90: Chapter 90 VIVID

The studio for 'Inkigayo' was smaller than a concert hall, but it was packed with even more people...

The lightsticks in the fan section painted the entire audience area in a sea of orange, the main color for StarDust's comeback.

Chairman Wang Shunyi sat in the front row on the right. Beside him was an unopened bottle of mineral water, and next to that sat Choi Ji-yeon from SM Entertainment. Two seats further down remained empty—Lee Soo-man hadn't come.

The stage lights flickered three times before going completely dark. The big screen lit up as the VIVID logo emerged from a nebula, accompanied by a low string melody. The strings swelled, suddenly switching to a heavy electronic drum beat as six figures rose from the lift.

They wore orange and white sportswear with high ponytails, and silver headsets curved along their cheeks.

The choreography was several times more complex than their debut, with denser formation changes. Before, they were like copy-pasted images; now, they were like a high-speed photocopier. Chairman Wang Shunyi's gaze slowly swept across their faces.

Park Soo-yeon stood at the center. Her facial expressions were perfectly managed—confident but not arrogant, bright but not blinding, like a beautiful, top-achieving senior in college who gives you a friendly smile.

Her high notes were much steadier than before; the nervousness from their debut had completely vanished.

However, his gaze didn't linger on her for long, quickly scanning the others.

Kim Ye-rin. She stood in the front row on the left, having moved half a step forward compared to her debut position. She wasn't the center, but whenever the camera panned by, she always managed to occupy the most eye-catching spot in the frame.

During a thirty-second solo dance, all the lights dimmed except for a single spotlight focused on her. Her movements were clean and sharp, possessing powerful explosive energy, with every pause hitting the drum beats perfectly.

She spun from the left of the stage to the right, her hair whipping in a crisp arc as she turned. Chairman Wang Shunyi saw it clearly from the VIP section.

She wasn't just dancing 'well'; she was 'making it impossible to look away.'

"Aigoo, Ji-yeon, Ye-rin-xi is quite impressive."

Chairman Wang Shunyi spoke to Choi Ji-yeon with a half-smile.

The director had clearly noticed this as well. In the live broadcast, Kim Ye-rin had nearly double the screen time she had during their debut.

Chairman Wang Shunyi knew this wasn't SM's arrangement, but the director's on-the-spot judgment.

The camera naturally seeks out whoever shines on stage. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers twice on the armrest—a habitual gesture when he was thinking.

Choi Ji-yeon stole a glance at him from the side, unable to read his expression.

The four-minute performance ended amidst a chorus of screams. The six girls stood in a line and bowed to the audience, the cheers from the fan section nearly blowing the roof off.

Chairman Wang Shunyi clapped as well, not too forcefully, just enough to show his presence. Beside him, Choi Ji-yeon clapped much louder, maintaining a proper professional attitude.

He didn't go backstage. The waiting room door was cracked open slightly, letting out sounds of talking, laughter, and a makeup artist shouting, "Don't move, don't move!"

He stood at the corner of the hallway. He couldn't see inside from that angle, but he could hear Kim Ye-rin's voice.

"I'm exhausted, so exhausted. I messed up an eight-beat count today; did you guys see?"

The others laughed and said, "We didn't see it, you covered it up really well."

Choi Min-ju's voice came from inside: "Don't slack off. We have three more music shows next week, we need to refine the choreography further."

The leader's tone was flat, but everyone fell silent. Chairman Wang Shunyi stood at the corner of the hallway for two seconds, nodded, and then turned to leave.

Back in the car, Kim Young-jun handed over the freshly printed stage data from the passenger seat.

The average viewership rating was 0.4 percentage points higher than their debut stage, ranking second in its time slot.

The topic "VIVID" had surged to number one on social media trends, and Kim Ye-rin's fancam video surpassed 200,000 views within forty minutes of being uploaded.

Chairman Wang Shunyi folded the data sheet twice and tucked it into his suit's inner pocket.

"Young-jun, when selecting personnel for endorsement materials next month, increase Kim Ye-rin's share. The ratio should follow the traffic; there's no need for an even split."

Kim Young-jun acknowledged the instruction but seemed to hesitate. Chairman Wang Shunyi glanced at him through the rearview mirror.

