The Breakout
Since early morning, Baekhak’s publicity office had been bustling.
The head of the publicity team, the man who owned the place, burst through the door with toast clenched in his teeth.
“Section Chief Kim!”
At her shout, Section Chief Kim, wearing a rather indifferent expression, glanced at his wristwatch and replied, “You’re late, Team Leader.”
“Late? Come on, ten minutes is nothing!”
“You can say that in front of Director Park Yu-hyeon too, right?”
“Shut up! More important than that, how’d it go?”
The team leader shouted as he flung the backpack slung over his shoulder onto a chair.
“How was the reaction to the Black Bride VIP screening? Did it do well? The call from Team Leader Kwon made it sound like the on-site response was good, but what about SNS and the community boards?”
Section Chief Kim handed over the tablet PC he’d prepared in advance.
“I’ve got everything organized here.”
The publicity team leader swallowed the toast in one gulp. Then he took the tablet PC and began scanning the neatly arranged data at once.
While the team leader studied the prepared materials, Section Chief Kim leisurely sipped his Americano in line with his morning routine.
By the time the sweet scent of coffee had settled softly through the publicity office, the team leader, still staring hard at the tablet, furrowed his brow.
“Section Chief Kim.”
“Yes, Team Leader?”
“Did you actually organize this properly?”
Section Chief Kim set down his coffee cup and answered, “What seems to be the problem?”
“...No, I mean, just looking at the materials you put together.”
The team leader tilted her head.
“So Black Bride got a 90% rating on RottenBanana, and the audience score is over 90 too?”
“That’s right.”
“Among recent Korean films, wasn’t the only one that broke 90 last year The Grandmother of the Field, which won the Palme d'Or at Cannes?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“...”
The team leader’s expression turned sour. Section Chief Kim still looked at her with unhurried calm.
“Am I the only one not keeping up here...?”
“No. You’ve got it exactly right.”
“Then this really blew up, huh?”
“It really blew up.”
With that, Section Chief Kim flicked a finger over the tablet in the team leader’s hands. The Black Bride VIP screening reactions he’d spent the entire morning sorting out, after arriving at the office a full hour before work started, appeared on the screen.
“The SNS and community reactions are out of this world too.”
The corners of the team leader’s eyes twitched. Watching her reaction, Section Chief Kim let out a small grin.
“Looks like Black Bride really hit the mark, Team Leader.”
The day after the VIP screening, my smartphone wouldn’t stop ringing.
Calls from people involved with Black Bride, acquaintances, coworkers, everyone.
After replying to each of them one by one, I called the publicity team leader.
“Team Leader Kwon! Did you see the VIP reaction to Black Bride!?”
“Yes, I checked it, Team Leader.”
“Wow... a 90 on RottenBanana? Just how well did they make this movie to get a score like that?”
Exactly.
Just how had that score come out?
I barely held back the corners of my mouth from twitching and answered, “Looks like the article lead came out nicely, doesn’t it?”
“...Hah. Is that even a question? I’ll look for the articles this afternoon! I’ll write them up nice and juicy for you!”
At the publicity team leader’s genuinely excited voice, I nodded and said, “Then I’d appreciate it if you could handle the publicity going forward, Team Leader.”
“Leave it to me! Oh, right. If anything changes, send me a KakaoTalk message. You know what I mean, right?”
“Yes, got it. Then please take care.”
After hanging up, I let out a long breath.
The expression I’d been forcing into calm in front of the publicity team leader gradually loosened.
Ha, damn it.
I’d acted like it didn’t matter, but yeah.
In this situation, the most worked up person of all was me.
It had exploded.
The VIP screening reaction for Black Bride had completely, utterly exploded.
The critic score came in at 90 out of 100, and the reviews were all praise.
That wasn’t all.
SNS and the community boards were in an uproar.
Even before that, this screening had already been drawing huge attention because of the aggressive promotional campaign.
How long had it been since an unreleased film got this kind of response?
I couldn’t even remember.
After COVID ended, the Korean film market had been stuck in a slump for so long.
And yet Black Bride had broken that repeating cycle.
In that moment, I could feel it.
“So the last missing piece finally clicked into place.”
The one weak spot in Black Bride, the part I’d been absolutely sure would hit big.
That gap was now being filled by a VIP screening that had blown up exactly as it should.
“At this rate, word of mouth is just a matter of time.”
Early box office momentum is decided by advance ticket sales.
It was a May release, so there was still time before reservations opened, but according to the people involved, they expected the opening-day total to comfortably clear 200,000.
But hold on.
Wasn’t the usual pace for a ten-million film 250,000 pre-sales from the start?
And yet Black Bride, at least by projection, was already moving at a ten-million-film pace.
That absurd audience number I’d thrown out in front of Chairman Baek...
