Chapter 1050: Overcooked (3)

The underlings bounced up and down like cartoon characters, laughing.

‘Hyung will figure something out somehow!’

‘We believe in you, Wooju hyung!’

Watching them cling to my side while cackling, I shook my head.

Then I turned toward our agent, who was taking a sip of ginger ale.

“So what exactly do you mean when you say the situation isn't looking good?”

“Moonlight's growth has become difficult to ignore.”

The American boy band that had debuted through an audition program and had been marketed as our rival from the beginning.

At those words, the expressions on my members' faces immediately grew serious.

Ri Hyuk spoke first.

“What do you mean by difficult to ignore?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Ever since NewBlack left the U.S., Moonlight has been running promotions very aggressively.”

North American and European tours.

Talk show appearances.

Social media campaigns.

They had been pulling fans in from every direction.

“I've heard rumors that the members were working schedules so intense that some of them collapsed from exhaustion. Whether that's true or not, they've certainly gotten results. Their North American fandom is probably close to sixty percent the size of Souffle's by now.”

“...That's closer than I expected.”

“Globally, they're still nowhere near you. But if we're talking strictly about market size, they're becoming a legitimate threat.”

North America was still the largest music market in the world.

Hearing that they had already caught up to sixty percent of our fandom there made me feel a slight sense of danger.

Just a few months ago, they hadn't been anywhere near this level.

“Because of that, the fighting between the fandoms has become increasingly intense. There's only room for one top boy band, so conflict was inevitable.”

As he spoke, he showed us social media posts.

Fans from both sides were physically holding each other back as heated arguments threatened to escalate into fights.

“Not long ago, things nearly turned physical over the Teen Choice voting. Moonlight's fandom even staged a protest demanding an explanation for alleged voting irregularities.”

“...Nobody got hurt, right?”

“Fortunately, no actual violence occurred.”

Then Mr. D'Angelo added,

“But that's not really the important part. The important part is that it could happen again at any time. The issue has become serious enough that the NYPD is reportedly deploying officers all over Radio City Music Hall for tonight's VMA.”

I blinked.

Physical fights between idol fandoms.

That was something that was becoming rare even in Korea these days.

Jiho looked stunned.

“The rivalry's gotten a lot more intense than I thought.”

“It was inevitable. There's only one seat available.”

The moment our agent said that, we finally understood the root cause.

This wasn't a Korean-style battle over who would be number one.

"So which one of them is the boy band?"

It was a product of how the American music industry worked.

In Korea, the mindset was more like:

Right. They're top idols among idols.

America didn't operate that way.

There was one position for a female singer-songwriter in her thirties.

One position for a female singer-songwriter in her twenties.

One for the reigning rap queen.

Every niche tended to crystallize around a single dominant figure.

Infinite competition.

The winner took everything.

The loser stepped aside.

Take Haley Blue, for example.

She had spent her twenties and thirties systematically crushing every competitor in the female singer-songwriter lane until she became the undisputed top name.

And once Haley moved into her thirties, the "young female singer-songwriter" slot had effectively passed to Kelly Nelson, an up-and-coming British artist.

Junghyun nodded in understanding.

“...Now I get why this is happening.”

“Of course, from your fans' perspective it's incredibly frustrating. Sunshine—that is, Moonlight's fandom—keeps picking fights.”

“How?”

“They tell your fans to give up your spot.”

The stories we heard made us laugh in disbelief.

To summarize:

"Hand over the American fandom to Moonlight and go back to Asia, where you're already popular."

The agent continued.

“It isn't just the fans. Their agency thinks the same way. That's why this year's VMA situation happened.”

This year's VMA stage had been designed around a symbolic baton pass.

A legendary boy band from the nineties would appear and ceremonially hand the torch to Moonlight.

"See? Moonlight is our successor. Those kids from somewhere across the Pacific—Japan? Korea? Whatever—they don't count."

Biju raised his hand.

“Is it working?”

“It is. In public surveys asking, 'Who comes to mind when you think of a boy band?' Moonlight is currently leading.”

The members' eyes darkened as they looked at the polling data from a major American television network.

A spark had begun to appear in their eyes.

For the first time in their careers, they were losing one of these image-based surveys.

