Invisible
The file from the mastering company had arrived.
Invisible_final.wav
A song I'd ground three full days into without rest. Just looking at the name felt liberating.
"……It's done."
I sank deep into my computer chair and stared up at the ceiling. That feeling of having cleared a major hurdle.
This isn't a chart song. Just take the result easy.
I'd made it as a thank-you for the fans, but now that it was time to actually upload it, why was I fretting over every little thing? Probably because this was the first song I'd fully sung myself. No matter how hard I tried to tell myself it wasn't the official version — not the official version — the tension wouldn't let go.
I sent a message to Han So-yeong.
The reply came within a minute.
How will she take it…
I'd thrown everything I had into it even though the window had been short, so a "Hmm…" or an "Ah…" would sting. I was a selfish human who wanted objective judgment and, at the same time, wanted to hear something kind. That was me — Kim Do-yoon. People are all like that, I guess.
Exactly five minutes later, the phone rang.
"Hello, Do-yoon."
"Yes — how is it?"
"You said you were just throwing something together, but it's good…"
"Th-that's a relief."
"Even when I'm getting lost in the guitar, once the lyrics start to come through, this loneliness just washes over me… It's the best. Really. Seriously."
"Thank you."
I'd learned that in the face of over-the-top praise, it was simply easier to lower my head. If I worked with these people long enough, I was going to turn into a spoiled brat. Only feeding me the nice things to hear wasn't a great habit either, but still.
"But Do-yoon — you're really not releasing this as a digital single?"
"No. I want to get it up quickly. As for the digital release… if the response is decent, we can take it slow?"
"Aah…… That's really a shame. It's your first solo track, too."
Hmm. The name A-il was more of an event handle — something I could use lightly like this, which made it useful. First solo track or not, I didn't particularly want to hang meaning on it.
"Did you know there's an A-il fan cafe too? It's called A1st."
"Me? A-il?"
"Yes. Membership is small, but it exists."
"Why would that…?"
What on earth had A-il even done. A feature credit and a couple of internet-broadcast appearances?
"It's not a large number. A little over a hundred members?"
A hundred people. I couldn't tell if that was a lot or a little.
"Meaning there are people waiting for A-il like that. If you'd like, should the company reach out so you can interact through the cafe?"
"Hmm. Well… wouldn't it be better not to?"
It was endlessly grateful that they loved the song — but at the same time, having people follow my name made me feel guilty. Managing a fan cafe as a singer who wasn't even going to be active was weird, right?
"Understood. I was only asking just in case. The person running it is doing a good job, so you don't really need to worry about it. If you're curious, you can drop in later."
"Okay."
"And about the MAMA stage — I reviewed the proposal you sent. As expected, it's perfect."
"That's a relief. I'm not an expert, so I was worried they wouldn't understand since I was basically just roughly describing the feeling I wanted."
"If you call that 'rough,' other people would get heartburn."
"……"
More excessive praise.
"But there's some detailed discussion needed on that. I'll probably call again soon, and if possible……"
Han So-yeong trailed off for a moment.
"When you come to the company…… it would have been much more efficient to meet in person for the meeting. Explaining while looking at the monitor together makes everything easier to follow."
"Ah. Yes."
"Since you've finished the track work, you won't have reason to come to the studio for a while."
"Yeah, that's right."
"That's a shame…… I've been having to leave the office constantly because I'm so busy, ha…"
"……?"
"Never mind. I thought I could use it like a kind of potion when things get hard……"
What was she talking about. Had she been playing online games lately? I couldn't quite follow.
"Next time for sure, let's meet at the company…… Sigh. Never mind. I needed a means of escaping from work. You don't need to know, Do-yoon."
"Uh……"
Han So-yeong seemed about to say something more, then coughed once and gathered herself.
"Anyway, I'll proceed with the upload right away."
More importantly — the truth was, for the stage I still needed to tweak the arrangements on Blackout Cat and Eumnya a little. I'd probably have to go to the studio again soon. But if I said that now, she'd push for an in-person meeting, so I kept quiet.
