Episode 14: Connections Are Power
The day of the alumni sports festival arrived.
Free Sense, Team Leader Jeon, and I headed to Pocheon, Gyeonggi-do, where my dad’s alma mater was located.
Since it was a short event, no stylist joined us.
The performance was set for 20 minutes, with a total of four songs.
Two were trendy trot songs requested by the organizers, one was their usual event song, ‘Cruel Breakup’, and the last was their own track, ‘How Do I Look Today?’.
The alumni coordinator set Free Sense’s fee higher than their usual rate.
It still wouldn’t cover our operational costs, but as my dad said, “We’re family!”—so we got some perks.
The event ran from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., with Free Sense’s performance scheduled for 1 p.m., right after lunch.
We arrived around noon.
[Shinwhan High School Alumni Association 12th Family Sports Festival]
As we drove through the main gate, the courtyard where the event was happening came into view.
A soccer game was in full swing, and on one side, people were playing a game tossing balls into baskets.
According to my dad, who’d left earlier with my mom, the full alumni reunion draws over 800 people, but this event was for select graduating classes, so the crowd was smaller.
Glancing around as we headed to the parking lot, I estimated about 100 people.
“Hyun-jong, watch out for the kids nearby.”
“Yes, I see them.”
Somehow, three elementary school-aged girls had figured out this was a celebrity van and were chasing after it, sticking close as we crawled along.
They must’ve heard a girl group was coming for the guest performance.
As soon as we parked, they pressed their faces against the tinted windows, trying to peek inside.
Like kids at a zoo urging lazy animals to move, they buzzed with excited voices.
“Who are they? Can you see?”
“No, it’s too dark to see anything.”
“Who could it be? A famous group?”
While the Free Sense members checked their faces with their phone cameras, Team Leader Jeon called the event company staff handling the performance.
“We’re at the parking lot. Can we do the rehearsal now? Okay, we’ll be there in five minutes.”
After hanging up, he pulled out a small box containing the MR USB and gave me a rundown on basic event tasks.
He’d handle it today, but it seemed like he was prepping me to take over next time.
“For an event like this, you don’t need a full stage rehearsal. Just play the MR, check the mics and monitor speakers, and you’re good. Oh, and when the audience is already here, like now, use the rehearsal MR—the one without doubling.”
“What’s doubling?”
“It’s when the vocals and harmonies are pre-recorded and layered in.”
“Oh…”
So that’s why most performances these days are half lip-synced with pre-recorded vocals. Without them, you’d hear their raw singing.
“During music shows, when groups win first place and do an encore, they use a raw MR with nothing layered. They need to talk and greet fans, so pre-recorded vocals can’t be playing.”
“Oh… like when no one’s singing during a first-place pledge, but the song still plays?”
“Exactly. That’s the sound engineer messing up. It makes viewers think, ‘Oh, they were lip-syncing,’ like that ‘Ladya’ controversy a while back.”
He added that even skilled ballad singers use pre-recorded high notes.
“The file labeled ‘for performance’ is the main MR with doubling. The one with just the title is the raw rehearsal MR. Don’t mix them up—make sure to tell the sound engineer when they check the files.”
“Got it.”
“Let’s get out.”
I muttered his instructions to myself as I stepped out of the van.
Jeon strode toward the event staff area.
“I’ll head over first. Bring the kids.”
“Yes.”
As the Free Sense members got out, the starry-eyed elementary kids’ expressions turned ambiguous.
One of them, blatantly disappointed, boldly asked the members,
“What’s your team’s name?”
“Free Sense,” Seung-ah answered.
The girl immediately searched “Free Sense” on her phone.
The other two crowded around to look.
One whispered to another, but her lip movements were clear, and her voice leaked out slightly.
“No autocomplete for this nobody group…”
My face flushed with secondhand embarrassment.
How hurt must the girls feel?
I was about to scold the kid for being rude in front of them when Seung-ah spoke up in a friendly tone.
“How old are you guys?”
“We’re in fifth grade. Twelve.”
“Which girl groups do you like?”
“RoseDia and YooA unnie!”
“Wow, I love them too! I’m a big RoseDia fan.”
