“Uh… about that.”
Jo Wonhyung cleared his throat briefly.
Now was the time to get down to business.
“I asked the PD first, and he told me to talk to you. He wants you to help convince him.”
“Convince him?”
“Yeah. You know how the industry is these days, right? Without idols, there’s nowhere to stand.”
“That’s true.”
“That’s exactly why everyone’s going wild trying to raise new trot singers.”
Entertainment agencies, pushed by big conglomerates, were turning their eyes to trot as a fresh avenue.
“But you know trot isn’t easy, right?”
“Of course. First, you have to sing well….”
The trot stage was live events.
Broadcasts used AR, but outdoor venues were rough.
Small mistakes happened often, and quick thinking was essential.
Plus, you had to drop perfect ad-libs and keep the energy high.
In short, trot needed experienced newcomers who worked hard but got paid little.
Finding that kind of person was like finding a needle in a haystack.
Trot had never been popular with the younger crowd.
The industry was full of stagnant agencies with zero applicants.
“But these days even other fields are tough, right? People are coming from folk or traditional music for money, and a bunch from idols, ballads, indie too. It’s like a tiny talent pool just opened up.”
Yoo Sera’s shift from classical to fusion followed the same logic.
In a small domestic market, the pie was already cut thin.
You couldn’t leave home without hitting a ceiling.
Isn’t that why people say music is either a silver spoon or don’t bother?
Most who spent their whole lives studying never saw a return.
“Right. The market’s just too different. Trot, once you nail a hit, you can eat and live off it forever, right?”
“Exactly. Now idols are chasing overseas markets and taking songs from foreign composers too… even veteran composers are looking this way. I got a commission for a trot song for an event, so I’m checking it out.”
“Wow.”
“Turns out it’s actually pretty lucrative. I’m not even a full composer yet; I’m mostly doing arrangements. Once I saw the new path, my eyes lit up.”
“Trot….”
Yoo Sera pictured Jang Namhun singing trot.
“He doesn’t exactly fit the trot image, does he?”
“Like I said earlier, there are two main ways agencies train talent. Straight trot and semi-trot.”
“Neither of those match him?”
“Did you think he’d dance?”
Jo Wonhyung’s sudden question left Yoo Sera speechless.
“Uh… no.”
The boy who swept every contest as a prodigy had joined a street hip-hop crew.
Even now that dancing was a recognized job, back then he was treated like a delinquent.
Yoo Sera, who had grown up with him and prided herself on knowing everything about him, truly couldn’t understand those choices.
“I never imagined he was a vocal prodigy either. At first I thought he’d been dancing his whole life… but he’d only been learning for a year, so I figured he was bluffing.”
“His parents, my parents, everyone tried to stop him from quitting vocal lessons. ‘Why throw away something this good?’ I tried too. You want to know what he said?”
“What?”
“He said singing was boring now.”
“Haha. That’s so like him.”
“He said dancing was fun and he’d discovered a whole new world. That’s just who he is.”
“Yeah… people who can’t stop doing what they love.”
“So asking me to talk sense into him is useless.”
“But wasting his talent feels wrong.”
“Yeah….”
“In today’s world, getting famous is the first step. Once you’re known as a trot singer, you can branch into all sorts of genres.”
“Different genres?”
“You could do ballad or dance tracks. Or use your fame as a stepping stone to variety shows. He’s always had that TV presence.”
Watching Jo Wonhyung’s eyes burn with excitement, Yoo Sera thought back about the man in question.
In reality, Jo Wonhyung had been the one who produced Evil Spirits and managed Namhun.
The company president had just thrown money at the problem.
But when the agency’s management fell through, it collapsed.
Still, Jo had proven his instincts and skill.
Even in today’s cutthroat entertainment world, he was still standing.
Jo Wonhyung had always seen the big picture.
“Namhun’s getting older too. If you say something, at least it’ll help.”
“Well, he loves singing most of all. If that’s the path he can sing freely on… there’s no reason for me not to help.”
After speaking, Yoo Sera shot an accusing glance at Jo and warned him.
“But this time, you’re taking full responsibility. If you drag him into entertainment without me stepping in, I’ll hold you accountable.”
Life had no do-overs, yet Yoo Sera was certain that if Jo hadn’t pulled Namhun into idols, things would be completely different.
Namhun had said no, but Jo had agreed.
“Alright. This time I’ll take full responsibility.”
“Then here’s a little hint.”
“A hint?”
“As I said, right now his number one priority is his siblings. If I can help him earn even a little money quickly, he’ll be hooked.”
Raising kids cost a fortune.
Especially in the arts.
‘Money.’
The hint from Yoo Sera made Kang Seokho’s eyes sparkle.
* * *
While Yoo Sera and Jo Wonhyung chatted in the side room, similar events were unfolding outside.
