Chapter 403 |
Side Story (20)
[Drop the Beat Season 4, Who Will Be The Next Winner?!]
As is typical for hip-hop audition programs, the first episode began with a recap of the previous season’s winner and a montage of iconic performances, followed by an explanation of the prize and the basic format of the show.
I think there was a judges’ cypher too, but that already happened before I arrived at the dorm, so I didn’t get to see it. Even if I had caught it at the right time, I probably would’ve just been staring at my phone anyway. I’m not really interested unless it’s my kids.
‘If I were actually interested in rap, I wouldn’t have done it like that.’
Remembering the disastrous rap from Survive IDOL, I sincerely prayed that the members wouldn’t bring that up while watching this program.
[<The head of the hottest top-tier hip-hop label, bigdaddy.>] [<A rising star making waves in the birthplace of hip-hop, the U.S., stardust>]
It would’ve been fine if these flashed by quickly with some footage, but when you looked closely, a whole string of slightly embarrassing judge introduction captions appeared. Then came brief segments that were basically self-praise and confidence-flexing disguised as talk about their determination for the show.
Seeing the judge’s confidence, Nam Yihwon let out a “Wow”. He leaned back against the sofa, rested his ankles on the shoulders of Jo Inchan—who was sitting on the floor—and burst into a loud laugh. Then he cracked open a can of beer with one hand, chewed on some cheese jerky, and said,
“That’s fascinating. If an idol talked like that, their unlikable-meter would skyrocket.”
“Don’t you dare spill beer on the sofa again.”
“Isn’t that kind of thing normal in hip-hop?”
“I’ve seen idols get pretty aggressive too when they go on group competition shows.”
“Yeah, but we don’t have any reason to act like that.”
“Oh, is it that thing? Like how animals puff themselves up and bark before they can get attacked?”
“What are they, Chihuahuas?”
“Cute.”
[<Which contestant are you most looking forward to?>]
[“I heard Kinder is coming out this season. He’s a pretty well-known prospect in the hip-hop scene too, so we definitely want to get him on our team, haha.”]
[“lilQ. He’s such an excellent rapper that I honestly don’t even understand why he applied to be on this program. He could be a judge and it wouldn’t be strange at all. Last season’s winner, xoxo, is part of the crew led by lilQ, right? Someone who already has both skill and recognition coming out to crush the amateurs … yeah, you could basically see it that way.”]
[“The Crown? He was a really fresh contestant in season one, and I thought it was a shame he got eliminated. I heard he’s returning this season, so I’m curious how much he’s improved and what kind of new side he’ll show this time.”]
[“And … Lee Chise.”]
As the judges’ evaluations of countless contestants scrolled by, Lee Chise’s name suddenly came up, accompanied by a grand, dramatic sound effect.
[“Lee Chise.”] [“Lee Chise.”] [“Lee Chise.”]
It didn’t stop there. A rapid montage followed, showing every single judge saying Lee Chise’s name.
[<Lee Chise, chosen as the most anticipated contestant by all producers>]
[“He was already famous. Even before becoming an idol, he was making a name for himself in the hip-hop scene.”]
On screen, footage appeared of Lee Chise’s work from when he was briefly active in hip-hop before meeting me, along with photos of him standing beside famous rappers.
[“One day, a simple recording of just a beat and a rap just landed in our company inbox out of nowhere. Sent straight to the biggest hip-hop label, no less. And man, it was mind-blowing. So good, so crazy-good, that all the top rappers passed it around. The sound quality wasn’t even great. But it was good.”]
[“From then on, it was war. Everyone saying we had to bring this kid into our company, that he was the real deal. But when we finally reached out and met him, what do we see? A pretty-faced kid with soft peach fuzz on his face. He even told us he’d recorded the whole thing on his phone.”]
“Ah, so is that the CEO of the hip-hop label you were briefly a part of?”
“Yeah. I saw him again for the first time in a while back then. We didn’t really click, so we didn’t become close.”
“Really? From the outside, it looked like you were on great terms.”
“Hmm. More like… he’s not someone I’d go out of my way to make time for?”
[“Everyone was saying he’s a genius, that he’ll be huge, that he’s the future of Korean hip-hop, and all the rappers were jumping through hoops just to recruit him. And in the end, who did Chise pick? Our label. Chise and I are actually super close.”]