Ri Hyuk bit his lip.

“The advantage gap is huge. We can't stay in America and promote constantly.”

“Exactly.”

“Any other data?”

“Right here.”

We flipped through the documents Mr. D'Angelo handed us.

Commercial indicators such as sales weren't even close.

Moonlight hadn't reached a third of our level.

But...

“As far as general public recognition as a boy band goes, we're getting crushed.”

I nodded at Ri Hyuk's assessment.

Moonlight's strategy was obvious.

"We're behind in sales right now. But once we become the boy band in people's minds, we win."

For the past several months they had practically been force-feeding the public a single equation.

Boy Band = Moonlight.

The youngest member looked at me.

“Hyung, is this okay?”

“It's natural.”

I answered calmly.

“We're based in Korea. If a group actively promoting in the U.S. starts building an image on home turf, of course they'll gain ground.”

“So what do we do?”

“Nothing, really.”

The entertainment industry wasn't politics.

You didn't win through schemes.

You won through better performances, better songs, better films, and better shows.

“We just keep doing what we do. This kind of image war is something agencies and companies handle.”

Still...

As I looked through the metrics Mr. D'Angelo had shown us, it felt like I had found a clue.

“Can I see data on overall artist recognition instead of boy-band-specific recognition?”

“Of course.”

The next set of documents immediately caught our attention.

As a boy band, we were falling behind.

But as artists overall, the difference wasn't even comparable.

Our recognition was vastly higher.

Naturally.

Answer with Cold Brown had exploded.

Rabbit Uncle had unexpectedly gone viral.

And now Like The Sun had followed with its ten-million-view live performance.

“Can we see the fandom growth charts too?”

“Here.”

The data showed how both fandoms had changed since Moonlight's debut.

Just as I'd expected.

“We haven't really changed at all.”

“You're right.”

Moonlight's rise hadn't significantly affected us.

Which meant that even though they were successfully marketing themselves as a boy band, Souffle wasn't leaving.

Ri Hyuk studied the graph.

“The growth curve is flattening out. I think we've basically reached our ceiling. Our fandom has probably grown about as much as it can.”

“Exactly.”

Most of the people in North America who were going to become fans had already become fans.

Which meant...

“...”

“...”

The members and I locked eyes simultaneously.

We had seen this exact situation before in Korea.

When fandom growth reaches its peak...

Why could we hold concerts at the Olympic Stadium in a country famous for having relatively small concert markets?

Because ordinary people came too.

You target the general public.

At that moment, the purpose of the Overcooked promotion campaign became crystal clear.

Not just fans.

We needed to leave an impression on ordinary Western listeners as well.

And we could even use our opponent's strategy against them.

“This is actually good.”

“Huh?”

I smiled.

“I never particularly liked the boy-band image in the first place.”

Not because there was anything wrong with it.

We were simply different from what America traditionally imagined when it heard the words boy band.

To be honest, American media often seemed unsure how to categorize K-pop idols.

It felt less like a deliberate classification and more like:

"Uh... sure. They're a boy band, I guess."

“Moonlight wants that image, right?”

“...Yes?”

“Then we should let them have it.”

Mr. D'Angelo looked completely confused.

Handing over the boy-band position?

The members grinned.

“Let's move into a different lane.”

We had introduced ourselves to the public with Answer, a smooth fusion of rap and jazz.

Then we had somehow ended up making a children's song.

And now there was the musical number Like The Sun.

We were already involved in too many different kinds of music for the traditional American boy-band label to fit properly.

If they want the boy-band image, let them take it.

Up until now, we'd benefited from it.

But American artists reinvented themselves all the time.

Child actors became pop stars.

Pop stars became actors.

Artists evolved.

“This is the perfect opportunity.”

Our overall recognition was overwhelming.

The fact that we were losing only in the boy-band category meant something very specific.

“The public knows NewBlack. They just don't necessarily think of us as a boy band anymore.”

The more Moonlight claimed that image for themselves, the fuzzier our own association with it would become.

And when people started asking—

So what exactly is NewBlack?

—we could give them a new answer.

“It's a good idea,” Mr. D'Angelo said seriously. “But if you want to establish a new image...”

