Episode 97: Spring of the Syndrome (1)
The cold still hasn’t fully retreated; a sharp chill lingers in the air.
Yet spring has arrived early in one particular place.
The warmest spring breeze is blowing through the headquarters of MyWay.
And the various broadcasting stations are throwing their arms wide open to welcome the wind coming from MyWay.
The one who brought this fragrant, flower-scented breeze—there’s no debate—is Hylliy’s name and the melody of <Mysty>.
Starting from some weekend, the wind began to blow, and now it has become a full-blown heatwave, sweeping across SNS and communities, gradually transforming into a single word.
An unfamiliar voice drifting into my ears puts that word on its tongue.
“Hylliy’s been absolutely insane lately.”
“Right? At this point, isn’t it fair to call it a syndrome?”
The era of the <Mysty> Syndrome has officially begun.
Whether it’s evidence or aftermath, I’m not sure, but reality is proving that the word “syndrome” isn’t an exaggeration.
In the first week of release, Pleiades’ new songs had lined up neatly at the top of the charts, but now only the title track <Scarlet> remains—and even that has dropped to 4th place—while all the others have been pushed out of the top 10. Meanwhile, <Mysty> is still firmly holding onto 1st.
It’s as if there’s nowhere higher to climb, so it’s decided to stay right here—and that momentum is showing itself in another form.
Past Hylliy songs that had once been pushed off the charts are now making a reverse climb, re-entering here and there.
On top of that, the music video views for <Mysty> are steadily widening the gap with <Scarlet>, and cover videos—both vocal and dance—are flooding YouTube without discrimination.
“Hylliy’s fanbase has grown insanely too.”
“Exactly. The firepower on their fan forums is no joke.”
With the one missing piece in Hylliy’s promotions finally filled, anticipation is skyrocketing through the roof—and right on cue, one more piece of news drives the nail in.
“It’s a bit of a shame about Pleiades. To end promotions so abruptly and weakly.”
“Yeah, that’s true. Just when Hylliy’s finally stepping up in weight class. It would’ve been fun to see the two of them go head-to-head.”
The group that had formed a rivalry with Hylliy during this round of promotions—Pleiades—suddenly announced the end of activities, citing member Laira’s ankle sprain as the reason.
Given the music show system that tallies scores based on the previous week’s performances, even if they end activities now, their results will still be counted for this week.
But the long-awaited head-to-head clash between Hylliy—who had overcome their underdog disadvantage—and the current top girl group Pleiades is now off the table.
“There’s no debut or comeback news for anyone this week or next either. At this rate… are Hylliy’s kids finally about to fulfill their long-cherished wish?”
“Pretty much 100%. That’s why we’re twisting ourselves into knots trying to book Hylliy right now too.”
The conversation I hadn’t meant to overhear gradually fades into the distance, and
“Huu…”
I let out a short sigh mixed with regret.
In a situation filled entirely with good news—every prediction coming true—this sigh doesn’t fit at all.
But there’s one reason it slips out naturally anyway.
‘I never thought Pleiades would retire like this…’
It’s the disappointment from my final prediction missing the mark.
The plan had been for 1.5-tier Hylliy to deliver a refreshing, undeniable tackle to the 100% clear of top-tier Pleiades—lighting the signal flare for the irresistible story of “the underdog’s rebellion.”
If that had happened, the tide would have come in fully; there’d be no need to row anymore. They could go anywhere they wanted on that foundation.
But now the situation has changed.
The top-tier group that was supposed to be the target of the revolution is gone.
Instead, Hylliy—the one now boasting overwhelming skill—has become the one receiving challenges.
With the underdog image fading, even the beautiful story of barely, desperately seizing 1st place might lose a bit of its shine.
‘As expected from Lee Hee-kyung… She’s not the type to just take it lying down.’
I have no choice but to acknowledge what deserves acknowledgment.
Lee Hee-kyung—that woman is a genius in a completely different sense from me.
In truth, the current situation is an ambush Lee Hee-kyung could never have dreamed of, a devastating surprise attack.
Yet she succeeded brilliantly in defending against it.
By completely hiding Pleiades’ presence, she preemptively blocked the image of “Pleiades being overtaken by Hylliy,” while at the same time gaining a bold, trophy-indifferent image and a positive one of caring for her members’ health.
Knowing that every single part of this was Lee Hee-kyung’s decision, all I can do is shake my head.
There’s clear evidence that makes me certain.
The very reason Starlight gave for ending promotions.
‘Laira noona sprained her ankle and is skipping stages? That lunatic?’
The true nature of Pleiades’ members is a group of attention-obsessed crazies filled with madness.
Among them, Laira is the woman who would go insane from the ecstatic screams directed at her—to the point that it’s believable to say the fans’ cheers are her erogenous zone.
Even if her leg bone were shattered, not just sprained, she’s the type who would perform sitting in a chair with a cast on. I know that better than anyone.
So this excuse looks like nothing but a pretext to me.
‘I might’ve believed it if it was Lua noona.’
If it had been Lua—the member who would throw herself into a fire carrying an oil-soaked straw bale just to keep dancing—then I might’ve given that reason a sliver of credibility.
