Chapter 38
This year’s BET nominee lineup was announced.
The internet heated up instantly.
The reason was one person.
A producer nominated in two categories with a single song.
An anonymous producer whose name, face, and nationality were all hidden behind a veil, except for the fact that he was Asian.
—Shotgun got nominated in two categories lol Best Producer + Best Track
└Was that even possible? Usually those spots go to guys who had multiple hits throughout the year
└That’s why everyone’s talking about it. There’s no precedent
└Honestly, two categories off one song is kind of overkill, isn’t it?
└I’m telling you, it’s just riding the hype from the Bloods diss war
—Raise your hand if you’ve actually seen Shotgun in person
└Probably no one. He even wore a helmet before. Looks like he’s seriously determined to hide his identity
└I vote that he’s not human
└Then what is he?
└God
The attention did not end there.
An article that had come out a few days earlier poured oil on the fire.
[(EXCLUSIVE) DJ Cabin Hints at Return? “Something Surprising Is Coming Soon”]
The retired legend had dropped a meaningful hint, and soon after, photos circulated of him entering and leaving HOOVER SOUND.
And that studio just happened to be where Shotgun, a producer affiliated with the label, worked.
Once the clues collided, the online communities instantly turned into detective boards.
—Why are the DJ Cabin comeback rumors getting connected to Shotgun?
└Because Cabin was last seen at HOOVER SOUND, and that’s where Shotgun works
└No way they’re working together right now?
└People are also talking about Little K’s unfinished track
└??? The posthumous track Cabin swore he’d never hand over to anyone?
└I just got chills
Thousands of viewers flooded into a hip-hop YouTuber’s “BET Prediction Live” within ten minutes of it starting.
The host read comments from the chat, but in the end, every discussion converged on one topic.
Whether Shotgun would win both awards.
And whether, if he won and went onstage, he would reveal his identity.
—Betting time. Shotgun takes off the helmet today vs keeps it on
└He keeps it on. Why break the mysterious image when that’s his whole concept?
└He has to win first lol calm down
└I’m betting everything I own that he never takes it off
└What does an Asian know about hip-hop
└Here comes another fucking racist
On top of that, a remark Lil D had dropped during his Instagram Live a few days earlier was brought up again.
—Lil D said on his last live that “something historic is going to happen”
└Yeah, that’s definitely about Shotgun
└The thing he said would drop before the album?
└DJ Cabin + Shotgun + Lil D all connected in one line, is this real?
└They’re setting up something way too big
The host started an impromptu poll.
[Shotgun: Takes off helmet at the ceremony? Keeps it on?]
The result was two to eight in favor of keeps it on.
Most people believed that someone who had never once shown his face had no reason to suddenly break the concept now.
Of course, even at that moment, Shotgun’s haters were still active.
—Honestly DRIVE is overrated
└If it was overrated, why would DJ Cabin be involved?
└You don’t reach No. 4 on Billboard through hype alone if you have no skill
└The anti vibe is leaking everywhere lol
└Haters or fans, you’re all watching the live broadcast tonight anyway
And so, speculation surrounding a single person kept the internet burning all night.
There was one thing everyone had in common.
They all wanted to see his face at the ceremony.
At that same time, in a barbershop in South LA—
As clippers buzzed, a man sitting in the chair pointed at the barber in the mirror.
“Yo, listen to me. Shotgun is absolutely winning both. Absolutely.”
“Fine. One hundred dollars.”
An old man getting his hair washed nearby added from beneath a towel.
“I’ve been around this neighborhood forty years, and this is the first time I’ve seen an Asian get nominated for BET. Huh. Live long enough and you really do see everything.”
It was not just the barbershop.
At the entrance to the hood, on basketball courts, in front of liquor stores.
Any time two people gathered, they inevitably started arguing passionately about the same subject.
Meanwhile, the atmosphere on the Bloods’ side was unpleasant.
“Damn, everyone’s talking about that bastard.”
“Honestly, DRIVE climbed up by stepping on our rappers.”
One gang member took a drink of beer and set down the can.
“...But honestly, the song is good.”
“...”
“Why did everyone suddenly go quiet?”
