Quiet Before the Bloom

Office worker Kim Juhee checked the view count on her latest upload to YouTube and slumped in despair.

"Nooo!!"

"Ugh, without OKTOP, the views are dead in the water."

OKTOP had announced on their social media accounts that they would be taking a break from busking until early February.

The original focus of Kim Juhee’s channel, Human Kim Juhee, had been vlogs about her life at the office.

After OKTOP appeared, she started weaving clips of their performances into her vlogs—or sometimes uploading the performances on their own.

Videos that featured OKTOP never got less than a few thousand views.

The highest one had come close to seven hundred thousand.

"Tch. That’s really deflating."

She was a fan too.

If the amount of action a person could take was what mattered, there probably wasn’t a fan as dedicated as she was.

And yet it still stung that her own channel was getting so little attention.

I hope OKTOP comes back soon.

Still, when she thought about the most recent OKTOP video she’d uploaded, her mood improved a little.

In that video, OKTOP had been performing in wind that cut like a blade.

There were only a handful of people in the crowd, and the conditions were terrible. The ensemble itself was, by any objective standard, rough around the edges.

And yet the performance had a way of pulling people in.

Because Kim Juhee deleted the malicious comments aimed at the artists without warning, the place was a clean zone.

"I guess I really do like them after all."

A moment ago, she had been crushed because her vlog views looked pathetic.

But the fact that OKTOP was being loved made her want to jump for joy.

Realizing that feeling, Kim Juhee understood it all over again.

If this wasn’t being a fan, then what in the world was it?

While we were taking a break from busking, we spent our time working out ideas for the next album.

Everyone kept up with their individual practice too.

Kim Jihoo and Lee Doyeong were making time for their studies whenever they could.

We’d settled on the album’s overall direction.

For genre, we were just lumping it together as alternative metal.

There were too many opinions flying around, which made it hard to reach a consensus.

In this day and age, we couldn’t just push straight ahead with a pure, single-genre concept either.

The closest common denominator we could find was metal.

Even so, it would only be metal at its core; other musical elements would be layered on top of it in all sorts of ways.

There was a limit to trying to prove ourselves by standing under the spotlight of a single genre.

And no, I wasn’t talking about limits caused by our skills.

The problem was that the narrow frame of a single genre couldn’t contain everything we wanted to do.

There were sounds everywhere in the world, and I couldn’t bring myself to ignore them.

I wanted to blend them together in as many ways as possible.

While we were on hiatus, I made a handful of demo tracks.

From those, I finished one song in particular—the one the others said they liked best.

Today was the day we were heading to the studio to record it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠properly.

We were borrowing ST Studio again.

Mr. Jo Hyeonseop had kindly cleared out a time slot for us when there were no reservations.

We still hadn’t accomplished anything worthy enough to truly repay his kindness, but we dropped by with drinks anyway as a small token of thanks.

"Long time no see."

"Thank you for letting us use the place for free again."

"No, it’s fine. I’ve got reservations after the next two sessions, so you can use it until then."

"One session is enough!"

"Haha, all right. Got it."

We bowed our thanks to him and headed into the studio.

"All right, let’s get started."

I still didn’t know exactly how this song would be used.

An album was often full of gaps between the original plan and the finished result.

Maybe this track would end up abandoned and left on the cutting-room floor, but the important thing was to try.

Sometimes finishing a single song was enough to define the direction, or at the very least give shape to the work ahead.

"Recording’s ready. Who wants to go first?"

At my question, all of their eyes turned in one direction.

All except Heo Junseong’s.

"Ha, me again?"

"Well, it’s always been you, hasn’t it?"

"No, it’s always me."

Even while grumbling, Heo Junseong slung his guitar over his shoulder and headed straight for the recording booth.

He’d shown a huge leap forward during the last recording session for Rendezvous.

For some reason, I had a good feeling about this.

"Oh? What’s this, Junseong? You’ve gotten better?"

"Mm. Not bad."

"Wow, Junseong’s rhythm ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠feels even better."

"Right? This kid’s growth rate is getting a little scary."

Heo Junseong had improved again, and this time the change was dramatic.

Then again, his personal practice time had gone up after Band Slam.

Outwardly, he always shouted the loudest about getting more hate and getting more famous.

But underneath that, he had to be frustrated.

He’d always been the kind of guy who burned hotter when he had a rival to chase.

And if that rival was the entire scene, then of course his ambition would multiply, and so would the effort he poured in.

