Backstage (1)
As Backstage finally plunged into full-scale production, a flood of promotional content poured out — glossy still cuts, short behind-the-scenes clips from the set, the works.
There were only two photos. In one, Chairman Seo — played by Ji Gwanghyun — and Yoon Jay squared off against each other, heavy atmosphere rolling off the frame. In the other, the members of Icarus were captured mid-dance, so blatantly out of sync that the picture alone told the whole story.
Up until that point, viewers hadn't exactly pinned much hope on Backstage. Their reasons were unremarkable at best — my favorite is in it, I like the idol-drama genre, there's simply nothing else on. The broadcasting industry, too, regarded the show as little more than a proving ground for idol-turned-actors.
"I had no idea Yoon Jay was taking the lead role. Figured it would go to some middling rookie."
"Same here."
Even so, the prevailing reaction was that Yoon Jay's choice was an odd one. He was a rather baffling actor.
"There are so many actors now, and idols just keep pouring out. A single drama or movie doesn't carry the weight it used to."
"Do you know what kids want to be these days? MyTubers and influencers."
With MyTube, OTT platforms, and endless streams of content, everyone's interests had splintered so far apart that the consensus was the old-school megastar would never rise again. Yoon Jay shattered that preconception in one stroke. He'd secured a fandom to rival any idol's and captured mainstream popularity on a filmography barely a handful of projects deep. People had even started murmuring about the second coming of the old youth stars.
"Did he do it for his little brother?"
"No matter how close they are, why would he gamble like this at a turning point in his own career...?"
"Well, his agency is Lee Seo-won's. Could be a calculated move, no?"
But Buster and INB were simply too popular. The live broadcast drew real-time threads not only on the drama community but across the K-pop forums as well.
Why am I even this excited, what IS this show
The ads ended, and episode one of Backstage began. The opening scene: inside a luxury car parked in front of a towering corporate headquarters, out stepped Yoon Jay — Seo Geonwoo.
Whoa! The director!
Someone put him on the cover of a luxury magazine already
The elegant crease between his brows broadcast the character's temperament at a glance — sensitive, and nobody's pushover. Behind the arriving Seo Geonwoo, his secretaries fell in step with military precision.
"Director Seo's arrival is intense as ever."
"Bet he pulled something off again."
"AA Steel — the one that got absorbed as a subsidiary this time? They say the restructuring is going to be absolutely brutal."
Through the chatter of employees watching his runway-stride from the first-floor café, the show sketched exactly the kind of man Seo Geonwoo was.
"Cold as ice. Like father, like son, I suppose."
"Shh. He hates hearing that he's the chairman's son."
"So what? The director's been busy building his own faction to keep the old man in check. He's at war."
"That can actually work?"
"The chairman's been swimming in bad rumors lately, hasn't he?"
Seo Geonwoo. The son of the chairman of the Heonju Group — a conglomerate that had devoured company after company, tentacle by tentacle, until it grew enormous. A prince quietly unsheathing the claws he'd kept hidden from his father.
"But if he's the chairman's son, doesn't succession just come to him if he sits still?"
"Okay, this I heard from a friend in the chairman's office. The chairman has another son — the youngest. Word is, that's who he's been grooming for succession."
"Oh, the son by the mistress?"
"Shh. That one you really can't say out loud."
And with that, the employees' gossip summed up the situation: the chairman had recently been behaving suspiciously, and Seo Geonwoo — determined not to have his place stolen by a much younger brother — had built his own faction and was openly threatening his father.
Seo Geonwoo went straight to the chairman's office the moment he arrived at work.
"Father. You called for me."
"I've told you time and again — at the company, you call me 'Chairman.'"
The presence of Chairman Seo, seated at his desk, was heavy as a mountain. Seo Geonwoo radiated a force every bit its match.
? Excuse me, wasn't this supposed to be an idol drama
Why did it suddenly turn into a political noir lololol
Even without a single line of dialogue between them, the two actors commanded the entire scene by atmosphere alone.
"Geonwoo."
"At the office, you call me Director Seo."
"Let's put an end to this."
"You started it, Chairman."
