Episode 66: Reverse Scale
“You’re here? Perfect timing—just finished. Go wash up and come out.”
When I returned home, Zia was in the middle of preparing the batter for kimchi pancakes, with sliced squid already set aside.
From the phone placed on one corner of the island table where Zia stood, Hylliy’s song was playing.
“Hmm. Smells good.”
I realized it was a cross-edited video of Hylliy’s performance only after finishing my shower.
It was at that moment, sprawled on the table as if enchanted by the savory aroma of the frying kimchi pancakes and Zia’s skillful handling of the pan.
“Those Hylliy kids. Their off-stage selves and on-stage personas are completely different.”
The building housed only Lee Ahjeong’s family, Hylliy, and our couple as residents.
With no other eyes around, the Hylliy members, once their activities were over, tended to roam the building quite freely, which had helped Zia build quite a rapport with them.
I deliberately kept a slight distance, but that didn’t mean I was unaware of the Highly members’ personalities.
“Well, yeah.”
With that brief reply, I headed toward the refrigerator.
The savory yet spicy scent wafting from the pan had stirred a craving for alcohol.
“The smell is killer. Want a drink?”
“We only have beer right now.”
“Beer’s fine, isn’t it?”
As I pulled out a six-pack from the fridge, I mulled over Zia’s words again.
After all, that’s practically the fate of those who have to stand in front of cameras.
‘Especially idols, even more so.’
Unlike other celebrities whose off-camera lives aren’t so exposed, idols, who constantly interact with fans, have to align every move with their expectations.
‘Of course, that’s a story that doesn’t concern me anymore.’
At that moment, Zia brought over the golden-brown pancakes and, waiting for me to return to the table, asked in a seemingly casual tone.
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah. I’m a bit curious. Yujin-ah, you don’t go on music shows?”
No matter how distracted I was by the feast before me, I wasn’t oblivious to the intent behind that question.
“Would you like me to go on them?”
“Yeah. I know you don’t like it, but…”
“Huh?”
I’d never mentioned music shows to Zia.
But her next words carried a shock that felt like a light tap on the back of my head.
“Ailee, the team leader, came to the café last time and asked if I could help persuade you since you don’t like going on music shows. Oh, of course, I told her there’s nothing I can do if you’re against it.”
Only then did I understand why Ailee had backed off more easily than expected.
She’d planted a surprise in the main camp.
‘Cunning move. Well, that makes sense.’
Even though MyWay respects artists’ wishes, it’s not a charity—it’s a profit-making organization, and an executive not even attempting to persuade for profit would be a clear breach of duty.
‘But I didn’t expect her to recruit Zia.’
Truth be told, I wasn’t planning to just plug my ears and act childish with a simple ‘No, I don’t want to.’
If they pushed a bit more, I was considering asking Zia’s opinion and agreeing to appear on the four major music shows for about a week.
Of course, that would’ve been off the table if Zia wasn’t keen on it.
“After hearing that, I got a bit curious about why you don’t go. I’m not trying to force you into something you hate, so don’t feel pressured.”
“Honestly, music shows aren’t exactly a great setup. Singers are stuck there all day, and fans have to invest a whole day just for a 3-minute performance. The only ones benefiting are the broadcasters.”
“Oh…”
As Zia nodded as if she finally understood, I smiled slightly and asked.
“Still want to see me there?”
“Hmm… I did feel a little curious, but after hearing that, it feels like it might not be necessary…”
“Really?”
In truth, the game was over with just that one line, ‘I wanted to see that.’
“OK. I guess once wouldn’t hurt.”
“Huh? You’re going?”
“Yeah. You said you wanted to see it.”
“Uh… You’re not mad, are you…?”
Was it because my answer was too cool?
“I’m not mad. Just a bit surprised.”
I honestly shared my feelings with Zia, who asked cautiously.
If I were the type to get upset over this, I wouldn’t have shown her how much I melt at her words from the start.
Rather, I’d be glad if others made requests to Zia, and I’d want Zia to feel confident enough to say this much to me.
‘She’s the “other owner” of my songs, after all. She deserves that much pride.’
From Shooting star onward, the songs I create and sing are all inspired by Zia, so she has every right to that.
Besides, Zia would never suggest something harmful or uncomfortable for me.
“No… It’s just that, for someone who said no from the start, you accepted it too easily, and it’s a bit bewildering…”
Of course, Zia, who still has a long way to go to reach that level of confidence, avoided my gaze after nodding without much thought and took a swig of beer.
“Yeah, I still don’t like it. If I do one major show, I’ll have to do the other three too. Four days a week stuck in that schedule, being away from you that much—obviously, I hate it.”
As my answer continued, I pressed on with a suppressed laugh as Zia’s eyes grew wider.
“But what can I do? Even if it means being apart from you for a bit, what you want matters more. I can endure a week, what choice do I have? But just one week, okay? Even if you beg, I won’t do more than that.”
“Cough!”
Beyond the theoretical talk, the heartfelt confession came a beat late.
In the end, Zia coughed and spat out a bit of the beer she’d been gulping.
“Han Yujin… You…!”
“Ugh. Zia, how old are you to spill this?”
Overwhelmed by the sudden affection without any warning, Zia’s face turned bright red, and she sank under my playful retort after taking it in stride.
“…I’ll… go share some of this with the neighbors upstairs…!”