The Crips side was the complete opposite.
They were already excited.
“OG, Shotgun’s definitely winning both, right?”
“If he brings home two trophies, we’re throwing a party, right?”
“Ayyy, that Asian is the face of our label!”
Big Joe had a cigar between his lips, and the corner of his mouth was slightly raised.
“Well, whether he wins both or not, I’ll have to see it with my own eyes.”
Big Joe planned to attend the ceremony himself.
“...Mom, Dad, Yul. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you until now...”
I got that far while speaking into the mirror before cringing so hard that I shut my mouth.
There was a cheat sheet written in ballpoint pen on my palm.
An acceptance speech I could read at the BET ceremony if, by some tiny chance, I actually won.
No way I really win, right?
The speech itself was not difficult.
Thank people.
Mention everyone I worked with.
Keep it safe and ordinary.
The real problem was the action that came before it.
Taking off the helmet.
Showing my bare face, with only the sunglasses left, in front of dozens of cameras.
And what that meant was—
...My family will find out.
Trainee lawyer by day.
Shotgun by night.
One side of my double life would be exposed on live television.
I had no idea what kind of expressions my parents would make.
Will they be disappointed in me?
I stood in front of the mirror again.
Cleared my throat.
“I’m always grateful to my family.”
Hmm.
Too stiff.
“I’d like to thank my family for always... No, the word order.”
Then—
Creak—
Without knocking, Yul opened the door.
“Oppa, what are you doing? You’ve been talking to yourself for a while.”
“...Nothing.”
“You were practicing a speech in the mirror. I heard all the way through ‘Mom, Dad, Yul.’”
“...”
A line of cold sweat ran down my back.
“Do you have some presentation coming up?”
“Uh... something like that.”
“Relax. You’re good at that stuff.”
Yul snickered and closed the door.
Good at it, my ass.
I would be lucky if I did not drop the microphone from shaking too hard.
I folded the paper and put it in my pocket, then went downstairs.
My father was watching a baseball game on the sofa.
“Dad.”
“Yeah?”
“The BET awards ceremony is tomorrow. The hip-hop awards.”
“Of course I know. Lil D’s appearing. But people are talking more about Shotgun than Lil D.”
“...Anyway, yeah. That one. Make sure you watch it.”
“Heh. As expected, my son is the only one in this house who understands me.”
My father nodded without suspicion.
My mother came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of peeled Korean pear.
I picked up a slice with a fork and ate it.
“...”
For a moment, I took in the ordinary scene of our living room.
A few days from now, this house might be turned upside down, but right now, no one knew anything.
It felt strange.
On one side of the dining table were containers of side dishes my mother had prepared in advance.
Since she knew I worked late often, she always packed things for me like that.
Without having the slightest idea where her son actually went or what he did every night.
I went back upstairs and unfolded the paper again.
I decided I absolutely had to mention my family.
Maybe this would be the first time I properly confessed everything to them.
So the first words had to be calm and sincere.
I rehearsed them dozens of times in my head.
Good. Perfect.
Once I went onstage, I would take off the helmet and start with those words.
I would thank my family.
The day of the BET Hip Hop Awards.
The car driven by Jamal stopped in front of Koreatown.
Dustin sat in the passenger seat.
“Ma boy! You look fucking amazing today! That suit fits like crazy!”
“On my mama, pretty girls are going to be all over you at the ceremony.”
“...”
Thanks to my manager and bodyguard, I arrived safely at the venue.
When we arrived, a long red carpet had been laid out.
Camera flashes went off nonstop.
“Then I’ll see you inside. Big Joe’s already waiting.”
“...Okay.”
I took the helmet from my bag.
Before putting it on, I ran a hand over it once.
The chrome full-face helmet that had been with me since Soundwave.
Maybe this is the last time.
Because I had decided to take it off if I won.
Come on. There’s no way I actually win, right?
Still doubting myself to the very end, I put on the helmet and entered the venue.
“Hey, over there.”
“Isn’t that Shotgun?”
“Wow, he really came wearing the helmet.”
Eyes gathered on me.
