Chapter 141. Shouting K-Pop at the Heart of Jinju
These days, I'm in the best mood I've been in all year.
Jo Tae-hyung finished the music video, which means Blue Moon can make their comeback immediately.
I even met with Choi Joo-hong again after a long time, finalized the album cover, and sent everything off for printing.
The schedule is nice and clean.
We make the comeback, release the music video, and as soon as the albums finish printing, we put them on sale.
Just thinking about releasing the new song makes my heart pound.
The composition.
The lyrics.
The concept.
The music video.
There isn't a single thing I dislike.
I'm reasonably confident it'll succeed, and honestly, if it reaches the level of getting invited to United Talenet Live, that isn't just ordinary success.
Still, I can't sit back just because I saw it in future spam.
That result will reflect all the effort I put in during ordinary life too.
As long as I'm involved, there's no such thing as, It's destined to succeed anyway.
The song itself is already complete.
Which means this is the point where promotion strategy matters most.
And the first step in promoting a new song is traditionally a showcase.
Last time, we borrowed the 〈Rebooting〉 stage for our showcase.
It saved us a lot of money and worked extremely well, but it wasn't exactly a normal showcase.
Should we do something unusual again this time for an even bigger promotional effect?
Or should we hold a proper traditional showcase and give our members that bit of romance?
I gathered the managers together to discuss it.
"There's that concert hall in Gangnam, right? It can accommodate a hundred press members on a regular basis, and when people think of an idol showcase, that's the place that naturally comes to mind. We should probably reserve it quickly."
Jin-hee argued for the conventional route.
Ordinary wasn't necessarily bad.
Fans already had a fixed image in their heads of what a showcase was supposed to look like.
Holding a showcase at an actual showcase venue helped spread the message far and wide that the group had officially made a comeback.
"The biggest advantage is that it can't really fail. There's no major burden either. If we do it in a concert hall, we'll definitely earn back whatever we invest."
That sense of safety was exactly why major entertainment companies had never abandoned showcases.
And safe didn't mean low returns.
Jin-hee's core argument was that we already had a proven method for generating strong profit, so there was no reason to experiment until after the showcase.
Dae-hun thought differently.
"We can make money anytime. If profit were the goal, we wouldn't have been holding back individual activities in the first place. If we perform with other singers at a concert hall, everyone in the audience already has a favorite artist, don't they? I'm not sure those people will become Blue Moon fans that easily."
Jin-hee immediately pushed back.
"They're already familiar with fandom culture, so it's not impossible. Just because there's a goalkeeper doesn't mean you can't score."
Dae-hun firmly shook his head.
"Sure, but there are goalposts without goalkeepers all over the world. Why deliberately shoot at the one with a goalkeeper?"
"And where exactly are all these empty goalposts?"
"On the street. Instead of targeting fans of other idols, we should hold the showcase for ordinary listeners who don't care about idols yet. That would be much more efficient for bringing in new people."
If we performed on an outdoor street stage, people could hear the music from far away.
Passersby would stop simply because they were curious about what was happening.
And if, later that night, they searched and found an article saying Blue Moon had premiered their comeback song on a street stage, they might even feel like they'd accidentally witnessed a historic moment.
In short, Dae-hun wanted as many people as possible to see Blue Moon perform.
"The sound quality might be a little worse outdoors, but that's true for any live stage. We just need to make them want to look the song up afterward."
"Then what about showcase revenue?"
"Revenue is... uh... something we give up."
Dae-hun answered.
This was still a business.
Saying we should give up profit entirely was the sort of thing people would normally criticize.
But I was seriously considering his idea.
Honestly, a stage at a conventional showcase venue might be effective for immediate revenue, but it wouldn't have much explosive reach.
If we followed Dae-hun's suggestion, we might sacrifice short-term profit, but there was no telling how large the later benefits could become.
And among the current top-tier girl groups, Blue Moon was probably the one most suited to outdoor stages.
When I thought about how many fans we'd already picked up through open-air performances, Dae-hun's proposal didn't sound unreasonable at all.
"I like it. If it's an outdoor stage, we can ask permission and film it ourselves too. Then upload it to Nutube and at least make some money through views."
"That's true."
Only then did Jin-hee take a step back.
"Then we'll need to look for an outdoor stage."
At that moment, Jo Tae-hyung spoke up.
"Actually, the timing is good. It's not a stage exclusively for idols, but Jinju is currently preparing a festival along the Namgang River called World K-Pop. You know the Jinju Lantern Festival, right? The place where they install huge sculptures and lighting displays? They're redeveloping part of the riverside area this time, and several institutions joined forces to promote the city by inviting artists. Since press outlets from all over the world are coming, they even prepared plenty of seating for reporters."
"World K-Pop?"
"Yes. Lee Woong-jae was originally scheduled to participate, but that fell through."
Apparently, it wasn't only trot singers like Lee Woong-jae.
Idols.
Traditional folk-performance groups.
Korean traditional music.
B-boying.
Almost every type of musical culture you could experience in Korea would have someone appearing onstage.
The local government was strongly backing it too, so the event was being organized on quite a large scale.
Then wasn't this one of the best possible outdoor-stage opportunities?
"Let's call Jinju City right now. It's been a while since Lee Woong-jae dropped out, so who knows? They may already have found a replacement."
"Ah, understood."
Jo Tae-hyung took out his phone, searched around for a moment, then called Jinju City Hall.
"Yes. Ah, yes, yes. That's correct. I'm calling about the stage... Ah, I see. Understood."
He ended the call.
"What did they say?"
"Registration is closed."
"Damn."
That opportunity was gone.
"Why didn't they ever contact us about casting?"
I muttered in disappointment.
Dae-hun answered.
"They did."
"What?"
"They contacted us before. But the event didn't line up with our new-song schedule, so I declined on my own. Their event ends before our comeback. It's scheduled from July 1st through July 4th."
"Hey. An event that big, you should've at least told me. We could've moved the comeback up."
"That's unfair. Since when have you ever finalized a schedule based only on the size of the stage? This was about how thoroughly we prepared the new song too. The comeback just happened to finish earlier than expected. Honestly, even if I'd told you when the offer came in, you would've rejected it."
That's true.
Even so, it was a painful opportunity to lose.
I started thinking about whether there was some way to absorb the attention surrounding World K-Pop anyway.
It didn't feel completely impossible.
"What if we ask them to leave the stage standing for one extra day after the festival ends? If we offer to pay the dismantling cost ourselves, wouldn't they agree?"
"Maybe. It's tied to a city government project, so I don't know whether their schedule will allow it."
That was when it happened.
Bzzzzt.
A text message arrived.
Definitely spam.
"Let's all take five minutes to think individually. I need to use the bathroom."






