The Sin of Being Leader (4): Visuals Make Popularity a Breeze
One year. In Korea, at least dozens of idol groups debut every year. But eight out of ten vanish without ever showing their faces on TV. When the idols disappear, their agencies follow suit. Even the ones barely hanging on end up doing military comfort shows or cheap local gigs before fading into oblivion. Plenty of them just dance to other people's songs without originals of their own. It's heartbreaking, but that's reality.
Tae-il understood there were limits to breaking out on talent alone. But the world was unfair—even talent could be overshadowed by overwhelming physical appeal. Namely, looks. In other fields, you could make up for shortcomings with effort and practice. Looks? Impossible. Once you had standout visuals, everyone scrambled to scoop you up. And even if they didn't become idols, they ended up as famous celebs anyway.
'Because she said so.' Tae-il pushed aside the bittersweet memory and stepped out of the hospital. He shielded his eyes from the harsh, blinding sunlight welcoming his discharge.
"Shin-jjang! Over here, over here!"
Ayane, there to pick him up, waved enthusiastically from afar with a smile as dazzling as the sun itself. Tae-il approached with a playful grin.
"I'm home."
"Eh!?"
Ayane flushed and fumbled awkwardly. Tadaima, okaeri—it was such a famous cliché in the industry that even Ayane knew it. It even popped up in dramas.
"W-Welcome back!"
Her flustered reply was obvious, and Tae-il, who'd been quietly waiting for her reaction, let out a chuckle.
"Ugh, seriously! You two are such dorks!"
Iris, who'd been watching from behind, puffed out her cheeks like a blowfish in annoyance and clung to Ayane's neck, pulling her away from Tae-il.
"Eek!? I-Iris?"
"Shin Tae-il, you get discharged and suddenly you're all bold?"
"Obviously."
From the moment lying down or laughing no longer made his head throb, Tae-il's energy had surged. Now, post-discharge with school starting soon, it barely fazed him.
Iris rested her chin on Ayane's shoulder and pouted sulkily. Teasing Tae-il was fun, but being on the receiving end? Not so much. Seeing her sulk, Tae-il hid his smirk behind a fist and asked,
"Sorry. Want me to say it to you too? That thing from before?"
"Pass."
Iris deflated with a huff, straightened up, and snatched the still-dazed Ayane's hand.
"Let's go, Ayane!"
"Eh?"
Ayane, completely outmatched in strength, got dragged along. Their linked hands looked surprisingly natural. Tae-il stifled a laugh and matched their pace, walking side by side.
"Everyone's at school?"
"Yeah."
Iris shot him a grumpy glare.
"You sure you're okay? Shouldn't you just rest at home now that you're out...?"
"Time's too precious."
"Says the guy who messed with music nonstop instead of resting."
"Wha...?"
Tae-il shrugged instead of answering. Around the time he'd gotten chummy enough with the nurses to call each other by name, boredom had driven him to fiddle with songs on his smartphone. Soon, craving precision, he'd requested a laptop.
"Fine? Whatever."
The doctors weren't visiting much anymore anyway. The nurse checking his chart approved readily. She'd grown a bit fond of him once she realized his musical passion.
"But sleep on time, okay? We're only allowing it because you're young and recover fast."
"Yes!"
Tae-il had Ayane fetch the laptop right away and dove back into his backlog, even in the hospital. He wasn't confident in mixing, but he wanted to handle the arrangements himself. The quiet private room was a boon—his focus sharpened beyond home levels, skyrocketing productivity. Later, realizing the soundproofing was decent, he'd even asked for a guitar and gotten lightly smacked by the nurse. Even her leniency had limits.
"You made a YouTube channel?"
"TikTok too."
"Ugh."
Iris suddenly hugged herself and shuddered.
"Iris?"
"Hoo... It's nothing."
"Really?"
Iris stopped and looked at Tae-il, then blinked in surprise.
'Huh?'
He'd been bedridden all day, so Tae-il hadn't noticed. But his eye level was a tad higher than usual. That drew her gaze elsewhere too. The hospital rest had faded his dark circles, softening his features. His shoulders seemed a bit broader too. Not that it made him any more reliable, of course.
"Just... "
Iris trailed off, forgetting what she'd meant to say.
"Just?"
Tae-il tilted his head. Iris tugged uncomfortably at her hood, finally recalling.
"Exposing myself to random strangers like that... kinda freaks me out."
"Ayane's a little nervous too...!"
"Haha."
Tae-il chuckled softly. Ayane had always feared people in the original story, so that tracked. But Iris showing this side? Unexpected. She'd seemed thrilled at first when he suggested YouTube and TikTok uploads, but inner conflict had brewed.
This confirmed her trauma from teasing him hadn't fully vanished.
"Then let's think of it this way. Practice for the future."
"Future?"
"Yeah. Rehearsal for when you're the world-famous vocalist, Arisugawa Iris."
