Chapter 820: Winning or Losing Doesn’t Matter (8)

Unfortunately, it wasn’t our name.

"Mandy Spice and Regina! Hold Your Breath!"

The slowed time snapped back into motion.

Mandy Spice and Regina, seated nearby in a gold dress, leapt up and embraced.

"Waaaaaaah!"

Applause poured down.

The Hispanic pop star with long brown hair rushed over to her best friend Hailey and hugged her.

"Hailey, Hailey. I finally won!"

"That’s my girl."

Hailey kissed her friend’s cheek and smiled proudly.

Regina.

A Hispanic pop star whose name means queen in Latin, reigning as the undisputed diva of the 2010s.

With tears shimmering in her eyes, she climbed the stage, long legs revealed.

"Thank you so much."

It truly seemed as if the rumors that she had been relentlessly snubbed by the Grammys were real.

As her tearful speech flowed, the black-haired singer-songwriter standing behind her smiled shyly.

Mandy Spice.

A pop star beloved enough to be called “the voice of our generation” by American teens.

Known for her Grammy luck, having won multiple awards including Best New Artist, she celebrated with a familiar expression.

"Mandy, who poured your passion into working on this song with me! Thank you so much. You’re the best friend and the best singer."

"Thank you, Regina. Your dedication and passion were incredible."

The two singers gazed at each other with honey-dripping eyes.

The song they worked on together had just won this category.

Honestly, it felt like a song that deserved to win.

Objectively, if you compared only chart performance, Blue Moon might have had a stronger case.

But it was hard to beat the narrative behind that song.

"Dedicated to all wounded veterans."

A charity song created to help injured veterans.

True to its title, it asked listeners to hold their breath for just a moment—just a brief pause—to look at the people around them.

Of course, beyond its purpose, the song itself was good. Even without knowing the backstory, it stood fine as a solid pop track.

"It turned out as expected."

At Biju’s words, I quietly nodded.

As we clapped and smiled, Regina and Mandy Spice continued their speeches.

Jiho leaned in and whispered softly in Korean.

"Aren’t you disappointed, hyung? You and Hailey worked insanely hard on it."

"It’s okay."

He was right. It wasn’t that I felt nothing.

But hadn’t I learned something from fishing this time? The result was never in my hands.

I baited the hook carefully. I cast the rod with everything I had. I did everything I could to reel it in.

Whether the fish bit or not—that wasn’t up to me.

So—

"It’s okay."

We did our best.

It’s disappointing, but it can’t be helped.

Winning or losing doesn’t matter.

I was about to say something like that when suddenly, my mouth moved on its own.

"Next time...."

Words completely different from my thoughts slipped out.

"We’ll come back to the Grammys next time."

The moment Mandy Spice and Regina were announced as winners—

"Damn."

An African American man standing at the back of the audience placed a hand on his forehead.

He turned to the man beside him.

"Our agency estimated Blue Moon had a pretty high probability of winning. Isn’t it a shame, Mr. Yoon?"

"It certainly... is unfortunate."

Yoon Seokhwan rubbed his chin.

D’Angelo, the agent in charge of NewBlack’s U.S. activities—the one who had once flipped off World Art Studio—continued.

"I heard from an internal Grammy source that the vote difference was almost negligible. It probably came down to a razor-thin margin. If we’d gotten just a few more votes, our artists would be standing there."

"Hearing that makes it even more disappointing."

He felt as regretful as the artists themselves.

‘I’d quietly hoped.’

He had told Wooju and the members to keep expectations low, that the odds were slim.

But he had been the one hoping the most.

The actual winning probability had been around fifty percent.

Handled right, it could have become history for the Korean music industry... and now it had slipped away.

"Well. The opponent wasn’t easy. A charity song for wounded veterans, of all things...."

D’Angelo smiled as he spoke.

His eyes shone.

"But haven’t we confirmed something? NewBlack, whom people wondered would even succeed in America, made it to the Grammys. And that in less than a year of full-fledged U.S. activity."

"You’re right. We’ve seen the possibility."

"Not just seen it—we’ve confirmed it. NewBlack has strong commercial potential in the U.S."

Then the agent ventured further.

"Isn’t it time NewBlack got serious about the U.S. market?"

"Serious?"

"I’m not sure how to phrase it. More committed? Instead of treating it as a secondary bonus, it should be considered one of the main activities."

Yoon Seokhwan finally understood.

"Up until now, our artists have treated U.S. activities as a bonus. Naturally. There was no precedent. It wouldn’t be strange to think of it as a flash of luck."

Honestly, that had been the case.

Even when Blue Moon began gaining traction in America, NewBlack and the TF team had treated it as secondary.

‘We don’t know when this bubble might pop, Seokhwan hyung. So don’t push too hard.’

They’d seen it as a bubble that could burst any moment.

But after METRO’s success and this Grammy nomination, it felt like something had clicked.

Like touching what you thought was foam, only to feel a solid surface beneath your hand.

