Chapter 28. An Unexpected Lucky Encounter
The moment I returned to the office, I opened Excel and calculated all the vote differences.
Idol 1: 209,418 / 8.9%
Idol 2: 204,712 / 8.7% (-4,706)
Idol 3: 169,417 / 7.2% (-35,295)
Idol 4: 164,702 / 6.2% (-4,715)
Idol 5: 145,887 / 5.5% (-18,815)
Idol 6: 144,710 / 5.3% (-1,177)
...(Remaining entries omitted)
The actual smallest difference was 1,176 votes.
Most of the time, it was 1,177.
The 4,706-vote difference between Idol 1 and Idol 2 was only two less than:
1,177 × 4 = 4,708.
It was also two more than the result of multiplying 1,176 by four.
Likewise, the 35,295-vote gap between Idol 2 and Idol 3 was fifteen less than:
1,177 × 30 = 35,310.
And fifteen more than:
1,176 × 30 = 35,280.
The pattern was far too suspicious.
Still, the calculations didn't line up perfectly.
That suggested the mysterious basic unit of 1,176 or 1,177 existed because hidden decimal points had been removed.
To properly prove manipulation, I needed to discover the precise decimal value.
If I had to calculate every single vote difference manually to uncover the hidden decimal, I'd spend the entire night on it unless I was some sort of human calculator.
Honestly, that was exactly what I intended to do.
Until I noticed the total number of voters.
[Total Voters: 2,353,014]
After repeatedly looking at multiples of 1,176 and 1,177, certain numbers started feeling familiar.
The number 2,353 from the total voter count of 2,353,014 was nearly twice 1,176.
In other words:
1,176 × 2,000 = approximately 2,353,000.
Then I could determine the exact decimal value simply by dividing the total voter count by 2,000.
I immediately calculated it.
2,353,014 ÷ 2,000 = 1,176.507.
So the true identity of the 1,176–1,177 minimum vote difference was:
1,176.507.
Round it up, and it became 1,177.
Round it down, and it became 1,176.
If they'd divided the total number of voters into units equal to one two-thousandth of the whole and then distributed those units differently to each idol, I could reverse the calculation and determine the vote totals originally produced by the Jackpot; Japan side.
The displayed percentages gave me the coefficient they'd assigned.
Since 2,000 divided by 100 was 20, I multiplied each percentage by 20.
Idol 1 received a coefficient of 178.
Idol 2 received 174.
Multiplying each coefficient by 1,176.507 produced the following:
Idol 1: 209,418.246 / 8.9% (178 × 1,176.507)
Idol 2: 204,712.218 / 8.7% (174 × 1,176.507)
Idol 3: 169,417.008 / 7.2% (144 × 1,176.507)
Idol 4: 164,701.88 / 6.2% (140 × 1,176.507)
Idol 5: 145,886.868 / 5.5% (124 × 1,176.507)
Idol 6: 144,710.361 / 5.3% (123 × 1,176.507)
Obviously, they couldn't announce vote totals with three decimal places.
So they'd simply rounded them.
With this, the signs of manipulation in Jackpot; Japan became unmistakable.
Sure, they could insist that the numbers had coincidentally ended up with gaps of exactly 1,176 or 1,177 votes.
But if I ran the same calculation on the second and third rounds, they'd have practically no room left to make excuses.
The public would turn against them.
Whew...
After finishing the calculations, I stood up from the computer and caught my breath.
I'd almost stayed up all night.
If I hadn't noticed the total voter count at exactly the right time, I would've suffered through calculating every decimal manually.
Just then, the door opened.
Dae-hun entered.
“Huh? Hyung, you're already here?”
“What about you? What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”
Dae-hun pointed at the clock.
“What middle of the night? It's already seven in the morning.”
...
Damn.
Come to think of it, it had already been three in the morning when I left Pocheon Police Station.
The talented taxi driver had made it back to Seoul in an hour.
Then I'd spent another three hours fighting with calculations.
Apparently, I was skipping sleep entirely today.
No.
I'd already skipped it.
My body was ten years older than Anna's, but I'd probably be fine.
I had to be.
Now that I had a knife in my hand, this was the moment to hurry before somebody else struck first.
Before the song was completely handed over to TakeF, I needed to inform Im Sori of what I'd discovered.
And if possible...
Maybe I could make that song ours.
It was a treasure destined to reach number one on the Mango Chart.
No matter how many times I looked at it, I wanted it badly.
