Fans

Bluebird (SNS)

Music shows look live, but in reality more than half the stages are pre-recorded the morning of the broadcast. They call it a pre-recording — sanok for short.

Among hardcore fans, the ticketing war just to get into those pre-recordings is ferocious. On the actual broadcast, your artist's stage lasts a meager three or four minutes. Pre-recording is a different beast entirely. Rehearsal, blocking checks, the recording itself, and little chats in between — it becomes a packed mini-concert and fan meeting rolled into one. For the true believers, of course they're going to throw themselves at every audience application with fire in their eyes.

But the number-one announcement happens live during the afternoon broadcast, so fans of the top contenders often end up running both the morning pre-recording and the afternoon main show — an extreme test of physical endurance.

Today was broadcast day for M Town's M Count. Fans who wanted to see their artists had been gathering at the station since morning.

"Yaaah, hurry up."

"Uggghhh. I pulled overtime yesterday, I'm exhausted."

"You're getting old already. Snap out of it, Su-bin — we've got to run the main show too today."

"Yeah, yeah…"

Dragged out by the friend she always did idol-fan duty with, office worker Jeong Su-bin sighed both inwardly and out loud. The fact that "dragged out" was the phrase that came to mind probably meant the end of this hobby was near.

My precious PTO, gone…

Eight in the morning. With hollow eyes and a light stick clutched in one hand, she stood blankly in line. Jeong Su-bin and her friend were members of the fan club for FloA, the girl group that had comebacked the previous week. Four years of this. This week FloA was a contender for first place, so they planned to sit through not only the pre-recording but the afternoon main broadcast ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as well.

Just thinking through the schedule made the fatigue roll in early. Still, a fan was a fan. The moment she watched FloA's pre-recorded stage in person, the exhaustion melted clean away.

They're so pretty I could die. Whoever did the styling this time is on fire.

After the pre-recording wrapped, they headed outside. A few hours remained until the main show. Settling into the waiting area while scheming about where to grab food and kill time nearby, she caught fragments of conversation around her.

Lunari—

Apparently a VTuber is performing this time—

VTuber? What was that again? Lunari? The name sounds familiar.

A quick search and there it was. Oh — Blackout Cat!

So she's the one who sings this. I know this.

She'd heard it on Reels and Shorts. No wonder the name had felt familiar — she'd seen it on the charts now and then. She'd assumed it was some indie singer, but it turned out to be a streamer. Having never watched a single virtual-related YouTube video, let alone an internet broadcast, the whole concept felt alien.

Curious enough to mention it to her friend, Su-bin was surprised by the response.

"Oh, I know. Lunari. Her composer's incredible. Super distinctive, and none of the songs overlap in genre. I stumbled on it by accident myself — want to listen?"

Her friend knew more than expected.

Is she that well-known? Weird.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll check it out later."

A faint spark of interest, and that was as far as it went. Just something to chatter about during the boring wait.

Eventually the main broadcast time arrived, and she dragged her worn-out body back into the studio. Stages came and went one after another. By the time an office worker's eyes had fully transformed into those of a dead fish, FloA's main-broadcast performance finally unfolded and brought her back to life. She'd already seen it at the pre-recording, but it was just as good the second time. That double hit of seeing them in the flesh — this was why people stayed for the main show.

Pretty. So pretty.

FloA's stage ended, and just as the urge to head home began to creep in, a line from the MC — the youngest member of Prism Tree — landed squarely in her ears.

"Alright, next stage! Everyone, do you know this song by any chance?"

She raised her fingers. Three, two, one.

"That's the one. Blackout~ — a shock so intense your mind snaps! The pink cat has finally come to M Count. Music television's first-ever virtual artist! Lunari's Blackout Cat!"

Fans who'd been half-distracted all looked up with curiosity. On the stage where flesh-and-blood singers had been standing moments before, a massive screen now stood in place of a person, and every light went out.

A beat later — click — the lights snapped on, and a silhouette appeared. A pink-haired character stood with her head bowed, one hand resting on the mic.

Brass poured from the speakers with serious pressure behind it.

