West Seoul University Series

by Leigh Ban

  The man behind the camera asked, “If she’s such an angel, why isn’t she your girlfriend, buddy?”

  “Life gets in the way of things, you know?” Joon said with a wistful look. “At the moment, I’m trying to focus on chasing my dream. I barely have time to eat and sleep because I’m working all day and all night. She’s going to be my girl someday though, hopefully sooner rather than later. If I go to the finals and receive the opportunity to prove myself to everyone at home watching K Hip-Hop Hustle, I might have to ask her out through the show.”

  Stella turned to me with wide eyes. “Is that you? Didn’t you say you and Yumi met him through a community service program?”

  Yumi knitted her brow. “We did. He’s clearly talking about Dana. Hello, he even name-dropped our university.”

  “Wow, Dana, he really does like you after all,” Stella said.

  “Stella, you need to be more critical.” Yumi pursed her lips, then turned to me. “Why don’t we go over what he said? Firstly, why did he need to drone on about the value of community service in the beginning? Because he needs to come off as the edgy cool guy who also has a heart of gold.”

  Stella nodded as she chewed her pizza.

  Yumi continued. “Why did he choose to talk about Dana then? Because he wants to emphasize how he’s a romantic, through his unrequited love, while also indicating he’s single. I honestly think Joon’s sharing his love story with Dana purely to improve his image on the show and have young girls pine over him.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better for his popularity if he alluded to his crush on Dana as something from the past that he’s already gotten over?” Stella asked.

  “Perhaps, but he’s a rapper, not a pop star. People don’t expect rappers to stay single for their fans like they do for their favorite boy band members.”

  Stella and Yumi continued watching the television. Joon was standing onstage, preparing to perform a rap in front of the judges.

  I groaned. “Guys, can we talk about something else? I don’t want to watch this.”

  Yumi massaged my shoulder. “Come on, Dana. When else are we going to see someone we’ve actually met perform on television?”

  Once a fast trap beat began to play, Joon swayed his body. He looked silly and uncoordinated, as if he was trying to act like a village drunkard for a middle school play.

  “This is a diss for all the has-beens. I don’t care if you’re a judge,” he said before starting the first verse.

  The camera panned on the face of the judges. Most of them appeared to be amused. Seeing as they were popular twenty-something-year-old rappers, they were clearly not being targeted. However, a balding middle-aged judge in a beanie dropped his jaw. I wasn’t sure whether the show was edited to make him seem outraged.

  Joon ended his rap with the line, “Why listen to a grandpa though? We’re sick of your old-school flow.”

  Chapter Five

  On Monday, Gusun and I met our first interviewee: Rhymee. After his debut single, “The Rhymez,” went viral, the title song was played on repeat at every home, school, shop, and restaurant in South Korea for almost a year. At the time, the entire nation knew the lyrics to his upbeat pop song. Although some people vehemently hated the song, saying Rhymee was a talentless hick who got famous because teenagers kept playing his song to annoy their parents, the consensus was that the song was refreshing and addictive. On the surface, “The Rhymez” was a typical underdog story. However, the details within the lyrics were outrageously comical in their portrayal of the life of a simple pig farmer. Rhymee also sang and spoke with a strong Jeju dialect, a dialect so different from standard Korean that some people considered it a separate language. I’d always believed that people paid attention to him because he was unabashedly himself. But when his second single came out, only middle schoolers listened to him. By the third single, he was once again a nobody.

  “Rhymee is an icon,” Gusun opined as we waited at a café on the first floor of the College of Music.

  After I took a sip of my cappuccino, I said, “True. Nobody seems to know what he’s up to now, but ‘The Rhymez’ was iconic. It’s the first song I’m reminded of when I think about middle school, which was otherwise a miserable time for me. Until last week, I didn’t know he did three singles though. I assumed he recorded two singles and disappeared.”

  “You’re not alone. Most people have never heard of his third single. Rhymee’s third single is drastically different than his first two. When I heard it for the first time, I was surprised by how mellow it was. I’ve always wondered what prompted the switch. I hope we find out today.”

  “It’s going to be an interesting interview. By the way, how were you able to reach out to him and arrange an interview within a couple of days?” I asked.

  “Oh, a record producer I know meets up with him occasionally.”

  “Rhymee doesn’t live with his pigs on Jeju Island anymore?” I joked.

  “Apparently not.”

  Just as Gusun was about to tell me something else, he grinned and got up. A lanky man with hollow cheeks and shoulder-length hair came up to us.

  “Have you guys been waiting for me?”

  Although Rhymee’s style hadn’t changed much from his look during “The Rhymez” era—he’d even kept his signature shaggy hair—he seemed to have aged dramatically. I sprung up from my seat to greet him. He wore a faded band T-shirt and gray jeans with bright red low-tops.

  Gusun shook hands with Rhymee. “Thank you so much for coming here today. I’m Gusun.”

  “Thanks for inviting me, kid,” Rhymee said. “My little girl is a big fan of yours. She says you’re her favorite.”

  Gusun laughed and looked over at me.

  I extended my arm. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dana.”

