the man was the event company president.
“I’m really grateful. If it weren’t for you, we would’ve been in big trouble.”
“You’re thanking the wrong person. I was the one who fixed the problem.”
“Huh?”
The president looked Namhun up and down, then paused, clearly surprised.
After all, the man in front of him looked more like an entertainer than an engineer.
“He’s the eldest son. A trot singer who debuts soon. Thanks to all the classical training he’s done, he figured out the cause.”
“Ah, thank you so much.”
“No need.”
“Anyway, I’ll have to pay you extra.”
Jaemin flashed a grin and dragged the president into a quiet corner.
The sight brought a small laugh to Namhun’s lips.
It looked exactly like a bandit chief hauling a victim away for ransom.
*Come to think of it, the hyungs have always been scared of Jaemin-hyung.*
There was something about the aura that made you feel small, no matter the age.
The Jaemin from his rock-band days had been a total rebel.
If this man knew him well, he would understand.
Seeing him squirm like this.
Well, the president had definitely messed up.
Turning his attention away from the adult conversation, Namhun focused on the three’s stage.
Like the other audience members.
* * *
“This place has a completely different vibe.”
The second show was at the Yeongnam Spring Vegetable Festival.
Namhun looked around the special stage set up in the middle of the bustling oil market.
The market was already packed with crowds.
Fresh vegetables at the stalls carried the earthy scent of soil, and hawkers’ voices never stopped.
“Fresh garlic! Fresh chive here!”
The atmosphere was electric.
Every step was a near collision with people.
“This place is better than the bamboo forest. The market is so noisy that minor issues get drowned out. The audience is used to it. If something goes wrong, they’re forgiving.”
“Yeah. Way less picky than a bamboo forest.”
“It’s familiar territory for them.”
True.
Bang-gun picked up the mic and stepped to center stage.
“Everyone, hello! Thank you for coming to the Yeongnam Spring Vegetable Festival! I’ll kick off with a fun song to get the energy going!”
His voice rang out, and cheers erupted from everywhere.
He performed the lively dance trot that Kang Seongdae had written, syncing perfectly with the audience through his signature humor.
“Oh, please come dance with me, sir!”
Bang-gun pulled an elderly man onto the stage right then. Laughter exploded across the crowd.
The tension that had gripped Han Taejin from the start melted away.
His sweet voice drew everyone in.
“Oh, that friend sings so well.”
“What’s his name?”
“Han Taejin.”
Woo Yeonjeong closed the set with a bright song that showcased her signature technique.
With her years of stage experience, she smiled brightly and waved at the audience.
*Those three really work well together.*
Bang-gun lit the fire, Han Taejin took the spotlight, and Woo Yeonjeong finished it off.
The performance was perfect.
Together with the audience’s passionate response, the three stepped down with satisfied smiles.
“No problems this time, either.”
That remark must have been the turning point.
This time an entirely unrelated issue exploded.
The show was about to go wrong.