#park mingeun

[denim-bias]

[fcble]

FREEZE FRAME — A series of timestamps taking place over the first leg of Fable’s second world tour.

SATURDAY, APRIL 14, 2:49 PM KST — THE FABLE GROUP CHAT (SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA)

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 17, 10:02 AM PDT — JOSHUA TREE NATIONAL PARK (JOSHUA TREE, CALIFORNIA)

“This is it?” Mingeun asks.

Byeonghwi is inclined to agree with him. They’ve been on the road for almost three hours, having left the comfort of their Los Angeles hotel early in the morning. If not for the sudden loss of buildings in the little town they passed through fifteen minutes ago, he’d swear they weren’t moving. 

“Isn’t it fun?” Andrew asks from the driver’s seat. 

Byeonghwi, stuck in the middle seat of the back row, leans over Haksu to look out the window. As far as he can tell, they came here to look at rocks, sand, some scraggly plants, some more rocks, and surprisingly, a lot of other people and cars. 

“It’s the great American outdoors,” Andrew continues, rolling down all four windows of their rental car. Haksu immediately rolls his back up. 

“It’s just rocks,” Mingeun says, raising his voice over the wind whipping through the windows. 

“And sand,” Byeonghwi adds.

In the passenger seat, Intak reaches toward the center console and skips the next song.

“I like that song,” Haksu complains.

“That’s the third ballad in a row,” Intak says. “It’s putting me to sleep.”

Mingeun fiddles with a small video camera. Byeonghwi wouldn’t put it past him to “accidentally” drop it out of the window. He wishes they could have a vacation without the cameras. He could go anywhere on his own, or with normal people who aren't celebrities, but his closest friends are the rest of Fable. The smallest saving grace is that this time, there's no camera crew. It's just the five of them—Andrew had insisted on driving and told Daewoong in no uncertain terms that he wasn't allowed to come and besides, they wouldn't all fit in the car—and Mingeun’s camera and Haksu's playlist and the great American outdoors.

“Let’s play a game,” Mingeun says, setting up the camera to point to the rather monotonous landscape. “I spy something beige.”

“Is it that rock?” Haksu asks, pointing out the window.

“It was that one that we just passed.” Mingeun points vaguely to the back of the car.

“This is fun,” Andrew repeats, though it seems like it's only fun to him. 

Byeonghwi starts to feel a little bad for him. When he heard they had an extra day of vacation in LA, he thought they might go to Disneyland. He’s always wanted to go to Disneyland. Then Daewoong and Andrew disappeared somewhere last night after their concert, and returned with a car. Byeonghwi woke up to Andrew’s alarm and a Toyota key fob on the nightstand.

“I think it’s fun,” he ventures. It isn’t the full truth, but it isn’t a lie either. It’s fun to spend time with the people he likes, even if they’re stuck in a car all day, because they can’t risk getting lost in the desert one stop into their world tour.

“Thanks, Hwi.” In the rearview mirror, Andrew’s expression is inscrutable behind his sunglasses. 

Intak skips the next two songs on Haksu’s playlist.

Haksu crosses his arms, elbow poking uncomfortably into Byeonghwi’s side. “I don’t understand why we’re listening to my music if you’re just going to skip every song.”

“Intak-hyung can’t have the aux. He’ll make us listen to SoundCloud rap,” Mingeun complains.

“Which is better than lofi beats to chill and fall asleep to,” Intak says.

Byeonghwi always finds it amusing that a group of singers can’t come to a consensus on music to listen to.

Andrew interrupts over both of them, launching into what Byeonghwi takes to be his best argument-defusing method of too many facts. “Did you know this park is around our ages? It was established in 1994.” He sounds like he memorized that from somewhere. “The national park system as a whole owes much of its success to President Teddy Roosevelt. He died for our sins. That’s why we put him on Mount Rushmore.”

“That was Jesus,” Haksu mutters.

But Byeonghwi sees the flash of Andrew’s grin in the mirror, and he knows he said that on purpose. His phone vibrates in his lap, and Byeonghwi unlocks it to see a new group chat consisting of himself, Mingeun, and Haksu. There’s only one message from Mingeun, which reads, if i act like this in canada, push me into the waterfall.

Got it 🫡, Haksu sends back, and Byeonghwi starts to think that maybe looking at a bunch of rocks might be better than Disneyland.

FRIDAY, APRIL 19, 8:29 AM CDT — CIVIL GOAT (AUSTIN, TEXAS)

Andrew probably doesn’t have to be working all the time. Technically, he’s working because Fable is on tour, but in the early hours of the morning, he has no obligations other than the ones he sets himself. He doesn't have to wake up early in the morning and drag Daewoong out to a coffee shop with him so he can do real work. He does it anyway.