"What do you want to ask?"

Kim Young-jun scratched his head and said, "Chairman, what do you think of Kim Ye-rin?"

Chairman Wang Shunyi said, "Ah, Ye-rin! She dances well, has great public appeal, and her commercial value will be very high."

Kim Young-jun didn't ask anything else.

When they returned to the company, Kim Tae-ho was already waiting in the meeting room. Two sample packs were placed on the table: an orange package labeled 'Mala fire chicken noodles' and a yellow one labeled 'hot and sour fire chicken noodles'.

Chairman Wang Shunyi sat down and opened the orange pack. There were three small seasoning packets, and the noodle block was darker than the classic version. Particles of Sichuan peppercorn powder shimmered under the lights.

He told him to brew it. Kim Tae-ho moved quickly, pouring hot water from a thermos and placing a timer on the table, precise to the second. During those three minutes, Chairman Wang Shunyi scrolled through two pages on his phone.

The spicy chili came from Hanyuan, Sichuan; they had visited three suppliers before settling on one. The vinegar in the hot and sour version was a blend of Baoning vinegar and Chinese aged vinegar, tested through over a dozen versions.

The timer went off. Kim Tae-ho lifted the lid, and a spicy, numbing aroma burst out, making him turn his head away from the pungency.

Chairman Wang Shunyi didn't flinch. He picked up his chopsticks and took a mouthful of noodles. The spiciness exploded almost instantly from the tip of his tongue to the back of his throat, followed by the numbing sensation. The aroma of Sichuan peppercorns filled his mouth, and his lips began to burn.

He took another bite, chewing it longer this time—about seven or eight times. The elasticity of the noodles was just right. Kim Tae-ho didn't dare speak. Chairman Wang Shunyi put down his chopsticks.

"The Mala flavor is fine. It's 1.5 times spicier than the classic version, which Chinese consumers can accept. The acidity of the hot and sour flavor needs to be lowered slightly. This level of sourness might be just right for people in Sichuan, but people in other provinces will find it too heavy. Reduce it by ten percent."

Kim Tae-ho scribbled quickly in his notebook, his pen tip nearly piercing the paper. Chairman Wang Shunyi picked up his chopsticks again and finished the remaining noodles, leaving not a single strand.

"Tae-ho, leave your notes on my desk before you finish work. I'm going out for a bit."

"Yes! Chairman."

Chairman Wang Shunyi went to Han River Park.

He parked by the roadside, got out, and walked along the wooden boardwalk for a while. Gulls flew over the river, their cries sharp. A cool breeze blew off the water's surface.

He found a bench and sat down, lighting a cigarette while gazing at the distant Jamsil Bridge. Several things were turning over in his mind.

The pricing strategy for Mala fire chicken noodles in China, the allocation of VIVID's advertising materials, and the progress of signing for the local warehouse.

Chairman Wang Shunyi thought about when Kim Young-jun asked him about Kim Ye-rin. He had said she danced well, had great public appeal, and high commercial value.

She had been wearing makeup, and under the intense stage lights, her skin looked almost transparently white, with glitter shimmering on her cheeks.

He stubbed out his cigarette and sat for a while longer.

The Han River water turned a deep gray in the twilight. No ripples of movement were visible, yet the water continued to flow.

He remembered the first time he came to Han River Park was during the first week after he transmigrated, at night, alone.

Back then, he didn't know where the path beneath his feet led. Now he knew—those paths were all forged by his own steps.

He stood up and walked back along the wooden boardwalk. His pace was neither fast nor slow, his shoes making a solid thudding sound against the wood, like a ruler measuring the ground.

The car was still parked by the road. In the rearview mirror, the lights of Namsan Tower were lit again. He glanced at them, started the engine, and drove out of the park.

The radio was on, playing an old song at a very low volume. The female vocals were gentle, so he didn't turn it off.

The car window was open, letting the wind rush in and blow through his hair. There was still a traffic jam on the bridge, with taillights dragging out lines of red light, like someone drawing on the river's surface.

He merged into the traffic flow, unhurried, holding the steering wheel steadily. The road ahead was illuminated for a short stretch by the headlights, while further away remained unclear. He didn't turn on the high beams. Seeing clearly what was right beneath his feet was enough.