Episode 96: Underdog (2)
I need to correct myself.
The staff at MyWay aren’t clueless at all.
“You even gave us the hint that you’d do it yourself… Thank you, Yujin-ssi. If I’d known it would be like this, I should’ve asked much earlier.”
Challenges.
A promotional method that uses ultra-short-form content—Shorts and Reels—that lasts less than a minute and flashes by in the blink of an eye. At this point in time, it’s practically the mainstream trend.
Anyone who couldn’t think of that wouldn’t even deserve to have a foothold in this industry.
“You being busy was part of it… but honestly, it also seemed like you weren’t really comfortable appearing in front of the media. So we deliberately didn’t bring it up.”
They had considered using “me” to kick off the Mysty challenge wave, but there were two reasons they still didn’t make the suggestion to me.
First, MyWay is a place that unconditionally puts the artist’s wishes as the top priority.
And second, even though my identity as a producer has become a bit stronger, I’m still one of MyWay’s artists.
Since I’d cut Shooting Star’s promotions down to exactly one week and didn’t even stand on the showcase stage, they figured I personally disliked being exposed to the “media” and simply ruled out the possibility altogether.
‘Honestly, that’s pretty impressive.’
Now that I realize their earlier reactions were them instantly picking up on the signal I was sending—and on top of that, playing along like they hadn’t noticed—I almost feel a little embarrassed.
“I’ll do it. From now on, I’m fine with doing things like this anytime. Feel free to ask without holding back.”
“OK. Noted. If you ever feel uncomfortable, just say so. Really—no pressure. Otherwise I’ll get scolded.”
“Just prepare things that won’t make me uncomfortable, and we’re good.”
“That goes without saying… but we can’t exactly read your true feelings perfectly, Yujin-ssi.”
The head of the content planning team finished with a playful wink, and I responded with a small laugh.
As I was about to wrap up the short conversation and leave the meeting room,
“Ah. Right. Can I ask you one thing?”
The content planning team leader suddenly stopped walking and continued the question without even waiting for my answer.
“How did you manage to get those people on board? It doesn’t feel like you just casually asked about their willingness—the preparations already look completely done. Even if they’re people you’re personally close with, it couldn’t have been easy without any company-level support, right?”
“Ah, that.”
The entertainment industry is a business world, after all.
‘No matter how close the relationship, it’s realistically hard to just do favors for others without getting anything in return.’
Give & Take.
If you want to receive something, you have to give something.
“It wasn’t actually that difficult.”
Fortunately, these were things I could handle comfortably within my own capabilities.
“First, Sally sunbae was the easiest. It was exactly the same as with Se-hyuk sunbae.”
“Se-hyuk-ssi? Ah, the concert guest?”
“Yes. Applime concert.”
Last winter he’d turned it down, but this year when I asked again, he sent it back in just three hours.
“And for Pink Blossom and E-GIS, I gave them songs.”
“Songs? You gave them songs? You had more prepared?”
“To be precise, I didn’t exactly make them myself…”
The original plan was just to promise I’d make songs for them, but then I realized—there happened to be songs ready and available right now.
Three tracks from Ji-woo’s repertoire that had nearly been scrapped, but were revived once I put my hand to them.
One of them had already gone to its rightful owner, Park Juan, but the remaining two were still quietly sleeping in MyMusic’s database.
I hadn’t accepted the co-composer credit for this purpose, but…
‘Might as well use what’s already there.’
If left alone, those songs would’ve just faded away unnoticed in MyMusic’s database anyway.
The vibe didn’t really match Hylliy or Orion, and aside from those two, there was no one at MyWay who could properly digest them.
Leaving them buried for too long would mean they were already nearing the end of their trend cycle anyway.
“If they’re not going to MyWay, it’s better for everyone if they go to good owners who’ll appreciate them. Yujin, do whatever you think is best. You have the authority anyway.”
Even Ji-woo had said it so casually that it was basically common sense.
The song completed by sampling Ah-jeong’s track went to E-GIS, and the one rearranged in an anime-style went to Pink Blossom.
Both E-GIS and Pink Blossom were more than satisfied with the songs,
‘Sorry to put it this way toward Ji-woo, but…’
It was essentially a perfectly reasonable disposal of potential dead stock that might’ve turned into a liability.
Talk about a complete lucky break, right?
“Then what about Yell?”
The question naturally shifted toward Kim In.
Of course, my answer came out very smoothly.
“With In sunbae-nim, I just asked honestly. I said, ‘Please help me out just this once.’”
“And that guy actually agreed?”
“Yeah. He did.”
Seeing the team leader react with such surprise, it was clear he knew exactly what kind of singer Kim In was. Rock fans exist everywhere, so it wasn’t particularly strange.
I’d pretended otherwise, but Yell was the kind of stubborn band that absolutely never did anything they didn’t want to.
No matter how much Kim In liked me personally, the fact that a band with zero musical compromise had moved meant one thing:
‘They wanted this too.’
In fact, before the regression, the main content on Yell’s YouTube channel had been cover songs of countless idols.
The trigger was probably the rounds Kim In went through on <Blind Singer>.
My guess—that the taste of the 20s and 30s fans they’d gained there must’ve been pretty sweet—turned into certainty the moment he bit down hard on the bait I’d thrown.
“Dong-gyu hyung heard that In sunbae-nim was doing it and said it looked fun, so he decided to join in too.”
“Hahaha…”
Letting out that empty chuckle, the team leader then asked about the last helper.
“Then what about No Ji-yoon-ssi?”
“She’s doing it? A challenge? Ji-yoon is?”
“Ah.”
He immediately understood my answer.
‘How could Ji-yoon, whose main strength is performance, possibly pass up a challenge?’