His current project isn't anything related to Fable, but a simple review and some feedback for the debut mini album of Zenith Entertainment’s next idol group. Their main songwriter is a fresh-faced, barely twenty-year-old Korean American who asked Andrew for a Gmail address so he could share his music over Google Drive. Andrew felt practically geriatric next to him, like he should be checking into a retirement home soon. Apparently kids these days don't burn demo CDs, which works out for Andrew, because his laptop doesn't have a CD player.

He's just getting into the rhythm of his review of the proposed title track when his thoughts are interrupted by a girl standing much too close to his table, asking, “Can I have your autograph?”

He registers the question first, her WHEN TIGERS USED TO SMOKE: THE FIRST WORLD TOUR sweatshirt next, and her UT Austin lanyard third. A fan, then. “Of course.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Daewoong start to stand across the room. Andrew waves him back down into his chair.

She drops her bag into the seat across from him and rips a page out of a notebook.

Andrew closes his laptop and picks up her proffered gel pen. “What's your name?”

“Hanna. H-A-N-N-A.”

He signs a piece of college-ruled folder paper, scrawling out a simple “thank you for supporting Fable” message alongside his dusty stage name, Yejun, in messy cursive. 

Hanna beams anyway, tucking it away into a folder. “I'll frame it.” It doesn't sound like she's joking.

She busies herself with tucking away her new autograph, but she seems to be lingering, as if she's indecisive about something.

“Let me buy you a coffee,” Andrew says, even though he knows he shouldn't. 

“You don't have to,” Hanna says quickly. “I don't want to bother you. I have to go to class.”

“You aren't bothering me.” Andrew lowers his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t tell my manager. I'll put it on the company card.”

She smiles at that, and lets Andrew accompany her to the counter.

Andrew's phone buzzes as they wait. He picks it up long enough to read over half a warning message from Daewoong, before dismissing the notification. If Daewoong genuinely means it, he can walk over and demand Andrew leave. Until then, Andrew plans on ignoring him. It's ridiculous that he needs supervision.

Hanna clutches her latte with both hands. It doesn’t look like she’s going to drink it—probably because Andrew bought it for her.

“Thank you so much for the drink,” she says. She takes a deep breath. “I know you probably hear this a lot and it definitely sounds cheesy but I just wanted to tell you that your music has really inspired me. I'm learning how to play the piri because of you. It makes me feel like less of a fraud.”

That’s a feeling Andrew knows all too well. He wishes he wasn’t so intimately acquainted with it. He thinks he should have gotten over it by now, but he hasn’t. He imagines it’ll plague him for his entire life. But none of that is anything he can say in front of a fan, because he’s the idol, and he’s supposed to have his shit together. 

“I’m glad,” he says instead. Every follow-up line he can think of feels hollow and forced, like he memorized it from the playbook of Shit Idols Are Supposed to Say, which he did. “I'm glad I could be someone worth looking up to.” And someone I never thought I needed or wanted when I was younger, Andrew adds silently to himself.

The starstruck expression on Hanna’s face has yet to waver. “I'm really excited for your concert tonight.”

“I'll see you there,” he says, cheesy as it is, because he did read the playbook of Shit Idols Are Supposed to Say. Haksu would be proud.

He watches her pick up her backpack again, putting her drink down for the shortest few seconds. The coffee shop's door swings shut behind her.

And Andrew feels a little better, because it means he’s doing something right. He’s done some good in the world. Then Daewoong strides over to his table, and says, in what might be the coldest tone he’s ever heard, “We're leaving.”

Andrew is getting better at picking his battles, so he packs up his laptop without a complaint. Taein’s new group will have to wait.

MONDAY, APRIL 21, 1:23 AM EDT — THE FABLE GROUP CHAT (NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK)

MONDAY, APRIL 22, 12:49 PM EDT — HORSESHOE FALLS (NIAGARA FALLS, ONTARIO)

So far, Mingeun thinks he’s doing a pretty good job at keeping his cool. It’s easy, because he doesn’t have the same boundless enthusiasm for Canada that Andrew has for America. It looks like he won’t need Haksu to push him over the edge after all. It’d be difficult, anyway, because the guard rail is almost as tall as him, and he’d hit the rocks bordering the falls before the water.

He watches Andrew flip through a glossy pamphlet, oversized sunglasses covering most of his face. Mingeun can sense the way he’s going to share something he just learned, so he excuses himself, leaving Intak to suffer alone. He joins Byeonghwi and Haksu at the rail instead. Byeonghwi is taking everything in with the same wide-eyed innocence he had in every previous city. Haksu is trying to take a selfie without all the crowds in the background. He keeps repositioning himself, holding his phone up, posing, and then frowning at his screen. Mingeun watches him struggle a few times before he intervenes.

“Give me that, hyung,” he says, holding his hand out for Haksu’s phone.

