Chapter 1051: Overcooked (4)

Ever since I debuted in the entertainment industry, there was one thing I'd realized.

I really didn't like people who tried to play clever games outside of their actual profession.

Strategizing within your field was one thing.

How to make a performance better.

How to stand out in a drama.

What outfit to wear on the red carpet to draw attention.

Thinking hard about things like that was simply part of being a professional.

But...

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

What Colin Evans had said earlier was honestly ridiculous.

If he wanted to win, he should put on a better performance or gather more fans.

Instead, his words carried the implication that he wanted to provoke me and shake my mental state.

The entertainment industry wasn't a place where you reached the top through schemes and political maneuvering.

"Tsk tsk."

The kid couldn't have been much older than twenty.

The thought made me sigh.

Jiho looked embarrassed on his behalf.

"But seriously, somebody needs to tell people like that."

"Hm?"

"You know the type. The ones who go, 'Heh heh heh! I'm secretly manipulating everyone behind the scenes!' and think they're geniuses. I guarantee all the other Moonlight members know exactly what he's doing too."

"He's the only one who's going to be embarrassed later."

I nodded at Ri Hyuk's comment.

I didn't know the full story, but those tricks were far too amateurish to stay hidden.

"He'll figure it out eventually."

As I shrugged and continued walking, Biju looked curious.

"But hyung, how did you react so quickly? I would've frozen up."

"I've seen similar things at TJ."

Back when I'd just joined.

I think I was still in elementary school.

There had been a middle-school trainee who was on the verge of being eliminated due to relative evaluations.

Right before an evaluation performance, he'd leaned over and whispered a string of insults at me.

I'd simply looked confused and replied:

"Were you introducing yourself...?"

Then moved on.

"Tsk tsk..."

Honestly, my elementary-school self could have handled it more elegantly.

If it happened now, I could think of several better responses.

Anyway, the story ended with him getting so angry he ruined his own performance and was cut from the company.

As I reminisced about the past, a sudden realization struck me.

"After all, TJ raised eighty percent of who I am."

"...?"

"Nothing."

As I said that, I casually drifted closer to the members.

"This is nice~"

One of the reasons we liked each other so much was this.

It wasn't that we couldn't be calculating.

We simply had an unspoken agreement not to be that way with each other.

Group life became exhausting the moment even one person started muddying the water.

The atmosphere we had was genuinely a blessing.

"I really hit the jackpot with my members."

"Hehehe!"

The underlings seemed even cuter than usual.

After ruffling their hair, I headed backstage.

[Video Music Awards]

The venue that normally radiated old-world elegance had transformed into a futuristic twenty-first-century stage.

Staff members pushed a wheeled piano across the stage.

Then—

"Hey!"

A man standing with his arms folded waved at me.

Black T-shirt.

Khaki cargo pants.

Neatly groomed beard.

A handsome face.

A slim build decorated with enough rings to stock a jewelry store.

The king of East Coast hip-hop, Cold Brown, grinned brightly.

"Well, well! Look who it is!"

Cold Brown immediately launched into machine-gun-speed rap.

"The world's most handsome man! The legendary fashion icon who can summon ten million viewers with a single sentence! The devilishly talented performer who captivates the masses! My adorable all-purpose Grammy vending machine, Sunny!"

I responded instantly.

"And aren't you the king of East Coast hip-hop? The man who owns everything except a Grammy—but soon even that! A once-in-a-generation genius rapper and world-renowned social activist who gets invited to the White House, Cold Brown himself!"

Cold Brown clutched his chest dramatically.

"Sunny! Oh, Sunny!"

"Cold!"

"Hehehehe!"

"Hahahahaha!"

We shook hands and bumped shoulders.

Behind us, the underlings whispered.

"Wow. It's like that thing."

"What thing?"

"You know, when you fold paper covered in paint and it comes out mirrored on both sides."

"That's called a decalcomania."

"Good job, Jiho. Remember, if you're curious about things like that in America, you have to ask in Korean. Promise me you'll never ask in English."