“So that person really was Namhun?”
“That’s right. His face was exactly the same. Even better than before. He’s grown into a proper man.”
“Yeah, back then long hair made everyone mistake him for a girl. We all hated standing next to him.”
Female singers around his age were still adjusting to his changed looks.
“His singing has improved a lot.”
“I thought it was a full concert. At the end he pushed the mic up and belted it out, and I heard it crystal clear from the back row.”
“Back then his tone was good but live was shaky.”
“Probably from the overwork. The president here is the one who worked him hard. Evil Spirits was actually stable in the early days.”
“Evil Spirits? Was Namhun in Evil Spirits?”
“You didn’t know? Namhun was the youngest, Elixer.”
“Ah… really? Now that you mention it, both of them were pretty faces. I could never have imagined the opposite image.”
Composers were busy chatting about his singing.
Watching them, Kang Seokho felt a warm pride.
It was proof that the event he had poured his heart into had succeeded perfectly.
Seong Yujin poked Kang Seokho’s side with her elbow.
“I almost had a heart attack. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Ugh… if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“But you made your bride look like she was cheating on her husband. How am I supposed to explain my image? My director and seniors have been teasing me about it nonstop. This is going to last for at least ten years.”
“Did anyone not know you were an Elixer fan?”
“No… I still have Evil Spirits merch on my desk. But there are way more people who don’t know Elixer and Namhun are the same person.”
“Soon everyone will know, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a PD. You saw the fallen-wing eagle rise again and just stood there?”
Her sharp words left Seong Yujin quietly studying Kang Seokho.
“You want me to plant Elixer Oppa in a program right now? As a hot-bar assistant PD, where would I get that kind of power?”
Seong Yujin was only twenty-six, two years younger than Namhun, even though she was a World TV PD.
She hadn’t debuted yet and was just training. How could she pick anyone?
“Still, you could give him a hint.”
“I could… but right now there’s no variety show for a ballad singer.”
“How about ‘Veiled Singer’? They always bring in veteran singers. Namhun would get a lot of buzz.”
“That’s not a World TV program.”
“You’re friends with the main writer, Ju Seonyeong.”
Seong Yujin spotted Ju Seonyeong, the main writer of ‘Veiled Singer,’ standing in the direction Kang Seokho pointed and frowned.
Broadcast writers were mostly freelancers.
Seong Yujin had worked with her before.
“Friends… but the main writer works hard. She’s picky when it comes to guest picks. I don’t even know how she decides priorities now that she’s the main writer. If I weren’t a PD, I probably wouldn’t have been allowed to talk to her. She’s especially prickly today.”
Ju Seonyeong was in her mid-thirties, years ahead of Seong Yujin in age and experience.
Because she was talented, she had a perfectionist streak.
That meant she was touchy.
As a single woman, she was even more sensitive on occasions like this.
Seong Yujin had heard the warning from seniors countless times: never bother the main writer when she’s cranky.
“Still, it should be easier to pick guests these days. Everyone who’s going to appear has already shown up.”
“Hah… okay. For Elixer Oppa, there’s nothing I won’t do. But this is weird. Is it normal for a husband to ask his wife to help him convince another man?”
Kang Seokho looked at Seong Yujin sharply.
“Why are you looking at me like that all of a sudden?”
“Now that we’re married, I can tell you….”
“Huh?”
“Actually, I think I like men.”
“What?”
“It’s true that Namhun is prettier than you. Even after the wedding makeup, I could barely make it not noticeable….”
“What the heck?”
Startled, Seong Yujin glared and kicked Kang Seokho’s shin.
She had figured out it was just a joke.
“If it hadn’t been such a surprise, I would have gone easier on you. What kind of nonsense is that on your wedding day? Calling your husband less than a man?”
“Oppa… I was talking about you.”
“Only because you’re older. You need to grow up a little. Take a page from Elixer Oppa, okay?”
“No wife asks her husband to be more like another man.”
That time it was Kang Seokho’s turn to counter.
Jang Namhun had unknowingly become the spark for a married couple’s argument.
* * *
“Veiled Singer” was a music variety show where the panel guessed a singer’s identity from their performance behind a veil.
That meant it needed recognizable guests.
It had started big and sold overseas, but as episodes continued, the guest list grew thinner.
Ratings had been steadily declining for the same reason.
Naturally, the main writer Ju Seonyeong always had a headache over guest selections.
She had even gone to a wedding she didn’t want to attend just for the sake of recruiting.
During the reception she scanned every face, eyes blazing, looking for anyone worth inviting.
“I don’t do variety shows… I’m sorry.”
But among the invited guests, no one wanted to appear on a show losing its buzz.
“Main Writer, the food was delicious.”