"We need more proactive activity."

The U.S. agent persuaded him.

"I’m not saying they should live in the U.S. for months. I’m saying they need to release songs."

"Songs?"

"Yes. Release English tracks. And more. Eventually, that leads to an international album."

D’Angelo’s eyes gleamed.

"We need to build a fortress."

In other words, build a career through albums.

So solid that no one could encroach.

‘We share the same opinion.’

It aligned perfectly with a meeting they’d previously had with A&R, the producing team, and NewBlack.

"Let’s release an international album."

"International?"

"Songs alone aren’t enough anymore. We need an album."

As Yoon Seokhwan recalled that meeting, D’Angelo continued.

"I said the vote difference was minimal, right?"

"Yes."

"Hailey Blue being on thin ice probably had some influence... but ultimately, it’s because NewBlack’s position in the U.S. isn’t strong enough yet. They’re popular, but not entrenched."

D’Angelo said,

"When good-looking white singer-songwriters debut and sweep awards, Black hip-hop musicians have to build a rock-solid career to win Grammys."

"Our hurdle is higher."

"They’re foreign artists from a non-English-speaking country. Think of them in a similar position to Latin American pop stars."

Thanks to Souffle, NewBlack had initially blasted through barriers at high speed.

But lately, the invisible walls were becoming noticeable.

Things fandom alone couldn’t overcome.

The U.S. agent, having scratched precisely that itch, declared his ambition.

"I’m the one who discovered NewBlack and pushed to sign them. I know they’re already hot worldwide. But as the person in charge here, I want to make them the very best in this market."

There had been many successful boy bands before.

But D’Angelo saw something beyond that in NewBlack.

Not just another rising boy band, but something greater... a new kind of group no one had seen before.

‘They have something.’

Perhaps sensing that seriousness, Yoon Seokhwan nodded.

"I agree."

"I’m relieved we’re on the same page."

D’Angelo Costello smiled in relief.

He had been anxious that the head of the division might refuse.

After all, NewBlack lacked nothing.

They had secured a successful position as a rookie boy band in America, and in Korea and Asia they were already untouchable.

They might not even want more than a boy-band-level presence in North America.

He had worried about a lukewarm response.

Fortunately, Mr. Yoon’s eyes burned with competitive fire.

‘Because of the loss.’

Perhaps not winning the Grammy was a blessing.

"And...."

He shared recently obtained information.

"The international album needs to be out by at least mid-next year. The lead single and pre-release tracks should come out this year."

"Why?"

"We need to fend off latecomers."

"Do we have competitors?"

"We will soon. Didn’t you receive that proposal for the audition program Light It Up?"

Yoon Seokhwan nodded.

‘That was a strange proposal.’

They had offered NewBlack a massive appearance fee to serve as judges.

An audition to select members for the next-generation boy band.

D’Angelo continued.

"I heard that forces harboring resentment toward NewBlack are trying to create the next boy group."

"Ah...."

"Inviting them as judges is probably image-making. Judges usually feel like people who’ve stepped back from the front lines or passed their prime. Does it suit a top star to be a judge?"

"It doesn’t."

"They want to frame NewBlack as the senior group responding to a rising star."

Yoon Seokhwan snorted.

‘Americans are no different.’

If China flaunts money openly, and Japan stabs from behind, America manipulates the structure with capital even more subtly.

Clever scheming.

He could see the scenario clearly.

Next-Generation Boy Group Selection Mission!

The Previous Generation Idol NewBlack Cheers On the Rising Stars!

The Setting Sun and the Rising Sun!

You might ask whether NewBlack, still technically rookies in America, could be cast as seniors like that.

But with enough money, anything is possible.

Remind the press that they debuted in 2014, not 2017, when they entered the U.S.

Call them global superstars with years under their belt.

Do it consistently, and it happens quickly.

"So...."

Yoon Seokhwan smiled.

"They just don’t like us, is that it?"

"NewBlack is growing too fast. Not satisfied with dominating the boy-band pie, they’re climbing into pop territory. Frankly, some see it as growth beyond acceptable limits."

"Because of METRO?"

"METRO was decisive. No one expected it to succeed that much."

The backlash from the overwhelming success of their first English song hitting Billboard number one.

Yoon Seokhwan asked with a grin,

"So how many are on the other side?"

"If three parts are betting on NewBlack... about seven are against. There are neutrals too, but honestly, more industry people see a K-pop group operating in America as a thorn in their side."

"Good to know we at least have allies. Even if we’re outnumbered."

"Yes. I’m one of that thirty percent."

The two men laughed quietly.

Yoon Seokhwan nodded with a deep smile.

‘Be eaten, or eat. One of the two.’

If he had to choose, it was the latter.

That was how NewBlack and the TF team had always operated.

Stretching, Yoon Seokhwan looked at the Grammy venue with cool eyes.

‘It’s been a while since I felt this competitive.’