“He says you’re close?”
Pointing at the subtitles, I asked. Lee Chise paused for a moment as if he hadn’t expected that specific phrasing, but then he went right back to smiling broadly.
“Haha. Being optimistic is a good thing.”
To be able to smile like it was nothing at the exact moment someone’s one-sided affection was being mercilessly crushed … that guy was terrifying. Nam Yihwon must have felt it too, as he shuddered in total disgust.
“…Sometimes I think that hyung is the scariest of all. I mean, what if we’re actually nothing special to him either?”
“The members are the most important thing to me.”
Thankfully, Lee Chise immediately shut that down with a serious expression.
Apparently pleased by that answer, Cha Woon, who hadn’t joined the conversation and had been staring at the TV the whole time, unintentionally let out a laugh that was thick with a sense of immense pride.
“…Hehe.”
“Pfft, cough! Kgh, why is that Hyung laughing like that? Isn’t he a little too happy? This is killing me, khff.”
As Nam Yihwon choked after swallowing his beer the wrong way, the broadcast continued.
[“But in the end, what was the ending? As everyone knows, Seo Yutae just swooped in and snatched him up.”]
‘S-snatched?’1
Did I really snatch him away that shamelessly? From what I remembered, Lee Chise had practically rolled over and latched onto my calf. Thinking that, I placed my hand on top of Lee Chise’s head, where his hair was sticking up messily. Lee Chise looked up at me with a gentle expression, as if asking what I was doing.
‘…Well, I guess that version works too.’
Watching it all quietly, I found myself thinking that if I hadn’t grabbed this guy back then, I would’ve regretted it immensely. Even if Lee Chise hadn’t appeared right in front of my eyes on his own, I would’ve tracked him down sooner or later anyway.
A sudden surge of pride made me grin crookedly. I grabbed Lee Chise by the head and firmly turned it toward the TV. I didn’t feel like letting him see my expression and grin about it.
[“Honestly, if it were me, I think I’d go too if Seo Yutae asked me to work together.”] [“Whoa, seriously? You’d ditch the label and everything?”] [“Yeah. I mean, it’s not just anyone. It’s Seo Yutae.”] [“Actually, same here. If Seo Yutae calls, I’m going.”]
[“That’s how every story ends. Once Seo Yutae shows up, all problems are instantly resolved. He’s basically a deus ex machina2.”] [“Wow, look at you using big words. Deus ex machina, huh? You sound so intellectual.”] [“Yep, exactly. I felt pretty cool saying that.”]
[<??>]
[<Stream-of-Consciousness>] [<A conversation that lowers your IQ the longer you listen>]
‘I can’t get used to this…’
With their slouched postures, fashion I respected but would never wear in my life, unclear pronunciation, and the frequent swearing and bleep-worthy language in front of the camera, I could tell that rappers were generally a pretty free-spirited bunch. But for it to all end in this completely baseless Seo Yutae worship … it felt like an odd mix of cuteness and sheer absurdity.
After the judges finished expressing their expectations for Lee Chise, comments from other contestants—clearly meant to keep him in check—followed right on cue.
[<The hottest topic of Drop the Beat Season 4, Lee Chise>] [<How do the contestants react?>]
[“Ah, what was it, Prism? People call them the Nation’s Idols, right? But I don’t really listen to idol songs. Not my thing. Aren’t idols just like that? Dancing on stage like puppets, doing whatever the company tells them? I honestly don’t think of them as ar-tists. The people I res-pect are rappers like ally, kido, lilQ, y’know what I mean. Oh, and kido’s latest album? So good. The quality of the hook, have you heard it? Real respect.”]
Right after one rapper finished spewing complaints like that, the broadcast lingered on a long shot of him sniffing with a little snrk. I didn’t know whether the production team edited it that way on purpose to prop Lee Chise up, but either way, it made the guy look incredibly pathetic. He probably thought he was delivering a cool, hard-hitting critique.
[“I know Seo Yutae’s famous. Honestly, I have no clue who the other members are, but Seo Yutae? Respect. He’s a legend. Fashion, music, everything about him is insane. That’s the definition of real swag.”]
Ah … thank you…….