Ignoring the underlings' observation that Cold and I were disturbingly alike, the two of us continued laughing.

After greeting me, Cold Brown greeted the members as well.

"Everyone doing well?"

"Yep."

As expected of someone famous for managing his relationships perfectly, he personally checked in on each member.

"Biju, I heard you recently promoted with Wooju. Apparently it rains every time your music plays?"

"That was honestly just a coincidence."

"I heard a rain front is moving toward Korea and people are joking that WooBiz summoned it. Hahaha!"

Cold Brown knew surprisingly detailed information.

Most likely he'd told an assistant:

I'm seeing NewBlack tomorrow. Research what they've been up to.

Once again, I was reminded that people who stayed at the top for years always had a reason.

Then I brought up something myself.

"Did you see the latest Grammy predictions? Our song is leading the odds."

The nominees hadn't even been announced yet.

Still, Answer was already being discussed as a major contender for next year's general-field Grammy categories.

Apparently gamblers had been placing bets.

There were several reasons.

One was that Black musicians had been getting snubbed for years, and many people believed the Grammys were overdue to make amends.

Another was that jazz—a genre the Recording Academy traditionally loved—was woven into the hip-hop foundation of Answer, giving it strong artistic credibility.

Cold Brown grinned.

"That's not all."

"...?"

"The odds will keep going up."

He continued.

"Sound of the Sun. It's based on Sun Myungju's life story."

"Right."

"And Answer is deeply connected to Sun Myungju's narrative."

I swallowed.

"Meaning..."

"If the film succeeds in North America, the song gains even more story and emotional weight."

I nodded slowly.

"Which increases our chances even more."

"Exactly."

Cold Brown's expression grew serious.

"That's why I've been posting Sound of the Sun content on Instagram lately. I have a cameo appearance in it, after all."

In the film, Cold Brown briefly appeared as the legendary trumpeter Buddy Russell.

The idea that an influencer with sixty-seven million followers was actively promoting the movie made both the members and me smile.

"And if we keep nudging those odds higher..."

Cold Brown spread his hands.

"Eventually we'll be holding gramophone-shaped trophies."

I nodded.

"Which makes today's stage important."

"Exactly."

The two of us exchanged a grin and slapped palms.

Reflected in Cold Brown's eyes, burning with Grammy ambition, was my own equally greedy expression.

Looking toward the astronaut statues floating throughout the venue, I paraphrased a famous moon-landing quote.

"This may be a small stage, but it will be a giant leap toward the Grammys."

"Let's go, my adorable Armstrong."

"Heh heh heh!"

"Hahahahaha!"

As we headed toward rehearsal, the members cheered behind us.

Then the youngest member's bright voice rang out.

"Wow. But Wooju hyung was talking about Louis Armstrong, right? The first man on the moon?"

"...!"

At the same time, everyone heard the sound of Ri Hyuk's soul leaving his body.

7:30 PM.

The area surrounding Radio City Music Hall was packed with people attending the red carpet event.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Every time a pop star or famous actor stepped out of a limousine, cheers erupted.

Photographers shouted excitedly at actors posing in front of photo walls.

Police officers controlled crowds gathered behind metal barricades.

"Step back! Everyone step back!"

NYPD officers assigned to the event were working up a sweat.

Their radios crackled nonstop.

[Male subject has climbed onto a traffic signal near Sixth Avenue. Nearby units respond.]

A man screaming "MTV implanted a microchip in my brain!" while standing naked atop a traffic light had already been arrested.

Information was flooding in from every direction.

"Man..."

But the thing the officers were paying the closest attention to was the tension crackling between the rival fandoms.

One officer chewed gum.

"So those are Souffle, and those are Sunshine?"

"I think so."

"Honestly, I can't tell them apart."

"The cloud-colored stuff is Souffle."

"I've figured out a better method."

"Oh?"

"Look at the weapons."

The officers swallowed.

The difference in armament was substantial.

Let's hope the Souffles are peaceful people.

Because if things turned violent, Moonlight's fandom looked hopelessly outmatched.