“No way, have you met them?”
“Are you close?”
“Yeah, I trained with Yuyeon and Jung-ah from ‘RoseDia’.”
“OMG, Yuyeon’s my favorite!”
“Oh, really?”
Seung-ah seamlessly switched to a casual tone, keeping the conversation flowing.
“I’m close with the other members too. They’re all so nice.”
“That’s so cool!”
“Is it true Yuyeon looks even better in person than on screen?”
“Totally, she’s a total visual slayer.”
“Call her on video!”
“Huh? Right now?”
“You said you’re close!”
These kids…
Time to step in.
Since managers can get caught up in controversies over conduct, I spoke as politely as possible.
“Sorry, but we need to head to rehearsal now.”
But one of the kids, still glued to her phone, ignored me and raised her voice in surprise.
“Wait? They’re from the same company as GraceOne? No way!”
“Seriously? VIP?”
“Yeah, their profile says VIP!”
“Isn’t that a different company?”
All three turned to look at me and the members.
I quickly stepped between the members and the kids, cutting off their excitement.
“Sorry, sorry.”
As I tried to usher the members away, a woman’s voice called “Seung-ah!” from Seung-ah’s phone.
She’d actually video-called Yuyeon from RoseDia.
“Can you talk?”
–“Yup, yup! I’m waiting for Music Top right now!”
“Oh, it’s Music Top day, huh? I’m at an event, and there are a ton of your fans here. I mentioned we’re close, and they asked me to call you.”
–“Oh, really?”
Seung-ah turned the screen toward the kids, letting them chat.
Not only Yuyeon but, thankfully, the entire RoseDia crew popped in to say hi, boosting Seung-ah’s cred.
I called Team Leader Jeon to explain the situation, buying some time.
Thanks to Seung-ah’s fan service, the kids’ view of Free Sense completely shifted.
They insisted on taking photos and vowed to become fans.
During the performance after the rehearsal, those kids stood right at the front, hyping up the crowd like they were worth a hundred fans.
Of course, the overall chaotic, scattered vibe of the event didn’t change.
“My ball!”
“Pass it straight!”
“Hey, pass it already!”
“Sorry!”
Just as I’d seen in the future video, while Free Sense performed, a volleyball game roared on one side of the courtyard with loud shouts, and drunk older folks and preschoolers danced with National Singing Contest and kindergarten recital-level energy.
The trot songs somewhat fit the mood, but their own songs felt out of place.
It was like serving pizza, freshwater spicy stew, and ice cream cake on the same table.
I recorded the performance using the company phone and my own for stage footage.
Seeing it live, it didn’t feel as pitiful as in the video, which was a relief.
Or wait—maybe that’s not good? Shouldn’t it evoke some sympathy for a fancam to work?
Eh, editing will fix it.
Whatever happens, happens.
After the performance, the Free Sense members took photos with their one-day fans waiting below the stage, fulfilling their duties to the end.
As I escorted them back to the parking lot, Team Leader Jeon called out to me.
“Go say hi to your parents. You haven’t greeted them yet.”
“No, it’s fine. My dad said not to acknowledge him when he’s working.”
“Work’s done now. Come on, I need to greet them too. I’m your boss, after all.”
“Then I’ll take the members to the car first—”
“I wanna go too.”
Jin-ah, sticking to Jeon like she was answering an OX quiz, cut in.
I asked, “Why you?”
“I wanna meet Hyun-jong-ssi’s Creators.”
She mumbled “Creators… Creations… pfft” to herself, giggling.
She’s clearly obsessed with the term.
Seems like once she latches onto something, she milks it until she’s bored.
Come to think of it, the stag beetle and Pikachu katsu talk has quietly disappeared.
“Let’s all go then.”
“Yeah, it’d be weird if only Jin-ah went and not the rest of us.”
Seung-ah and Ah-hyun joined Team Leader Jeon’s side.
And so, we all swarmed over to the tent where my Creators—my parents—were.
My parents, faces flushed from drinking and chatting with alumni, widened their eyes in surprise.
“Whoa? My son!”
“Oh my, you all came together!”