At last, I called the number I'd saved for Im Sori some time ago.
“Yes, this is Im Sori, CEO of Soul Studio.”
She answered instantly.
Even her voice radiated confidence in success.
As expected of the CEO of a major studio.
“This is Do Jun-hyeok, Team Leader 2 at Universe Entertainment. I'd like to discuss a new song with you. Would it be possible for me to visit you today?”
“Ahhh, Universe Entertainment?”
The way she exaggerated her recognition told me she probably had no idea who we were.
“Yes, that's fine. Are you coming right away?”
And just like that, I secured a same-day consultation.
Wasn't I going to ask Oh Su for permission?
If I needed the CEO's permission every time I wanted to succeed, I would've been fired from Pantheon before surviving even two years there.
Soul Studio.
A composition studio run by composer Im Sori and lyricist Na Ullim.
They were an elite composition crew that worked across an enormous range of genres.
Not just idol music.
Pansori.
Trot.
Indie new age.
Film soundtracks.
Even commercial jingles.
Astra had received their debut song from Soul Studio as well.
Soul Studio had probably played a large part in how quickly Astra succeeded.
I immediately visited the studio and looked around.
Because so many composers from different genres worked there, the building was fairly large and packed with modern equipment.
A calendar and several pamphlets caught my eye.
They showed a man in loose ethnic-style trousers performing an elegant dance.
Small decorations like those made the otherwise ordinary, rigid office feel strangely refined.
I recognized one of the people in the pamphlets.
Yang Seung-tae.
Back when I worked at Pantheon, we'd once recruited him as a choreographer.
He was quite successful in the contemporary dance world.
Apparently, Im Sori was a fan.
It would be nice if Blue Moon could receive choreography from someone like Yang Seung-tae for their new song.
It wasn't impossible.
But we'd already agreed on a choreographer with the employees.
There was no reason to suddenly change everything.
It might be better to save that connection for later.
“Ah, you're already here. You're early. I'm Im Sori...”
Im Sori approached me with her hand extended.
Then she suddenly stopped.
“Is something wrong?”
“I know this might be rude to ask when we've just met, but... are you sick?”
She looked genuinely concerned.
“Right now, you look like... a handsome zombie.”
A zombie?
I looked into a small mirror hanging on one side of the office.
She was right.
My dark circles weren't merely dark anymore.
They were practically blue.
My cheeks were sunken.
I didn't look like a normal zombie.
I looked like a zombie that hadn't eaten in several days.
“Ah, I've been rather busy lately... Haha. Anyway, I'm Do Jun-hyeok.”
“Yes. Nice to meet you.”
Our scheduled appointment was for nine o'clock.
But I hadn't wanted to wait until then.
Once nine came around, the company would start wondering why Cheon Gi-hong hadn't shown up.
Then they'd discover he'd gotten tangled in an idol sexual-entertainment scandal.
The company would probably turn upside down.
I was the one who had fought a war all night.
I didn't feel like dealing with Oh Su's hysteria on top of everything else.
“Still, you recognized me immediately.”
“Of course. I've seen you from time to time for years. From a distance, anyway. You're a very noticeable person.”
Noticeable?
Was she about to joke about the Won-woo incident?
It hadn't happened that long ago.
Still, thanks to Blue Moon, I could laugh about it now.
More importantly, this woman was the composer of N.Dolphin.
If I couldn't laugh this off, what else could I possibly do?
“Before you collapse, let's talk about the song immediately. Your group is Blue Moon, right? They're doing very well lately.”
“Hahaha... You're flattering us.”
“PD Seo Hoe-dong told me you might contact us, so I listened to them beforehand.”
Apparently, after giving out his business cards, Seo Hoe-dong had contacted the studios too.
I hadn't expected him to go that far for us.
“What did you think?”
“I have songs that could suit Blue Moon. The group's combination is excellent. Though it doesn't seem like they've received particularly good songs until now.”
Internally, I strongly agreed.
And the statement sounded like Im Sori was confident she could compose something much better.
That made me even more excited.
“So naturally, you should commission a custom project song, right?”
A song specifically planned for Blue Moon would generally have higher quality and suit their atmosphere better than something written beforehand.
It would also cost more.
But I already had one particular song in mind.
N.Dolphin.
“Instead of a custom composition, could I hear some songs you've already completed?”
“Ah... You'd prefer that? I heard you were planning to greatly develop the concept for this comeback. Wouldn't commissioning a new song be better in the long run?”