Zia grabbed the separately prepared kimchi pancakes and hurriedly fled outside.
“Hmm… Hylliy shouldn’t eat that.”
Maybe Lee Ahjeong or her family wouldn’t mind, but Hylliy, even in their off-season, would struggle after eating that.
‘Well, they’ll figure it out.’
Instead of worrying, I pulled out my phone and typed three consonants—ㅇㅇㄹ—to bring up a contact number on the screen.
“Yes, Yujin-ssi.”
“Yes, Ailee. I’ll do it.”
“Oh…”
As soon as the call connected, Ailee’s voice carried a relieved sigh at my immediate point.
“But only Music On’s ‘On Stage,’ SBC’s ‘Live Music Center,’ CBC’s ‘Song for You,’ and HBS’s ‘Music Square’—those four, excluding any extras. Please arrange it as a one-round special stage and be done with it.”
“Oh…”
Of course, that relief quickly turned to disappointment, but
“Understood. I’ll proceed with that.”
She seemed to recognize that it’s better to be grateful for even just one week of appearances rather than none at all.
And,
“Please convey my thanks to Zia-ssi.”
Ailee added the expected remark. A chuckle escaped me at her thoughtful follow-up, so different from others’ tactics.
“Say it yourself. You seem to have gotten pretty close with her, Ailee.”
“Yes. I’ll visit Zia-ssi separately and tell her myself.”
Pleased with that response, I subtly shared the most crucial caution—likely not written in the ‘Han Yujin User Manual’—with her.
“Ailee. Don’t get too deeply involved.”
“…!”
The point that, for someone like Han Yujin, Woo Zia is both a master key and a reverse scale.
After a brief silence at my warning-laden advice, Ailee responded with a slightly firm but not displeased tone.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
With that, I felt the lines we should respect were clearly drawn between us. I injected some warmth into my voice and shifted the topic.
“By the way, please take good care of ‘that’ too?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s already almost unanimously approved within the team. For now, we’re letting the parties rest, planning to inform them next week. I’m sure ‘those kids’ will like it. I guarantee it.”
“Yes, understood. See you next time.”
“Yes. Rest well, Yujin-ssi.”
Hanging up, I leaned back in my chair and tilted my head up slightly. Imagining ‘those kids’—the future protagonists of 1.5 step—rejoicing over the glossy, calorie-packed bombs Zia brought upstairs, I let out a small laugh.
‘Enjoy it while you can, Hylliy sunbaenims.’
The first taste of producer Han Yujin’s whip will be quite formidable. Even Zia deserves some carrots.
***
The music show schedule progressed at a breakneck pace, as if cooking beans over a lightning fire.
With the Shooting star craze dominating YouTube and SNS, it’s natural for broadcasters to act fast, unsure when the hype might die down. Slipping my slot into their backup time slots prepared for unexpected mishaps isn’t a tough task.
The schedule was set to tour the major music shows in order: starting with Music On’s ‘On Stage,’ followed by HBS’s ‘Music Square,’ CBC’s ‘Song for You,’ and SBC’s ‘Live Music Center.’
And today, the filming day for the first major music show of the tour, ‘On Stage.’
In the car, where only Suhyuk and I had been, two unfamiliar faces joined us.
“Suhyuk-ah. Don’t go all the way to the signal; turn right up ahead. The navigation always suggests that route, but if you miss the timing, you’ll be stuck at the signal forever.”
“Yep, got it.”
In the passenger seat, guiding Su-hyuk with a shortcut, was Bong Cheol-jin, the chief manager and Suhyuk’s mentor.
Even if Suhyuk is destined to become an SSS-grade manager, music shows are a chaotic battlefield combining the savagery of savannahs, jungles, and deep seas. Unlike the relatively tame Blind Singer or Midnight Café, where chaos is a parade in music shows, I couldn’t leave my care solely to Suhyuk. For this tour, Bong Cheol-jin decided to join the schedule.
‘That guy came from Sunshine, I think.’
A future MyWay director, I know a bit about his past too. Starting his career as a road manager for Sunshine—one of the top three idol agencies—he’s the perfect choice to guide Suhyuk through this chaos.
“…”
And next to me, silently organizing a makeup case, was Yoon Na-hee, a new connection I first met at Lee Ahjeong’s concert.
Until now, I hadn’t worked with a stylist, but showing up at a music broadcast without one would’ve been like stepping outside without clothes.
‘Yujin-ssi, you’re doing music shows? Wait, you don’t have a stylist. Na-hee-ya, could you join him? Go with Na-hee, Yujin-ssi.’
Lee Ahjeong personally assigned her stylist to me. I don’t know much about her career, but being part of Lee Ahjeong’s inner circle is proof enough of her skill.
‘With this lineup, I guess there’s no need to worry.’
Though they’re technically mercenaries, this well-assembled squad might give Suhyuk a chance to absorb Bong Cheol-jin’s expertise.
[TL Note: Above, “용병” (yongbyeong) literally means mercenary — but in Korean, it doesn’t necessarily imply soldiers-for-hire.
It’s often used figuratively to mean temporary hires, contract workers, or outside help brought in for a specific task.]
“Hmm. Turn in there. Yujin-ssi, this is Music On.”
At Bong Cheol-jin’s voice calling my name, I looked up to see the first battlefield looming ahead.