Twilight Purple

Objectively speaking, my vocal abilities were decent, certainly not bad.

While I’d devoted less effort to singing compared to dancing, there was a period when I had to dive deep and work incredibly hard. At the time of Red Moon’s debut, there were two main vocalists, but one of them left mid-contract. Indeed, they were one of the foreign members who returned to their home country.

I still vividly remember struggling to minimize the feeling of their absence. It wasn’t just me; everyone had a difficult time.

“Is all of this my part?”

“It’s still temporary.”

I distinctly recalled feeling overwhelmed by the sudden increase in my parts back then. However, that was nothing compared to the present situation.

I was currently listening to the guide track Choi Seung-beom had recorded, while simultaneously looking over the lyric sheet with its designated part distribution. Unlike a stage performance, he sang with a lighter touch, making it pleasant to listen to. My own heart, however, was far from at ease.

“…It’s almost a third of the song?”

Somehow, my parts outnumbered those of Choi Seung-beom, the main vocalist.

“Because it’s a song you can truly bring to life.”

That was certainly true. I could undoubtedly infuse the song with a dreamlike, ethereal quality.

In Kwon Yohan’s body, I often encountered limitations. This was especially true for dancing, as the difference in muscle mass prevented me from fully showcasing my abilities. There was also a notable difference in physique, causing my movements to be slightly smaller than what I envisioned.

The only thing that had improved compared to my original body was my singing. Although this body also had little training experience, leading to some discomfort in vocalization, the impact of its vocal color was undeniably distinct.

It was a voice that effortlessly conveyed emotion. It would be a waste not to utilize it.

“Understood, then.”

‘The outcome truly needs to be excellent.’

During my break, I seized the opportunity to study various expressions, making notes all over the lyric sheet. It was a moment that brought back memories of my trainee days, receiving assigned songs for monthly evaluations. Before I knew it, the once crisp paper had become tattered.

Yet, ample time for practice was not guaranteed.

“Are you free this afternoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Then come with me.”

This was because Han Doyoung called me out constantly, without rhyme or reason.

One might even say Han Doyoung considered the practice room his second home. Whenever he had a moment, he’d head there as if someone had smeared honey all over it. It felt like I was looking at a past version of myself.

“I’ve picked out two of the drafts we received; take a look.”

I, on the other hand, could count on one hand the times I had so diligently sought another’s opinion.

“This one has a lot of hip, trendy choreography, but…”

“Still, the other one is better.”

“Ah, but we need to adjust the rhythm a bit. It lacks that ‘tight’ feel. And I don’t think the formations need to be this complex.”

As soon as Han Doyoung heard my input, he sprang up and played the guide track. He seemed intent on dancing through it himself to determine the direction for revisions.

“Here?”

“Exactly, there.”

Soon, he too became engrossed. Before I knew it, he had mercilessly chopped up the rhythm, revising the choreography into a version with fragmented beats. While this certainly made it more visually engaging.

Han Doyoung, a look of satisfaction on his face, sipped an electrolyte drink as he replayed the video of our final revised choreography.

“Wow… we finished this in just one day.”

“We still need to refine it further by practicing it all together.”

“Huh.”

I had merely stated the obvious, yet Han Doyoung chuckled to himself, finding something incredibly amusing.

“Wouldn’t it have been great if we’d done this from the start? Now you actually feel like a member.”

“So I wasn’t before?”

“It’s just an expression, you know. An expression.”

It had been a long time since I’d engaged in such a satisfying creative process. In truth, it was my first time. None of Red Moon’s members possessed a deep enough understanding of dance to choreograph themselves. The profound sense of accomplishment from creating something excellent together seemed to dissipate my accumulated fatigue.

Simultaneously, a complex, uneasy feeling settled over me. Ultimately, didn’t this imply that the real Kwon Yohan had never truly considered them genuine members?

It was fortunate that Kwon Yohan himself hadn’t heard those words directly.

Complex thoughts lingered for only a moment. They were swiftly swept away by the relentless tide of work. At some point, I stopped even harboring the minimal question, ‘Is it truly alright for me to continue like this?’ The few thoughts that managed to stay a little longer were fragmented: ‘This is enjoyable. This is rewarding. I want to do even better.’

I was delighted to be in an environment where such things were possible, surrounded by members who encouraged it. The more effort I put in, the better the results. Sometimes, even greater achievements awaited, a truly addictive sensation.

‘So much so that I momentarily forgot ‘myself’.’

****

Rushing forward like a racehorse, June was already drawing to a close.

Today, for the first time in a while, was the day of HEX’s group live broadcast. It wasn’t just a sporadic check-in through Q-verse; this was the day a flood of long-awaited announcements would be revealed to the fans.

“Hello, everyone.”

After completing their now-familiar group greeting, they waited for the brief delay in the comment section to pass.

–Huh?!

–A sudden group live broadcast?

A cascade of text flooded the screen.

“We’ve started this live broadcast because we have some wonderful news to share with you all.”

At Yoon Jihyuk’s opening remarks, the fans erupted once more. While various topics were chaotically mixed, the prevailing sentiment was overwhelming excitement for their comeback.

“First and foremost, HEX’s fandom name and official color have been decided.”