Did we really need to meet? Online was plenty, wasn't it?
Just imagining standing in front of Han So-yeong made my eyes automatically bury themselves in the floor. Scary. Of all things, the first time we'd met she'd looked like a zombie. Plus her eyes ran on the fierce side. Scary-unnie vibes. I did not have even a single gram of confidence that I could hold a long conversation with her.
"Sigh."
Was I a coward. She wasn't a bad person. I'd see her again someday. Maybe I should watch some horror movies to prepare for then.
I put future worries on hold and just hoped the song about to go up would do well.
My song. One I'd made and sung myself. Even though it wasn't going out as a digital release, I was honestly extremely nervous.
A coward's gratitude, sent to the fans while hiding. Carrying the heart no one could see.
Invisible.
Kang Seong-min glared at the Mellow real-time chart on his monitor.
At number two, the name of their company's solo female artist Shin Se-young was still firmly planted. That much was satisfying. The problem was below.
3rd — Eumnya, Lunari.
4th — Blackout Cat, Lunari.
Kang Seong-min's temple twitched. Until just a little while ago he'd been feeling like he already had the trophy in his arms, thinking, Our kids deserve the Rookie Award! That hope had shattered into pieces the moment Lunari's new tracks took flight. Riding the upward current, Eumnya had even overtaken Blackout Cat to settle into third. At this rate, it could threaten Shin Se-young's second place.
"Does this even make sense……"
Kang Seong-min let out a sigh. An unfamiliar genre, a bizarre hook, lyrics that sounded like murmuring in half-sleep. When he'd first heard Eumnya, his body had strangely ridden the rhythm — and that hadn't been because of award expectations for their company's rookie girl group. It had been purely the power of the melody.
It won't land with the domestic public. He'd punched his own mouth for having so cleanly declared that. Cleanly missed. No — completely smashed. In Japan cover versions were circulating, domestically challenges were springing up, and there was even news they were on the verge of Billboard Japan Top 10. It wasn't as if Muse Family had run some massive promotion. They'd broken through the picky domestic market's wall of commercial appeal on the strength of the song alone.
Like most people who'd been around the industry, he'd thought this time it really wouldn't work. But as if mocking that assessment, they were boldly stacking records.
"This Yeong-il guy is a real monster……"
Ears folded and tail soggy, or whatever. How calculated a piece of work it was to compress the lethargy of a morning you didn't want to get up into a single hook like that. Kang Seong-min was now seeing philosophy and deep meaning even in lyrics that didn't mean much of anything. In his head, a calculator was being punched harder than jealousy.
Seriously — wouldn't it be better to throw money around even now and bring Yeong-il over here.
He had a premonition that in a few years, recruitment itself would become impossible at that scale. Maybe now was the cheapest it would ever be. What conditions should he offer? He was turning it over in his mind when—
Tap—
The office door opened and the A&R team director walked in.
"Sir, the Mellow Music Awards official nominee announcement is done, and as we discussed before, it looks like VTubers can't appear at all."
"Really? So the rumors weren't empty. They won't even put up an acceptance-speech video?"
"No."
He could roughly guess the flow. On the surface it's technical limitations, but in reality it was blocked by the industry old-timers. Like gears meshing, the timing had coincidentally aligned. Management had read the room of the old-fart critic executives and fallen in line, and the general PD just happened to be the type who hated experimental attempts. You couldn't get this unlucky if you tried.
To the public who didn't know much, people might misunderstand that IG and Muse Family were one company. But in the industry, there was no one who didn't know the two were separate. Mellow side knew Muse Family had no power and was openly bullying them.
Kang Seong-min wasn't in a pleasant mood either. If he applied a little pressure as a proxy, maybe he could earn some goodwill with Yeong-il. Stepping up as a side benefit might not be bad. The ceremony was only a few days away, so nothing would change, but at least he could save face.
While he was thinking that, the director held out a tablet.
"And sir — MAMA has also announced their official lineup."
On the screen he took, among the humans, a now-familiar character was visible.
"Huh? Is this Lunari?"
