Damn Idol - Chapter 34

There were many things that made me anxious.

 

The hopelessness that despite all my efforts, I couldn’t even sell 50 million albums, let alone 200 million.

 

The frustration of not being able to open up about my sincere thoughts anywhere.

 

The emptiness that everything would eventually burst like a bubble in the end, despite my frantic efforts and significant success.

 

And above all, what tore me apart was the cognitive dissonance¹ It’s like when your heart says “yes” but your brain says “no.” Imagine you’ve just bought a super expensive pair of sneakers even though you’re trying to save money. Part of you is thrilled because they’re the coolest ones on the block, but another part of you feels guilty for splurging. .

 

I was torn between wondering if I was the real Han Si-On or just a lunatic with delusions.

 

I was tormented by panic disorder and depression stemming from various causes, and eventually, I found solace in medication.

 

However, even in such a situation, my fixation and stubbornness for album sales persisted, so I clashed with my staff and managers almost every day.

 

However, Koreans weren’t exactly fond of me back then.

 

No, they hated me.

 

My shout of “I love Japan” to sell one more album labeled me a traitor, showcasing just how desperate I was at that time.

 

The pursuit of any achievement consumed me to the point where I asked the managers to report album sales daily.

 

Depending on the numbers, I’d swing between feeling elated like a manic patient or depressed like a melancholic patient.

 

When the 5th regression ended in failure, I suddenly felt an urge to escape.

 

Instead of deciding my own success or failure, I wanted to leave it up to someone else.

 

That was why I chose to become an idol for the 6th cycle.

 

Looking back, I don’t think I liked idols much in the 1st cycle.

 

There was no particular reason; I was just an ignorant kid caught up in the Hongdae and hipster hype² “Hongdae” refers to a vibrant area around Hongik University in Seoul, South Korea. It’s known for its youthful energy, art scene, indie music culture, street performances, and an array of cafes, shops, and nightclubs. When people talk about “Hongdae music,” they’re usually referring to the indie (independent) music scene thriving in this neighborhood. .

 

However, by around the 6th regression, I didn’t feel that way anymore.

 

Plus, if I succeeded as an idol, I thought I could dominate Korea, Japan, China, and Southeast Asia.

 

After two years as a trainee, I debuted as the leader and main vocalist of a group called <For The Youth>.

 

The group achieved immediate success.

 

The debut title track I pushed for quickly reached #1 on the digital chart, and the follow-up song I composed achieved an all-kill on the three major broadcasting networks.

 

As I kept succeeding with every song, the company started to see me not just as the leader of an idol group but as an artist with a genius touch.

 

I could engage in solo activities as much as I wanted.

 

However, the success was short-lived.

 

Conflicts soon arose. I don’t really remember what started the conflicts. It may have been sparked by my solo activities or the year-end music awards – an old memory I’ve tried hard to forget.

 

At first, since my relationship with the For The Youth members was good, I tried to resolve the discord.

 

I even split the profits from my solo activities evenly among them and fought with the company to guarantee their solo activities.

 

But the discord only deepened despite my efforts.

 

No matter how hard I tried, people hated me, and they said it was all because of me. Because I was obsessed with solo activities rather than group activities. Because I bulldozed my teammates without considering them. Because I was a genius and looked down on those without talent.

 

Even the fans said so.

 

Eventually, For The Youth faced disbandment.

 

Surprisingly, though, I did not regress at that moment.

 

Even though the group disbanded, I, as Zion, the leader and main vocalist, still had many fans.

 

My image took a temporary hit when that happened, but as soon as For The Youth called it quits and I was solo-dolo in the entertainment world, my reputation bounced back real quick.

 

After that, I made a successful solo comeback and started hustling in the Japanese and Chinese markets to sell my albums.

 

It took about three years after the disbandment for me to hit my regression.

 

The trigger was when the old member who had terminated his contract with the agency after we split and turned into regular folk hit me up for a meet.

 

He came through with apologies, said he was blinded by envy back then, and that envy had been torturing him.

 

He said he was not only happy for my success but he also missed me.

 

He asked if we could bring back For The Youth.

 

He asked me to think about it for the sake of the fans who are waiting for the complete For the Youth lineup.

 

At this point, I would’ve laughed that off.

 

Like, no way that was happening.

 

But back then, I was much softer and more sentimental than I am now.

 

Naive enough to be hurt by others.

 

It also happened to be a time when I was feeling the limits of my solo career as my album sales gradually declined.

 

So, I took their apologies and prepped for a full team comeback.

 

But in the end, the comeback was axed under one contract condition.

 

[The profits from solo activities will be distributed evenly among N members.]

 

They demanded the move I pulled to avoid the disbandment. They tried to do it again, and I wasn’t dumb enough to fall for that obvious play.

 

So, the For The Youth members spat on me once more and left.

 

When I opened my eyes…

 

Beep, beep-

 

I was at a crossroads.

 

After that, I became much colder.

 

Maybe because my first team activity tanked, or maybe because I saw their ugly side – who knows?

 

That’s why, in the 7th regression, I rolled with For The Youth again.

 

I wanted to experiment.

 

To see if they’d switch up when I hit them with capitalist business logic instead of kindness.

 

The second time around, For The Youth’s success was faster, and we soared to even greater heights.

 

But the ending was the same.

 

“You already labeled us as assholes, right? How could we not see that?”

 

“You’re really selfish, you know that?”

