An Impulsive Decision
Looking back, the decision to become the faceless Japanese singer known as Mikansei could only be described as impulsive. I didn’t have high expectations that it would produce any truly meaningful results, either. That’s why I ran the Mikansei channel on my own without telling the company. It wasn’t a contract violation. The agreement only bound me as Seo Siyeon, the singer-songwriter. As long as I stayed faithful to my main duties, the company had no right to interfere with whatever I did under a separate alias.
Still, my relationship with Blue Sky Entertainment was uniquely complicated. In truth, I handled every musical aspect of the company; without me, it wouldn’t function. At the same time, I relied on them for school and nearly every part of my daily life. Leaving Lee Hajun unaware of what I was doing for nearly six months had therefore been somewhat unfair.
At first I had hidden it on purpose, but now that Mikansei had gained a real name for itself and found its footing, it was time to sit down with him and straighten out the contractual side of things.
“Hmm. I figured as much.”
“…Wait, why aren’t you surprised?”
“I mean… you’re not the kind of person who can just stop making music, Siyeon. I assumed you were doing it somewhere under another name.”
He took a sip of his instant coffee before continuing.
“Honestly, the pressure of performing as Seo Siyeon is enormous… that’s why I never pushed you to come back.”
“…You’re not wrong.”
As I had mentioned before, returning as Seo Siyeon honestly frightened me. I had flown too high. The achievements had come from a perfect storm of luck and coincidence. Paradoxically, those same unrealistic successes were now tightening around my throat.
“I can’t keep putting it off forever. I’ll make my comeback next year.”
“…For real?”
“Yes. That said, even if I stay active in the industry… I’ll think carefully about releasing an album. I can always make music under the Mikansei name, after all.”
If Mikansei had crashed and burned, I probably would have gone back to performing as Seo Siyeon by the middle of this year. I’m not the kind of artist driven purely by creative compulsion; without listeners, I lose the motivation to create. Returning under my real name might feel burdensome, but at least the audience would be guaranteed.
Unexpectedly, however, Mikansei had achieved genuine success. It proved that my music could stand on its own without the Seo Siyeon label, and it also showed that I had carved out an entirely new audience.
Hehe… No one knows the two are the same person, do they?
Since even Blooming hadn’t noticed, ordinary listeners probably wouldn’t either. And even if someone did figure it out, it would only happen after I started appearing on proper broadcasts and my real voice became widely known. Even then, it might be difficult. If I used a completely different singing technique, most people would struggle to connect the two.
“Anyway… Mikansei. We don’t have any connections in Japanese broadcasting.”
“I’m not the type of artist who goes on TV anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Just help me sort out the complicated financial side of things.”
“Then we should set up an office in Japan.”
I turned Lee Hajun’s words over in my mind. An office in Japan… truthfully, I had already been considering it. Not because of Mikansei, but because of Blooming’s growth. There was a clear ceiling to how far a band could rise domestically. Sooner or later, Blooming would need to look overseas. Fortunately, we already had a foundation with Haruka and Noiris, which put us in a much better position than other Korean bands trying to break into Japan.
In fact, Blooming already had a small but solid fandom there. The WMA performance had become a hot topic in Japan, and the viral clips calling me Haruka’s colleague had helped tremendously. So my long-term plan had been to establish an office, settle in, and live there while making a proper push into the Japanese market. Now that the Blooming members were all adults, the timing felt right for a serious conversation.
“A little early is fine.”
Well, the rest was adults’ business. Incorporating a company, finding an office, hiring staff… those headaches weren’t mine to deal with. I just needed to do what I did best.
And that, of course, was music.
It had already been over a year since my last appearance on a Korean variety show. Six months after I paused my activities, my voice began to change and I cut off every single appearance. It had been a long time since the public had seen my face.
Well, I had still gone to throw the ceremonial first pitch at the baseball stadium with the orphanage kids this year, but aside from that, I hadn’t done any personal activities as Seo Siyeon at all. Naturally, my individual fans were furious. When your favorite singer disappears without a word for an entire year, that reaction is to be expected.
Honestly, if my own favorite artist had been invisible for a year except for one first pitch, I would have been completely pissed off. I might even have left the fandom. The proof was in the comments on my most recent post—the New Year’s greeting photo in hanbok. In just one year, it had surpassed ten thousand comments, the vast majority filled with my fans’ affection-laced complaints and dissatisfaction.
“Hmm. Maybe I should post a picture or something.”
To be honest, I felt genuinely sorry toward the fans who were still waiting for me. After all, I had promised to return in a year and then broken that promise. I might claim I had come back under a different name, but deep down I knew I should have returned as Seo Siyeon. I could make excuses about my mental state or the social atmosphere at the time, but the fact remained that I had gone back on my own word.
“Maybe I should shoot a Reel and upload it.”
Come to think of it, Yoo Seolha had recently started living on her own. Right after the college entrance exam ended (of course she hadn’t studied at all) and she became a free woman, she immediately left home and found a studio apartment in Seoul. And like most women in their twenties living alone, she promptly adopted a pet.
Most people choose a dog or cat, but Yoo Seolha was a little different. The moment she moved out, she adopted a parrot. When I asked why, she said she had grown up raising birds at her family home. The last time she sent me a photo, it looked incredibly cute. It was even a peach-faced lovebird—the same breed as the title track on my previous full album, “Lovebird.” That acoustic, lyrical ballad. If I placed her parrot on my shoulder and played “Lovebird” on the guitar… wouldn’t that make a beautiful picture?
“…So that’s why you came all the way here?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I took a taxi. The driver recognized me.”
“I suppose he would…”
I had texted her ahead of time, but it seemed she had been napping and missed the message. The evidence was standing right in front of me—she was rubbing her eyes, still wearing Kuromi pajamas. The way certain prominent parts of her stood out was honestly distracting.
“Whoa. Those are massive.”
“…They did get a bit big, huh?”
“I don’t think ‘a bit’ quite covers it.”
I pursued physical beauty in my own way as a woman, but I had no desire to reach Yoo Seolha’s proportions. When I first met her she had been a high school sophomore. Even as she matured into an adult, she had continued to grow—just not in height. For some reason only certain areas had expanded. She herself seemed troubled by how disproportionately large they had become, yet commercially it was a massive advantage. There were already rumors that Waterbomb was trying to book her now that she was of age. Yoo Seolha was steadily building a name for herself in that sphere.
I quickly shifted my gaze from her chest to the birdcage sitting in the corner of the living room.
-Chirp!
“Wow… it’s adorable.”
“Hehe. Our Jack is pretty cute, right?”
“Is it a boy? His name’s Jack. Sounds like a pirate captain.”
“Yeah. Females tend to be more aggressive. Males are easier to raise.”
“…I see.”
The sky-blue parrot was undeniably cute, even to my eyes. Its fluffy, cotton-candy appearance practically begged people to love it. When Yoo Seolha opened the cage door, the bird chirped and flew straight to me, landing gently on my shoulder.
“Oh.”
“Hehe. Looks like he likes you, Siyeon!”
When I offered my hand, the parrot hopped onto my palm.
“It’s so cute…”
These small animals really were adorable. So much so that I was starting to think I might like to raise one myself someday.