After several rounds of razor-edged exchanges, it was Chairman Seo who extended the first olive branch — I know what you want, so stop baring your claws at me.
"I have one condition."
"...And that is?"
"There's an entertainment company the Entertainment Division acquired recently. Raise the idol group signed under it."
"I'm sorry?"
What on earth is he talking about? The chairman dangled a carrot in front of his still-confused son: shares in Heonju Industries, quietly stashed away at another company.
"That's hardly my area of expertise."
"When I say do it, you do it. You've made far too many enemies with those hostile takeovers lately. Consider it a chance to cool your head."
The chairman was not a man who yielded this easily, and it left a bad taste in Seo Geonwoo's mouth — but the bait of Heonju Industries shares was simply too big to refuse. He agreed for now and withdrew, and in the office he left behind, a secretary approached the chairman.
"Chairman. Are you sure it's wise to leave him be like that? What if he half-asses it and comes crawling right back?"
"You honestly think he would?"
"Yes."
"He's incapable of that."
"Why not?"
Because, quietly, he's soft at heart. Chairman Seo stole a glance at the profile of Icarus — the idol group of the small entertainment company his group's subsidiary had recently swallowed. The profile at the very front of the stack was Seo Jihu's.
What in the world is that old man thinking?
Still in the dark, Seo Geonwoo swept a hand through his hair in irritation, entered his own office, and summoned his secretary.
"Secretary Yu, get me everything there is on the Entertainment Division and send it over."
"The Entertainment Division? Why all of a sudden...?"
"The chairman wants me to run it."
"An entertainment company, out of nowhere? Something smells off about this."
Secretary Yu — the consummate supporting player of Backstage, dutifully propping up Seo Geonwoo at every turn — arrived at the office bundled under armfuls of documents on the Entertainment Division.
"He wants me to raise that group's album sales. Is this actually for real?"
"What's the group called?"
"Icarus? Do you think they've got any potential?"
"If even I've never heard of them, they're basically... buried at the bottom of the ocean, sir."
Secretary Yu printed out the profiles of the Icarus members and handed them over.
"Anything I should know?"
"Let's see... their latest album sold two thousand copies."
"Is that good?"
"Low, by today's idol standards."
"So I'm supposed to multiply these kids' sales tenfold..."
"Honestly, sir, it'd be faster for you to just debut yourself."
"Haah..."
Seo Geonwoo rifled quickly through Icarus's profiles, then his hand froze on the very last page.
Seo Jihu. Leader of Icarus. And...
"Geonwoo. Come live with us."
"Hyung... do you really have to go?"
A brief flashback flickered past.
My own little brother. After the divorce — caused by his father's affair — their mother had wanted to stay with both of her sons, but it was Seo Geonwoo who had walked, of his own will, into his father's house. And little Seo Jihu had stood there, watching his older brother leave with aching eyes.
"So you knew from the start that I couldn't just let it go."
"Why do you say that, sir?"
"Because I have a younger brother."
"Your brother? Not Seo Hyun-o, you mean?"
"That boy is not my brother."
A line cold enough to freeze bone: the brother threatening his place was no brother at all.
"What happened to the background check on the entertainment company?"
"Well... no hard evidence yet, but if you look at this... the money flow is strange."
Seo Geonwoo read the documents slowly and frowned.
The chairman had been moving suspiciously lately. While laying the groundwork for his youngest son's succession, he had been funneling a private slush fund through several companies under the entertainment arm. There simply wasn't proof yet.
A slush fund bound to blow up sooner or later — is he planning to tie it to me and set it all off in one go?
He'd probably skimmed the money somewhere in the process of acquiring Icarus's company. The intent was unmistakable: seat the troublesome eldest son — the one who'd bared his claws — in the director's chair, then cut his throat in his place when the slush fund scandal finally erupted.
"So he's sending me down with the ship. How touching."
"What?! No way, he wouldn't."
"You know our chairman better than anyone, Secretary Yu."
"Tying his own son to his sinking slush fund... that man truly has no heart at all."
"Let your guard down and you get devoured. Same in any world, isn't that so?"