It was probably less because of Shotgun’s fame and more because I was the only person in the entire award venue wearing a full-face helmet.
“That’s him, right? The guy who destroyed those Blood-affiliated rappers?”
“Don’t make eye contact. He’s dangerous.”
“Fucking terrifying.”
...Or maybe not.
Where’s my seat?
The view through the visor slit was so narrow that it took me a while just to find my seat number.
When I finally found it and was about to sit—
“Yo, Shotgun.”
Lil D was already sitting beside me.
Unlike usual, he was wearing a suit today.
I was surprised by how well it suited him.
“Fuck, I’m nervous. How about you?”
“Of course—”
“I know. You’re not nervous at all. You didn’t even shake in front of a Bloods OG. Honestly, I’m not nervous either.”
“...”
“I’m serious.”
“...”
“...Shit.”
What was with him?
Lil D talked to himself and then turned away on his own.
If he could see my expression inside the helmet right now, he would not be saying that.
My lips were already trembling.
“Come to think of it, you said that if you win today, you’re going to take off the helmet and give your acceptance speech, right?”
“Yeah.”
Meanwhile, the ceremony started.
The host’s opening remarks.
Performance.
Award.
Another award.
Another performance.
This is long.
The BET ceremony was a three-hour marathon.
It kept getting hotter inside the helmet.
Sweat gathered on my forehead.
I could not wipe it.
Because I was wearing a helmet.
“I want to take this helmet off already.”
“...!”
Lil D flinched and looked at me.
“...So you’re already certain. Certain that you’re going to win.”
“?”
No...
I just wanted to take it off, regardless of whether I won.
“The next award is presented to the producers who changed the course of the hip-hop scene this year.”
The nominee list appeared on the screen.
[SHOTGUN — “DRIVE”]
My name was right there on the screen.
Even that alone felt surreal.
“And the Producer of the Year award goes to...”
The presenter opened the envelope.
Pulled out the card.
Then read it.
“SHOTGUN!”
...What?
“...What?”
I said it twice.
Once in my head.
Once out loud.
My vision began turning white.
“OH SHIT!”
Lil D hit my shoulder hard.
“You won! Shotgun! You fucking won!”
Cheers erupted around me.
My legs would not move.
Lil D grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet.
“Hurry up! Get onstage!”
“...Uh.”
With no strength in my legs, I headed toward the stage.
Because of the helmet, my field of vision was narrow, making the walk a little dangerous.
Every time I stepped up another stair, flashes exploded from every direction.
The light entering through the narrow visor slit was compressed into a thin strip, making it painfully bright.
Onstage.
The presenter handed me the trophy.
“Congratulations, Shotgun.”
I accepted it.
Then stood in front of the microphone.
...Take it off.
Just as I had decided.
I placed both hands on the sides of the helmet.
Then lifted it upward.
Whoosh—
Cool air brushed across my face as all the heat trapped inside the helmet escaped at once.
Murmuring spread through the audience.
“What?!”
“H-He took off the helmet!”
“His face! We can see his face!”
“He still has the sunglasses on!”
“Wow, look at that expression. Is he not even nervous?”
“His presence is insane.”
Camera shutters began firing even faster.
Click-click-click-click!
I brought my mouth close to the microphone.
“...”
The truth was, I had prepared a speech.
I was going to mention my family, who were probably losing their minds right now, and deliver a humble but sincere speech.
—Thank you so much. I’m not worthy of this honor. I don’t think this award belongs to me alone, but to everyone who worked with me.
Right. Just say it calmly. The first sentence is...
I raised my head to speak.
!
In the front-row VIP section—
I saw Big Joe.
He had one tightly clenched fist raised in the air.
W-What the hell.
No way...
Is he saying that if I don’t mention him right now, he’s going to come onstage and punch me in the face?
Come on.
No way.
Really?
That can’t be...
“...”
The 2022 Academy Awards flashed through my mind.
Will Smith walking onstage and slapping Chris Rock across the face.
My palms grew sweaty.
My mind went completely blank.
The speech I had prepared evaporated.
At that moment, my mouth opened before I realized it.
“...Yo, Big Joe. Ma bro.”