Heo Junseong was doing great.

"Nice work. Who’s next? Do you want to give it a shot, Doyeong?"

"Yeah, I’ll do it!"

Lee Doyeong answered brightly and went into the booth.

"Why does he answer so cutely?"

"Oh, Kim Jihoo, you too—"

"Do you want to get beaten senseless and then get a few more hits on top of that?"

"..."

As soon as he stepped into the booth, Lee Doyeong stretched his arms over his head and did a few warm-up exercises.

"Ready?"

"No, not yet!"

"Oh, okay. Then take your time and tell me when you are."

So Lee Doyeong spent a long while checking his surroundings and taking deep breaths.

Was he nervous?

Then his voice flowed through the microphone.

"Okay, adaptation complete! You can start now."

"Ah, haha! Okay, got it."

He was doing the same thing I’d told him to do last time—getting used to the environment first.

For some reason, I could almost understand how Jo Hyeonseop must have felt while watching a newbie OKTOP learn the ropes.

Lee Doyeong had improved a lot too.

The tension that always seemed to live in his shoulders had eased up considerably.

There was much more breathing room in his playing now.

And with that, his rhythm had clearly sharpened too.

He’d even gotten bold enough to slip in some ad-libs.

And he did it beautifully.

"You little punk, you’ve improved a lot. Good, you can come out."

Everyone had clearly been practicing hard.

After Band Slam, they’d all grown this much? Looks like the whole lot of them had been grinding their teeth.

Kang Min’s and Kim Jihoo’s turns afterward didn’t even need much comment.

Those two had always done more than their share anyway.

Before we’d even used up a full session, the recording was done.

We spent the remaining time tidying up the track and then headed out of the studio.

"Thank you, sir."

"Thank you!"

Jo Hyeonseop was sitting in the lobby, drinking the beverages OKTOP had brought him.

"You’ve gotten even better since I last saw you, haven’t you?"

"Ah, you were watching?"

"Of course. I was monitoring you. It was fun to watch you work because you make the process so entertaining."

"Thank you."

"Was that song from earlier a new one?"

"Well, it’s just a song I worked on for now. I want to put out an album, but I’m not sure whether this one will actually make the track list."

So that kind of thing could happen too.

He wasn’t sure whether a song this good ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be used?

Was it possible that he could make something even better?

I’d only heard it through the monitors, but I could still tell how strong the songwriting was.

The arrangement was excellent, and the carefully layered sound and spacing gave it an undeniable mass appeal.

And that was with it being metal, no less.

It was sensational and trendy at the same time.

It was the kind of song any mainstream singer would have wanted for themselves.

And he might not even use it.

What kind of person was Cha Seoha, really?

Of course, Cha Seoha wasn’t the only one who was astonishing.

The last time they’d come in to record a song was only a few months ago.

The growth of his musician friends was just as shocking.

The drummer had already been excellent back then, so there wasn’t much room for dramatic change.

The truly surprising ones were the other three.

They had clearly been the type who only managed to barely keep up with what Cha Seoha asked of them last time.

For kids their age, they were already good—but only just that.

They were the kind of kids who made you look forward to their future, and yet, in only a few months, they were already living up to that expectation quite a bit.

What on earth were they practicing on their own?

No, what if they still hadn’t shown everything they could do?

He couldn’t help wondering where these boys’ limits actually were.

He wanted to hear their music every day.

And he wanted to hear it faster than anyone else.

"All right, everyone did great work. Come by again sometime. And if you need anything, just let me know."

If he could do it, what was one free recording room, really?

"Yes, sir. We’ll head out now."

"Goodbye!"

Watching the backs of the boys as they left, still cheerful to the end, Jo Hyeonseop found himself thinking that.

News rises and falls every single day.

An incident one person caused gets buried under another rumor, and one crime cools off beneath the heat of the next scandal.

OKTOP’s variety show appearance was the same way.

They were still being treated like public enemy number one in the band scene.

But across the entertainment industry as a whole, it was becoming more common to hear, Oh, OKTOP? They existed too?

As the weather warmed up, OKTOP threw themselves back into busking.

The presence that had briefly withered was blooming again like a flower.

Banwon Park was like a small garden with only a few dozen blossoms.

And now, as if preparing to greet spring, OKTOP’s garden was busily getting ready to expand its reach.

Before long, lights like a sun rising between buildings would be shining down on them.

And under that light, their garden would burst into full bloom, filled with flowers as vivid as envy and jealousy itself.