After a bout of heavy rain passed and it seemed like true summer had finally arrived, the monsoon season came right on its heels. The dreary drizzle went on endlessly day after day. Around that time, it was decided that the finale of Song Camp would be held on a makeshift outdoor stage at a privately remodeled resort.
Nearly forty thousand people had set out at dawn, enduring long hours to reach the site, waiting only for the performances of the cast. By early afternoon, most others had already gone home, ordered good food, and tuned their TVs to the QBS channel.
[Wow, I heard the draw for Song Camp audience tickets was insane this year. Everyone I know failed to get in..]
[They say the show’s already a guaranteed winner for this year’s Variety Award... I mean, thank you for making it so damn fun, but out of that many seats, not one for me? Damn, I borrowed fifteen people’s phones to apply!]
└ You have fifteen friends?
└└ Didn’t say they were friends...
└└ Ah... sorry~he
[I know it’s pouring and they’re suffering out there right now, but I still envy, resent, hate, and curse every single person on-site right now]]
SNS feeds were filling up with posts captioned “Song Camp live broadcast proof,” showing people in raincoats taking pictures at the venue.
[5252... I’m turning off Twitter because I’m jealous of these photos.
That’s a fucking lie, my screen time on Twitter is sixteen hours.
└ Does this bastard even eat or sleep?]
Meanwhile, The Dawn’s fans were huddled together on private accounts, continuing to chatter about the third round of performances.
[If Song Camp starts at seven,
I’ll be shaking like hell from one o’clock already.
└ Trembling like a phone on vibrate.
└ Production team, just give them first place already????????]
[Fuck, I really thought I’d be fine even if they didn’t win, but now that they’ve made it this far, I’m getting greedy, haha.]
[Did Kang Ichae go into isolated training or something?
└ He’s getting crazier by the day. “Three Os” hasn’t even left the charts, lol.]
[So which song this time is Kang Ichae’s?
└ I vote “Skit.”
└└ Really?? I think “In May” sounds like his.
└└ That’s definitely Baek Jijun’s, lol, that guy writes fucking well.
└ I honestly can’t tell, I haven’t voted yet because I’m overthinking it T_T
└ They’re both absolute masterpieces anyway.]
While the online chatter buzzed with speculation, one fan suddenly uploaded a scanned magazine interview of Kang Ichae on their public account.
[Kang Ichae’s interview is out!!!!!!]
The Noeuls read every word as if licking the letters clean, overwhelmed with affection for the member and the fandom, and immediately started typing furiously again.
[“I am indeed a producer who came from an idol background.”
Dun dun dun dun... Hip-hop beat drops.]
[I love that Kang Ichae hasn’t lost his idol self.
‘My answer will always be the same.’ Is he fucking insane?
└ Aww, he’s so precious, haha. Someone pat his head, ruffle ruffle ruffle ruffle.
└ Just looking at his face, he looks like he should be in some underground FuckMusic industry... I just wanna hug him tight.]
[*He’s doing an interview alone, I’m so proud T_T
But Ichae, the outside world is dangerous.
Take one of the Dawning Pokémons with you!
└ Ichae: I can’t choose one T_T
└└ Then take them all!!!!!!]
[Okay interviewer, we get that you were amazed by Kang Ichae’s composition skills,
but let’s be clear — he’s not quitting The Dawn.
Our shy little Yang-Achae only has four phone numbers saved, anyway.
└ Wow, harsh..; but he’s an idol, doesn’t he need at least a few contacts?
└ Wait, that’s true?? Which interview was that in?
└└ Are you seriously believing this shit, lololololololol
└ Haha it sounded so convincing that people actually believed it, omg.
└ Honestly, even if he does, it’s probably like six or seven tops, hahaha.]
It was only a few pages of text, yet it soaked deep into the fans’ hearts.
[Title: Kang Ichae, who doesn’t flinch an inch in interviews even when given a carrot.
Ah, screw it, I’ll trust my gut.
My heart’s beating faster!!
I’m betting on “In May”!!!!!!!!!!!
└ Fuck it, I’m going with that too!!!!!!!
└└ May my lifetime luck with lottery tickets be used right here!!!!!!!!]
[Wait, seriously?? hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha]
[Damn it, I was gonna wait till the last minute, fuck, hahaha!]
[This is Noeul class.
Fuck it, no backing down now — I’m in!!!!!!!!]
In the end, the interview’s ripple effect gave courage to those who had hesitated to vote.
[It begins!!!]
And thus, Song Camp’s finale opened at 7 p.m. sharp.
***
Final Performance Venue.
The arena was already overflowing with an audience brimming with anticipation. To keep the song owners secret, the camera rehearsal had been moved several days earlier, so there was none today.
