Before the OKTOP

So I raised the stakes. I burned our name into people's heads. For about a year after this, they’d probably keep doubting us—and while they were at it, they’d be listening to our music just so they could tear it apart. What if, in that atmosphere, we kept releasing good songs? What if we kept getting more and more famous?

The scale would change. Music and time don’t lie. I had no intention of ending up as nothing more than OKTOP, some ordinary neighborhood band. We were going mainstream, and in a few years we’d be standing at the front of the band revival that was coming.

To do that, the situation we were in right now was absolutely necessary.

"But isn't controversy bad for celebrities? Not that we’re celebrities or anything."

"That depends on what kind of controversy it is."

If a star caused a nationwide uproar with drunk driving or drugs, then of course that was bad publicity.

But we were different.

The charges hanging over us were, whichever way you looked at them, a crime of annoyance.

The crime of daring to market genius.

The crime of daring to package us together and sell us as a set.

The crime of daring to pollute the roots of the band scene.

All of that could be covered by sheer talent.

We just had to look like real geniuses. We just had to keep getting famous. We just had to show the color of the music we had.

And then, given time, the crime of annoyance would disappear, and only our name recognition would remain.

Some people would even confess that they’d once felt annoyed by us and then turn around and join the fandom.

"Think about it. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠What were we originally planning to do?"

"Originally?"

"You know, what we would’ve done if we hadn’t gone on the Showcase Cam."

"Well... busk, make an album, play shows, that kind of thing?"

"Then what are we supposed to do starting now?"

"...The same thing?"

"Nothing’s changed. No amount of absurd controversy changes that."

It just meant more eyes were on us now.

Eyes that watched with their arms crossed, defensively suspicious.

We’d pry those arms open with music.

And the first step was right here...

A single made up of three tracks.

The single was called Before the OKTOP.

Every song had been created by Cha Seoha himself, and all the members took part as performers.

For the second track, Your Time, every member had also taken part in the lyrics.

In truth, it had been a song everyone made together.

Only, in Cha Seoha’s previous life.

He had wanted to turn the memories of his past life into music and release them, and that dream had come true.

The members had joined forces and carefully crafted their first single together.

As a commemorative first release, it was drawing a surprisingly large amount of attention for an amateur act’s official debut sound.

Criticism and praise collided head-on.

What mattered was that, for a first amateur release, the number of reactions was huge.

Exactly as Cha Seoha had intended.

Usually, when an amateur band that had only been formed a few months ago released a song, the reality was that only friends and family would listen to it and that would be the end of it.

But at the same time, Cha Seoha was worried about the members’ mental states.

Unlike comments on YouTube or on broadcast sites, comments on streaming services carried a different kind of weight.

He was also thinking of adjusting the scale of the plan depending on how well the others could take it.

"Heo Junseong, did you see the reaction to us?"

"Yeah..."

"How is it?"

"How is it, he says..."

Heo Junseong suddenly started trembling all over.

Was this guy not going to make it?

"So this is what the birth of a hero feels like! I shall become the world’s strongest guitarist, rising above adversity—kya-ha-ha!"

"Yeah, you go ahead and do that as much as you want."

Yep. That was Heo Junseong, all right.

Lee Doyeong, who had been sitting in the corner practicing bass, turned toward the loud outburst.

Cha Seoha walked over to him too and asked the same question.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Still, it was all of us getting cursed at together, so I wasn’t too upset."

"Good. As long as you’re holding up."

"Yeah, don’t worry. There wasn’t much about me at all. They were mostly just piling on Min, so it was pretty manageable."

"...!?"

Suddenly, a chill ran down his back, mixed with sweat.

So Lee Doyeong was saying that as long as it wasn’t him, it was fine?

He hadn’t realized he had that side to him. For some reason, it was a little eerie.

But Kang Min, for his part, had been wearing headphones and staring at the monitor without looking away.

What was he watching?

"Min."

"Hmm?"

"Busy?"

"Yeah, busy."

What was it that had him that focused? Was he actually looking at our reaction?

"What are you watching?"

When I checked the screen Kang Min was looking at, I immediately regretted asking.

"Right now I’m watching an anime called The Hero Beneath the Blade Doesn’t Fall Easily, So the Demon King Ended Up Joining the Hero Party, and it’s at a really important scene. If it’s urgent, let’s talk later."

"...Fine. Yeah, I’m not worried about you."

Why was there not a single normal person on this team?

OKTOP had made their presence known all over the place, and I’d also checked the members’ mental states.

Now that our first single was out, we couldn’t just sit around doing nothing.

Usually, when singers released a song, promotion was standard in the entertainment industry.

