“Tch.”
Oh Hanbit grumbled, but it was only natural for a manager affiliated with MOK to choose a MOK artist’s song first.
Thus, they spent time listening to each other’s songs and discussing them.
To be precise, both singers were listening closely to Seon-ho’s opinion.
Most of the songs Hanbit played were club tunes based on dubstep, with very clear strengths and weaknesses.
The strength was that they could overwhelm the atmosphere of the venue.
Even if minor mistakes happened during the performance, the powerful sound could still excite the audience.
The weakness was that, typical of party songs, they left little lingering impression.
Due to the nature of competition shows, neutral viewers preferred not to vote immediately.
Many would watch all performances first, then vote for the one that left the strongest impression.
Thus, a song with a short-lasting impact could leave its success up to chance.
If Oh Hanbit and Ryu Hail’s performances were scheduled later in the lineup, this weakness wouldn’t be a problem, but if they were early, it could become a major hurdle.
Even after a good performance, they could miss out on votes.
“So, you’re saying the song itself is good? And the second one’s the best among them?”
“Yeah. I think just tweaking a few parts of the second song would do.”
“Which parts?”
“I think the chorus needs to be toned down. Right now, the whole song’s so high-energy that it feels tiring.”
“But wouldn’t that make the connection between the chorus and the verse too loose? The chorus might feel dull.”
“That’s why you need to make it attractive. The chorus shouldn’t be a resting point—it should be a spot you can’t take your eyes off of.”
“How?”
“Well, whether you use a part that changes things up or add another catchy section, that’s up to your producer. I’m just giving my personal opinion.”
“Come on, be a little more specific.”
Seon-ho shrugged.
“I really don’t know. That’s the producer’s job.”
“Then what about my rap?”
“Hmm, I honestly don’t know much about rap… but it sounded good.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
It was clear that Love Hospital had helped Oh Hanbit break through his previous limits.
Hanbit’s rap had evolved significantly.
If Hanbit’s songs had clear pros and cons, Hye-mi’s song was different.
There were no real drawbacks.
It was all strengths.
Hmm.
The song was truly good.
However, it felt like the producer’s ambition had gone a little overboard.
The guide vocal seemed to have recorded at least ten separate takes for a single part.
“Hye-mi, are you sure you can sing this?”
“I can.”
“You confident?”
“Of course.”
“Hmm…”
If she could pull it off well, it could be a song on par with Autumn Leaf.
Still, there are way too many traps in here.
It was a treasure for sure, but the path to reach it looked grueling.
“Haven’t divided the parts yet?”
“We have a rough idea, but it’s not finalized.”
“Then ask them to clearly separate Su-rim’s parts and yours. If one of you slips up, it could be a disaster.”
Seon-ho could now understand why Hye-mi had said the song didn’t feel like “her song.”
It was because the difficulty was too high.
Way too high.
New singers like Hye-mi and Su-rim couldn’t immediately make such a difficult song their own.
If Autumn Leaf had been crafted meticulously based on Hye-mi and Su-rim’s emotions, voices, and vocal styles, this song was made envisioning an ideal singer.
A flawless singer who could allow no mistakes or poor condition.
“You think this one’s the best among the three, too, right?”
“Yeah. No doubt. But did the producer by any chance say something like, ‘Let’s surpass Autumn Leaf’?”
“How did you know? Seriously…”
Curious about Seon-ho’s remark, Hanbit took Hye-mi’s phone to listen to the song.
Then he shook his head.
“This is way too difficult. You don’t have much practice time, right?”
“It’s fine. I can handle it.”
Hye-mi showed strong confidence.
Somehow, Seon-ho felt that confidence was more like ambition for rank.
“If you two pull this off perfectly, I might be screwed.”
“You won’t be. Second place is still great.”
“I’m going to pray you mess up on stage.”
“Then I’ll pray you forget your lyrics.”
At their playful banter, Oh Hanbit snorted. Then he realized he was still holding Hye-mi’s phone.
“Oh, right.”
He tapped it a few times and handed it back.
Hye-mi, who usually did nothing with her phone except listen to music, tilted her head curiously.
Then she frowned.
[Cha Hye-mi has invited Oh Hanbit to the chat room.]
Oh Hanbit had been added to the group chat with Han Seon-ho, Cha Hye-mi, and Jung Su-rim.
“What’s this?”
“Well, seeing the name of the chat room, I figured I should join too.”
The chatroom was jokingly named “Han Seon-ho Corps,” a name Su-rim had come up with.
Just as Hye-mi was about to scold him, a commotion arose outside the waiting room.
It sounded like someone had entered the Personal Color waiting room to say hello.
Then came the chant, “Hello! See you in your dreams! We’re Dream Girls!”
