translation by mourningmoor
At the back of the stage, a large blue crescent moon appeared on the LED screen.
As the mournful sound of the daegeum (traditional Korean flute) echoed sorrowfully and the lights gradually brightened, a figure crouching in a corner of the stage came into view.
It was Ichan.
Slowly rising to his feet, Ichan wore a vibrant red mask on his face.
Black slacks and a sheer black blouse. Over it, he wore a cheollik (traditional Korean overcoat) like a robe.
Then, the newly arranged melody of <Mask> filled the stage.
The daegeum was joined by the haegeum (traditional Korean string instrument), followed by the sounds of an electric guitar and a taepyeongso (traditional Korean wind instrument).
Holding a microphone, Ichan delivered a gritty rap as he slowly walked to the front of the stage. Then, he threw off the mask.
The music gradually transformed into a powerful house-style EDM.
Switching between vocals and rap without a single break in his breathing.
Ichan, who had completely transformed the cheerful 90s funk dance track into a house music piece infused with traditional Korean elements, showcased a perfect performance with choreography reminiscent of samulnori (traditional Korean percussion performance).
In the final part, as all the instruments quieted down and only the sound of the daegeum remained on the stage, Ichan quietly put the red mask back on his face.
Before long, even the sound of the daegeum faded, and a blue silence enveloped the stage.
The set remained quiet until Ichan removed the mask and returned to the center of the stage. Not even the sound of breathing could be heard.
Just as I thought there might have been a broadcast accident, Yoon Jooeon stood up from her seat and clapped. Lee Nayoung and the other judges followed suit.
The contestants were no different.
“Wow, he killed it.”
“This is what it means to tear up the stage.”
“Chills. I’ve got chills all over my body right now.”
It was pure chaos.
Everyone applauded, unable to deny the brilliance of the performance.
The judges were no exception.
They praised the performance, saying it was so intense that it made them forget the previous six <Mask> performances.
Then, Lee Nayoung asked a question.
“Ichan-ssi. After the second round ended, we had a brief conversation, right? What you described back then wasn’t this kind of performance.”
Lee Nayoung paused, pondered for a moment, and then continued.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to arrange it like classical music and incorporate modern dance? That you wanted to express the masks worn by humans living in modern times, hiding their dark inner selves.”
At Lee Nayoung’s question, the set buzzed with murmurs.
So, the performance Ichan had originally planned was quite similar in format to the one Taei had just shown.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Then why did you change it?”
After a moment of thought, Ichan replied in a calm voice.
“That was indeed the initial idea. I started working on it that way when I returned to the studio. I even shared it with my members and got their feedback.”
“And then?”
Not only Lee Nayoung but everyone else held their breath, waiting for Ichan’s answer. Depending on his response, things could get messy, and fan wars could break out over whose idea came first.
But the answer that came back was unexpected.
“I thought it was a really good idea, but upon reflection, the format was too similar to the title track of our mini-album that was released not long ago.”
At Ichan’s answer, Lee Nayoung’s mouth fell open.
Now that she thought about it, the vibe was very similar.
“You’re right. I watched that music video—black stage, classical music, narrative structure, modern dance.”
She hadn’t seen Ichan’s planned performance, so she couldn’t compare, but the stage Taei had just shown was very similar to it.
Things were taking an interesting turn.
But Ichan, as if unfazed, continued in a calm voice.
“I almost made the serious mistake of self-plagiarism, so I boldly discarded it.”
Before Lee Nayoung could say anything, Yoon Jooeon chimed in.
“You threw away something that good and came up with this performance instead?”
“Yes. I thought, in an era where traditional culture is gaining attention, why not incorporate traditional Korean music? There’s already a lot of music blending traditional elements these days.”
At Ichan’s answer, Yoon Jooeon let out a hearty laugh, clearly satisfied.
“That was an excellent choice. Thanks to you, I’ve been treated to a feast for the ears, eyes, and soul.”
The other judges also poured out praise.
“Even if it was self-plagiarism, it would’ve been fine. I’d love to see that performance you mentioned.”
“Same here. After this shoot, I’m going straight to watch L.I.T.’s music video.”
The atmosphere was warm and cheerful as the final performance of the third round concluded.
First place? Of course, it was Kang Ichan.
* * *
Congratulatory messages poured in.
Naturally, they were from our members.
Despite their busy schedules, it seemed they had all watched the <Survival, Music Genius> broadcast.
Maknae (Jaewon):
Our leader just killed it. I feel so refreshed. (Photo)
Jaewon attached a photo of a famous soda ad featuring a digestive medicine.
Siu:
I feel refreshed too. And here’s Taei sunbaenim’s expression during your performance. I captured it. (Photo)
The photo Siu sent was of Taei sitting in the waiting room, watching my performance. His jawline was prominent from clenching his teeth.
He must be fuming.
Hanjoon:
Hey, now that it’s over, come quickly. Let’s have a party or something.
Roa:
Hyung-nim, congratulations on first place. It was the best performance.
After checking the group chat messages, I smiled and replied.
