A New Encounter at the Music Show
The term “music show” could mean something broader in a general sense, but in Korea, it specifically refers to the broadcast stages where idols and singers perform their comeback songs.
There are three major network music shows, and the number of cable ones is too many to count on one hand. When even Arirang TV has its own music program, you know the genre has truly saturated the market.
Idols usually hit four or five different music shows whenever they make a comeback. In this era, the promotional power of these broadcasts is still very much alive, and the broadcasting stations themselves carry enormous influence. There was simply no reason to skip them.
Sure, it was physically exhausting for the idols themselves, but since they didn’t exactly have anything better to do if they didn’t go on the shows, everyone diligently made the rounds.
However, that only applied to idols and a handful of solo singers.
The story was a little different for bands.
Even considering that infamous incident years ago when one band dropped their pants on live television, enough time had passed that music shows no longer outright rejected bands. If a group had decent popularity and recognition, they could still appear.
Still, bands rarely went on these shows because of the setup and time constraints. While music programs hosted by actual musicians usually had band instruments already prepared, the idol-centric music shows had none of that infrastructure.
Every single time, the bands had to pay out of pocket to transport and set up their own gear. That process included tuning the instruments and adjusting the sound system, but when a show had to run through twenty different acts in a single day, there simply wasn’t time for it.
To secure that time, bands often had to do pre-recording—showing up before the actual broadcast, filming their stage, and leaving. But from the production’s perspective, they couldn’t just hand out pre-recording slots to every random group that asked.
Staff time was limited, so pre-recording was usually reserved only for groups with a certain level of popularity. And bands at that tier had no real need to spend their own money just to perform live on a music show for promotion.
“…When I actually ran the numbers, it still seemed worth doing at least once.”
But Blooming was a slightly different case. They straddled the line between idol and band.
All the members had pretty faces and were young. On top of that, their unusual backgrounds gave them a mysterious aura that made them quite appealing to idol fans.
Frequent appearances on music shows would be terrible value for money… but doing it just once seemed reasonable. Lee Ha-jun made that judgment and immediately started calling PDs he knew.
After all, the man had once produced a first-tier idol group. Setting aside his questionable taste in songs, his network of connections was nothing to sneeze at.
Thanks to that, he managed to find a PD at one of the major network music shows who agreed to provide pre-recording and cover half the setup costs.
“How on earth did he pull that off…?”
Considering how stiff-necked music show PDs had been in my previous life, what Lee Ha-jun accomplished was genuinely impressive. Especially since the shows hadn’t started declining yet, which made the PDs even more arrogant.
“Anyway, have a good time out there.”
I was sitting in the café on the first floor of the company building we’d visited after a week, sipping coffee with the Blooming members.
They didn’t seem particularly excited about appearing on a music show. If they’d ever been hardcore idol fans, they would’ve understood just how incredible this opportunity was.
A band releasing their first album was getting pre-recording and half their setup costs covered. When you considered that most groups usually showed up at dawn, waited all day, performed for three minutes, and got paid a measly hundred thousand won, this was practically a miracle.
“Will you come too, Si-yeon?”
“…It’s pre-recording, so we have to start preparing from dawn, right?”
“B-but I think it’s doable if you come right before we start recording…”
At Choi Yeon-ah’s words, the other members nodded in agreement.
The Blooming girls would have to wake up at three in the morning, wash up, go to the shop for makeup, and go through all kinds of hell. But for me, waking up around six-thirty, washing quickly, and heading straight to the studio would be manageable.
“And if you sleep in Seoul, we can save even more time!”
“…I’m a second-year elementary school student, you know? You want me to sleep over alone?”
“The members decided everyone’s sleeping at our house that night. The manager oppa said it would be too hard to pick everyone up from their individual homes.”
Park Hee-su was the one who said that.
Since her parents were still active musicians, their house was probably empty quite often. Still, I felt reluctant.
Sleeping in a house with only girls… that’s a bit…
At the orphanage, everyone had been kids and I hadn’t thought much of it. But Blooming was different.