  “Are you a singer as well?” Rhymee asked as we shook hands.

  I shrugged. “No, I’m just a student at West Seoul University.”

  Rhymee sat down. “Ah, I see. What an amazing university. Your campus is stunning.”

  “Would you like a drink? I’ll go grab you one,” I offered.

  “No, don’t worry about me,” Rhymee said.

  “It’s the least we could do,” I insisted.

  “I’ll have an iced Americano then.”

  Once I ordered Rhymee’s drink, I stood by the pickup area and peered over at our table. Gusun started off the interview, and Rhymee rested his forehead against his hand. When I returned to our seat with the iced Americano, Rhymee was talking with a pained look on his face.

  “I’ll be honest with you, Gusun, I’ve been struggling for years. When ‘The Rhymez’ was a hit, I thought I won the lotto. Now, I’m basically a lotto winner who’s quit their job and lost all their money.”

  When I handed Rhymee his drink, he nodded his thanks.

  “How did the pressure to stay popular impact your decisions?” Gusun asked.

  Rhymee explained, “Frankly, ‘The Rhymez’ came from the soul, but the title track of my second single, ‘My Melodiez,’ was more of an attempt to simply replicate the sound and vibe of the first single. When ‘My Melodiez’ released and failed to gain traction, I blamed the people who told me I had to stick to the roots of my success. They’d told me if I tried to experiment I’d flop. For my third single, I was like, screw them, I’m going to do whatever I want.”

  “So despite being a soft ballad, your third single was more like your debut song than your second single,” I remarked while noting down what he’d said. “At least in terms of self-expression and pushing the boundaries.”

  “Exactly, you get it.” Rhymee smiled and took a sip of his iced Americano. “Which is why I don’t regret what I chose to do with my third single, even though in terms of mainstream success, it was considered a complete failure. Mind you, I’m in awe of singers who maintain their relevance for years and come out with hit after hit. I’m the worst person to ask for advice on fame and popularity, but, Gusun, I think Undone is going to keep rising to the top.
Obviously you guys are massively popular already. I don’t mean to dispute that. What I’m trying to say is I get the feeling you’ll be international superstars.”

  Gusun’s ears were beet-red. “Thank you. You’re too generous with your compliments.”

  “As I mentioned before, my daughter adores you. She’s been a huge fan since the beginning of this year. I couldn’t tell her I had an interview with you because she’d have thrown a tantrum and begged me to bring her.” He pursed his lips. “I should’ve brought one of her Undone albums with me today. She’d love an autograph from you.”

  “Well, we do have a little gift we’ve prepared for you: a fountain pen and a notebook from the university gift shop. Gusun could sign it,” I suggested.

  Though Rhymee didn’t say anything in reply, he looked at Gusun expectantly as he shifted in his seat.

  Gusun nodded. He took out a brand-new notebook with the West Seoul University logo from the paper bag beside him. Once he removed the clear plastic packaging, he grabbed a permanent marker from the front pouch of his backpack and signed the cover of the notebook.

  “What’s your daughter’s name?” Gusun asked.

  “Sujin,” Rhymee replied, scratching the back of his head.

  After Gusun wrote down some words of encouragement addressed to Sujin, he popped the notebook into the paper bag. He glanced at the permanent marker he was holding.

  “You know, I’ve been a fan of yours since middle school. Could I please have an autograph from you?” Gusun asked.

  Rhymee chuckled. “Me? Are you sure?”

  “Of course,” Gusun said as he handed Rhymee his leather-bound journal and permanent marker.

  Without further hesitation, Rhymee signed the back cover of Gusun’s journal. While he pondered what else to write, an alarm went off on his phone. He put the marker down and looked at us apologetically.

  “Sorry, I’ve got to go pick up my daughter from school and take her to piano class. I really enjoyed this interview. Send me the link to your website when it’s up.”

  “Speaking of our website, could we take a photo of you before you go?” I asked.

  After I turned on my phone camera, I hurriedly snapped two photos of Rhymee staring at me with tired eyes. Gusun and I got up with Rhymee and handed him the paper bag as we exchanged farewells. When we saw that he’d left the building, we sat back down.

  Once I finished off my cappuccino, I commented, “Rhymee seemed sort of embarrassed to be asking you for an autograph. It was really considerate of you to have him sign your journal too.”

  Gusun put his journal into his backpack. “Rhymee’s had a warm place in my heart for years. He’s one of a kind, isn’t he? What did you think of the interview?”

  “Rhymee had a lot to say on his second and third singles, didn’t he? Frankly, I should’ve been more prepared,” I replied.

  “Don’t sweat it. You did well, Dana. I think you’d make a good interviewer. You have a calming presence. People like how sympathetic you are.”

  “Thanks. Do you ever get starstruck when you’re face to face with people you listened to growing up? Or are you used to it? You must’ve met a lot of them by now.”

  “Well, although I don’t go wild and freak people out, the dorky teenager inside me isn’t used to these situations at all. Besides, I haven’t been a singer for long. I debuted less than three years ago. Frankly, I’m not used to anything yet.”

  I nodded. “I see. How did you end up in a boy band, by the way?”

