Chapter 4.2
When I first debuted, I was genuinely grateful to my fans. Theyâd buy expensive gifts without hesitation, purchasing albums by the boxload to attend fan signings with high entry odds. Just like a worker feels grateful to their boss on payday, I felt that same gratitude whenever I saw the deposits in my bank account.
Strict self-discipline and creating flawless performances were always grueling, but the thought of money hitting my bank account made it bearable. Whether the members fought or not wasnât my concern.
With good looks and solid skills, I became a popular member of the group and enjoyed the perks of fame for 12 years. I wonât deny that. Sure, I was constantly harassed by both fans and anti-fans, but my recognition level wasnât bad. Every time we released an album, the photo cards featuring me were always high-value items.
âBut why does this financial statement look like this?â
After leaving R&M and debuting solo, the payout I received was pitiful. It looked like three or four zeros were missing.
âIn this industry, surviving as a solo artist is tough. Thatâs why everyone debuts in a group.â
âEven so, how does it make sense to earn this little?â
âHow many young solo singers do you know that are actually successful? You need at least one or two mega-hits to live comfortably in this business.â
My new agency manager said nonchalantly, âConsidering everything, youâre doing well.â I couldnât believe it. How was this âwellâ when the earnings were this low?
Now I understood why idols clung to their groups for as long as possible. Going solo meant losing the interpersonal dynamics fans thrived on. Only those who truly liked me as an individual followed me. Casual fans who had liked the group as a whole inevitably fell away.
Of course, this meant my fanbase was inevitably halved, and with my solo music style differing from our groupâs, the number dropped further still.
I had factored this into my decision when I left, but seeing the actual numbers made me sigh. If this was the reality, I might as well have stayed at R&M and leeched off the group longer.
But regret wouldnât change anything now. Reverb was essentially gone. Two more members left after me, and the remaining two would likely follow suit in the coming months. In the end, only Cheon Tae Rim and Go Ha Ram would be left.
Fans would cry and lament, but eventually, theyâd move on to something new. Time had a way of resolving everything.
Thinking about it all made everything seem meaningless. What was the point of working so hard? Of feeling so exhilarated? Sure, there had been moments of intense longing, but in hindsight, striving for achievements seemed ridiculous. Iâd convinced myself I was doing it all for money, but there had been times when I thought, âThis is the only thing for me.â
âRight, Tae Rim asked for your address earlier.â
âCheon Tae Rim?â
âYeah. He said heâd check with you first before I gave it to him. Should I?â
âGo ahead.â
âYou know, itâs funny⊠Even if your group is basically disbanded, you worked together for so long. How do you not have each otherâs numbers?â
âIâm not close with him.â
âTae Rim said he has something to tell you and plans to visit your place tonight. Seriously, Iâm like a messenger stuck between you two.â
I listened to my managerâs complaints with one ear and ignored them with the other. If this were my Reverb manager, they wouldnât dare talk to me like this. My new manager, on the other hand, talked too muchâway too much.
Once my irritation at the manager subsided, Cheon Tae Rimâs face floated to mind. Why was he suddenly reaching out? Did rumors of my failed solo debut already reach him?
I didnât really want to meet him, but it wasnât like I could kick out a former member who reached out directly. We werenât close, but if he had something important to say, I couldnât ignore it. Maybe it was about settling something from our time together. I couldnât shut the door on that, if it was about some kind of settlement related to my solo activities.
In the end, I made sure to be home at the time Tae Rim said heâd visit.
I had plenty of free time now that my once-packed schedule had vanished. There had been a time when I was too busy to sleep, but now, I had all the time in the world because work simply wasnât coming in.
During Reverbâs heyday, other members handled the variety show appearances, and my reputation in the entertainment world had already been irreparably damaged. Personal offers were out of the question. Iâd saved enough money to live comfortably, but the lack of work left me feeling empty.
The spotlight that had been on me for so long felt like a lie. The countless cheers and applauseâwas it all just something Iâd imagined?
When I checked online, I still found people wishing for my death alongside others proclaiming their love for me. My 12 years in the industry were real.
I knew that, and yet, I doubted myself. How did I succeed? And how had everything crumbled so quickly…?
The most surreal moment came when I got home.
In my living room, standing in one corner like a statue, was someone I didnât recognize.
“Oppa.”
This feels like the opening of a horror movie.
I stood there, dumbfounded, like an extra in a B-grade horror movie about to meet their demise, staring at an intruder in my own home.