Without even realizing it, it was becoming real.
“How am I supposed to take this?”
I didn’t know.
I’d been in this industry for over ten years, and even then, this kind of thing had to happen?
Maybe that was why.
Because my expectations had become so swollen, my heart actually hurt a little.
For a second, I even wondered if I might die from happiness.
But the situation around me didn’t stop there.
K-Singer-Songwriter final.
With the year’s biggest variety show, one that had crossed 20% in ratings, about to air its last episode, Park Ga-eul had surged to first place in the pre-vote.
The final of K-Singer-Songwriter was being held at the A Concert Hall.
I was already looking out over the audience filling every seat.
“Aaaah, Kim Hyeon-a!! I love you!”
“Park Ga-eul, you can do it! I believe in you!”
“BoxBi! You’ve got this!”
“Hyeon-a unnie, you absolutely can’t lose!”
“Paaark Gaaaa-euuuul, fighting!”
How many people did this final venue hold again?
According to the staff, 7,000 people had come to watch the stage in person, but with the heat in the room right now, it felt like I’d stepped into the Tokyo Dome, where more than 40,000 could be packed in.
The heat and energy pouring out of the audience were so intense that I couldn’t help but feel my own excitement rising.
What was even more encouraging was that among the names being cheered by the 7,000 people filling the hall, half of them belonged to my singer.
“Together with To.Any! Always by your side! Park Ga-eul!”
Park Ga-eul’s chant thundered through the concert hall.
The first day of K-Singer-Songwriter flashed before my eyes.
The back of my singer’s figure, buried beneath the fandoms of Kim Hyeon-a and K-1, receiving no cheers from anyone, floated into view.
What would she feel if she saw this scene now?
I couldn’t even guess.
I’d never been the one receiving that kind of love.
Still, she must feel incredible.
Even I, who had nothing directly to do with the situation, could feel my chest swelling with emotion.
With that full heart, I headed to the guest waiting room.
Unlike the first round, Park Ga-eul had been given a private guest waiting room, where she was tuning her guitar.
When she noticed me, she lifted her head and smiled brightly.
I smiled back and said, “You look happy.”
Park Ga-eul let out a long breath.
“I think I’ve finally gotten used to it...”
“Huh? Isn’t it a loss if you get used to it now?”
“Why, Team Leader?”
“Because if you’ve been nervous all the way until now, and then suddenly you’re not nervous right before the final stage, it feels a little off.”
Park Ga-eul shrugged.
“I think differently.”
“How so?”
“It’s the final stage, so I can enjoy it without being nervous.”
Hmm.
That could connect like that?
That was a good mindset.
I looked at Park Ga-eul with renewed interest.
At first, honestly, she had felt less like a celebrity and more like a pretty college freshman.
But now the college-freshman feeling was completely gone, and a singer stood in front of me instead.
As people say, she’d weathered the rough edges of the world...
The change felt good, but also a little sad.
That old Park Ga-eul I’d known was no longer there.
Still, I swallowed that small regret and spoke.
“This final round is also your own song, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I couldn’t listen to it because of other work. How is it? Did it come out well?”
At my question, Park Ga-eul’s eyes sparkled.
“Do you want to hear it now?”
“Huh? Here?”
Park Ga-eul spoke with a voice full of energy.
“I thought I’d use it as my last rehearsal too. What do you think, Team Leader?”
How was it?
I stroked my chin and thought.
Is there any reason to refuse this?
It was a chance to hear Park Ga-eul’s own song before the 7,000 fans waiting for her did.
With a grin, I took a seat.
Watching me, Park Ga-eul burst into laughter and said, “Ugh... I’m nervous.”
“Why would you be nervous? There’s only one audience member.”
“Since there’s only one audience member, it feels like a one-person concert for that audience member, doesn’t it?”
“Hmm, sorry that your audience is this kind of person.”
“Why? Team Leader, you’re a perfectly fine audience.”
Park Ga-eul adjusted the guitar strap on her shoulder.
She slowly lifted her head, met my eyes, and whispered, “I’m starting.”
On instinct, I closed my eyes.
After a moment, a soft melody drifted over and tickled my ears.
It’s an evening where I miss your smile
Standing quietly under a sky stained with sunset
I close my eyes for a moment as I think of you
Listening to the lyrics, I thought.
Another love song?
No, something feels a little different.
What should I call this...
It didn’t feel like a straightforward love song. It felt more like a one-sided crush.
In this heart soaked with autumn
There are only secrets I can’t say
Like leaves dyed red
My heart has been colored by you too
Lyrics entirely in Korean painted pictures in front of my eyes.
Autumn, with fallen leaves swirling through the air, a girl with brown hair staring out a window, a love letter sprawled across the desk.
It had a strong retro feel.
