The Reincarnated Idol Hard Carries an Indie Band - Chapter 17

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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A Former Idol Carries an Indie Band
Chapter 17
Kim Ju-hee, an office worker, was on her way home after finishing a grueling shift.
Her apartment lay on the far side of Banwol Park—there was no way around it.
Without fail, as she cut through Banwol Park each Friday, she found herself lamenting her solitary existence, another weekend with no plans.
“Waaaah!”
“Kyaaaah!”
That is, until she met them.
About a month ago.
Walking through Banwol Park, she stumbled upon a nameless band busking by chance.
At first, she watched the performance as if enchanted by their handsome faces.
But gradually, she fell for their music.
Though she knew little about music, the songs they sang fell like sweet rain on Kim Ju-hee’s weary days.
She couldn’t explain it—their sound, the energy they created—but there was something about that youthful radiance that captivated her.
She still remembered that first performance vividly.
She couldn’t pinpoint their overall musical level with precision.
But one thing was certain: that vocalist’s skill was nearly professional grade.
Kim Ju-hee and the other spectators scattered around them all watched the performance as if entranced.
After that day, familiar faces gathered in Banwol Park to catch their refined, free performances.
The band had recently introduced themselves under the name Octop.
A brand-new high school band, no less.
The setup naturally drew an indulgent smile from her.
“This next song is fresh! It’s an original composition, actually.”
“No way, a new one!”
“The title is ‘Rendezvous’. Enjoy!”
At the words “new song” and “original composition,” the crowd exhaled in unison, filled with anticipation.
“Got to capture this.”
Kim Ju-hee naturally pulled out her smartphone and started recording.
She had been filming most of Octop’s performances for the past while and uploading them to YouTube.
The view counts weren’t high yet, but she believed that someday this would explode.
If Octop succeeded.
If they became famous later, the footage she was preserving now might rack up astronomical views.
With such thoughts, Kim Ju-hee aimed her lens at Cha Seo-ha and his friends once more.
* * *
While Octop’s new song “Rendezvous” was being exclusively premiered in Banwol Park.
“Wow.”
“What….”
Yu Young-eun, vice president of the student council at Jeongwun High School, was watching the performance alongside a friend.
“Young-eun, they’re really good….”
“I know. Is a high school band normally like this?”
“No way. They’re special.”
The word “special” from her friend’s mouth startled Yu Young-eun.
Her friend was someone who encountered many exceptional people.
“Even by your industry standards, Ga-yeong?”
“Yeah. In my eyes, they are.”
Moon Ga-yeong.
An actress who debuted as a child actor at age seven and continues her active career to this day.
That was Yu Young-eun’s friend.
Most child actors experience a slump as they transition from childhood to adulthood, but Moon Ga-yeong had worked steadily without any gap in her career.
This alone testified to her recognized acting ability and star potential.
Yet Moon Ga-yeong’s true dream was to be a singer.
A bandmate, no less.
So Moon Ga-yeong had no choice but to watch the performance, spellbound.
The Octop band, playing instruments and singing on a stage only slightly elevated above ground.
No lighting, mediocre sound equipment.
Yet somehow, in Moon Ga-yeong’s eyes, they shone and sparkled brighter than any singer in the world.
It was a strange feeling.
Envious, even….
Hungry, as if….
As if she could burst into motion at any moment.
* * *
“Thank you!”
After finishing the performance, they spent the usual time taking photos with fans who rushed forward.
We had been holding steady performances, and busking in Banwol Park had become a small cultural institution.
Other buskers even performed in the time slots before and after ours.
In plain terms, they were leveraging our band’s recognition.
Starting a busking session with an audience already secured has its advantages.
What struck me as odd was that those buskers would gracefully yield when we arrived.
Since busking has no traffic regulation authority, if someone didn’t give up their spot, there’d be nothing we could do.
It’d be absurd to demand they leave just because this was our usual time.
Besides, Banwol Park didn’t belong to us, after all.
But finding it strange that the problem never arose, I asked the other buskers about it today.
The answer was simple.
Seventy percent of the crowd gathered here was coming to see Octop.
And they themselves were fans of Octop.