"Yes. MAMA has included Lunari's stage. Two songs, even. You have to see it as treatment above the Rookie Award."
"……"
Kang Seong-min's mouth fell half open. An artist who couldn't even use the awards-announcement screen at Mellow had landed a main stage at the bigger MAMA. And it was the Osaka Dome concert in Japan.
"Once this drops, will Mellow get roasted for discriminating against artists?"
"Since MAMA's venue is Japan, they could make the excuse that a VTuber-friendly environment made the choice possible."
"Will they even bother making excuses?"
"Lunari's fandom itself isn't huge, but the streaming community has real ripple power. If it blows up like Prism Tree, Mellow will find it annoying too."
Kang Seong-min propped his chin. Even without us stepping in, it'll be enough of a headache for them. Even if IG applied pressure, the impact wouldn't be that big. Better to leave it to the flow than just sit there making faces at each other with the music platform. Anyway, even if noise came out, they'd shamelessly paper over it as a technical issue. Just finishing a magnificent stage at MAMA and getting praised might be Muse Family's best revenge.
Kang Seong-min took Lunari's side staying quiet as them preparing for this kind of youth-manga ending. Sometimes you had to bend even when it was unfair. Not quite a refreshing soda, but at least a choice on the level of flat cola.
Just as he was trying to organize his thoughts that way, the director checked a message, then his eyes went wide and he shouted.
"Huh? Sir — A-il just released a new song."
"A-il? Who was that again?"
"There's one more artist under Muse Family. They say Yeong-il wrote the song."
"Oh! Yeong-il?! He put out another song??"
What did this guy even do. Did he just stamp out tracks whenever he got bored?
"What's the title?"
"Invisible."
He tried searching on the Mellow site that happened to be open, but nothing came up.
"Uh — it's not on the music sites. It's on YouTube. Muse Family's official account."
"……YouTube only, no digital release?"
Strange. Why? These days with YouTube being active there were cases like that sometimes, but for people of any profile the normal release order wasn't this.
"Play it."
When the director played the video, the sound of bare fingers sweeping across guitar strings in sequence came through — a soft cascade, note by note, breaking the silence. As a man's voice laid in underneath, the song began. The dreamy atmosphere created by the bright guitar melody combining with lonely murmuring approached with a pressure that made it hard to breathe. As if he'd become a bug caught in a spiderweb, until the song played and stopped, Kang Seong-min couldn't leave his seat.
At first it was just the impression of acoustic pop, roughly. The more he listened, the more the song burrowed into his ears. How did someone draw out emotional lines this well. Only long after the track ended did Kang Seong-min finally open his mouth.
"……Crazy bastard."
This guy was the real deal. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
"……"
"Sir?"
"Director. Listen one more time."
This time he played it from the start focusing on the lyrics. Putting his whole mind on the words he hadn't properly absorbed the first time — overwhelmed as he'd been by the melody and the tone — Kang Seong-min couldn't hold back a laugh, as if he'd just realized something enormous.
"……Puhah!"
"What's wrong?"
"I think Mellow is fucked."
"…What?"
Kang Seong-min shook his head. I thought Muse Family was letting it go nicely — but maybe the one who was really angry was someone else.
"This is a diss track aimed at the Mellow Music Awards."
"Whaat?!"
"Focus on the song's atmosphere and the lyrics. It's not direct, but he's talking around it."
While the director carefully examined the lyrics, Kang Seong-min was hiding his astonishment. If this was a song written because of Mellow, that meant he'd carved out something like this in less than a week. How can this be a song that was born in a week.
People still didn't know that at the Mellow awards ceremony, there wouldn't even be Lunari's acceptance speech. A few days after the ceremony ended — wouldn't there be chaos?
White letters on a black thumbnail.
Invisible
Invisible. Unable to be seen.
Kang Seong-min looked at the screen with wary eyes. The title itself was the diss. He wants to talk about how they couldn't see Lunari at the awards. Yeong-il…… quite the temperamental guy, huh.
In a place Do-yoon knew nothing about, a strange misunderstanding was piling up.