I clicked the link Kwon Taejin had sent, thinking it might be another busking video.
“…What is this?”
[Who’s the fox mask that even kids fall for?]
But the topic was nothing I had expected. The clip showed me leaning down so a little kid could put a headband on my head. And because the child’s guardian had left a comment under the video, it had gone even more viral.
—My son’s favorite member is the vocalist, and since yesterday he kept begging me to get him a cat headband as a gift. I told him multiple times it wasn’t a cat but a fox, but he wouldn’t listen^^;; I’m sure the Blank members must’ve been startled when we appeared out of nowhere, but thank you so much for being so kind without a hint of displeasure! On the way home, my kid said, “Fox hyung told me to make sure I thank Mom.” I’m convinced now he’s a rare upright young man these days. Blank fighting!
—Ah, so that’s why he was wearing a headband on top of the mask? I thought he just had weird taste lololol
—I was there in person, and the real cat-mask member standing behind looked so sulky lololol
└ Omg what even, that’s cute
└ Go watch their performance vids too ㅇㅇ
—I only saw the live yesterday so I was like, “Why the sudden cat headband?” but now I get it lmao
—Anyone into historical dramas, you have to watch this (link)
└ Thanks for the link
—Wow, you can tell he’s handsome just from his jawline
—So there’s a band guy who’s good at music, handsome, tall, and polite? Yep… there is…
└ How do you even know he’s handsome? lolol
└ Look at the jawline. It’s impossible for him to be ugly.
Unintentionally, I’d ended up doing personality PR.
“This could be a little dangerous.”
When you got saddled with a “nice guy” image, even the smallest mistake could blow up a hundredfold.
And above all, I’m not that nice of a person.
I couldn’t become the saint the public wanted. I hated losing, couldn’t stand being taken advantage of, and for the sake of my band I would do anything within legal limits. I knew better than anyone that this wasn’t a world you could survive in just by being nice.
Besides, even objectively, I didn’t have the kind of face that looked “nice.” Even when people said I was handsome, the modifiers were always there:
“Handsome punk.”
“Looks like an asshole.”
Rumors that Bae Shinwoo had been bullied in the pre-return timeline gained plausibility precisely because of my expression.
That’s why for a while I even practiced smiling. Fortunately, once I’d gone to the U.S. and settled down, I no longer needed to. Nobody judged my character based on my face anymore.
“…Am I just worrying for nothing?”
I mean, once the mask came off, that image would vanish on its own anyway.
***
Through “street busker” gigs, we steadily built real-world experience, and time flew like an arrow. In the meantime, not only did everyone’s playing improve, but our attachment to the masks grew naturally too. Especially Kwon Taejin, who after the cat headband incident started decorating his mask differently for every stage.
Weirdly enough, the guy actually has a sense for this stuff.
Cherry blossoms fell, and the guys’ clothes grew lighter.
“Dojae, what have you been up to all this time…?”
“Rotting away in the practice room.”
“Shit, it’s almost May already.”
“It’s really May? No wonder it’s hot.”
“No wonder your sweat stench feels like it’s choking me.”
“Taejin, shut your mouth. You smell.”
“How about this: let’s each use the personal practice rooms for a while and only meet up for group practice? Cha Seonjae’s foot stink makes it impossible to focus.”
I quietly reached over and switched on the air conditioner.
“Attention, everyone. I’ve got an announcement.”
The moment had finally come. Two weeks from now, the “Band Again” video audition notice would go up. If things followed the future I knew, they’d want original song videos submitted.
“What’s up?”
“I think it’s time we play one of our own songs.”
“Finally? But why all of a sudden?”
“Because we need to start prepping for the audition.”
A hush fell, and then everyone’s eyes widened.
They really forgot the audition even existed, huh?
“We’ll start with a video audition. That’s how most of them work.”
“So do we wait for the notice to pick the song? We don’t know if they’ll want an original or if we can choose a cover.”
In answer to Seonjae’s question, I pulled a USB from my pocket.
“For a band, it’s originals only.”
“Holy crap, are you finally unsealing it?”
Every gaze locked onto the USB. Well, they’d been curious since the start of the year. I’d added more songs since then too.
The old ones were already leaked to Bae Shinwoo anyway.
My suspicion had turned to certainty after his new release last week. The others hadn’t caught on, but Hangyeol and I recognized it instantly. It was one of the songs he’d copied onto his USB back when he claimed he’d shop around to other labels.
Of course, we could race him and release the rest first. But that risked flipping the narrative into us plagiarizing his tracks. JW had been good at media manipulation then and still was now.
Clean slate is safer.
Those were good songs too. Of course they were—I had written them. But they were only the works of high schooler Choi Juyeon. Not the Choi Juyeon who’d scraped and clawed through ten more years.
Besides, the moment I returned I’d carefully prepared evidence to screw Shinwoo. The more songs he stole, the deeper he’d dig his own grave.
I’ll wait for the perfect timing.
