(Transted/Edited/Slight Proofread: Snow)

  These days, the fan community is abuzz.

  The reason? Girls in a Band~—one of the most popur comics spanning Japan and China, often abbreviated as Band Show—has finally ended.

  "It's finally over."

  Taeil rarely had any deep regrets, but this time was different.

  Rather than feeling relieved about the story’s conclusion, he was struck by a lingering sadness.

  As someone with a background in music and a passing familiarity with otaku culture, Band Show had been his gateway into the fandom.

  On paper, the premise was generic: pretty girls + band, a genre worn thin by overuse. But the writer’s raw emotional depth, paired with the artist's soulful, mesmerizing illustrations—made it unforgettable.

  At first, it spread as a meme among niche circles, praised ironically for its "beautifully deranged" art. Then, almost overnight, it exploded in popurity.

  The catalyst? A world-famous K-pop idol casually recommended it to her fans, calling it "so bad it’s good."

  Of course, fame came with backsh. The beginning was less a triumph and more a controversy.

  Anti-fans were quick to attack the idol's alleged ignorance of copyright ws. Comments like, "How do you know about a work that hasn’t even been officially released in Korea yet?" and "She must’ve seen it on an illegal site," flooded social media.

  Taeil could only stare in disbelief as news articles like "Popur Idol’s Shocking Copyright Blind Spot" trended on the evening news—as if the world hadn’t had bigger problems to focus on.

  Yet, against all odds, The Band Show exploded as Korea’s hottest comic overnight.

  Regardless, Taeil was no exception.

  He’d first discovered *The Band Show” through a fellow musician in his Japanese song-cover circle. Now, as Korea buzzed about the series, Japan—the manga’s birthpce—finally took beted notice.

  While some criticized the plot as "predictable" or "generic," the majority agreed: the execution was undeniably fun. The characters’ chemistry, and the humor nded perfectly.

  In fact, the gorgeous character designs meant instant fan appeal—even casual viewers became obsessed.

  Soon, the series dominated rankings on major illustration sites, with original fan art spreading like wildfire.

  The Band Show true golden era began two years into its run when an anime adaptation was announced.

  A top-tier studio—renowned for its fluid animation and musical sequences—took the helm.

  Since the story revolved around a band, they cast a lineup of superstar voice actors who could actually sing, further blurring the line between fiction and reality.

  Thanks to the anime, the series didn't just succeed—it became a hit.

  Before the anime's final episode even aired, production for a second season was greenlit. The following year saw a spin-off film that premiered simultaneously in Korean and Japanese theaters—a rare feat that underscored its cross-border appeal.

  Yet for Japan's pop music industry, the success came with bitter irony. When the anime's opening theme, ending tracks, and even the fictional band's in-story releases dominated Japan's major music charts, it became yet another reminder of the unbridgeable gap between mainstream tastes and otaku culture's overwhelming influence.

  Now, two months after the series' conclusion, the cultural tremor had finally settled.

  “What a damn shame," Taeil muttered to himself.

  While he'd enjoyed the manga well enough, it was the anime that truly captivated him. Among the four main characters, Arisugawa Iris stood out—not just as the story’s main point, but as the perfect combination of appeal. Her design struck that elusive bance between elegant and approachable; her personality contained infectious energy with surprising depth.

  But it was her voice that truly captivated him.

  Iris' voice actress—that rare talent who could channel the raw power of a seasoned rocker while maintaining crystalline purity—embodied everything Taeil valued in vocal performance.

  Somewhere between her belted high notes and growling lows lived the exact sound he'd been chasing in his own compositions.

  ‘If I ever get the chance…’ The thought pyed on loop in his mind. ‘I'd give anything to colborate with her—to hear her breathe life into one of my songs.’

  Taeil couldn’t help but remain a devoted fanboy, struggling to suppress his enthusiasm. As a result, he ultimately became the most infamous—and unstoppable—voice actor fanboy across the music community.

  Interestingly, the voice actor herself seemed to have an unexpected fondness for ‘Band Show’, perhaps because it gave her the rare chance to sing to her heart’s content. The sheer number of live performances, far exceeding those of other idol projects, is a testament to this passion.