‘Even if one person got that badly hurt, the other three wouldn’t just sit still. Not Pleiades.’
There is no one who could instantly pin down the Pleiades members—whose true nature is so perfectly masked in front of cameras—except for Lee Hee-kyung.
‘There’s probably a 99% chance that Laira noona’s ankle sprain is a lie too…’
She really is vicious.
Whether it’s because she hates losing to me, or because she can’t stand the sight of Pleiades being overtaken by Hylliy’s current level.
I don’t know which one it is, but the fact that she’s willing to fake a schedule cancellation just to pull this off—it’s so ruthless I can only shake my head in disbelief.
“Sigh.”
In the end, the only ones who end up pitiful are Pleiades themselves, who got dragged into this and lost the stages they probably wanted to do.
With that thought, I let out a small sigh—just then, a presence approached beside me.
“Um…”
A voice I’d never heard before, yet carrying a very familiar nuance.
I layered a mask of a smile over my face, which had been openly showing regret as I sighed, and turned my head.
A couple who looked like they were dating were peeking at me cautiously.
“Han Yujin-nim…?”
“Yes. That’s me.”
“Wow, I’m a huge fan! If it’s not too rude, could I possibly ask for an autograph?”
“Of course. No problem at all.”
Honestly, giving an autograph in an unprepared situation is never easy.
Not many people carry around the most basic tools—pen and paper—on a daily basis.
“Your name?”
“Kim Do-young. Could you write something like ‘Have a beautiful love’?”
“Jung Min-hee for me too.”
But perhaps because the “place” was this particular place.
The boyfriend naturally pulled out a pen and paper, and I smoothly drew my signature across it.
“Here you go.”
“Wow! Thank you so much!”
“If you’re my fans, then I’m the one who should be thankful.”
“But what brings you here?”
I hesitated for a second about telling the truth.
But since they’re my fans, they’d find out soon anyway, and there didn’t seem to be any reason to hide it, so I decided to be honest.
“I came for a schedule.”
“A schedule? Wait, don’t tell me…!”
Even though they look older than me, they’re using formal speech with -nim, and the way the guy immediately follows up makes it clear—he’s definitely a real fan.
“Yeah. I’m here to promote the new song. It drops at noon today, so after lunch, if you have time, please give it a listen?”
April, when spring has boldly stepped forward.
I came to the broadcasting station on my own two feet.
***
“Sorry, hyung.”
After finishing the short greeting with the couple who had coincidentally come across me, Su-hyuk—who had returned by then—moved us to the elevator. The moment we were alone inside, he immediately apologized.
“It’s fine. Nothing really happened.”
“Still…”
Maybe because it’s been a while since his last broadcast schedule, or maybe because it’s his first time doing radio.
Su-hyuk had gotten confused about the entrance, and while he was sorting that out, I’d spent the time killing time at the café in the broadcasting station lobby, enjoying a brief moment of leisure.
‘Anyway, it’s a broadcasting station. There wasn’t really any danger.’
Even if it’s a radio station, by nature, security staff are stationed all over the place.
It wasn’t particularly risky, yet Su-hyuk seemed to have a hard time forgiving his own mistake.
‘I was seriously fine with it.’
Thanks to that, I was able to openly show the regretful feelings I usually couldn’t express in places where MyWay’s eyes reached—like inside the headquarters or at Moon Sook-hee’s café.
With Hylliy riding high every day and parties going on nonstop, if the producer (me) was moping around, it would make people uncomfortable.
‘Meeting fans is always fun.’
I’m not the type who goes crazy over cheers like Laira, but interactions with fans who naturally keep a proper distance? I welcome those with open arms.
Of course, that’s just from my perspective.
I know that from Su-hyuk’s point of view, it’s not something he can take lightly.
So I didn’t say things like, “Just don’t make that mistake next time.”
He already knows that perfectly well, and saying it again would only add pressure.
‘Besides, that’s not my role in the first place.’
Ding.
“Ah, Yujin-ssi, you’re here.”
The elevator doors opened, and the moment my eyes met the person waiting in front of them, that greeting flew over.
Unlike the familiar tone of the greeting, I was seeing him for the first time—but the greeting alone was enough to tell that he had come out to meet us.
“Hello.”
“Everyone’s waiting inside. This way, please.”
At the cold tone of the person who had come to greet us, Su-hyuk’s expression darkened even further.
‘Well, can’t be helped.’
To be honest, Su-hyuk’s mistake wasn’t small enough to brush off as “first time, so it’s fine.”
If we’d been even a little later, the guest might have ended up no-showing the schedule.
Especially for a program like radio, where everything runs live down to the second, it could have been much more serious.
And the one who made that mistake was “a member of the same agency”?
‘He deserves to get scolded. Yeah.’
Nothing bad actually happened, but still—there’s no helping it.
For me to step in and say anything about work right now would be crossing the line.
In the end, this is something between the “managers.”
With that thought, the moment we turned the corner,
“Hey, Yujin-ah!”
The DJ of the program I was here to promote the new song on greeted me with an innocent face.
The very person who had connected me with Seo Yoon-je.
“Hello, Yo-han hyung.”
We definitely saw each other just yesterday.
So why does it feel like it’s been forever?