As they walked backstage along the temporary outdoor stage, other contestants they’d gotten familiar with greeted them. The exact rankings hadn’t been revealed yet, but judging by performance order, the top groups were roughly determined — everyone looked oddly at ease.
“The Dawn! This way, please!”
At the staff’s call, Kang Ichae turned his head and made eye contact with Baek Jijun, who was waiting nearby. The other man smiled gently, true to his nature.
“For spoiler control reasons, we skipped the pre-rehearsal today, but you’ll get a briefing right before you go on stage—...”
He silently mouthed fighting, and Ichae gave a brief bow before walking past.
Following staff directions, they entered their waiting room and sat on the sofa.
“Our order’s second to last!”
“Ah, yeah?”
Since Baek Jijun was last and they were placed right before him, it seemed the running order reflected the current vote tally. Meaning — Baek Jijun was still holding first place.
Beside the bouncing Jung Dajun, Seo Hoyun sat silently, and Ichae glanced at him for a moment before turning away.
As they stayed in the waiting room discussing bits and pieces of the performance, time flew by, and the echoing microphone announced the start of the live broadcast.
“Song Camp, the finale begins now!”
Clips of each contestant’s third-round songs flashed by, and the total vote count appeared in giant numbers on the main screen.
“Wow, that’s insane.”
“Record-breaking.”
Watching closely on the waiting-room TV, Sung Jiwon and Kim Sunghyun chatted as—
Buuuuuu—!
A roaring horn blared. Jung Dajun, who had been flicking drumsticks in the corner, jumped in surprise and dropped them.
【Voting for 1st place will close soon—!】
MC Lee Jeongwoong shouted straight into the camera as a countdown appeared above the screen.
【10, 9, 8, 7—...!】
Sung Jiwon, who’d been sitting upright, leaned closer to the screen.
【...—3, 2, 1—!】
【Voting has closed—!】
【The die has been cast! Now, let’s reveal the owners of each song!】
Waaaaaaah——....
“...It begins.”
With Sung Jiwon’s quiet murmur, the final round started on screen, beginning with Kang Woorin’s “Paper Doll.”
【Let us fall—!】
Proving Song Camp’s massive popularity, even “Paper Doll,” which had received relatively lukewarm response in blind voting, was met with deafening cheers that reached all the way backstage.
Watching the broadcast wedged between Kim Sunghyun and Sung Jiwon, Jung Dajun grew restless, finally giving in and peeking toward the entrance. He tiptoed over and carefully asked a staff member,
“...Um, would it be okay if we stepped out to watch?”
“Ah, hold on.”
There were still over thirty minutes before their turn, and their mics weren’t on yet. After checking over the radio and getting approval, the staff nodded, and the members quickly slipped out of the waiting room. Kang Ichae followed at an unhurried pace.
They hugged the wall to avoid getting in anyone’s way as they moved.
“...Hyungs, we’ve been on big stages before, right? So why am I so nervous today?”
“It makes sense. I overheard the ratings earlier.”
Wearing a soft smile, Sung Jiwon leaned over to whisper teasingly to Dajun. The maknae’s mouth dropped open.
“Crazy... No way—Song Camp really blew up!!!”
“Haha, let’s do our best.”
As they slowly wandered backstage, the excitement, the expectation, the thrill in the air seeped into Ichae too.
There was no trace of the anxious, insecure, self-doubting selves they once were.
“...—Current ratings as of 7:40—...”
Yet amid all the noise, Kang Ichae felt like he was sinking alone — the same way he once killed time alone in the PD booth.
“—...Check the mics again....”
The sounds stretching out from all directions scattered before they could even reach his ears, fading into a dull murmur.
With his gaze lowered to his feet, Kang Ichae suddenly felt the sting of someone’s eyes on the side of his face.
“—Luma, move to Zone C! This way—!”
When he lifted his chin slightly, there he was — Seo Hoyun, the person he had spent the past few weeks quietly avoiding, looking right at him.
Kang Ichae blinked a few times, and then the thought that sprang into his head just slipped out.
“...Are you nervous?”
He realized a second too late that there was no way Seo Hoyun, of all people, could be nervous. But his mouth continued moving anyway, saying words that didn’t seem directed at anyone in particular.
“It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”
That we would be fine. That there would be no more problems from here on.
He knew full well that words like that wouldn’t reach someone built entirely of logic like Seo Hoyun, but still—he couldn’t stop.
“You’re the one who made it that way.”
He even went as far as abolishing the judges’ scores for it.
When Kang Ichae looked into those calm, pitch-black eyes and smiled faintly before trying to move on, a quiet, low voice pierced his ears.
“...Kang Ichae.”
Somehow, it felt ominous.