  Typically, renowned voice actors lend their talents to dozens, if not hundreds, of works. Unless it’s for the sake of fan service, they rarely form deep emotional attachments to the projects they participate in.

  For Taeil, however, ‘Band Show’ held a special significance in many ways.

  "I think Band Show was the reason I went to a live viewing show for the first time..."

  Taeil took pride in having experienced a wide array of live performances, from indie bands to idols and even legendary Korean singers and rock bands. Yet, attending an otaku concert was a cultural shock unlike anything he had encountered before.

  But now, it seemed as though those cherished memories were coming to an end.

  As the Band Show story reached its conclusion, the main characters made a heartfelt decision—to step away from their band activities after one final live performance and pursue their individual dreams, moving forward toward their futures.

  It ended with a cssic finale, one that left a sting impression. Looking back, this kind of storytelling was characteristic of the writer. While they incorporated elements that could have been explored in more depth, they chose instead to guide the narrative with smooth, flowing development.

  In fact, according to the author, this ending was intentionally left open—for fans to let their imaginations run free.

  Compared to other manga’s, the ending was normal.

  After all, when you think about it, Show Band was just another completed manga in the "pretty girls do things" genre.

  How much drama could really unfold there?

  Taeil felt a mix of emotions—refreshed, yet undeniably sad.

  As a fan, he had to say it...

  "I really hope there’s an epilogue."

  He was insanely curious about what the adult protagonists' futures held.

  In particur, Ayane’s growth intrigued him. Among the members, she had the lowest band presence, but even before the series ended, fans frequently specuted about her future in online forums.

  This was because the entire story began with Ayane’s monologue—as an adult.

  Unlike the other members, who were overflowing with talent and destined for success, Ayane was thoroughly ordinary.

  Many fans disliked her for her emotional breakdowns and the sheer number of frustrating setbacks she faced, but Taeil—being a musician himself—could empathize. Her struggles were ones that anyone in his field might experience at some point.

  Maybe that’s why, when he thought of Ayane, he couldn’t help but think of his cousin.

  The asymmetrical bangs. The timid aura, cking confidence. The love for the color bck. The bass guitarist in the band.

  "I hope you’re doing okay..."

  Taeil thought about his cousin—the person he once idolized, the mentor who first inspired him to pursue music.

  In Show Band, Ayane was eventually recognized for her efforts.

  A girl who felt completely outcssed by her so-called genius friends, limiting herself in fear. A girl who broke down in tears, believing she couldn't do anything on her own—only to rise again, decring with confidence that she would become a musician.

  The image of her, standing strong even as she cried, was cathartic for fans who had endured all her struggles alongside her.

  Her growth within the story left a deep and familiar impression on Taeil.

  "If only my cousin had friends like that..."

  His fingers lightly traced the broken bass lying abandoned in the corner of his room.

  Even now, when he closed his eyes, he could picture his cousin on stage. The music he once admired. The passion that once burned brightly.

  His own love for music had started as an attempt to follow in those footsteps—and even now, it still provided him with a sense of purpose, a brief pause in his life when he needed it most.

  But his mentor had given up music.

  To the point of destroying the bass she once cherished.

  Taeil still remembered the moment vividly.

  When he begged her to stop, and their eyes met—bloodshot and filled with something unreadable—Taeil had burst into tears before he even knew why.

  That memory still haunted him, a mixture of fear and helplessness pressing against his chest.

  "If only this were a world like Show Band…”

  Couldn't my mentor have found a way to keep going?

  If this were a world like in a comic book, where the protagonist overcomes everything... would it have been possible?

  Taeil gently ran his fingers over the headstock of the broken bass, his touch filled with longing.

  Then—

  "Ta... Chi-kun! w.. work... me! Punishment... morning...!.”

  A voice, urgent and unfamiliar.

  Someone was shaking him—roughly.

  It had been a long time since Taeil had needed anything other than his arm to wake up.

  Groggy and disoriented, he struggled for a moment before finally managing to open his eyes.

  "Ah, you're awake!."

  A small child stood in front of him.

  "Did you sleep well?.”

  They were speaking in Japanese.

  ...Japanese?