That was a reasonable point.
Even though Seo Hoe-dong had given us a push, a professional was still a professional.
“That's true, but there could already be a finished song that happens to suit us.”
“Understood. Then let's check the existing songs first.”
Im Sori hid her disappointment and guided me toward a studio across from the recording room.
Complicated recording equipment filled the room.
By connecting a laptop, we could listen to completed work at the highest possible sound quality.
Im Sori opened a folder called [Sample] and showed me files titled [export1] and [export2].
She played them one at a time.
They were far better than Blue Moon's previous songs.
But they didn't sound like songs that would reach number one.
If Blue Moon's members added their incredible beauty, dancing ability, and top-level vocals, maybe it wasn't impossible.
Still...
“Nothing has really grabbed you yet, has it?”
“Not so far.”
“Hmm... I agree, actually. They're still unfinished, but I'll show you several more.”
She closed [export2].
Then she prepared to open another folder.
At that moment, I noticed another file.
[export3]
“Huh? There's another file over there.”
“This one?”
Im Sori moved the cursor over it.
“I can't sell this. It's already sold out. I was supposed to move it into a different category, but I was working on it until right before you arrived, so I forgot.”
“Can I listen to it?”
Already sold.
Could the buyer be TakeF?
“What? It's already sold... I suppose there's no reason I can't let you hear it.”
“I'm simply curious. We're discussing an important comeback. I have to be careful, don't I? Maybe hearing this song will inspire me to switch to a custom project. Have you already signed the contract?”
“Forget the contract. I'm personally involved with the program itself...”
Of course they hadn't signed it yet.
I'd received the spam message.
Resolved the hotel incident.
Then rushed all the way here.
If the contract had already been signed, none of that would make sense.
I stared directly into Im Sori's eyes.
Not to intimidate her.
To look trustworthy.
“I'll let you hear it.”
Im Sori opened [export3].
Even from the production interface, it looked more polished than the previous tracks.
She'd said it was already sold.
Apparently, it was close to one hundred percent complete.
When she pressed play, [export3] filled both the recording room and studio.
A familiar but not clichéd new-age-style instrumental began.
Soon, a refreshing synth joined it and the song properly began.
Overall, it evoked the sea.
But it didn't have the predictable Hawaiian feel of a typical summer song.
It was calm yet exciting enough.
The composition had plenty going on, but listening never became tiring.
“Does this song have a title?”
“I haven't chosen one yet.”
“Maybe you have a working title? Or an image you had in mind while composing it? Something like that?”
Perhaps I'd made my interest too obvious.
Im Sori answered cautiously.
“I once heard that sailors in the old days considered accidentally seeing dolphins during a voyage a sign of great luck. That story came to mind while I was composing it. If you saw not one or two dolphins, but a pod of dozens all at once, wouldn't that moment feel almost like a dream? It's still rough, but that's the image where this song began.”
“Ah. Dolphins?”
Dolphins.
Dolphin.
N.Dolphin.
This was definitely it.
Now that I'd identified my target, it was time to begin the operation.
I carefully asked,
“This song is excellent. Which group is getting it?”
“It's going to Japan.”
Japan!
I'd already been certain.
Still, uncovering every clue one by one felt surprisingly satisfying.
“Japan? It doesn't sound particularly Japanese.”
“Right. They specifically requested something Korean. The group's motto is to create music that will conquer all of East Asia, not just Japan.”
That made sense.
If it was destined to reach number one on Korea's Mango Chart, it couldn't be a completely unfamiliar concept.
“I like this one.”
“You like it?”
“Yes.”
Im Sori sighed as if the exact thing she'd been worried about had finally happened.
At the same time, she tilted her head as though questioning my taste.
Apparently, she thought the song was only “Korean” by Japanese standards and didn't completely match the feeling of a Korean idol song.
Honestly, I agreed.
But that difference was exactly what could give Blue Moon their own identity.
More importantly, the future I'd seen through the spam message had already predicted N.Dolphin's success.
“Yes. Whoever is getting this song is a very lucky group.”
“Are they? They're already fairly successful in Japan even without me. TakeF. Have you heard of them?”
“TakeF? You mean Takeda Friends?”
I pretended to be surprised.
Im Sori's eyes widened too.
Success.
Now it was time to start hitting.
“TakeF really kicked away the luck that fell into their lap. Imagine losing this song when it was right in front of them.”
At my words, Im Sori, the person who actually owned the song, merely blinked innocently.