"Right, that."
Iris latched on eagerly, tackling him verbally.
"Honestly. No exaggeration, straight facts."
She looked uneasy, peering at him with hazy eyes.
"I'm kinda confident in Japan, sure. But going global... is that even possible?"
Iris just wanted freedom and her family's approval. After that, solo or band, she'd self-actualize through music. Tae-il's ambitions were heavier—even daunting by her standards. His dreams were abnormally lofty.
'BARD hasn't cracked the world yet...'
BARD was optimized for the domestic market for a reason. They had overseas buzz thanks to anime tie-ups with global fame, but were those fans true devotees? Could BARD's Japan-centric vibe conquer the world? And those benchmarking them?
Iris knew K-pop idols shaking the globe tailored ruthlessly to world tastes, blending East and West. Japan differed—local pride rivaling America's bred insularity. The world might not acknowledge it, but Japan patted itself on the back. Even U.S. superstars knocked on Japan's door for cash and cred.
Japan's music scene evolved yet oozed arrogance—with good reason. It'd compete globally post-idol era, staying haughty. The world market was near-unknown to Iris. Unknowns bred discomfort; vast ones, fear. Imagining herself challenging it as an Arisugawa? A massive void.
She'd seen underlings like Rena, so she grasped reality's walls intimately. Anxiety snowballed—no thrill of adventure.
But.
"Of course. Why not?"
Tae-il stated it casually, like it was no big deal.
Dully confident.
"Shin-jjang's confidence is getting over the top lately...?"
Even Ayane, his eternal defender, reacted that way. Tae-il smiled with his eyes, radiating burdensome trust from his clear gaze. Iris panicked.
"Nooo! You're so brazen it's making me feel weird hearing it!"
"Ahaha!"
"I'm not being weak—it's you who's weird!"
Dream big, they say. Iris agreed. But Tae-il overdid it sometimes. Like now.
Yet.
"Not weird at all."
He asserted it plainly, now routinely.
"And doubt it if you want."
"Huh?"
"The world—and you yourself—will realize you're the best, nice and slow."
"Muuu... "
Iris blushed. His shamelessness made her want to crawl into a hole. Tae-il grinned.
"C'mon. Everyone's waiting."
"Y-Yeah...!"
As their private bubble formed, Ayane jumped in.
"Shin-jjang! Ayane! No praise for Ayane!?"
"Hmm. Ayane's got a ways to go, so I'll watch a bit more?"
"Nooo!"
Ayane wore the face of a poker player who'd hit a straight flush against a royal. Iris's lips twitched. The slightly different treatment tickled her chest.
'Seeing this, his evaluations seem pretty cold actually...'
Hard to tell. Embarrassing, but thinking it was just for her oddly thrilled her, derailing rational thought.
"A-Ayane's gonna be an amazing bassist too...!"
"Maybe I like Ayane's moist sensibility more than her bass skills?"
"Eeeek!"
"Wanna learn composing, Ayane?"
Ah, gaslighting. Realizing Tae-il's essence, Iris shook her head.
The day Tae-il was discharged, the whole Light Music Club gathered for a celebration. Literally everyone: advisor Asakura, the quota-filler deep-cut members, even Yuuya. The true complete Light Music Club assembled in the school practice room.
Sakuraba paused warming up with the chromatic exercise Tae-il taught, pausing her guitar.
The music stopped, and Rena halted too.
"First time in the practice room."
She scanned it curiously.
Thump thump.
"Yeah?"
Rena tilted her head, testing the sound of her new portable drum set bought for busking.
"Not close with the kids here?"
"Kinda, but I don't usually come this far."
"Yeah?"
"Club exchanges usually involve advisors or presidents moving. Me, well... "
She was treated as an ace, not leadership. No invites to those spots. Honestly, Sakuraba was too much of a free agent for command anyway.
"Makes sense. A horde would just be a hassle."
"Right."
Sakuraba, surprised by the space, eyed the piled brass instruments at the back. Not gym-sized, but it could fit fifty. Especially tubas—made her chest swell grandly.
"Huge. Band vs. orchestra—totally different scales."
"Four times our numbers?"
"Probably."
Cultural festival OB shows hit tenfold.
"Never played brass. Fun?"
"Dunno?"
Rena started the metronome, snapping her wrist for basic rhythm check.
"Brass club got drums?"
"Probably?"
"Then fun. Likely."
"Haha. You really love drums, Rena. Most practice too."
"Stresses melt best."
Creation hurt. Especially for her, zero interest in modern art—drawing meant wringing every scrap of knowledge, calculated. Storytelling and meaning anyone could buy.
Plus her complex tie to Iris: subtle friend-trust, powerlessness spiking stress.
Thus, she envied Tae-il. Iris wouldn't admit it, but she followed his lead while pretending otherwise. Total yes-girl. Contrast to her usual planning and dragging others.