They had already left childhood behind, and all of them had bodies and faces appropriate for their age. Besides, the idea of sleeping in the same house as high school girls felt strangely burdensome. It wasn’t for nothing that I had stubbornly insisted on a single room when we went to Japan.
Though once the pandemic really hits, even that will be difficult.
If we did something like a group sleepover and a photo got leaked, we’d plummet straight into hell.
So maybe doing it just once would be okay?
“J-just once… I won’t go again after this.”
“Great! That’s our producer for you!”
Seeing them smile so brightly made my chest feel strangely ticklish. It seemed I had grown quite attached to Blooming after all.
And so we returned to the music show studio.
I found a spot with a clear view of the stage and stood there. Several idols also gathered to watch Blooming’s performance and stood near me.
Among them were a few familiar faces. But since it was one-sided recognition on my part, I didn’t bother striking up a conversation.
There was no need to get close to them, and I didn’t see any point in networking here.
My only job today was to watch Blooming’s live stage, praise them if they did well, and be honest if they didn’t.
It was a bit tiring, but since it let me skip school, it wasn’t all that bad. Coming to a music show in the morning was definitely better than going to school.
Starlight is having their comeback today too.
There were less than two weeks left until their contracts expired. Once this comeback ended, Starlight would probably scatter, each member going their own way.
The Korean members already had agencies lined up, but the Japanese members would be completely free agents. After all, the moment they signed with the Korean side, they had essentially graduated from their original group.
There would surely be a lot of talk about their future moves.
I wonder if we could recruit one of them?
There were currently only three trainees at Blue Sky Entertainment. That was obviously far too few to debut with. We were planning to recruit two more, so if one of them was a former Starlight member, it would be beneficial in many ways.
In that case, it would be better to start building some rapport now.
Just as I turned my head toward the Starlight members to approach them—
“Hello?”
Someone spoke to me first.
The voice sounded familiar, so with a feeling of disbelief, I lifted my head to look at her face.
“…Ha-Haruka.”
“Yes! You know who I am! I’m so happy.”
“I’m… a fan!”
She was the Haruka who had consistently shouted me out since the early days of Singer Star. Because of that, there had even been some conflict between the portion of Starlight fandom that disliked me and Haruka’s own fans…
Anyway, from my perspective, she was one of the people I was truly grateful to.
At the same time, I thought she was an incredibly admirable idol.
“For real! My sister is a Si-yeon fan too.”
“Whoa.”
I covered my mouth in genuine surprise. She chuckled and pulled out my unofficial photocard and a Sharpie that she had been hiding behind her back.
“When I heard Blooming was appearing, I brought it just in case. Good thing I did.”
“Ah…”
I awkwardly scribbled my signature and handed it to her.
At the same time, I felt a pang of regret.
If I’d known this would happen, I should’ve brought one of the albums I picked up at Tower Records.
At home, I had her solo album from back when she was in AKB in Japan, as well as Starlight’s latest album. It would’ve been perfect if I’d brought one for her to sign.
As if she had read my disappointment, Haruka handed me one of her own albums with her signature already on it.
Only then did I remember that artists usually handed out their own albums at music shows like this.
“Oh. Thank you so much.”
“Hehe.”
She gently patted my head for a moment, then stood up while muttering something cryptic.
“We’ll meet again soon.”
“Sorry?”
“Never mind. We have to prepare for our next stage now. See you later!”
My mind was so preoccupied with the encounter with Haruka that I couldn’t properly focus on Blooming’s stage that followed.
Still, the drum solo part that Kim Seol had poured her blood, sweat, and tears into turned out pretty decent.
Yeah, that was probably enough.
As soon as Blooming’s stage ended, I returned to the company and caught up on the sleep I’d missed while the girls endlessly refreshed the music charts.
And when I woke up—
“Look at this! Si-yeon.”
Yoo Seol-ha was holding out her smartphone screen showing the Melon chart right in front of my face.
“…Unnie, I just woke up. My eyes aren’t even open yet.”
“Ah, sorry.”