The format differed from one act to another, but idols went on music shows, and other singers held release showcases.

We had to do something too.

Just holding a performance among ourselves would mean nothing.

Because the only people who would come to that were the ones who already knew us well.

We needed to throw this music ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into the scene itself and jump in.

Sure, I understood the entertainment world far better than any of these guys.

But in the band scene, it was different.

At most, I’d only spent about a year active in my previous life.

And even then, all I’d really done was rehearse, jam, and make songs together like we were just hanging out.

It would be no exaggeration to say I had almost no real experience at all.

If we were going to dive into the real thing, we needed someone with solid hands-on experience.

And for us, that person was Kang Min.

"Min, we’re thinking about starting to play actual venue shows. What do you think?"

"Good. What kind of show?"

"If possible, I want something with a lot of acts on the lineup. Bigger scale too. Is there an event like that?"

"Ah, something like that?"

Confidence was laced through his voice.

His tone practically said, Leave it to me.

It was incredibly reassuring.

"The first thing that comes to mind is Band Slam."

"Whoa, Band Slam? Seriously?"

Band Slam.

It was a performance festival of sorts for the band scene, held every year at the end of the year in Main Hall, a small theater in Hongdae.

In our previous ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠life, we had been in the audience.

Back then, our short-term goal had been to stand on that stage.

Of course, that goal never came true because some idiot betrayed the band and walked out on us.

But in this life, I had a feeling it might actually happen.

"But isn’t it too early for us to stand there yet?"

"No. There’s usually a slot earlier in the lineup for about two rookie bands, and this year there aren’t any bands good enough for that."

As expected, the guy who understood the rules of this scene best was different from the rest.

"Besides, who do you think I am?"

"Kang Min...!"

"...sama!"

"Kang Min-sama!"

"I’ll figure it out. Just wait a few days."

Kang Min-sama. I believe in you!

Honestly, I’d been getting a little restless just living off busking.

Back in the day, the band I’d been in would join up and immediately land some huge performance, or start doing events, or collaborate with someone who had some real name value.

That kind of move-heavy activity was the norm.

Busking was seen as something uncool, or something only people who didn’t want to be lumped in with lower-tier acts would avoid.

Of course, I’d felt that way at first too, but the first time I saw Cha Seoha and the others was during a high-level busking set.

With OKTOP, I didn’t need to care about things like status or rank at all.

Anyway, I was already excited for a small-theater show with these romance-drunk idiots.

The day after Cha Seoha asked me, I gave advance notice and went to meet Nam Dohoon hyung at a workshop in Hongdae.

"Oh, Min’s here."

"Hisashiburi!"

Ten years ago, Nam Dohoon hyung had been both the guitarist and vocalist of one of the hottest bands in the scene.

And now he was the person who hosted Band Slam in Hongdae every year at the end of the year.

He’d stepped away from active band life, but he was still working as a producer.

I’d heard he’d collaborated a few times with famous singers, though they were singers I didn’t really know.

"Wow, your face is good. Does your agency take care of you too?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Aren’t you a trainee now?"

"What on earth are you talking about? Why would an idol trainee come here to steal a spot at Band Slam?"

"What? You’re not?"

"That’s nonsense."

Nam Dohoon hyung wasn’t the kind of person who got swept along by other people’s opinions.

So I was a little surprised that he’d believed such a rumor.

Or maybe, given the situation, it couldn’t be helped?

Either way, the fact that things were going smoothly according to Cha Seoha’s plan was obvious just from this hyung’s reaction.

"Ah, man, and here I was thinking one of the band scene’s talents was getting stolen away by the idol world."

"No, not at all. That’s not happening."

"Good. Good. Anyway, you want to play Band Slam?"

"Yeah. Is there a slot?"

"Plenty. I’d actually been wondering what to do because there haven’t been any decent rookies lately. I’ll put OKTOP in. Your music is good too, by the way."

At a single denial, he’d decided to put us in the lineup without asking any further questions.

As expected, colleagues you’d known for a long time had a warmth to them.

It felt like being part of a tight party that had fought together on a journey to defeat the demon king.

Whatever the rumors said, I was grateful that he trusted us based only on our connection and our skill.

"By the way, how did you end up joining that band? It’s so different from the place you were at before."

It really was different from the group I’d been in before.

The music was much more mainstream, and the band’s name recognition inside the scene was lower too.

Still, their skill was in no way inferior.

And there was one thing OKTOP had that the members of my previous band didn’t.

"Yeah, it is different."

"So ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠why did you join?"

"Because I thought I might finally be able to become real friends with them."