That was the answer from the busker with a cool demeanor who beatboxed.
Hearing that response and looking around, I noticed there were distinctly familiar faces in the audience.
Usually we draw about seventy spectators for busking, but nearly all of them seemed to have been here before, at least twice.
‘Is this the indie scene?’
Honestly, back when I was a top star, I knew nothing about the indie scene.
So unconsciously, I’d been categorizing audiences of a few hundred or less as just “modest crowds.”
Busking itself felt less like a performance and more like performance practice.
But my perspective is shifting.
Banwol Park is our birthplace.
It’s our Kaiserkeller, our Seattle OK Hotel, our LA Whisky a Go Go.
“That was so cool!”
“Thanks for coming.”
“Of course I came! I’ll be back next week too!”
“Really? Then I’ll have to do even better next week.”
I smiled softly and looked down at what appeared to be a middle schooler, whose face flushed crimson.
“I’ll, I’ll wait right up front!”
As the fan disappeared, hand covering her mouth, Heo Jun-seong poked me in the ribs.
“Hey, she’s a middle schooler.”
“What about it?”
“Nothing, never mind.”
I caught on belatedly.
“You’re insane.”
This is just the practiced finesse that emerges from one thousand, two hundred fourteen fan-sign lines.
Is there a thrill point more effective than honorific speech to strangers?
The narrowing distance only strengthens the bond between fan and artist.
After sending off the last students we photographed with, we tried to start packing up.
“Do-yeong!”
And then, someone’s voice called out to Lee Do-yeong.
That must be Yu Young-eun.
I didn’t know Yu Young-eun’s face, but I could tell at once.
Because I recognized Moon Ga-yeong, wearing a large baseball cap, lingering in the back.
Those two are real friends.
They’ve been friends since kindergarten, and they stayed close even after Moon Ga-yeong became a top star.
Moments later, Lee Do-yeong approached.
“Hey, Seo-ha.”
“Yeah?”
“My friend has something she wants to tell you.”
Something to say—I’m intrigued.
* * *
The others headed home first, while Lee Do-yeong, I, Yu Young-eun, and Moon Ga-yeong made our way to a café.
Moon Ga-yeong has solid standing as a child actor, but she’s not quite a superstar yet.
Industry recognition and public fame are distinctly different things, after all.
Perhaps that’s why Lee Do-yeong showed no great reaction upon meeting Moon Ga-yeong.
Or perhaps not?
Maybe it’s just because he’s known her since first year?
Then again, as a member of the taekwondo club, my school experience was probably quite different in density from theirs.
“I really enjoyed the performance today.”
“Thanks. Are you in the entertainment industry?”
“Yeah, I am. I’m an actress.”
“What’s this about?”
“Actually, I heard that the song you performed today—’Rendezvous’—was an original composition. Is that right?”
“Yeah. Seo-ha here composed it.”
At Lee Do-yeong’s words, Moon Ga-yeong turned her gaze toward me.
“Did you compose it alone?”
“Technically, I did the work, but the inspiration came from the band members.”
“Would it be okay if I sang it? I mean, once you guys register it as an official track, I’d like to do a slight remix version tailored to my own vocal tone.”
It was exactly what I’d anticipated.
Moon Ga-yeong has been active as an actress, but her original dream was to be a singer.
From what I know, she continued with acting precisely as a stepping stone toward singing.
This moment would be when her passion burned the fiercest.
But Moon Ga-yeong’s agency strongly discouraged her singing activities.
It’s never easy for a child actor to establish themselves as a successful adult actress.
Though opportunities for roles would abound, one misstep could land them in the category of an ambiguous actor with ambiguous recognition.
So the agency worried that singing might squander her image, leaving her stuck with B-grade status that wouldn’t suit serious drama roles.
Meanwhile, Moon Ga-yeong’s original dream from the very beginning was to be a singer.
Trapped in this situation, her agency had no intention of supporting her singing pursuits, just making excuses and dragging out time.
In the original timeline, she’d personally commissioned a composer for a song….
‘And crashed spectacularly.’
The agency’s worries become reality.
She was likely at the exact point now where she was desperately searching for a composer.
So if I let Moon Ga-yeong witness our performance, receiving a composition request wasn’t an overblown expectation.