“Hello, sir, ma’am. I’m Jeon Min-yong, Hyun-jong’s boss.”
“Yes, yes. We’ve heard so much about you. We’re always worried about whether our inexperienced son is doing well.”
“No, no, Hyun-jong’s doing great.”
“That kid used to wet his pants until high school. He’d get so caught up gaming at the PC bang that on his way home, he couldn’t hold it for those few seconds in the elevator… The darkest hour is just before dawn, tsk tsk.”
Dad, noooo!
Is this TMI onslaught for real?!
It hurts—way too much!
Mom smacked Dad’s shoulder, frowning.
Yes, Mom, please stop him…
“Ugh, he tried to handle it himself in the bathroom, but the smell, oh, the smell… His little sister came home from cram school and asked if we were making fermented soybean paste. Hahaha!”
Mom, why are you piling on?!
The Creators, perfectly in sync, roasted their Creation with glee, and the alumni responded with hearty laughs and dad jokes.
“Geez, how can you say that in front of his boss!”
One alumnus said, and Dad, as if waiting for the cue, fired back.
“That’s why I’m saying it in front of his boss. It’s about his colon!”
“Oh, *that* kind of colon!”
“Exactly! Hahaha!”
Colon, poop—some kind of dad-joke wordplay tech tree.
And what’s this?
Team Leader Jeon, whose dad jokes had been banned by the members’ earnest pleas, was grinning ear to ear.
His nostrils flared, and as if he couldn’t resist joining the dad-joke fray, he added his own.
“Haha, I get it now. That colon! As his boss, I’ll make sure Hyun-jong’s colon is well-managed from now on.”
Yup, that hit the spot for him.
Dad and the alumni roared with laughter at Jeon’s clincher, and he stood tall, shoulders squared, looking immensely proud.
This must be paradise for him.
The Free Sense members, aware I might be embarrassed by the poop talk, had been pretending not to notice, but after Jeon’s dad joke, they turned their heads away completely.
One alumnus gave the members a thumbs-up and spoke up.
“Great performance!”
“Thank you!”
“The singing and dancing were just, wow… amazing.”
“Thank you, haha…”
My dad has a habit of dribbling the ball 80 meters solo—going into verse two, three, four—if his jokes or stories get a good reaction.
Sure enough, his lips started twitching, waiting for a lull in the laughter and conversation to jump back in.
Clenching my teeth but keeping it playful, I said to him,
“Excuse me, Dad…? Why are you talking about poop in front of food? You’ve told that story enough to relatives and my friends when they visited. When are you going to stop?”
“You sacrifice a little, everyone gets a laugh—win-win.”
“Laughter’s great, but how about respecting your son’s human rights a bit…”
“Team Leader, take a seat.”
Dad sharply cut me off and offered Jeon a spot.
Then he asked a question he should’ve asked earlier.
“Do you have any other schedules?”
“No, this is our last one today.”
“Then stay for a meal. Singers, sit down too. You must be hungry after performing.”
“Yeah, come on, sit!”
With the alumni watching warmly, the three Free Sense members gathered around a table.
“Honey, get some food ready.”
“Sure, I’ll bring fresh rice and soup. Try what’s on the table first. The rice cakes are amazing, and the boiled pork is delicious too.”
“Wow, thank you!”
“We’ll eat well!”
“Boiled pork? Nice!”
“Team Leader, have a drink. Oh, or are you on duty?”
“No, no, pour me one.”
It’s starting to feel like an after-party.
Jeon sat at Dad’s table, while I joined the Free Sense members at another, eating together.
Thankfully, no one brought up my colon saga again.
After a while, an older man in hiking gear sitting next to Jeon pulled something from his bag and returned to the table.
It was a business card case. He handed a card to Jeon.
Jeon, checking it with a polite smile, suddenly looked shocked and stared at the man.
“Huh?”
What’s on that card to make him so speechless?
The man, sounding like a humble tycoon revealing his identity, spoke up.
“I can’t do anything huge, but I can get them a guest spot on ‘WeCanDoIt’. I could also get ‘MusicMarket’ to play their songs a few times. Just give me a call.”
The come up is happening
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