Dream Girls—a six-member girl group with a corny name and slogan—was currently one of the most talked-about rookies in the industry.
They had built a solid fanbase even before their debut through reality shows.
Each member had a distinctly different charm.
Thanks to the two Chinese members considered the group’s visual center, they were also exploding in popularity in China.
Their debut song had even been nominated for first place on a music show in just its second week.
That was Dream Girls.
For Personal Color, getting friendly with a hot girl group like them would usually be a good thing.
However, Manager Kwon Hosan was far from happy to see them.
Dream Girls were at the very top of the list of teams he did not want to receive greetings from.
“Wow, sunbaenim, you look so pretty today!”
“Thanks.”
“If only there was a ‘tension time’ today, there’d be so many screenshots flying around!”
“Such a shame!”
The first words the Dream Girls members threw at Baek Songyi were laced with subtle mockery.
“Tension time” was a slang term among singers, referring to when the camera zoomed in during the announcement of first-place candidates.
In other words, Dream Girls were slyly flaunting the fact that they were a first-place nominee.
Baek Songyi understood perfectly but brushed it off coolly.
Reacting to this kind of subtle provocation would only make her look petty.
“Yeah, thanks. You all look really pretty too.”
“Really? My skin’s so dry today… I hope they don’t zoom in on me…”
“No way, your skin looks great.”
When Baek Songyi responded with grace, it was the Dream Girls members who ended up flustered.
Their leader, Lucid, glanced back over her shoulder.
Behind her stood Jeon Heeseong, their manager.
His gaze was stern.
If we push it further here, it’ll be too much.
Even though it was common for singers to subtly compete and flaunt superiority, there was a line.
Eh, it’s a doomed group anyway. We won’t be seeing them much longer.
Lucid opened her mouth.
“Oh, right, sunbaenim. I heard MOK is sending July Girls and Blacklist out next year?”
“Probably. Once their promotions in Japan are over.”
“Oh wow, then it’ll be really hard for you to get any support. It’s tough competing for backing inside the company.”
“Well, you know…”
“You better succeed quickly… next year you’ll be in your late twenties, right?”
Baek Songyi felt a flash of anger.
She didn’t know how being twenty-six counted as “late twenties,” but for an unknown female singer, her mid-twenties were definitely a risky age.
“Maybe you should start looking for another career quickly…”
“Thanks for your concern.”
Baek Songyi endured it.
She had started as a trainee at eighteen, and now it was her seventh year in the industry. She’d heard worse.
However, the next words made the expressions of Baek Songyi and the other Personal Color members harden.
“Poor managers, wasting their time on hopeless singers.”
“Choosing the right team is a skill too.”
They whispered among themselves, but their voices weren’t exactly quiet.
“An Jia sunbaenim must be so frustrated too.”
“If only Jia sunbaenim were in our team…”
Manager Kwon Hosan, clenching his fists, looked past the Dream Girls members to the man standing behind them.
Jeon Heeseong.
A former MOK manager who had switched companies—now the head manager for Dream Girls.
Jeon Heeseong, who had been a trainee alongside Kwon Hosan, had always felt a sense of defeat and inferiority toward him.
Kwon Hosan, for his part, had never liked Jeon Heeseong’s petty character.
He figured today’s situation was probably also due to Jeon Heeseong’s scheming.
And that made Kwon Hosan feel guilty.
It felt like the Personal Color members were being mocked because of him.
But he couldn’t step in directly.
A little tension between singers could be dismissed as harmless rivalry, but if managers got involved, it could blow up into something much bigger.
In this case, he had no choice but to trust and leave it to Personal Color.
Though really, all they can do is endure…
Meanwhile, the Dream Girls members were trying to talk to An Jia.
Even though An Jia was clearly showing she didn’t want to engage, they persisted.
And if you listened carefully, their words were all about belittling Personal Color while flattering An Jia.
Just as Manager Kwon Hosan let out a deep sigh and Manager Jeon Heeseong smirked in satisfaction—
“Is this the middle of a nightmare or what?”
From the multipurpose room in the right corner of the waiting room, a man walked out.
It was Oh Hanbit.
At his sudden appearance, the Dream Girls members flinched in surprise before greeting him in their usual, corny slogan.
“Hello! See you in your dreams! We’re Dream Girls!”
“Come on, don’t do that,” Hanbit said.
“Huh?”
“I barely get any sleep as it is with this schedule. When I do sleep, I want it to be peaceful.”
“Uh… yes, of course. You should get good sleep.”
Oh Hanbit sighed deeply and spoke loudly, almost like he was whispering.
“Not sure if you really don’t get it, or if you’re just pretending…”
The Dream Girls members faces stiffened at his open hostility.