He stopped mid-sentence.

Because he had just remembered the upcoming single.

Overcooked.

“...Never mind. That won't be a problem.”

Mr. D'Angelo interlaced his fingers and smiled.

“Then shall we discuss the details?”

“Yes.”

That day, we spent more than three hours discussing the direction of the Overcooked promotional campaign.

The next morning.

We arrived at Radio City Music Hall early for rehearsals.

As expected from a venue renowned for its artistic beauty, Ri Hyuk's eyes sparkled the moment he stepped inside.

“Do you like it?”

“It really captures the atmosphere of old New York. The venue opened in 1932.”

He wasn't wrong.

The building's early twentieth-century architecture gave it a distinctly classical feel.

Though today, it had acquired a layer of glitter on top.

[2018 MTV Video Music Awards]

Floating astronaut statues—the symbol of the VMA—hung throughout the venue.

Pink carpets decorated the halls.

After greeting busy staff members and walking through a maze of old corridors, we finally reached our waiting room.

Staff began heating styling tools and laying out makeup supplies.

Then a coordinator entered holding a script.

“Hello!”

After greeting us, she reviewed the schedule.

“Mr. Cold Brown and Mr. Wooju have rehearsal at exactly eleven o'clock. Since the stage movement is minimal, we'll mainly be doing a sound check. Any questions?”

“No.”

“Great. See you later.”

She even bowed slightly and said, “Kam-sa 합니다,” in Korean before leaving.

The level of politeness felt almost excessive.

“True.”

Mingi hyung nodded.

“Ten million viewers is probably enough to automatically teach people manners.”

“If I saw someone pull ten million concurrent viewers in a livestream, I'd be polite too.”

“If ten million people each punched you once per second, how long would that take? Ri Hyuk, can you calculate that?”

At the question, Ri Hyuk's eyes lit up.

“Ten million people... one punch each... there are 3,600 seconds in an hour, twenty-four hours in a day...”

Our human calculator reached a conclusion.

“You'd be getting punched for 115 days.”

“!”

Everyone burst out laughing.

Mess with Sun Wooju and receive four months of nonstop beatings.

As the joke continued, I checked the time.

“It's almost rehearsal time. I'll be back.”

“The Man of Ten Million departs.”

I smiled at Junghyun's teasing.

“Biju.”

“Yes?”

“Please recite the latest KG Dragons results to Junghyun.”

“...!”

While our rapper was dragged away by the main dancer with a look that screamed I'd rather be punched, I stepped into the hallway.

The underlings followed immediately.

I was smiling at the thought of seeing Cold again after so long when—

“Hm?” ℯℯ𝘭.

A seven-member group was approaching from the far end of the corridor.

One of them spotted us.

“Hey. Hey.”

Was it Jacob?

One of the white members elbowed the boy beside him.

“...Why? Oh.”

The other boy's eyes narrowed slightly.

Colin Evans.

Moonlight's most popular member.

A fox-like face smiled beneath brown hair.

“Hello!”

The seven members strode toward us.

The atmosphere felt very different from when we'd met at the Billboard Awards.

We're not beneath you anymore.

Their mouths were smiling.

Their eyes were competing.

We answered with warm smiles of our own.

Junghyun.

Yes?

Go.

We deployed Kim Junghyun, champion of the First Annual NewBlack Staring Contest.

The moment Junghyun appeared with his gentle smile and completely unblinking eyes, several Moonlight members visibly started struggling.

While America's hottest rising boy band rubbed irritated eyes, Colin Evans stepped forward.

“Good to see you again, NewBlack.”

It was just a greeting.

Yet somehow it carried tremendous arrogance.

Even Moonlight's staff seemed to have a similar attitude.

I smiled.

“Good to see you too.”

Their side had been throwing shots publicly for months, but there was no reason for artists to make things personal.

“I loved your Like The Sun performance recently. It was incredible.”

“Thank you. I heard Moonlight's new single is releasing today?”

After exchanging a few polite compliments, they made a suggestion.

“Want to take a quick photo together?”

“Sure.”

We gathered for a group shot.

Then—

A hand slipped around my shoulders.

“Hm?”

Colin Evans leaned closer, grinning brightly.

And whispered into my ear.