“Hurry up and play it!”
“Don’t be too shocked.”
“Whoa—look at Juyeon flexing.”
Even as I plugged the USB into the laptop, their stares were heavy.
“Pick a number from one to ten.”
“Wait, so you’re confident in all of them?”
Hangyeol spread out his palm.
“Then… five!”
“Why?”
“Because… there are five of us…”
I nodded.
Perfect. That’s the one I’m proudest of.
Track 5. [Shooting star]. A song I finished on December 31st last year, inspired by a falling meteor.
“Ready?”
“Play it, hurry!”
As soon as I hit play, static and a low hum filled the air, followed by an English narration.
[Do you have a wish you want to come true? Then tonight, try wishing on a shooting star.]
Shhhhhh—
Then a pure wind chime rang out, like stardust scattering. I didn’t even need to close my eyes to recall that breathtaking sky.
“…Whoa…”
Their collective reaction made me grin. Even someone tone-deaf would recognize this melody: Mozart’s Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.
[From the sky come raining
hundreds of millions of starlights
and in my arms,
the one and only shooting star]
Sampling “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” the notes repeated faster than the original tempo. Like climbing and descending a staircase, while the lower tones supported the sound firmly.
The song began in a mysterious atmosphere, and the members’ eyes sparkled. They couldn’t even make a sound, just clenched their fists tight.
This is why I write songs.
Each lyric, each note, watching their reactions change moment by moment was enjoyable.
Even before regression, many people had praised my composing. But in their eyes, what mattered first was, How commercial is this song? How much money will it make?
It had been a long time since I saw pure admiration that wasn’t tied to evaluation.
With the heavy beat of the drums, the atmosphere grew more intense.
[Maybe across light-years unending,
you’ve run tirelessly to appear before me.
With both hands clasped, I make my wish:
may this moment last forever!]
Three minutes passed like thirty seconds. No one could easily open their mouth. Leisurely, I pulled out the USB. Kwon Taejin clasped his hands together and spoke.
“Lord Ju.”
“We believe.”
“Juyeon, change your name. To Choi Ju-Lord. You are my Lord.”
“Or change it to Juyo. Lord…!”
Cha Seonjae went even further and dropped to his knees.
“You crazy bastards, get up—”
Sometimes that guy’s worse than Taejin.
Anyone watching would think I was a cult leader. But I didn’t hate it. If I had known they would like it this much, I should have been more proactive about songwriting even before regression.
I can still do it from now on.
“The song’s amazing, Juyeon!”
“This isn’t the time to sit around—we need to practice fast!”
Without anyone needing to say it first, the members returned to their places. They began to play from memory. Even though the instruments clashed in a mess, their skills were solid.
“You changed it from the ‘Little Star’ melody… like this, right?”
“Yeah. You picked it up right away?”
“It’s nothing. Just a familiar, easy-to-remember melody.”
He could stand to have more confidence.
“As expected of all those years on piano—you nailed it immediately.”
“I want to do better.”
“Hm?”
“You wrote this song thinking of us, right? So I want to play it better.”
I froze.
I never once said that about this song.
“S-sorry if I’m wrong. I just remembered when we all went out together while I was listening…”
My fingertips tingled. After participating in so much music and making songs that were welcomed by people for ten years before regression, I finally understood why there had always been an empty spot inside me.
I needed people who could completely empathize with my music, who would picture the same scene I did.
Now I fully understood. Why you felt so guilty that my song was stolen.
“You’re right. I’ll be counting on you.”
So I promised myself. This time, not a single song would be stolen.
Our music would be protected, so only our band could play it.
[CNet “Band Again” Video Audition Announcement
Submission deadline: ~June 15, 23:59.
Eligibility: Anyone can participate, regardless of age, nationality, or debut status.
Evaluation theme: The band’s identity.
Submission requirement: One original song video (if plagiarism is discovered, acceptance will be canceled).
Submission method: Email the video to the official CNet address [email protected]]
“Holy shit, they really said to prepare an original?”
“Lord Ju.”
“What did I tell you? Just trust me.”
My shoulders lifted without me realizing.
We had turned down another request from the street busker, who wanted us to perform just once more, and now it had been a month since we entered full-scale audition prep.
For the first time in a while, all of us stood before Cha Seonjae’s camera.
“This is the first time we’ve played so formally, right?”
“Since that bastard left?”
“Everyone ready? Recording starts.”
“Wait, wait. Let me fix my mask!”
“God, Taejin brought ten outfits for filming like it was a fashion show…”
“Okay, I’m set.”
“Alright—good.”
3, 2, 1.
Beep!
“Hello, we’re the band Blank! This is our video audition. The original song is titled ‘Shooting star’!”
Go Hangyeol’s delicate keys, Seok Dojae’s heavy drums. Kwon Taejin and Cha Seonjae’s rapid riffs moving as one.
Finally, all of it coming together in one sound.
It was really…
“This sucks.”
We were in trouble.