In truth, the seniority between Oh Hanbit and Dream Girls was unclear.
Hanbit had become publicly known first as a contestant on Tomorrow K-Star last year, but he hadn’t officially debuted yet.
Maybe because of that, Dream Girls’ leader Lucid stepped up confidently.
“Are you saying that to us?”
“I was just talking to myself. Like someone else was earlier.”
“Seriously, do you have a problem with us?”
“It’s just uncomfortable to watch something so low-class right next to me. Oh, and again—that’s just me talking to myself.”
At Hanbit’s nonchalant reply, Lucid’s face flushed red.
“Who do you think you are, acting like that?”
“Yeah, I don’t know either. But seeing you guys show off just because you’re a first-place candidate, it does make me feel like maybe I’m a little better.”
“And you weren’t even a first-place candidate?”
At Lucid’s retort, Hanbit showed a disbelieving look.
“Lucid, are you stupid? My song will start being counted on the music charts from next week, obviously. Now, pop quiz. Will my ranking be higher or lower than yours?”
His tone, like a kindergarten teacher, made Lucid snap.
“Doesn’t matter, you’re still below Cha Hye-mi.”
“…”
Hanbit flinched.
Lucid thought she had found his weak spot.
“Looks like Autumn Leaf swept up all the wins. If anyone should be bragging, it’s Cha Hye-mi.”
At that, Hanbit hesitated for a moment before replying.
“Hye-mi probably hates you too.”
“Yeah right. Singers relate more to vocalists than rappers, you know.”
In the music industry, there was still a tendency to side with your own genre.
Ballad singers usually supported ballad singers, and dance singers stuck with dance singers.
So Lucid’s point wasn’t entirely wrong.
“So you think Hye-mi likes you?”
“Of course.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
Lucid flinched.
Because that “no” didn’t come from Oh Hanbit.
It came from Cha Hye-mi herself, who stepped out while pulling back a curtain.
“I don’t like rude people.”
At Hye-mi’s appearance, Dream Girls quickly scurried away, and the waiting room regained its peace.
The Personal Color members glanced at Hanbit, who still looked furious, and Hye-mi, who wore a cold expression, with new eyes.
They had no reason to be angry on their behalf, but—
“Hyung, is it always like this?” Hanbit asked Woochan.
Both Hanbit and Hye-mi didn’t have much experience with music shows, having come from audition programs.
“Not always. Just… sometimes there are really rude ones.”
“So basically there are plenty of teams like that?”
“Well…”
“Just wait.”
Hanbit pulled out his phone and texted his manager.
After a moment, he received a satisfying reply and nodded.
“Hye-mi, you busy?”
“Other than a lunchbox interview during lunchtime, not really.”
“Then let’s stay here. If you and I hang around, those arrogant punks won’t be able to show off.”
“I was planning to stay anyway.”
And just as Hanbit had predicted, that’s exactly what happened.
The singers who came into the waiting room intending to look down on Personal Color had no choice but to greet quietly and leave when they saw Oh Hanbit and Cha Hye-mi there.
With the No. 1 and No. 2 artists on the combined music chart sitting together, no one dared show off.
But it didn’t end there.
Cha Hye-mi and Oh Hanbit even accompanied Personal Color in making rounds to the senior artists’ waiting rooms.
Cha Hye-mi did so under the excuse of being part of MOK, and Hanbit used his friendship with Woochan as his reason.
It was common for close or same-company artists to visit senior colleagues like this.
Thanks to them, Personal Color enjoyed a rare, peaceful wait.
And naturally, while spending time together, they grew closer to Hanbit and Hye-mi.
After some time passed, Hanbit and Hye-mi had to return to their own waiting rooms for camera rehearsals and interviews.
Before they left, Baek Songyi asked:
“I’m curious about something…”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you help us so much? Was it because we’re from the same company? Or because you’re friends with Woochan oppa?”
The first part was directed at Hye-mi, the second at Hanbit.
“There’s that too, but…”
They both gave the same answer, despite the different questions.
“They looked down on you because they thought no one was watching.”
At first, Baek Songyi didn’t quite understand what they meant.
But then she recalled—
‘Pity those poor managers with no eye for talent.’
‘Choosing the right team is a skill too.’
The words that Dream Girls leader Lucid had thrown at them.
Baek Songyi smiled.
Because she found it strangely touching, the way Hanbit and Hye-mi trusted and cared so deeply for Han Seon-ho.
And because—
I’m starting to look forward to it too.
She smiled because of that feeling of excitement.
And she wasn’t alone.
The other members, who had quietly listened, seemed to feel the same.
The long, but never boring, rehearsal time finally came to an end.
At last, the broadcast of Music Box began.
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