It was a sensibility completely different from the provocative songs people were making these days.
What kind of emotional instinct did you need to pull something like this out at this age?
As I thought that, a laugh slipped out of me without warning.
Can my heart reach you too?
Walking these streets without you
On an autumn night, I miss you alone
It was good.
And yet I couldn’t have explained what exactly was good about it even if I’d tried.
It was just the kind of song I wanted to keep listening to.
Maybe it was similar to the feeling I’d had when I first heard Youth Travel.
I opened my eyes, which I’d closed without realizing it.
Park Ga-eul had already finished the full song and was staring straight at me.
Her expression looked like she had a lot she wanted to say.
So why wasn’t she saying it?
Was it because singers speak through songs?
Slowly, I parted my lips.
“It’s a good song.”
Park Ga-eul smiled brightly.
“I’m glad. I’m glad it sounded good to you, Team Leader.”
Nodding, I stood from my seat.
The clock on the wall was pointing to 6:30.
In ten minutes, the final stage would begin.
I slowly held out my hand to Park Ga-eul.
“Shall we go?”
Park Ga-eul took my hand and stood up.
To her, I whispered softly, “Fighting, Park Ga-eul.”
K-Singer-Songwriter final. It was about to begin.
All the prepared stages had ended.
Out of the 50 participants, the remaining three gave the fans bright smiles, each wearing an expression that said they had no regrets.
Watching them, I thought to myself.
In the pre-vote survey, first place belonged to Park Ga-eul.
But up until then, Kim Hyeon-a, who had been regarded as the eternal favorite to win even before K-Singer-Songwriter began, had held a slight lead right up until just a few days ago.
The gap had flipped at the very end, but by the same logic, it could flip back just as easily.
That tiny difference would be enough for the songs the two singers had prepared to swing the result either way.
That was why I couldn’t predict the outcome.
Ga-eul’s song was good, but Kim Hyeon-a’s song, the one from the eternal favorite, was just as strong.
So which of the two had moved the hearts of the audience and viewers more?
Then the vote tally appeared on the screen, the count finished, and a single singer’s name rose to the very top.
Watching that sight from below the stage, I let out a long breath.
Amid all the tangled feelings in my chest, my mind went completely white.
The one sentence that held all that emotion down and squeezed it out slipped from my mouth.
“She did it.”
Yes. She had done it, exactly like that.
-Vote Rank 1) Park Ga-eul.
My singer had climbed to the highest place of all.
K-Singer-Songwriter was a competition variety show.
All the singers put on good stages, and yet winners and losers still had to be decided.
In that fierce contest, the singer who survived until the very end was Park Ga-eul.
Park Ga-eul, guitar in hand, collapsed on the spot and burst into tears.
Her senior singer, who had been her rival, pulled her into a tight hug.
And the 7,000 fans watched the three of them with warm eyes.
At that moment, the concert hall rang with this cry.
“You worked hard!”
Yeah.
They really had.
The fans who had supported those singers through the long three-month journey, and the singers themselves, who had worked hard singing and writing songs while leaning on that support.
Everyone deserved congratulations.
I watched that beautiful scene, where fans and singers came together in the same breath, and smiled with quiet satisfaction.
Then time passed, and the next day arrived.
The final episode of K-Singer-Songwriter had scored a hit.
Peak rating: 23.4 percent. Average rating: 22.7 percent.
Wasn’t the rating Future Text Messages had told me 16 percent?
And from that foretold future, it had risen by a full 6 percent.
At this point, it wasn’t just a successful variety show.
For the rest of the year... it might even become the world of K-Singer-Songwriter.
The number of CF deals the contestants who shone in this show would land, along with variety appearances.
What would concert sales and album sales look like?
I couldn’t even guess.
A 22 percent rating carried that kind of value.
And what kind of star would Park Ga-eul become after winning a competition variety show that drew 22 percent?
Letting out a quiet laugh inside, I searched for her name online.
The publicity team leader would compile the reactions and send them over, but there was no way I could wait for that.
But I didn’t even need to look for reactions separately, because the entertainment news tab was already plastered with articles about K-Singer-Songwriter.
As I read through them one by one, one line caught my eye.
I slowly stroked my chin.
“Goodbye, K-Singer-Songwriter, huh...”
Hmm.
That was a good headline, wasn’t it?
I left a good comment under a good article.
All right, the To.Any side was now wrapped up.
There was still plenty to do, like the second album for this summer’s comeback and the first overseas solo concert in Southeast Asia, but for now I could set those things aside and savor the happiness in front of me for a moment.
Of course, I didn’t actually have time to rest.
The moment I’d been waiting for and waiting for had finally arrived.
Black Bride, starring Seo Tae-jun and Lee Ha-eun, was finally opening.