 

“Is it really that hard for us losers to just get scraps off the genius’s plate?”

 

Their words might have been right.

 

Our downfall in the 7th round may’ve been my fault.

 

But it didn’t matter either way.

 

After that, I jetted off to the U.S. and bagged even more success.

 

For a very long time, I had trust issues with the team.

 

In that sense, GOTM was a special crew for me.

 

I felt quite at ease while with GOTM.

 

I thought I left all that For The Youth drama in the past.

 

It was such an old story and, strictly speaking, something that had never happened in this world.

 

But…

 

“I’m Fade from Take Scene. Nice to meet you.”

 

When I saw the face of one of the For The Youth members, the emotions from back then inevitably resurfaced.

 

*   *   *

 

Why’s Jo Yong-Seong here?

 

Wasn’t he set to debut with For The Youth in two years?

 

I don’t remember seeing Jo Yong-Seong when I was checking out Take Scene’s YouTube channel.

 

It got me momentarily tripping, but I figured it out quick.

 

I heard a story about Jo Yong-Seong being part of another debut squad before For The Youth.

 

That team must’ve been Take Scene.

 

Sure, in my memory, Jo Yong-Seong never debuted with Take Scene.

 

But that’s just a memory from the 7th regression.

 

After I left for the U.S., Korea wasn’t even on my radar.

 

Maybe Jo Yong-Seong made the debut with Take Scene during that time.

 

In the infinite loop of regressions, unexpected curveballs happen.

 

Even if the same thing goes down 10 times, the 11th might hit differently for no apparent reason.

 

It could be due to a sudden switch in my mind or some butterfly effect I caused.

 

Regardless, it is what it is.

 

There’s no need for me to get back at Jo Yong-Seong or catch feelings this round.

 

This time around, he’s meeting me for the first time, so it would be straight-up ridiculous to get emotional here.

 

But I’m pumped to give it my all.

 

Regardless of how well I do, it’s a done deal that Take Scene’s gonna debut after this show.

 

According to the capitalist playbook, there’s no way Three Months, Hundred Days will debut.

 

But I hope the folks watching this show are like:

 

“Han Si-On should’ve debuted with Take Scene instead of Jo Yong-Seong.”

 

Yeah, it might be a bit childish, but who cares?

 

A washed-up regressor, ready to flip at any moment, needs some forced motivation. Do you feel me?

 

And that motivation is enough for me.

 

Then, a staff member approaches Jo Yong-Seong and me to explain the situation.

 

They had us choose overlapping songs from the provided song list and sing the same songs. After listening, 50 audience members voted.

 

I didn’t get to hear Jo Yong-Seong’s…

 

Nah, I should start calling him Fade now, just in case I slip up.

 

Anyway, I did not hear Fade’s version, and he did not hear mine either.

 

I guess that’s why Fade is grinning and glued to the monitor displaying the voting results.

 

The results that come out

 

Three Months, Hundred Days-Han Sion: 41 votes

 

Take Scene-Fade: 9 votes

 

In a hot second, Fade’s face crumpled.

 

Hmm. but who are those nine dimwits?

 

Between me and Fade, they chose Fade?

 

They must be his relatives or something.

 

Anyway, seeing Fade’s sour mug made my day.

 

He was the nastiest For The Youth member, always throwing shade my way.

 

Of course, I’m no amateur who would show such feelings on broadcast.

 

“Ah…”

 

Acting all surprised by the landslide win, I shoot a glance at Fade, bow to the audience, and slide over to my team members.

 

As I take my seat, Lee Ye-On whispers to me.

 

“It’s 2 to 2 so far.”

 

“The score?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

I figured On Sae-Miro would bag the win, but judging by his sullen face, it seems not.

 

The seating order matches the singing order… so he must’ve gone up against Tune.On.

 

I don’t know Tune.On’s current skill level, but On Sae-Miro’s got a mountain to climb against him.

 

I remember him being really good at singing.

 

But the score gap shouldn’t be as wide as me versus Fade, right?

 

As I take a look at Take Scene members comfort Fade, it is now Choi Jae-Seong’s turn, the last in line.

 

Three Months, Hundred Days-Choi Jae-Seong

 

Take Scene-I.Level

 

I’m not particularly interested in whether Three Months, Hundred Days wins, but I’m a bit curious about how Choi Jae-Seong will sing.

 

What’s the result of my advice to deliberately shake up the balance?

-Woo, 오늘 밤!

 

(- Woo, tonight!)

So, I start tuning in with interest, but…

 

I see a result I didn’t expect at all.

 

Did Choi Jae-Seong do worse than usual?

 

No.

 

Did he do better than usual?

 

No, not that either.

 

He just sang… the same way.

 

In a song that has breathing spaces every half of each bar, he definitely sang without taking a breath between almost every bar, but there was barely any difference.

 

But I must say his breath control is really impressive.

 

At that level, it must be a natural talent.

 

I wonder if <Coming Up Next> swiped a talent meant for Olympic swimming or a Guinness breath-holding record?

-적당한 느낌, 시원한 바람

 

(A cool, breezy vibe)

And if I have to compare, the longer breath version is more pleasant to listen to.

 

Choi Jae-Seong used to have the flaw of showing slightly different emotional expressions from bar to bar, but that is gone now.

 

It’s a subtle shift, but still, it was the right advice.

 

The result is Choi Jae-Seong’s victory with 28 votes.

 

Three Months, Hundred Days has won 3-2 against Take Scene.