The Aftermath

The aftermath was intense. The cultural industry, like most others, is heavily influenced by the immense power of fandoms centered around specific individuals or groups. This isn't limited to the idol industry alone—professional sports, actors, internet broadcasting, and even the gaming industry are all affected by it.

Among them, however, the idol scene stands out for the sheer strength of its fandoms. No matter how large an entertainment company is, they can't ignore the trash posts written on Twitter and must carefully navigate fan sentiments when planning events and promotions.

In that sense, Seo Siyeon's pointed criticism this time created quite a significant ripple across the industry.

Everyone already knew that the WMA awards had long become the playground of the big three entertainment companies. That's why complaints arose every year: wasn't this awards show showing too much favoritism toward the big three?

But those voices were always buried. Why? Because far more people in the idol world loved the idols from the big three than those who didn't.

Still, most people in the idol scene—excluding fans of the big three's idols—harbored some level of dissatisfaction with the WMAs, whether small or large. The reason ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they hadn't united their voices until now was simply that they lacked a catalyst.

And then, right at this awards ceremony, Seo Siyeon dropped a bomb?

The most outstanding artist of the moment, the nation's beloved daughter. She had accepted the WMA grand prize while knowingly risking damage to her image, and in doing so, raised questions about the judging process.

So they poured out every ounce of power they possessed. They gathered every suspicious circumstance that hinted at manipulation in the WMAs, along with clear examples of favoritism toward the big three, and spread it all across communities.

Unlike before, their efforts managed to generate considerable buzz. The biggest reason was that established media outlets were now helping amplify their actions.

RTC News, the broadcasting station owned by the RJ Group, kicked things off. Once their edited YouTube video hit two million views, the major networks jumped on the bandwagon too.

On top of that, the male-dominated online communities—who usually dismissed these fights as petty squabbles between idol fangirls and paid them no attention—stepped up aggressively because it involved their pick, Seo Siyeon. Their vocal criticism of the WMA was a huge help.

Music-related YouTubers had also long questioned the criteria used to select the WMA grand prize winners. They quickly produced videos and rode the wave of views.

It took just one week. That was how long it took for the WMA to release an official statement.

The gist of the statement was simple. While claiming there had been no external interference in their judging process, they announced that they would publicly disclose the process and reasoning moving forward, along with justifications for greater fairness… something along those lines.

In short, they had bowed their heads. The WMA, of all things—the organization that had always been so stubbornly rigid.

It wasn't a perfect apology, but it was appropriate enough to calm the furious public. Just as the situation seemed to be winding down…

Seo Siyeon's first full-length album was released.

For this comeback with my full album, I deliberately chose not to appear on any music shows. So even though the release date was approaching, I could sleep in deeply, wake up late, and prepare for the day at my own pace.

Oh, and of course I skipped school entirely. Lately I'd become so famous that people from other grades were showing up at my classroom just to see me, which was starting to feel burdensome.

Anyway, I'd already fulfilled the required attendance days for the year long ago, and with only a month left until vacation, there was no real need to force myself to stamp my attendance at school.

“Ah. You're already here.”

“Yes.”

“Did you wait long?”

“Not really.”

My dedicated manager, Kim Junhyung, continued to treat me with the same polite yet somewhat stiff attitude. Honestly, from my perspective, his demeanor wasn't bad at all. There was no need to build deep personal ties with a manager, and those kinds of bonds often came back as betrayal later on.

Well, I didn't think this guy would do that, but still.

“Are we heading straight to the company today?”

“Hmm… I'm still thinking about it.”

The truth was, even if I went to the company now, there wasn't much to do. I'd probably just lounge on the sofa for a bit, then head into the studio to fiddle with MIDI instruments. Once Blooming arrived, I'd watch them practice or scroll through my phone.

Since I wasn't doing music shows and had already finished filming all the promotional variety appearances, I actually had way more free time now than before the comeback.

“Do you have any place you'd recommend?”

“…I'm not really familiar with those kinds of spots.”

“Then.”

I showed him the location I'd just looked up on my smartphone.

“Muuido? I've never heard of that island before.”

“That's understandable for outsiders. I'm from Incheon, so it's familiar to me.”

In truth, unless you were from Incheon, most people wouldn't know about Muuido, the island tucked right next to Yeongjongdo. It wasn't a place with enough appeal to warrant a special trip, nor did it have any famous local specialties.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

That's why it wasn't too crowded on a weekday afternoon.

“There's a cafe on the hill there with an amazing view of the sea. Let's grab a coffee and then head to the company.”

“Understood.”

I heard that the Muui Bridge connecting Yeongjongdo and Muuido had only been completed recently. I realized belatedly that if I'd gone the wrong way, I might have ended up at Yeongjongdo for nothing.

Anyway, I went to the cafe I'd already bookmarked and settled into a nice spot.

“Um. I'll have the matcha roll cake, the matcha affogato… and the matcha cream bread too, please.”

“You really like matcha. Quite a mature taste.”

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

“Huh? I like it because it's sweet. I don't eat bitter green tea at all. Just think of it as a kid's palate.”

“……”

He immediately took out his smartphone and started typing something.

I noticed right away what he was doing.

“Are you writing that down right now?”

“As your manager, I need to remember your preferences.”

“I'm pretty open to most cafe drinks. For meals, I prefer Japanese food—things like katsu or sushi.”

“…I'll note that down too.”

Considering Kim Junhyung's age, if he kept grinding on the road like this, he might be able to snag the management team leader position at our company once he hit his thirties.

Of course, that would only be possible if every group I released from now on achieved at least moderate success.

'If there are no results, I won't have anything to say at the shareholders' meeting either.'

That was something I'd heard during my last phone call with Yoo Sanghoon.

The option of succeeding completely without borrowing his power was already off the table. I had to use every available resource to make Blooming and the idols I'd debut later succeed somehow.

That was the best I could do right now.

“Ah. It's here already.”

While I was gazing at the sea and listening to music, Kim Junhyung returned carrying a tray full of vibrant green items.

My face lit up at the sight.

“Whoa…! That looks delicious.”

At that moment, Kim Junhyung's smartphone camera flashed with a click.

“It turned out well.”

“Oh my? Hehe… thank you.”

These days, most of the photos I posted on Instagram were works of art from his hands. I heard he'd honed his photography skills thanks to an ex-girlfriend he dated before enlisting in the military.

I uploaded the photo he'd taken to Instagram, then immediately began devouring the matcha treats like I was possessed.

“This is nice. The flavor's really good.”

“Is that so?”

“You should eat something too, Junhyung. We're using the company card anyway.”

“I'm in the middle of working out, so an Americano is enough for me.”

“Working out? Oh, during my break period, could you teach me some exercises?”

At those words, Kim Junhyung's movements froze completely.

“…Break period?”

“Ah. I guess I hadn't told you yet?”

I scratched my head awkwardly and spoke to him in a quiet voice that wouldn't carry to others around us.

“My voice is changing. I've decided to take a break from vocals for a while.”