"What are those glowing clubs?"

"Light sticks."

"They look like weapons."

Some of NewBlack's light sticks were built like expandable police batons.

One fan was even carrying a meter-long staff that resembled Gandalf's walking stick.

"...Should those be legal?"

From the officers' perspective, they looked one step removed from baseball bats.

Maybe because of that, nobody actually started a fight.

One officer who prided himself on being well-read nodded knowingly.

"I've read about this."

"About what?"

"Peace through strength."

"...What?"

"You maintain overwhelming defensive capability so the enemy never attacks. Same principle as the national defense budget."

"That's genius."

Compared to that, Moonlight's hot-dog-shaped light sticks looked hilariously inadequate.

The atmosphere remained surprisingly peaceful.

Then—

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

A limousine approached.

The cheers intensified instantly.

They're here.

It's them.

The barricades practically shook.

An event coordinator opened the limousine door.

Everyone turned to look.

The rising fashion icons.

At the Met Gala earlier that year, they had been named among the best-dressed attendees.

Everyone wondered what they would wear this time.

Then—

"...Huh?"

"They look normal?"

A polished dress shoe stepped onto the pink carpet.

Classic tailoring.

Modern elegance.

The sort of striped suit a jazz musician from the early twentieth century might have worn.

And the person wearing it was—

"Jiho-ya!"

"King Jiho!"

NewBlack's youngest member.

Even people who knew him from the NetPlus drama Divinity immediately recognized him.

An actor's face.

Sharp features.

Classical good looks.

The vintage jazz suit suited him perfectly.

Then—

"?"

"??"

As Jiho fully emerged from the limousine, the crowd looked confused.

The moment his face appeared, the cheers had exploded.

But then they saw his head.

"!"

"!!"

A trumpet-shaped hat.

Wang Jiho appeared wearing what looked like an actual trumpet balanced on top of his head.

The crowd burst into laughter.

"Hi~!"

One by one, the others followed.

Kim Junghyun descended proudly in a drum hat.

Biju wore a saxophone hat.

Ri Hyuk wore a guitar hat but stood slightly farther away from everyone else, as if refusing to be associated with the madness.

And then—

"OHHHHHHHHH!"

Wooju emerged wearing a hat that looked like a piano standing vertically on his head.

The crowd completely lost it.

The five members strutted toward the fans, spun in a circle, and spread their arms dramatically.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"It's been a while! Have you all been doing well?"

"YES!"

After signing autographs and taking selfies, NewBlack entered the red carpet area.

Then the reporters descended like a swarm.

"Wow! Your outfits look incredible today. They're iconic."

"Thank you."

"What's the concept?"

Wooju answered immediately.

"When people think of New York, one of the first things that comes to mind is jazz."

"Absolutely."

"And since we're at Radio City Music Hall, a venue where so many legendary jazz musicians performed, we wanted to pay our respects with the suits."

The reporter nodded.

Then pointed at the hats while laughing.

"What about those?"

"We thought they fit today's theme perfectly."

"Oh?"

"You've got this historic venue."

He gestured around.

"And floating above it are futuristic astronaut decorations. It's tradition and modernity existing together."

The reporter looked around.

"...You're right!"

"So our fashion concept is harmony between tradition and modernity."

The old architecture.

The futuristic VMA decorations.

The outfits.

Everything connected perfectly.

The reporter was impressed.

No wonder they're called fashion icons.

Last year they'd worn astronaut suits and essentially announced:

America! We've arrived!

This year carried a different message.

We respect your music.

And we'll show you our own uniqueness too.

Wooju smiled warmly as the reporter stared with shining eyes.

Only the members looked completely unconvinced.

He didn't even know the venue's history before we got here...

If Wooju hyung is a fashion icon, then I'm a farmer who accidentally won the Nobel Prize in Mathematics.

He's too handsome. What do we do?

After finishing one interview, NewBlack moved on to the next.

Every provocative question about Moonlight was dodged with the flexibility of a squid.

