Episode 99: Spring of the Syndrome (3)
Whether online or offline, for any community to maintain its health, there are certain things that must absolutely be avoided.
One of the biggest is the “naming” or celebrity-ization of specific individuals.
When one person becomes famous, people naturally gather around them.
When people gather, factions inevitably form.
And when factions form, conflict follows as surely as night follows day.
In that sense, Polaris’s official fan community was remarkably strict about upholding that unspoken rule.
From the very beginning, the café had been created under the company’s initiative, so all the administrators were Starlight employees. They used methods like nicknames composed entirely of uppercase I and lowercase l—the infamous “barcode nicknames”—to thoroughly eliminate any center of gravity outside the Polaris members themselves.
Even so, there were inevitably some who became named figures through sheer inevitability.
‘For example, the fancam masters.’
Those greatest contributors who elevated idols into highly skilled photographic subjects—they are precious beings who provide daily nourishment for the hearts of ordinary fans.
There were also those who took the lead in organizing support like meal trucks, coffee trucks, or large electronic billboard ads.
Still, it was impossible to crack down on every single one of them with the hammer of sanctions, so there was definitely an atmosphere of tolerance as long as they didn’t cross a certain line.
And G.A.Yujin was someone who had become named in a slightly different sense from them.
An overwhelming activity history spanning sixteen years from the debut period.
Online, the level of activity matched that career length, yet offline, the person had never once shown their face—leaving even their gender a complete mystery.
By deliberately keeping away from socializing and clique-forming, they survived while countless others were struck down by the hammer of sanctions and disappeared—ultimately becoming a named figure themselves.
How little small talk did they engage in that no one even knew what the initials G.A. stood for?
‘The most popular theory was that it stood for Great Artist.’
The fact that I still remembered such trivial details showed just how strongly the name G.A.Yujin had imprinted itself in my memory.
‘It can’t be… someone else, right?’
It wasn’t such an extremely unique nickname that I could swear no one else would ever use it.
Compared to the previous timeline—where the person had appeared in the community from the very moment I debuted as Polaris—there were slight differences.
But after already encountering a similar case with Kwak Sun-bin, even without evidence, a strong conviction washed over me that the person using this nickname was the same one.
‘Should I try looking them up…?’
The thought crossed my mind for a second,
‘Nah. No way.’
There had to be a clear reason they never revealed themselves despite all the countless misunderstandings—like rumors of terminal illness and so on.
If G.A.Yujin intended to do the same this time, the right thing was to respect that wish.
“Yes. We just listened to Han Yujin-nim’s <Shooting Star>. ‘Love is like a Shooting star.’ That lyric really struck me the most. Love like a shooting star—doesn’t it have that irresistible sweetness that draws your eyes no matter what?”
While I was lost in those thoughts, <Shooting Star> finished its melody, and with Go Yo-han’s comment, it was time to refocus on the work at hand.
“3524-nim says, ‘It was the day my boyfriend and I had a really bad fight, but after watching the <Shooting Star> music video, we made up.’ And 6629-nim says, ‘It was so pretty how it wasn’t about your own wish coming true, but hoping the other person’s wish comes true.’ We got tons of messages like this. Because it drew so much empathy, the results were really sweet too—music show 1st place! Honestly, even I’ve never gotten a music show win. How did it feel?”
“Hmm… I think it was possible only because so many people helped. The biggest factor was probably AZ sunbae-nim covering <Shooting Star> at their concert, which caused the reverse climb.”
“Ah, yeah, I remember that. I think we talked about it here once too.”
“Yes. The Music Road guide-nim helped a lot as well.”
I gave a quick thumbs-up to Go Yo-han, who proudly puffed out his chest.
“Hylliy sunbae-nims too, and really, so much help came from everywhere. E-GIS can’t be left out either. Even though we coincidentally shared the same waiting room for that one week of music shows and got close, it’s not easy for singers from another company to cheer you on like that.”
When I deliberately made sure not to forget mentioning E-GIS, Go Yo-han’s expression immediately turned extremely mischievous.
“Alright then, let’s ask one question here. Who was the person you were most grateful to during <Shooting Star> promotions! Rare sight incoming! 1. AZ, 2. Hylliy, 3. E-GIS, 4. Go Yo-han.”
Go Yo-han threw the question at me with a grin that perfectly fit the description “little devil,” along with that classic line that always rings true: “Men stay kids no matter how old they get.”
‘Seriously, this guy’s evil at times like this.’
Well, it was an unexpected question, but I already knew the “correct” answer to it.
At the same time, I also knew perfectly well that the real purpose of this “Who do you like more, mom or dad?”-level question was simply to see the person being asked squirm in discomfort.
“Hmm… Do I really have to pick one?”
“Ahh, you have to, you have to! No multiple answers allowed! Just the one person you’re most grateful to!”
Showing a slight hesitation exactly as he intended, Go Yo-han covered his ears and urged me to answer.
Completely oblivious that this was my subtle warning(?) before launching the counterattack.
“The answer is already decided.”
Obviously, picking Hylliy or E-GIS was out of the question, and choosing Go Yo-han right in front of me would be the worst possible move.
The option with the least risk was Ah-jeong.
As I myself had said, the biggest factor in Shooting Star’s success was undeniably the cover Ah-jeong performed at her concert.
But even picking Ah-jeong wasn’t the best move.
‘This is just one or two days of broadcast.’