  “There was an unexpected turn of events in my life. I graduated high school a year early and started college when I was seventeen. A few weeks after I entered college, I was scouted by an entertainment agency. The talent scout wanted me to audition for a boy group. I’d always wanted to work in the entertainment industry, but as a film composer, not a singer, so I declined.”

  “Did you change your mind?” I asked.

  “Not then. I didn’t go to the audition. However, after I took a bunch of composition classes during my first semester of college, I decided I’d had enough. I hated my professors. They were snobby know-it-alls who refused to admit their fear of new ideas. Then I had a Holden Caulfield moment. I told myself I refused to be like them. Although I’d studied composition for years in middle school and high school, I no longer wanted to be a composer. I decided I wanted to produce mainstream music. Funnily enough, I was scouted by another entertainment agency shortly after. This time, I decided to go to the audition. I figured I could try to carve a path where I ended up as a music producer.”

  “You saw the opportunity and went for it.”

  “I guess that’s what I did. Long story short, I was the last person to join Undone, since I was scouted just a couple of months prior to our debut. Those few months were crazy. I lacked background experience as a performer. Apparently, my vocal ability was decent. The problem was with my dancing. I was terrible at learning the choreography. I had to practice ten times more than everyone else, and even then, I knew I wasn’t good enough. At one point, I thought to myself, ‘What on Earth am I doing? I’m not cut out to be a performer.’ If I’d known how hard it was going to be, I would never have become a trainee.”

  “But you didn’t give up.”

  Gusun laughed. “I’ve got to credit my group members, particularly Noah. He’s a great leader, not just because he’s the oldest and has been singing and dancing all his life, but because he’s always looking out for everyone. Over the past three years, the five of us have spent most days of the year together. We’ve managed to grow closer despite all the challenges. Of course, we’ve gotten into plenty of arguments among ourselves. We’re five different minds after all. But I think we were able to overcome our struggles because Noah is an amazing mediator.”

  “What do you normally fight about?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “If I told you, I’d have to—”

  “Okay, fine. Keep your secrets to yourselves.” I laughed.

  “Usually mundane things. Aaron used to insist on showering first in the morning, but he suddenly developed a habit of taking super-long showers. He ended up holding everyone else up. The point is, since we live together most of the time, we’ve seen each other at our best and worst.”

  “What is it like to live with a group of guys?”

  “I grew up as a single child with two parents who insisted on having their own space… to the point where I had my own living room and bathroom. So I always thought I was a private person, just like them. When I was a trainee, I couldn’t stand sharing a room with two other members and sleeping on a bunk bed. But now I’m so used to those guys it feels like I’m spending time with my brothers.”

  “Your fans would love to hear that.”

  He looked into my eyes. “Sometimes, I wonder if I need them to distract me because I’m scared of being left alone with my thoughts. Dana, I feel like a fraud. I’m the second oldest member in the group. I should be more like Noah, but I’m the one who’s always falling behind.”

  Though I was reminded of a psychology class I took as a freshman and wondered if he had imposter syndrome, I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to be an armchair psychologist.

  Gusun continued. “I’m sorry if I come off as whiny. I know I should just be grateful for my fans, but I can’t revel in my supposed popularity when I feel like I’ve tricked them into liking me. The only reason they think I’m good-looking or special or talented is because I’m in a successful group.”

  “Don’t discredit yourself. You’ve managed to handle your success incredibly well.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve given up the chance to mature through genuine relationships in exchange for the fame and popularity I don’t deserve. Dana, I have no clue what it’s like to be in a real adult relationship. People are only in love with Sun from Undone. There’s never been a situation where someone loves me because I’m Gusun.”

  “According to my roommate, you’re the most popular member,” I said in an attempt to
lift the mood. “I’d pick you as my favorite member too.”

  “No, I’m not the most popular member. Some of our fans sense that I feel like the outsider and feel obliged to coddle me. Maybe they relate to me for being the boring one. The other guys are effortlessly attention-grabbing and charismatic with their winning personalities. Without them, people wouldn’t care about me enough to feel sorry for me.”

  Although I wanted to put my arm around Gusun, I didn’t know whether he’d welcome my touch. I shifted a little closer to him. “Don’t put yourself down. There isn’t just a single type of winning personality. Gusun, there are people who appreciate you simply because you’re you.”

  He cleared his throat and croaked, “During one of my first interviews, a radio host said, ‘Kid, you’ve got to smile more. You’re a rookie. You shouldn’t be arrogant. You need to show your fans you appreciate them.’ I didn’t understand why he was annoyed at me when only our voices were being recorded.”

  “What a jerk,” I muttered.

  Gusun lowered his gaze. “No, I was in the wrong, because the public doesn’t want to see the real me. They want to keep up with somebody who lifts their mood and never has a bad day. Frankly, celebrities aren’t the only ones who have to do this. People working in the service industry have it worse. Dana, do you know what I said in reply? I thanked him. Since then, I’ve always been paranoid about not coming off as lively or humble enough. But no matter how hard I try, I’m not bubbly enough. I end up being labeled the serious one.”