A dense competitiveness he hadn’t felt since before they became national idols back home.

D’Angelo watched him.

"It seems you share my opinion. Then perhaps we should discuss this with the members—"

As he was about to ask him to relay the idea—

D’Angelo tilted his head at Yoon Seokhwan, who had suddenly started laughing.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Look at our members’ faces. Especially Wooju. We won’t have to worry about motivation."

The American agent turned his gaze.

NewBlack sat chatting with Hailey Blue at their table.

Smiling broadly, clapping.

Watching Australian singer Ailo dancing with male dancers in only underwear, whispering among themselves.

‘What?’

Nothing seemed unusual.

Just artists enjoying the awards show.

"...I don’t quite see it."

Yoon Seokhwan smiled.

Perhaps he couldn’t tell because he hadn’t worked with them long.

But he could see it.

The smiles wide on their lips, and the flames blazing in their eyes.

Especially in the eyes of the one sitting in the center.

‘He’s fired up.’

He would surely say it was fine.

But Yoon Seokhwan had known the leader since trainee days.

Whenever he wore that expression, something happened.

‘But... that’s blazing a little too much....’

As if dark violet flames were surging behind Sun Wooju’s back, Yoon Seokhwan made a slightly exasperated face.

Then he said to the confused man beside him,

"Trust me."

He smiled.

"The last time I saw that look was before debut. After that, tremendous things happened."

"What happened?"

"Kids who danced in a school auditorium came to the Grammy Awards."

"......."

Then he added with a smile,

"They say most singers come to the Grammys once in a lifetime, if at all...."

He looked at the stage.

"We might be back next year."

The day after the Grammy Awards.

An outdoor stage was being constructed near a beach in late-January Los Angeles, the weather already hinting at early autumn.

[Moonlight Parade]

If translated, something like Moonlight Festival.

It was a promotional performance Hailey Blue had prepared for her new release.

The song title was—

To a third party, it would have seemed like an odd name for the event. Why Moonlight when it had nothing to do with the title?

The reason would soon be witnessed in the sky.

The Super Blue Blood Moon.

A rare astronomical event in late January 2018.

A supermoon, a blue moon, and a blood moon happening together.

It was an idea proposed by NewBlack’s resident science enthusiast ahead of the night the moon would turn red.

"Our collab song is Blue Moon anyway. Since we’re singing Popsicle, why not perform Blue Moon too? The date’s perfect."

"Brilliant idea, Dr. Fish."

"It’s Ri Hyuk. Seo Ri Hyuk!"

"Once a fish, always a fish. Your refusal of my affectionate nickname wounds me like sibal."

There had been a little bickering over video call, but it was a good idea.

‘A damn good idea.’

Hailey Blue whistled.

Sing Blue Moon rewritten as Blood Moon beneath a red eclipse?

That was a guaranteed hit performance.

Plus the premiere of her new song Popsicle.

"Jenna. Do you see it?"

She pointed into the air.

"See what?"

"I see money. As many grains of sand as on this beach... pouring down on me."

"Oh! I see it too."

Singer and manager laughed as they gazed at imaginary falling money.

Everything was perfect.

‘As a featuring artist, they’re unbeatable in buzz.’

Why do American artists who live off self-confidence pour everything into collaborations and features?

To gather even one more listener in the digital streaming age.

In that sense, those hot guys who brought fans in droves were an excellent choice.

The problem was—

‘This is making me nervous.’

The expressions of NewBlack rehearsing on stage.

They were extremely bright.

World-shining smiles that lit up everything around them.

For someone like Hailey, who thrived on darkness and collapse, it was lethal.

More than that, something felt off.

‘These guys... they’re not squealing.’

They were smiling brilliantly while preparing rehearsal—but only with their mouths.

Normally, at times like this, they’d be shrieking and running around laughing.

Today, they were quietly grinning.

But their eyes were crystal clear.

"All right. Let’s run through blocking once!"

At Biju’s call, they answered together.

"Yes!"

"OK."

The six of them practiced the choreography for Popsicle, designed by NewBlack’s main dancer.

It was simple and cute—

‘The angles are vicious today.’

Five bodies moving in razor-sharp synchronization.

Watching them, Hailey stumbled in her blocking.

"Mm. My mistake."

"......."

Slowly.

They turned their heads back toward her, smiling sweetly in silence.

Hailey shrank her neck like a turtle.

"Oops."

At her words, Biju smiled brightly.

"It’s okay, Hailey."

"I know. People can make mistakes."

"Yes. We’ll just match it until it’s perfect."

"......."

The members smiled silently, agreeing.

Watching NewBlack look like maniacs possessed by stage preparation, Hailey blinked.

‘These guys... their eyes flipped after the Grammys.’

She nodded.

‘Even better.’

So she decided to go a little crazy too.

Hailey Blue and NewBlack smiling sweetly as they prepared the stage.

‘Something... something is happening.’

The staff watching had a premonition.

An incredible stage was about to be born.