After all, she’d wanted to sing songs with a teenage school band vibe.
How do I know these detailed facts?
After my solo debut, when I’d been acting for a while, I’d become close with her filming the same drama.
I’d known she was my classmate, but this was the first time we’d had a personal conversation.
And surprisingly, she already knew Octop existed and thought our songs were quite good.
Not the current Octop, but Octop from my previous life.
Seeing us now, several dimensions upgraded, I judged it something I couldn’t overlook.
But, well.
I can’t give her “Rendezvous.”
“That’s difficult.”
“Huh? What is?”
The ones surprised were Lee Do-yeong and Yu Young-eun.
Having a celebrity cover a nameless band’s song would be a massive opportunity, after all.
“Why?”
“There are many reasons, but first—you’re not suited for ‘Rendezvous’ anyway. That song was written with a male vocalist in mind from the start.”
“I could arrange it a bit….”
“Even with arrangement, it won’t work. This is a matter of sensibility. Male and female high schoolers have distinctly different emotional cores, don’t they?”
Truthfully, I can’t say it’s one hundred percent impossible.
With good arranging, it might be feasible.
But I had something else in mind.
“How about this instead? I have a song I wrote for a female vocalist.”
Moments later, a song began streaming from my phone.
It was a track I’d worked on recently called “Diving.”
Lee Do-yeong’s eyes went wide as saucers, staring at me.
His expression asking whether I was really okay with giving that away.
I answered with a reassuring nod.
“Huh….”
Moon Ga-yeong concentrated on the song.
After some time passed, Moon Ga-yeong folded onto the table, lowered her head, and let out a deep sigh.
“You’re… a genius?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Did you do the guide vocal?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re definitely a genius.”
Well, it is a good song.
I’d been commissioned to write it when a famous girl group’s leader debuted solo.
“Diving” had topped every music show for two weeks and cracked the year-end chart’s top twenty.
“Octop doesn’t perform this song?”
“Not yet—it was originally written with a female vocalist in mind.”
“I’ll buy it. What’s the price?”
It must be because she hasn’t experienced her spectacular failure as a singer yet.
Her drive is impressive.
She clearly loved the song.
“Let me ask you something else first instead of talking about money.”
“Something else?”
“Where are you planning to use this song?”
“I want to release it. And I want to perform it.”
“Perform? What kind of performance?”
“At our school festival coming up soon. I want to sing it there.”
Right, well.
Moon Ga-yeong appearing at the school festival would be a constant.
Because….
“You’re being filmed for a variety show on festival day, aren’t you?”
“How did you know that?”
Moon Ga-yeong, who’d been calm the whole time, suddenly looked startled.
“I overheard it when I dropped by the faculty office. The filming crew seemed to be asking for permission?”
“Oh, I see. I didn’t know. Yeah, I’ve got the ‘Star Observation Cam’ shoot that day.”
Star Observation Cam.
An observation variety show that films the daily life of a celebrity, typically edited into three to four weeks’ worth of content per project.
In the past it had been quite popular, but I recall its popularity gradually faded around this time.
“Then your performance will get filmed too?”
“It will.”
“Then let’s get us into the shot as well.”
“Huh?”
“You know what you’re good at. Acting.”
Rolling around in Hongdae for a few years and gradually climbing through a orthodox route to success might be interesting in its own way.
But there’s one thing weighing on me.
Our age, precisely.
Eighteen.
We still have adequate freedom, but in a year, we’ll become exam students.
That’s fine for me, Heo Jun-seong, and Kang Min.
We either dropped out of studies or withdrew from school entirely anyway.
But not Kim Ji-hu and Lee Do-yeong.
Especially Lee Do-yeong is the problem.
Kim Ji-hu has agency in his choices, but Lee Do-yeong is someone easily swayed by what his parents say.
It’s not that there’s anything wrong with that, but….
Lee Do-yeong’s parents were people with good reason to strongly oppose his music.
So I was planning to make sure the whole nation heard our name at least once before next year came around.
And the starting point was a variety show with 14% viewership.
“Getting us in the shot? What exactly do you want?”
“How does this scenario sound?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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