They're impossible!

Reporters clenched their fists internally while NewBlack laughed and entered the ceremony hall.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The cheers erupted again.

A massive black limousine had arrived.

Inside, Moonlight was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Let's do this!"

"Let's win a VMA tonight!"

"Yeah!"

The seven idols high-fived one another with the confidence of people who believed the world belonged to them.

Except for one member.

"..."

Colin Evans couldn't put down his phone.

His fingers tapped furiously.

[Bo...]

Trying to remember the phrase.

[Bom Gam Za...]

[Translating...]

Then Korean text appeared.

봄감자

He copied it.

Translated it again.

[Spring potato]

"That's not it..."

Colin scratched his forehead carefully, unwilling to ruin his hairstyle.

"Bom... Gam... Za?"

[Let's go spring]

"Gom Gam Za?"

[Bear potato]

A roaring bear.

A floating potato.

The images haunted him.

Finally, he turned to Patrick Wu.

"Patrick. Do you know what 'spring potato' means in Korean?"

Patrick stared at him.

"I'm half Chinese, bro."

Then came a pause.

"What exactly is wrong with you?"

Normally Colin would've smoothly laughed things off.

This time he just frowned.

What is it?

Even as Moonlight stepped onto the red carpet, the floating potato refused to leave his mind.

Radio City Music Hall.

After the outdoor pre-show performances ended, the main ceremony finally began.

[2018 MTV Video Music Awards]

Three million viewers tuned in through television.

Even more Souffles opened streams online.

Who's opening this year?

Every VMA opening was different.

Sometimes it was a rising artist MTV wanted to promote.

Sometimes it was the hottest hit of the year.

Sometimes it was a nominee debuting a new song.

Who would it be this time?

Then—

"Oh."

The lights slowly rose.

An elderly Black musician stood onstage holding a trumpet.

Age spots marked his wrinkled skin.

People who knew jazz immediately recognized him.

Buddy Russell!

The legendary trumpeter raised his instrument.

And began to play.

"Wow..."

Even people unfamiliar with jazz could feel the soul in the performance.

Viewers started murmuring.

"Whose stage is this?"

"Good question."

Then their eyes widened.

"Wait..."

"That's Sun!"

The melody from Like The Sun.

The same song racing toward two hundred million views.

A piano joined the trumpet.

Warm orange lighting.

Like a sunrise.

A young man appeared beneath it.

Wooju!

Beside him stood Cold Brown, dressed in the same jazz-inspired suit.

Everyone understood at once.

This year's opening performance was Answer.

The biggest hit of the first half of 2018.

One of the longest-running Billboard number-one songs of the era.

"Wooooow..."

The melody gradually transformed from Like The Sun into Answer.

Seamlessly.

Beautifully.

Cold Brown nodded to the rhythm.

Wooju played piano.

Buddy Russell's trumpet soared overhead.

A live jazz band completed the sound.

"Wow..."

Someone watching television spoke.

"But how did they get Buddy Russell?"

"No kidding."

The audience began imagining romantic explanations.

Perhaps he'd been moved by the Sound of the Sun soundtrack.

Perhaps he wanted to honor Sun Myungju.

Perhaps Cold Brown had convinced him through their shared connections.

While viewers imagined beautiful stories—

Buddy Russell closed his eyes and played.

♩♪♩—

A memory echoed in his mind.

"Sir, we'd like your trumpet to appear on our VMA stage. It would mean a great deal."

"Why would I perform with a bunch of kids? Not happening."

"I understand."

Then—

A bank transfer notification.

"Would you perhaps consider it again? Hehehe."

The piano beside him sounded remarkably similar to money pouring into an account.

Buddy Russell smiled serenely.

Money money money money money—money money—

His fingers danced.

♪♬♬♬♬~♬♬♬

A master demonstrating just how sweet a trumpet could sound.

Joined by two artists burning with Grammy ambition.

Wow...

This is incredible...

And so began the performance of Answer—

A stage that would later be remembered as one of the greatest opening performances in VMA history.