Compared to the variety-show MCs from my Polaris days—who were true masters of chaos—Go Yo-han’s binary choice felt almost like a child’s tantrum.
The perfect answer that could dismantle this childish question without any risk at all lay outside the choices.
“The people who loved and listened to <Shooting Star>. When it comes to who I’m most grateful to, of course it’s the fans.”
The moment I pointed out the fundamental flaw in the question itself—that he hadn’t even included “fans,” the absolute number-one priority for anyone who stands in front of the public—
‘He really brought up something that basic here?’
Go Yo-han’s mouth fell open slightly, his eyes screaming, ‘Wait, really?’
[ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ]
[He just got one-shot]
[Almost got hit by the bullet but pulled the bottom card to survive ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ]
The chat window naturally exploded. Beyond the glass, the PD and writer were laughing so hard you could see their uvulas.
“Ho, he didn’t fall for it. Our Yujin-ssi, who decided the fans are the most thankful ones. And for those very fans, you’ve already prepared another gift?”
In the end, Go Yo-han smoothly shifted the topic.
He could have insisted “Fans weren’t even an option!”—but he knew full well that doing so would turn the tide of the countless listeners who had already sided with me into a backlash. So this was probably his best move.
And honestly, it was a good choice.
If he’d slipped even a little, the chat would have been flooded with single-syllable tsunamis like [Me][Liar] or [Dis][Grace][ful]. But the topic he pulled out now was the kind that could instantly bury that reaction.
Timing-wise, it was perfect too.
‘Maybe he even calculated this much?’
Considering how I’d momentarily blanked at my answer, not everything had gone exactly according to Go Yo-han’s plan.
Still, as someone who had held the DJ position for quite a long time, he’d probably at least sketched out the rough outline.
“The title is <Blue Poem>. With a title like that in this season, you can probably guess the vibe. But still—could you explain the song yourself, Yujin-ssi?”
“This new song <Blue Poem>, as many of you probably guessed, is about ‘youth.’ Honestly, I don’t think youth is something only people of a certain age can have. So I worked hard to make it a song that as many people as possible can relate to and love, just like <Shooting Star>.”
“Right. No matter how much time passes, the part of your heart that waits for spring never really goes away.”
“Now that winter has passed and spring is returning, I’d love it if you could enjoy the fresh green blooming along the paths you walk while listening to this.”
“Wow. As expected from someone who writes his own lyrics—the expression is on another level.”
Go Yo-han, who had pushed the mischievous atmosphere aside and now wore pure emotion on his face, gave a big thumbs-up.
“Alright. Yujin-ssi’s new song release time is today at noon. But after talking about it this much, we can’t just let everyone go without hearing it, right?”
With that, he began setting the stage for today’s highlight.
[????]
[No way?]
[Big one incoming?]
The chat started rising at a speed comparable to when the broadcast first began.
The reactions were hard to read clearly, but the PD’s face beyond the glass grew brighter and brighter.
“If it can be a good gift for our pilgrims, pulling it forward by about an hour should be fine, right?”
“In that spirit, for today’s <Go Yo-han’s 10 O’Clock Music Road> segment ‘I Didn’t Know What Type You Like, So I Brought All Kinds of Them’—we’ll end part 1 with Han Yujin-ssi’s new song *Blue Poem* and come back for part 2 shortly. See you in a bit?”
The barrage of question marks in the chat detonated into one massive chain explosion.
***
One hour later, the On Air light turned off. As Go Yo-han and I took off our headsets,
“Wow. Today was seriously fun!”
The PD burst into the studio and immediately started clapping and showering praise without holding back.
“The chemistry between Yujin-ssi and Yo-han-ssi was insane! Honestly, I want to create a whole fixed program just for Yujin-ssi!”
I just laughed in response to the PD’s earnest courtship.
Honestly, it didn’t sound bad at all.
Once a week, and only for a short morning slot—I could easily squeeze it in while working on Orion’s project.
‘It was actually pretty fun.’
Since we’re in the same company and see each other often, the relationship with Go Yo-han has grown deeper than in the previous timeline, creating a really comfortable atmosphere. That’s a big plus too.
‘Anyway, at this time of day I’d just be home alone anyway.’
Plus, with the music video shoot for the love song right around the corner, unless it’s evening, it’s hard to even see Zia’s face at home these days.
“I don’t think it’s a bad idea?”
Thinking it was probably just empty talk anyway, I answered casually—only for
“Huh? Really?”
The PD’s gentle eyes suddenly sharpened like a hawk’s.
A gaze so piercing it could rival Seo Yoon-je in full “music pervert” mode. I couldn’t help flinching a little.
“Come on, PD-nim—there’s a limit to looking for sweet water in a well. You can’t just try to roast beans over lightning like that.”
Go Yo-han immediately jumped in with a sly tone, lightening the mood.
“Ah, right, right. Sorry, Yujin-ssi. Actually… the ratings just hit the highest point this quarter. I got a little carried away.”
“And even if you bring him on as a guest, where would you put him? There’s no spot right now. The vibe’s too good to cancel any content.”
“What if we did ‘I Brought All Kinds of Them’… together with Yujin-ssi…?”
“Aish, PD Shin!”
While Go Yo-han and PD Shin Dong-ju were bantering back and forth,
Vrrr.
My phone, set to manner mode, vibrated briefly. I naturally glanced at the message.
[Zia♥ : The radio was fun~]
[Zia♥ : As expected, our Yujin did so well!]
Hmm… Should I actually do it?