This video push to promote the team? Same. Obvious dislike, but his nudge got instant okay.
'What a riot.'
Rena smirked, drumming. Sakuraba, watching quietly, improvised jamming learned chords intuitively. Asakura, overseeing Yuuya subtly while eyeing them, adjusted her glasses.
"Hm. Heard skills were iffy, but not really."
Tae-il's worry suggested disaster, but basics held. More, they looked happy.
Fame bred bias. Rena's rough temper and isolation fueled nasty rumors.
'Who'd believe it seeing this.'
Asakura smiled warmly. Rena's sharp eyes softened. Misplay with Sakuraba? Girlish giggle. Sakuraba grinned too, enjoying.
Forced half by Tae-il, but chemistry clicked.
'Talent. Pure talent.'
Clueless Asakura marveled at Tae-il's Liu Bei-like pull.
'If only it worked on our Animal Husbandry Club...'
Vain hope. Cultural festival. Their club's flop was root issue—and looming.
"Hm. Sakuraba, any sports club stuff for festival?"
"Nah? Just class screening."
"Good. Be careful then."
"Huh?"
Busy? Legal out. Idle? Different story.
"Popular kids suffer at festivals."
"Really?"
"Yep. Brace yourself. They'll swarm even if you hate it."
Rena asked,
"Sakuya fine, but Iris?"
"Arisugawa's in college prep. Suitors sure, but no pretext."
Solo Light Music Club meant less hassle.
"Dense ones exist. Prep ahead."
"Yes!"
Sakuraba's bluntness helped, but fame/image complicated. Preemptive groundwork needed. Busy alibi for rejecting other clubs—even Brass.
'Sports owe them from Interhigh...'
Sports clubs linked tight to free classes. Arts bred resentment, but they upheld school prestige—teachers helpless. Festivals? Sports slaved everywhere.
'Sakuraba'd be face labor.'
Fierce competition. Obvious. Asakura'd seen Yuuma's undercurrents plenty. Prideful clubs hard to rein, explosive. Brass? Elite-packed, sports-level grind. Concours stars treated as hobby/need. Entry for famous alumni alone.
'Eh, they'll manage.'
Asakura turned. Beside Brass's main room: small practice one down the hall. The AC-broken spot Tae-il's crew used. Today's video shoot site.
As she stared, Rena piped up casually.
"Oh yeah. ACs all fixed?"
"Yes."
Asakura, vanguard rallying music teachers to petition the chairman faster, rubbed her temple painedly.
"Taichi rushed it, so they thrived... Art Room A's a full setup now."
"Ah."
Culprit Rena zipped her lips. Asakura let it slide—her domain.
"Yuuya, camera ready?"
"Yes."
Yuuya hefted it two-handed. School gear turned Asakura's via Yuuya's feats—her birthday gift from pupil. First one, treasured like a shrine relic.
"Good. They're set here. Where's Taichi?"
"Just arriving."
Sakuraba showed Asakura Tae-il's texts, checking nonstop.
"Great! Let's set up quick."
Asakura clapped; Sakuraba scurried helping Rena lug drums inside.
Moments later, Tae-il poked his head in, arms full.
"Sorry I'm late! Iris suddenly wanted to buy all this stuff midway...!"
Iris, not yet in, yelled from the hall.
"Hey! Makes it sound like my fault we're late!"
"It is 'cause of Iris... "
"Ayane!?"
Betrayed by trusted Ayane, Iris shrieked.
Asakura clapped for order.
"Alright. Alright."
Focal point made, she paused, then smirked sharply.
"Whatever. Taichi's discharge party today—wrap quick. No objections?"
"Huh?"
Clueless Tae-il blinked; others cheered loud.
"Great! Let's go!"
"Ah! Ayane'll set bass!"
"We got it, gloomy girl."
"Really? Th-Thanks... "
"Time's money. Hurry. Starved since morning—stomach's eating my back."
"Ah! Hungry? Food first! We got coffee and sandwiches!"
"Katsuragi, you... "
"What? Iris insisted."
Tae-il blinked dumbly.
"... "
More peaceful now. Rena's softer especially. What happened among members during his hospital stay?
"What went down at practice...?"
Dazed, Iris poked his side.
"What? Standing there like an idiot."
Snapping to, Tae-il eyed her—prime suspect.
Her face reddened gradually.
"W-What?"
His grin at her tough act; he murmured,
"Thanks."
"Huh?"
"Nothing! Let's eat quick. Sakuya'll hog it."
Sakuraba, unpacking sandwiches first, retorted instantly.
"Wrong!"
Desperate correction:
"I eat tons, but not shamelessly steal others' food?"
"Ahaha!"
Tae-il laughed heartily. No headaches amplified it.
'Nice.'
Just being together was joy. Praying it lasted, Tae-il helped Sakuraba unpack sandwiches.