This very topic had been part of countless, tedious meetings. Choi Seung-beom’s opinion heavily influenced the fandom name, while Yoon Jihyuk’s significantly shaped the official color.

“You all know the meaning of HEX, don’t you? To cast a spell. It signifies casting an inescapable spell on your hearts, one you can never break free from once you fall.”

Uttering such words with a calm, smiling face made it sound almost chilling.

“Therefore, you, within that, have become a shining ray of light: RAY. And the color of twilight, the time when HEX and RAY meet, will symbolize us.”

The official color chosen was Twilight Purple. The fans’ reactions were enthusiastic, seemingly pleased with the decisions. Although, occasionally, some unnecessary nitpicking could be seen.

Following the announcement of the one-month recruitment period for RAY’s official first generation, news of their comeback schedule, a solo concert, and the weekly Wednesday broadcast of , starting next week, was shared.

After sharing some light updates, the live broadcast concluded amidst a wave of enthusiastic cheers.

“Wow! It’s finally starting to feel real!”

Lee Seon, his face visibly relaxed, bounced around excitedly.

“I’m in a great mood today, let’s eat jokbal!”

“You want to eat jokbal today, when we have concept photo shooting tomorrow?”

Han Doyoung poured cold water on the idea. Yet, the core of his statement was valid.

I, however, couldn’t quite join in the lively, bright atmosphere. This was due to certain sentences that, despite the generally positive comments, lingered persistently in my mind.

–Kwon Yohan finally shows his face lolololol

–Yohan~ if you’re just going to sit there, why bother showing up~

–His only redeeming quality was his fan service, but that didn’t even last half a year lol

There were also frequent comments openly telling him to leave the group. And it wasn’t just Kwon Yohan who was being attacked.

–As expected, the former bully group can’t drop their arrogant concept~ lolol it’s like the end of the century, ‘curse’ my ass

Contextless criticisms appeared noticeably and repeatedly.

‘…Is it normally like this?’

As I was lost in thought, I felt a light pressure on my shoulder. It was Yoon Jihyuk’s hand.

“Shall we get up?”

“Ah, yes.”

Looking around, I saw that the other members were already leaving the conference room where the broadcast had been streamed, one by one.

****

Feeling a strange sensation wasn’t the only unusual occurrence during comeback preparations.

“Yohan, are you struggling?”

The Leader, that guy, had started paying a somewhat burdensome amount of attention to me. If I counted carefully, he seemed to ask at least eight times a day. And each time, my answer was the same.

“I’m fine, though.”

‘What would I do if I wasn’t fine, anyway?’

All preparations were already complete. Tomorrow at 6 PM, the music would be uploaded to all streaming sites, and the comeback showcase was scheduled to proceed. We had come too far to change anything just because it was difficult.

Even though he surely knew this, Yoon Jihyuk added the same words, like a parrot.

“If you’re struggling, tell me.”

I gave a reluctant nod.

Today, to conserve energy, we were scheduled to finish practice early and return to the dorms to rest. All the solo concert songs, which had been part of our routine for three days, were removed, allowing us to focus intensely on internalizing only the tracks for this current promotion. Thus, their level of completion was already beyond question.

Practice concluded without incident. Everyone wore expressions of satisfaction. Han Doyoung, in particular, couldn’t contain his delight, humming a tune all the way back to the dorm.

And I… as soon as I returned to the dorm, I started a live broadcast. It was voice-only, without a camera.

“Hello, RAY.”

The comment section was a sea of tears.

I had only realized my long-standing mistake thanks to the group live broadcast a few weeks prior. The thought that something was off wouldn’t leave my mind, prompting me to search for fan reactions on various sites. Surprisingly, many fans felt a disconnect between the real Kwon Yohan and me. Of course, I hadn’t even considered talk of possession or anything of the sort.

It wasn’t enough to just frequently use Q-verse. For a brief moment, I felt overwhelmed, but I quickly regained my composure. Now that I knew, it was fine. I genuinely hadn’t even imagined that we could freely start broadcasts on our individual phones.

–Yohan, please show your face!!!

In the days leading up to the comeback, the members, myself included, had posted almost no selfies. Even when we did, our hair was completely hidden by hats.

Consequently, fans were not only eager to see our faces but also desperate for hairstyle spoilers.

“You’ll see it tomorrow, won’t you? Just wait a little longer.”

In truth, I was maintaining my platinum blonde hair by consistently doing root touch-ups, without any major style changes. My hair was still healthy, and I planned to frequently use hair chalk to create various looks with my bright hair.

–What are the other guys doing?

That question appeared incredibly often every time I went live. If I said they were resting after practice, it was obvious they’d ask me to call them over. I should just pretend I didn’t see it.

Instead, I chose some noticeable questions I could answer and talked for a long time. Without realizing the passage of time, a full hour had already flown by.

“I’ll be ending the live broadcast soon. We’ll see each other tomorrow.”

I cut off the questions appropriately, gave my closing remarks, and then waited for a moment. This was to give viewers time to end their own streams, preventing an abrupt cutoff.

Just as I thought that was enough and pressed the end button, a strange comment caught my eye.

–Why do you always just sit there doing nothing?

‘Is this another attempt at trolling?’ I tilted my head, puzzled by the truncated remark.