“Feels like you're winning right now, doesn't it?”

While everyone shuffled into position for the photo, Colin Evans smiled.

Not that he was smiling on the inside.

Watching Tyrone and Josh making K-hearts with Kim Junghyun, he clicked his tongue mentally.

Idiots.

Instead of plotting how to bring NewBlack down, they were laughing and joking with them.

Of course, acting friendly in public was expected.

But the attitude of some of the members was less diplomacy and more stupidity.

Whatever.

The fools would eliminate themselves eventually.

As long as he was the one who survived as a solo star in the end, nothing else mattered.

Still smiling brightly—

Click.

The camera shutter fired.

As the photographer took another shot, Colin casually draped an arm around Sunny's shoulders and whispered:

“Feels like you're winning right now, doesn't it?”

A small attempt to shake his concentration.

The kind of thing meant to linger in someone's head before a rehearsal or performance.

If the other person reacted—

Do you know what he just said to me?

—then Colin could always answer:

What? I didn't say anything.

A harmless whisper.

A classic trick from his survival-show days.

The key was to do it to only one person.

As Colin pulled away with a faint smirk—

“?”

Instead of seeing a stiff expression or a shaken face...

Why is he smiling?

Sunny was grinning.

Not nervous.

Not surprised.

More like he'd just discovered something amusing.

Then Sun Wooju leaned in and whispered something back in Korean.

“&*@#%-”

The soft stream of Korean sounded like complete alien language.

Before Colin could process it—

“All done!”

“Good luck today!”

Everyone exchanged cheerful farewells.

Sun Wooju flashed a bright smile.

Then even winked.

“Fighting.”

The dazzlingly handsome man turned and walked away.

His loyal members followed behind him like an entourage.

Step.

Step.

Step.

For a moment, the scene resembled a king leading his court.

And Colin stood there, bewildered.

What was that?

It sounded meaningful... but what did it mean?

Thus began a mystery that would never be solved.

As they walked away from Moonlight, Kim Junghyun—whose sharp hearing had caught everything—spoke up.

“Hyung, what exactly did he say? I couldn't hear clearly because it was in English.”

“He asked if I felt like I was winning.”

“What kind of question is that?”

As Junghyun explained that a Moonlight member had tried to pick a fight with Wooju, everyone laughed in disbelief.

The managers, meanwhile, were furious.

“He knew rehearsal was coming up and did it on purpose. That kid's got a nasty streak.”

“He was trying to shake your mental state. If it works, people freeze up. Politicians do that kind of thing too, don't they? Whisper insults before debates.”

“Pretty clever.”

“He avoided swearing in case anyone recorded it.”

While everyone offered opinions, Wooju continued smiling as if he'd discovered the funniest thing in the world.

“Why are you still laughing?”

Ri Hyuk, who looked more offended than the actual target, poked him in the side.

His expression resembled an angry bird.

“You just let it go again, didn't you? You should've said something back—”

“I did.”

“Huh?”

Like a veteran teacher demonstrating proper aggro management techniques, their leader nodded.

“Taking it seriously is the worst possible response. So I just said something random in Korean.”

“...What did you say?”

“I told him, 'Spring potatoes are delicious.'”

Silence.

Then everyone exploded with laughter.

At last, they understood why Wooju had been grinning the entire time.

"Feels like you're winning right now, doesn't it?"

"Spring potatoes are delicious."

"...?"

"Anyway, see you later~☆"

They could vividly imagine Colin's situation.

Even if he remembered the phrase and somehow fed it into a translator later, the result would make absolutely no sense.

Which meant he would spend hours wondering:

Did I hear that correctly?

AAAAAAAH!

Somewhere, they could practically hear the distant scream of a deeply confused American boy band member.

As everyone laughed, their leader effortlessly shifted the mood.

“Let's go see Cold, guys.”

“Okay!”

“Hehehe!”

The underlings swarmed after the King Gwanjong like a cloud of devoted flies, smiling warmly.

I learned something useful again today.

So that's why people say the water flows from the top. If the leader is muddy water, naturally the followers become muddy water too.

Once again, the members spent the day learning valuable life lessons about human relationships from their leader. Or at least, that's what they chose to call them.