Thank you, but … I really don’t need your approval…….
‘Do kids these days all talk like this?’
Judging by how unfamiliar his face was, he was probably a rapper who didn’t make it past the first round and got eliminated. Seeing how the show barely aired him rapping and instead focused almost entirely on his interview trashing other contestants, his skills probably weren’t that great.
At that point, maybe being a rapper just wasn’t his calling.
Had he already moved on to look for another career by now? Who knows.
[“But that Lee Chise-ssi? Lee Chise-nim is only going to rap for a few seconds at most, right? Honestly, if you only have to do that much, anyone could pour their entire soul into making a legendary verse. Honestly, the rap itself was good. It was sick. But real rappers fill a full three minutes with nothing but their own rap. That’s what makes a true rapper.”]
‘Didn’t you just say you don’t listen to idol music, and now you’re saying his rap was good?’
The way he kept saying ‘honestly‘ made it painfully obvious how dishonest he was being.
I wanted to strap that guy into a flying chair that launched every time he said “honestly”, “rap”, “respect”, or “artist”.
In their world, was ‘respect‘ just a filler word? Or did they have a hundred different kinds of respect, enough to communicate using nothing but that one word?
[“Idol rappers aren’t real rappers.”]
‘Respect.’
It means, shut up quietly before I kill you.
[“Our group prepares every album ourselves. From writing lyrics and composing, to producing the album and even styling, the members take charge of everything. Our leader composes the songs and hands them over to me with the rap parts left open, and I write and insert the rap that way.”]
[<Prism, famous as a self-producing idol group>]
[“Honestly, if he’s already that famous, I wish he wouldn’t come out here. All the rappers who apply to this show come because they’re desperate. They’re people who’ve held on with nothing but rap from the bottom. I don’t get why an ecosystem-disrupting species like him has to come in just for fun and make the competition unfair.”]
[<Q. What do you think about other rappers’ prejudice against idols?>]
It was clearly a one-on-one interview, but the editing made it look like a perfectly timed Q&A, cutting back and forth between some random rapper’s comments and Lee Chise’s responses.
[“Huh? Everyone has a prejudice against me?”]
Lee Chise’s eyes went wide as if he were shocked by the staff’s question. Then, he hummed lightly with a tone that said ‘Uh-oh, that’s a big problem’ before breaking into hearty laughter. Someone who genuinely thought it was a problem would never laugh like that.
[<Not Interested>]
A caption in a serious, brush-stroke font popped up over Lee Chise’s torso, making it even more obvious.
‘No wonder people say the production team favors Lee Chise…….’
Still, I didn’t think the production team had taken money from RH Entertainment or edited things in Lee Chise’s favor due to personal connections.
Editing has to be consistent. Turning someone who doesn’t slip up with his words, refuses to take the bait when other contestants come at him with their teeth gnashed, and is absurdly skilled into a villain just wouldn’t be convincing.
And for a show to succeed, it absolutely needs a star.
Even setting aside my bias as his teammate, Lee Chise was honestly a guy who had that natural ‘IT‘ factor. It was clear an unspoken mutual understanding had formed between him and the production team.
‘Setting him up as the final boss from episode one means he really did that well right out of the gate.’
[<First Round Begins!>]
I watched the TV with a completely relaxed mind.
All the while, I absentmindedly rubbed my pocket, which now felt empty after my cigarette case had been confiscated along with my laptop.
“……”
…Actually, I’m incredibly anxious.
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Translator’s Corner:
- For the record, the exact phrase used is 낼룸 (Nael-lum). It’s an onomatopoeia that describes the quick, flicking motion of a tongue (like a snake or a dog grabbing a treat). ↩︎
- Deus ex machina is a Latin calque from Greek ἀπὸ μηχανῆς θεός (apò mēkhanês theós) ‘god from the machine’. The term was coined from the conventions of ancient Greek theater, where actors who were playing gods were brought on stage using a machine. The machine could be either a crane (mechane) used to lower actors from above or a riser that brought them up through a trapdoor. Aeschylus introduced the idea and it was used often to resolve the conflict and conclude the drama.
It’s a plot device, a type of denouement in which a seemingly unsolvable problem in a story is suddenly or abruptly resolved by an unexpected and unlikely occurrence ↩︎