No Ji-yoon was the kind of singer who didn’t need persuading or begging.
“Later, when Ji-yoon’s new song comes out, I promised to do one payback with her and Hylliy sunbae together. The sunbaes will at least do that much, right?”
“Of course they will. They have to.”
That condition had been the price for another request—the request not to do a challenge for Pleiades’ new song *Scarlet*—but there was no need to mention that part.
“I’ve done as much as I can. The real question now is how well this will actually work.”
That’s the crucial part.
Whether a challenge wave continues or fizzles out ultimately depends on the public’s taste.
Even a regressor grandpa like me can’t predict that with 100% certainty.
With that sentiment in my quiet mutter,
“If they can’t even take advantage when it’s being spoon-fed to them like this, they should cough up their salaries. You’ve already done more than enough, Yujin-ssi. From here on out, just leave it to us and the PR team.”
The content planning team leader thumped his own chest confidently as he answered,
***
It only took three days for his confidence to turn into reality.
That week, following <Song for You>, Hylliy also finished in 2nd place on <Live Music Center>.
[ I tried the Mysty Challenge myself~ ]
On YouTube,
[ Hylliy’s new song is actually insane?? ]
Across various online communities,
[ Underdog Revolution! The Mysty Syndrome sweeping across SNS! ]
And even in the entertainment section of news tabs.
Hylliy’s name was starting to stand out more than Pleiades’.
***
Monday, when two girl groups entered their third week of promotions.
“You what the hell did you do?”
Only on the fourth page of the newspaper could one find Pleiades’ name, and Lee Hee-kyung’s razor-sharp voice rang out through Starlight’s CEO office.
“You’re not sitting there just because you’re my little sister.”
Even though what Lee Hee-kyung was saying wasn’t something fit for public discussion, Lee Hee-yeon could only keep her mouth shut.
Because in the span of just one weekend, the entire idol industry atmosphere had completely flipped—and yes, her own negligence was definitely part of the reason.
They were steadily holding onto 1st place on the charts, but finishing 2nd on music shows—maybe that was why.
The image was building that Hylliy wasn’t getting a fair evaluation because of Pleiades’ overwhelming fandom size.
And this time, it hadn’t come through AZ as usual; it had taken a completely different route, bypassing everything, and public opinion had shifted before they could even react.
“Still, because of the groundwork we laid last week, I think we’ll have the advantage at least until this week. Even you can see that getting Triple Crown next week looks tough, right?”
“…”
Despite the tone that brutally shredded her self-esteem, Lee Hee-yeon didn’t offer any rebuttal. She simply endured the reprimand in silence.
She had long since learned that, with no way to turn the situation around right now, the right thing to do to avoid taking even bigger heat was to keep her mouth shut.
“Tch. MyWay has really changed a lot. To think they’d go all-in for the final week. I was wondering why AZ was so quiet, and then they come around the back and hit us like this.”
No matter how much Pleiades was currently the top girl group, there were still plenty of people who weren’t interested in idols and didn’t even know how many members Pleiades had.
When even a band like Yell was mobilized to target that very demographic, launching an all-directions pressure campaign—responding head-on would be too costly.
In the end, Lee Hee-kyung had no choice but to make the predetermined decision.
“Pleiades promotions—wrap them up after this week.”
“Wrap them up?”
“What, you want to go toe-to-toe and get crushed fair and square?”
“Rather than getting the image of running away…”
“Bullshit. We just frame it as us pulling out and them swooping in to take the empty spot. Do I really have to spell that out for you? That’s exactly why you’re sitting there.”
Lee Hee-yeon barely swallowed the surging irritation.
Lee Hee-kyung’s characteristic way of tearing down self-esteem was something she could never get used to, even after decades. But the biggest reason she couldn’t talk back was that she had no counterargument.
Lee Hee-kyung waved her hand dismissively, issuing the order to leave.
‘She’s not an idiot, at least.’
Even if she didn’t like her, she’d handle the wrap-up properly on her own.
“Tch.”
After clicking her tongue once, Lee Hee-kyung picked up her pen and wrote down a single name.
The biggest storm among the changes that had come to MyWay—the existence of this person was already something everyone in the know was aware of.
[Han Yujin]
Perhaps because it was once a name she had thought belonged to her.
Staring at the name she wrote in handwriting laced with irritation, Lee Hee-kyung’s eyes grew colder and colder.
“Ha, this bastard really fucking pisses me off.”
The problem, just like during the previous plagiarism incident, was that Lee Hee-kyung had no way to deal with Han Yujin.
He had become an even more untouchable core figure at MyWay, so all she could do was spit curses that would never reach him.
But that didn’t mean she could just sit back and watch.
‘Is this really the end?’
A vague premonition swept over her—that her bad blood with him wouldn’t end after just two rounds.
In fact, from Ji Se-hyuk’s support that turned the Pleiades vs. Hylliy confrontation into a near-even match, to the multi-front offensive that had just hit her in the back of the head—every starting point could clearly be traced back to the connections Han Yujin had made on <Blind Singer>.
‘I should cut off those limbs somehow…’
The problem was that those very limbs had grown far too large for Lee Hee-kyung to handle.
Ji Se-hyuk aside, the agencies housing Pink Blossom and No Ji-yoon were fairly solid companies in their own right.
And the label for Eom Dong-gyu and Kim In’s band Yell? There wasn’t even any point of contact.
But soon, the frown on Lee Hee-kyung’s brow smoothed out into calm.
‘These guys might actually be doable.’
A name that looked just right as a target for venting had quickly surfaced.
“E-GIS, huh…”
As she murmured the name, for some reason it seemed to carry the thick scent of blood.