But a dense mid-low vocal, reverberating as if from inside a cave, crushed the air flat.

…Huh?

Eyes that had settled in for a casual look all locked onto a single point. Jeong Su-bin held her breath and focused too. This was a different dimension from the thirty-second Shorts version. The accompaniment tore forward without rest, and the vocal rode it, leading every charge.

The pink cat pulled the mic free from the stand and padded lightly across the stage. Her movements were so smooth that a casual glance might almost trick you into thinking she was real. And in the faintly jerky motions between the fluid ones, there was even a kind of life.

Whoa. Was that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠intentional? The tech is unreal.

Sadly for Yu Nari, those awkward little stutters were not planned. They were simply the best a hopelessly uncoordinated body could manage.

Lunari returned to center and set the mic back on the stand. Then, using the stand as an axis, she spun once in a sharp whirl, tipped the mic sideways as if she meant to knock it over, and cried out—

She flashed a brilliant smile, then thrust a hand high and began a finger countdown.

Ah. This part.

This was the one. The bit she'd seen a few times in challenges. A trained brain made her lips start to move.

"Blackout!"

The sound erupted first from the front rows. It wasn't just one or two people.

They're into it.

A sideways glance showed everyone rocking their own idol's light stick to the rhythm. Su-bin's own body started swaying too. A chaotic beat that felt half-drunk and hazy, paired with a bright melody that conjured the charm of being a freshman even while wasted — it snared the ear and wouldn't let go.

The pink-haired girl tore into the final chorus like she meant to devour the mic, and by the end nearly everyone was shouting "Blackout!" together as the stage closed. Between the easy-to-follow structure and the song's prior run on Reels, the heat in the room felt almost like a concert.

The stage ended. Lunari set the mic back on the stand, bowed her head, then waved both hands in a soft little flutter as she retreated.

"Virtual characters aren't bad either…"

Office worker Jeong Su-bin stared, dazed, until the silhouette vanished. Then she quietly pulled out her phone.

How do you even watch internet broadcasts? Is it YouTube?

It wasn't just Su-bin. The pure curiosity of countless people who'd watched the broadcast was turning toward internet streaming.

And at that same moment, inside M Town headquarters — the production team's monitoring room.

Team Leader Jang Seok-hyeon wore a full-faced smile and roared with laughter.

"Hahahahaha!"

Viewership: 0.9%.

A full ninefold jump from the previous week. Considering the three terrestrial networks' music shows hovered around the one-percent mark, this was nearly matching them. The last time M Count had hit one percent was a full eight years ago. They'd come right up against that wall.

"Jackpot! Absolute jackpot! Ah, you clueless old fogeys! What did I say? I told you it would work!!"

The team knew Jang Seok-hyeon himself had been half-doubtful, but nobody bothered calling him on it. He was the one who'd pushed the plan through, and besides — this was a moment worth celebrating.

"We can't just sit here! Get Muse Family on the line again. Starting next week, we go regular — not special stages. She's got plenty of songs. And what about that Kurogami Yui person at the same company?"

To the overexcited Jang Seok-hyeon, one of the team members who'd been leading the meetings with Muse Family spoke up carefully.

"Um. Team Leader."

"Yeah?"

"Well… next week is going to be difficult."

"Huh?? Why? Money? We can throw plenty of support their way."

"Money is part of it, but with Blackout Cat this time, the preparation was already in place, so we could pull it off on short notice. The other tracks aren't like that."

"Ah?!"

He didn't want to dump cold water on a celebration, but some things had to be said.

"Does it take that long to prep?"

"Yes. At the absolute fastest, I'd say three weeks."

"Uggghhh, we need to strike hard right now… If we start this, those sneaky terrestrial networks will watch for a bit and then copy us toooo!"

"For now, just beg Muse Family. Ask if they can go any faster."

"I— I'll ask, at least."

Having tasted results once, M Town was moving with even more aggression.

"Didn't you say it would wrap up around eighth or ninth place?"

"I did."

"…So you can be wrong, then."

"It's a data-based prediction. At the time, there was absolutely no plan to go on a music show."

"……"

Why does it keep climbing…

This is getting burdensome.