Me:
Thanks, everyone. You all worked hard. In that spirit, how about some tteokbokki and fried snacks?
Hanjoon:
Deal.
Jaewon:
Yes! Grandma’s snack bar?
Siu:
I love Grandma’s snack bar too.
Roa:
Oh, I’ll be at the company soon, so I can make it.
Everyone’s obsessed with tteokbokki and fried snacks.
Me:
Alright. I’m treating today, so let’s meet at Grandma’s snack bar in 30 minutes.
After sending the message, I leaned back deeply into the car seat and recalled the series of events. Everything had fallen into place like gears meshing perfectly.
“The real MVP is Lee Nayoung.”
No, wait. The real MVP is Kwon Taei.
Smirking, I clicked on the photo Siu sent again.
He definitely looks pissed.
“What a simple-minded guy.”
Last week, after the second round ended, I was about to leave the studio when Lee Nayoung called me.
She struck up a conversation, saying that the mission song <Mask> must be tricky to arrange.
From her question about whether I had a direction in mind for the arrangement, it seemed she was planning to mentor me.
We talked near the sofa by the pillar at the studio entrance. As we sat there with vending machine coffee, I noticed Kwon Taei hiding behind the pillar, trying to eavesdrop.
Seeing Taei trying to hide his presence, I thought this was an opportunity that wouldn’t come easily.
So, I answered Lee Nayoung’s question in a fairly loud voice.
I hoped Taei would take the bait I was throwing.
When I returned to the company, I told the members exactly what I had discussed with Lee Nayoung. Naturally, they all objected.
[This guy’s really something. Are you kidding? Stop self-plagiarizing.]
[Hyung-nim. That’s way too similar to Another World.]
[Ha, Kang Ichan. Have you run out of ideas?]
[I think that’s a bit off too.]
As they frowned and objected, I finally revealed my true intentions.
[Predictable, right? Self-plagiarism? Even if we’re copying our own work, it’s shameless, isn’t it?]
[Of course. That’s something we’ve already used. Taking it as is without any variation is just shameless.]
[So, here’s the thing. I’m aiming for that.]
Then, I laid out the plan.
I had deliberately leaked the concept to Lee Nayoung, and Taei had overheard it.
Would that guy take the bait? Or not?
[If he has a conscience, he won’t take it. It’s a shameful thing to do.]
When Siu asked, Hanjoon shook his head.
[I think he’ll take it. That guy’s got a sneaky look in his eyes.]
So, I made a suggestion.
[Then, let’s run a little experiment.]
We held a serious meeting and created a fake draft to make the bait more convincing.
[I’m curious how he’ll approach this.]
Around that time, the members had vaguely noticed that there was a rat in the company.
[If we play this right, we can kill two birds with one stone.]
That’s how we set the trap.
We created a fake draft and made a show of practicing noisily in the practice room.
The real draft was only shared among the members at the dorm, and the choreography practice was done secretly with just Roa.
After a few days, as expected, the rat made its move.
* * *
The young man, who had been an intern in the accounting team at Blade Entertainment for eight months, was busy as usual today.
Landing a job at an entertainment agency, even as an intern, was an excellent choice.
Here, even with a meager intern salary, there were endless opportunities to make several times that amount.
It started with selling data. Even if the photos weren’t high quality, it didn’t matter. Just capturing a star’s everyday life would explode in views. Views meant money, so despite knowing it was illegal, he diligently took photos.
Then, he started touching the stars’ belongings.
He once sold a towel Jaewon from L.I.T. had used to wipe his sweat for 200,000 won.
One of Seo Woomin from Dinaple’s earrings sold for 170,000 won, and a paper cup Yoon Siu from L.I.T. had drank from went for 120,000 won.
Before long, he started receiving secret orders.
For example, someone asked for an item with Kang Ichan’s scent or photos of Hanjoon working out, things like that.
But recently, a very peculiar order came in.
They wanted tangible information related to Kang Ichan’s <Survival, Music Genius>. The fee offered was eye-wateringly high.
An advance payment plus a success fee.
It was equivalent to four months’ salary.
It wasn’t easy for an accounting intern to access the artists’ studios, but thanks to Ichan’s carelessness, he managed to infiltrate the studio easily.
Moreover, as if the heavens were on his side, the <Survival, Music Genius 3rd Round Stage Plan> was lying right on the studio desk.
It was almost too easy. That’s why he felt uneasy somewhere deep down.
When the third round of <Survival, Music Genius> Season 2 ended, he vaguely realized something was wrong.
The young man, who had been watching the live broadcast in the 7th-floor employee lounge of Blade Entertainment, tried to shake off the ominous feeling and turned off the TV.
Just then, the lounge door opened, and Manager Lee Gyuhyung from the management team walked in.
Facing Gyuhyung, L.I.T.’s chief manager, his heart raced.
Normally, he would’ve just nodded and passed by without acknowledging him.
“Jang Inho-ssi?”
But Manager Lee Gyuhyung called out to him.
And with a very fierce look in his eyes.