"You're every bit as heartless yourself, sir."
No, seriously — your father is about to hang you out to dry, how are you this calm? Secretary Yu was aghast. In the meantime, Seo Geonwoo drummed his fingers against the desk, lost in thought.
It's a trap laid out in broad daylight... But there was no clever way out of it, either.
"I suppose I'll go and see it for myself."
For now, he would crouch down and bide his time.
And so Seo Geonwoo arrived at Icarus's shabby old practice room.
"Why the sudden summons?"
"No idea."
Summonsed out of nowhere, Icarus was still reeling from the news that their company had been sold off to another, and that a new CEO was on his way. In their debut days, they'd harbored grand ambitions of devouring the idol world whole — but after six years living as failed idols, they were now ghosts drifting through the building, reduced to waiting out the calendar until their contracts expired.
It's not that they're bad, they're actually surprisingly good
Yoon Do-jun can really act though?
Don't fall for the "they can't act" talk — that's just bait
The actors playing Icarus were, in fact, solid. The trouble was that the originals were famous idols, and with Yoon Jay having set the bar so impossibly high, the comparison made them stand out in the wrong way — the live reaction feed was already a dizzying blur.
"We'll skip the introductions for now. Show me what you've got."
"Excuse me?"
"Run me through the last song you performed on stage."
Awkward and off-balance, Icarus nevertheless switched on the backing track and took their positions — this was the new CEO, after all.
"Ow."
"What the — why are you here?"
"Isn't this my spot?"
They really are the definition of a hot mess lmao
Meanwhile, Secretary Yu's voiceover began.
(First up, member number one. Lim Doyun. He's the rapper — honestly quite skilled, and not bad-looking, either.)
The actor was a rookie who had debuted at the end of last year. As Lim Doyun was strong-armed into dancing by Seo Geonwoo, a short montage flashed across the screen showing what he'd been up to during the group's long hiatus.
(The problem is... his mouth. He loves gaming, made friends with streamers, and has racked up quite a few verbal gaffes along the way.)
With the group itself lacking any real popularity, none of it had made much of a splash. But in the plan to come, should Icarus ever rise to fame, he would be the first one dragged forward as a self-inflicted scandal.
Seo Geonwoo let out a long sigh and turned to another member.
(What about this one?)
(Lee Taein. Sub-vocal. He's... a rather peculiar case.)
Icarus stumbled through the routine while Seo Geonwoo watched with mounting frustration. The screen cut again — to one of the fansigns he'd held for his handful of fans.
The problem: he gave no fan service whatsoever. Whatever a fan said to him, he brushed past with a flat "Oh, really?" — an open, undisguised dismissal.
(Can he treat fans like that?)
(Of course not. For a male idol, fans are the entire business. Next, Kim Yunjae. This one's... a real handful.)
A detailed explanation was spared in favor of another brief montage. DMing fans he liked in private, sliding into the DMs of anyone showing interest just to fish for their number. As a result, his truckload of secret alt accounts had all been ferreted out one by one.
"Haah..."
The sigh escaped Seo Geonwoo on its own, just as Kim Yunjae botched a step on screen.
(Jihu... this one... works himself to the bone, all alone.)
(Is that so?)
(You call him your brother and you don't know that?)
(After our parents divorced, he grew up with our mother.)
Seo Jihu handled the group's producing entirely by himself — choreographing the dances, shooting their self-made content. And in the middle of all that, with the group bringing in no income, he scraped by hopping between part-time jobs. The title of household head fit him perfectly. The only problem was that the group was simply too unknown.
(And the last member, Cha Noah. He's the one you'll need to watch most closely, sir.)
(Why? From the files, he's the only one actively doing acting and variety work.)
(And that's exactly the problem — his heart has already left the group.)
The actor playing Cha Noah was Yoon Do-jun.
On paper alone, the hope of this group was Cha Noah — the only member slowly building name recognition. But he had already been in and out of other agencies, dreaming of nothing but jumping ship to a company with better terms.
"What a mess."
Seo Geonwoo's next line landed, word for word, on top of someone's live reaction.