When he turned, Seo Hoyun was watching him with a slightly complicated expression.
“There’s something I never finished saying that day.”
“...What?”
Kang Ichae clenched his jaw to keep from grinding his teeth.
Whenever Seo Hoyun took on ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) that tone, something always happened — something that exceeded all his expectations.
“I have to go back. No matter what.”
Still, did he really have to say it like that—
“That’s my top priority right now.”
—when it was something Ichae already knew too well.
The path they had carved over the past three years, the popularity they had built, the admiration and envy surrounding them.
Things that other people would have given everything to possess — Seo Hoyun had earned those through relentless effort. And yet, somehow, he always seemed like he could throw it all away at any moment.
It was something Ichae had recognized long ago, thought about over and over, and tried to understand countless times.
Even so, the sudden wave of irritation that welled up now was hard to suppress. He exhaled, brushing his cheek with annoyance.
“...But actually, it’s because I need to find my brother.”
He might be there too, Seo Hoyun added.
“If I can just find him and bring him back here with me...”
Ichae wasn’t sure what kind of face he was making, but through the curtain of his long red hair, their eyes met — and Seo Hoyun smiled softly.
“I’ll try to come back.”
It’s not a promise, he muttered faintly, and began to move toward the others.
Ichae blocked him with one arm and let out a short, dry laugh.
Kang Ichae, you dumb bastard.
For some reason, it felt like meeting someone from the past again. His chest prickled uncomfortably.
Cursing his own sentimentality, he tilted his head.
“...Hoyun hyung.”
“What.”
“...I was gonna tell you this before but decided to let it go. You have this habit—when you feel ashamed of yourself, you start talking dramatically. Way too long.”
The moment he saw Seo Hoyun’s expression slowly rot in real time, a burst of laughter broke out of him.
“Pfft, anyway... yeah, fine. Got it, hyung.”
He’s lost it.
“Do that, then.”
If Ichae felt like all this effort had been just to hear a single, noncommittal line like that, maybe he really was crazy.
“Hey, what are you two doing?”
Having noticed the two of them whispering off to the side, looking more awkward than usual lately, Kim Sunghyun approached cautiously.
Ichae threw both hands in the air with a mischievous grin.
“Our beloved Dawning! Before we go out, let’s pump ourselves up!! Let’s do the chant!!”
“What?”
Startled, Kim Sunghyun raised his voice slightly, and out near the outdoor stage — in a spot hidden enough to avoid being seen while watching the other team’s performance — Jung Dajun jumped up, waving his drumsticks.
“Ahhh! The chant! I completely forgot about that!! You can’t skip something straight out of a shonen manga!!!”
“Haha, good idea!”
“What the hell, seriously...”
Kim Sunghyun sighed as he looked over the overly excited members one by one. After shushing them and glancing at the harried staff nearby, he took a step back.
“Ha... come here.”
He lined them up against the wall so they wouldn’t block the passageway.
Drip— The sound of raindrops hitting the ceiling of the venue blended faintly into the melody from the stage. Lifting his chin slightly, Sunghyun tightened his throat and spoke.
“You’ve all worked hard making it through the third survival round. Especially you, Kang Ichae. It must’ve been tough, but even though you weren’t exactly quiet about it, you all still tried to support each other, and I’m grateful—...”
“It’s long!!”
“Yeah, keep it short~.”
“...Ha.......”
Even Sung Jiwon joined Dajun’s teasing, booing playfully. Kim Sunghyun let out a sigh as deep and thick as broth.
“...Forget it. I’m trusting you guys again this time.”
With that flat yet heavy line, Sunghyun gave Ichae a couple of pats on the back and walked past. Sung Jiwon followed with a small smile, patting his shoulder and saying “good job” before heading toward the staff.
Jung Dajun chattered nonstop about the cool new technique he’d perfected, insisting everyone watch closely — even though he wouldn’t be able to see from behind his drums anyway.
As they received their microphones and checked their in-ears, the room buzzed with chatter.
Bzzzzzz—
Outside, the VCR footage of their pre-recorded interviews seemed to be playing.
When they stepped onto the lift, their hearts pounded violently.
It was always like this right before stepping onto the stage.
—WAAAAAAAH!
The cheers sounded like thunder, but the ferocious pounding of his heart drowned them all out.
Even in the darkness where he couldn’t make out the faces right in front of him, Kang Ichae knew what kind of expressions his members were wearing.
He didn’t know what had suddenly come over him — the same guy who believed that “effort” and “will” alone could never change anything.
Even if it’s not a promise, it’s fine.
Kang Ichae felt light.
We can make it that way ourselves.
So, let’s give it a try.
WAAAAAAAH—!!!
Even after the ending credits roll, may we still remain together in that audience.
