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We did.
“Just when I think we will never see you again,” he mused, “fate seems to put you back in our path.”
“Life is funny like that,” I agreed with a small laugh.
Minjae made a noncommittal noise. “When will you come to Korea?”
“Before the first shows,” I said, subconsciously looking at my watch to see the date. “Three weeks.”
“What about your life in London?”
“Wrapped up.”
“Just like that?” He sounded surprised, which only served to drive home that perhaps the way I had been living my life on ‘standby’, really was unusual.
I laughed uncomfortably. “Always ready for the next, big adventure.”
Minjae was so quiet that I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check the connection, but then he spoke.
“I get what that’s like, but where’s home for you, Kaiya?”
I stumbled over a chair, sucking my lip into my mouth and hopping on the spot for a second before recovering, swallowing the curse I’d almost bit out.
“I guess I’ll figure it out, one day,” I said ,perhaps a little more tersely that I’d intended.
“Noted. Okay, we’ll see you in February.” Then, as though he was as desperate for a change in tone as I was, he went on. “I hope you’ll give us a favourable write-up for our new album this week,” he said with a laugh, and I huffed.
“It might be more favourable if ENT saw fit to provide me with an advance copy,” I joked. Frequency had actually applied for one, but hadn’t gotten a response, which wasn’t surprising. Only the larger publications were given proofs.
Minjae laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Sure enough, by the end of the day, a package arrived at the Frequency offices with my name on it. I knew what it was immediately, the unmistakable shape obvious even through the thick padding. I pulled the CD case out with the kind of reverence reserved for religious icons. It was a plain white case with a black, printed band around it proclaiming ‘Proof – not for public distribution’.
The album’s name had only been revealed at the beginning of the month, so seeing Reset stamped so boldly on a plain white card felt like a privilege. I opened the plastic case carefully, as if it was a special-edition book I was scared to break the spine of. The CD itself almost looked plain, but was actually bright white.
Nothing else was included in the advance copy. No elaborate sleeves, no photo cards, or artwork. Just the bare CD.
I had to come to realise, with advance copies the presentation could go either way. Often, the company sent the album along with a full PR box that could include all manner of things, from concert tickets to t-shirts, cookie baskets or £200 headphones.
GVibes? A blank jewel case and the CD only, apparently. Curiosity had me messaging the other reviewers I knew to ask if their promo copy had included anything, and nope. That was it. That was the promo.
Except, it also wasn’t, because etched on the CD was a single word; Auriga.
I frowned. I knew that word. Auriga was the name of a constellation that was included in the GVibes backstory – their lore. It was a whole deep-dive thing that had been created for – and by – them when they first formed.
Auriga was also known as the Charioteer in Greek Mythology. Jihoon had briefly tried to tell me about it one night in Seoul. We’d been sat out on the little balcony when he’d tried to point out the distant stars to me, but at the time I’d been more focused on how warm his body had been pressed against me, arms around my waist. I hadn’t been paying attention much past that.
I looked down at the little etching, puzzling over the seemingly-random placement. But I knew that nothing GVibes did was ever random, so why was this here? Was it a part of their marketing campaign?
GVibes had been releasing a series of non-information about Reset for weeks. No artwork had been released, no music videos, no concepts, nothing. Only rumours, leading to what had essentially amounted to a guerrilla-style campaign led entirely by Vibers chasing after social media ghosts. Tease, after tease.
I reached for my phone to search for Auriga and GVibes, and immediately, my suspicions were confirmed when hit after hit came up. Hints from the CD had leaked days ago, and it seemed to lead down a sort of bread-crumb trail. Unable to help myself, I allowed myself to fall down the rabbit hole and follow the clues. Threads, posts, videos – thousands of them. Screenshots of the same blank case on my desk. The same etched word. People were connecting dots I could only guess at.
Constellations, mythology, previous concepts from comebacks, lyrics… anything and everything was being picked apart and sewn together to try to figure out the concept for Reset, and thus the tour.
It was all really fascinating, but what really blew me away wasn’t the hints found in music videos from close to a decade ago, it was the sheer determination of the fans to find patterns in the static of an otherwise silent campaign.
The more I watched it all unfold, the more amazed I was at the genius of the campaign. It was about the story, yes, but it was actually more about the fans. What ENT had done, and it was so, so clever that I had to laugh, was that they had turned passive consumption into active participation. They had weaponised the fandom into the kind of social media marketing that most companies could only dream of. People weren’t just driving traffic to GVibes by going through social media and search engines; they were actively talking about the group in their comments, making videos, sharing, and driving interest. Even people who confessed to having next-to-no interest in GVibes, or even K-Pop were getting involved. The hype was extraordinary.