Haksu gives it up without complaint. “You have to get my good side.”

Mingeun rolls his eyes. “Every side is your good side.”

“I know. I was making sure you knew it too.”

Mingeun stands back and makes sure part of his finger is over the camera lens in a few of the pictures. It won’t make Haksu any less cocky or more humble, but it amuses Mingeun. He hands the phone back to Haksu, watching closely for his reaction.

“For an idol, you’re really bad at taking pictures,” Haksu says. “What’s this?”

Mingeun peers over his shoulder at a picture of shapeless pink blob with the barest hint of the waterfall in the background. “You,” he says, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

“That’s not what I look like!” Haksu squawks.

Mingeun takes a step back and pretends to consider him. “I don’t know. I see a resemblance. What do you think, Hwi?” He tugs at Byeonghwi’s shoulder and shoots him one of his characteristic death glares with the silent message to play along. Byeonghwi can be a bit of a killjoy sometimes, and that's not what Mingeun wants right now.

To his relief, Byeonghwi seems to get it. He shades Haksu's phone screen with his hand, looking intently at the picture. “I think Mingeun-hyung is right.”

Haksu pouts, sticking out his bottom lip so far it almost looks like he might cry. “You're both terrible.”

“I know,” Mingeun says, content with his antics. Haksu makes a good victim because he always bounces back. In a few hours, he'll recover perfectly fine and tweet the good pictures of himself. Mingeun doesn't doubt it.

THURSDAY, APRIL 25, 10:33 PM BST — HILTON LONDON BANKSIDE (LONDON, ENGLAND)

“We have a special guest with us tonight,” Mingeun says. He flips his phone around so that its screen is visible to their live broadcast camera. The remnants of their room service dinner peek into the bottom of the frame, phone and plates resting on the same hotel room desk, but Mingeun either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Byeonghwi pushes his plate out of view.

“Hello, everyone.” On screen, Eunsu waves with both hands. He’s silhouetted by what appears to be his bed, plain blue covers draping almost to the floor. Byeonghwi reaches over Mingeun and increases the phone’s volume. “It’s been a long time.”

Eunsu always says the same thing every time he’s in a setting like this. This time around, Byeonghwi has to admit it’s accurate. He can’t remember the last time they’ve done anything like this. Eunsu commenting on Mingeun’s Instagram posts doesn’t count. 

“If you don’t know me,” Eunsu says, “I used to be Fable's lead rapper. Now I'm a normal citizen and Mingeun's best friend.”

Byeonghwi doesn't think there are any other idol groups with such a public relationship with their former members. But Eunsu left on good terms, and he never wanted to leave, so Byeonghwi thinks they're different.

“What’s the topic for your live?” Eunsu asks.

Mingeun shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t pick one. You can decide.”

“One butt or two butts,” Eunsu suggests, but Mingeun dismisses him almost immediately.

“Old news. What about whether or not you should be able to sing if you want to be an idol?”

Byeonghwi shoots Mingeun a wide-eyed, worried glance. He resists the urge to turn around and check how Daewoong, sprawled out on a mountain of pillows on one of the king-sized beds, out of sight but within earshot, is reacting to Mingeun's proposal. It's more topical, sure, but he doesn't want to cause controversy.

“I’m joking,” Mingeun says. He doesn’t sound like he’s joking. “There isn’t anything to discuss.”

“Five Mingeuns or five-year-old Mingeun,” Eunsu proposes, changing the subject with the speed and alacrity of someone well-accustomed to Mingeun.

That’s an old debate too, but this time, Mingeun has a different complaint. “Why is it always me?”

“Haksu-hyung,” Byeonghwi suggests, and watches Mingeun’s expression light up.

“Let’s all answer at the same time,” Mingeun says. “One, two, three.”

“Five-year-old Haksu-hyung,” Byeonghwi says at the exact same time as Mingeun. Eunsu follows with the same answer a second later, delayed by the slight lag of FaceTime.

Byeonghwi could have predicted that. Five Haksus would be unbearable, and everyone else present knows that too.

“That’s what I thought,” Eunsu says, sounding almost sad. “Is there anyone you would pick five of? Present company, for me.”

“Andrew-hyung,” Byeonghwi answers next.

Of course Mingeun has to disagree with that too. “Five-year-old Andrew would have too much to say.”

“And five of him wouldn’t?” Eunsu asks.

“I wouldn’t mind five of Jaeseop-hyung. Or Intak-hyung,” Mingeun continues like Eunsu didn’t say anything.

“You have to pick five of Intak-hyung,” Byeonghwi argues. “We’d lose him if he was five. He’d be too quiet and go missing.”

“That’s better,” Eunsu says, interrupting the end of Byeonghwi’s explanation. “He’s the opposite of Andrew-hyung. All we have to do is give him an iPad. He won’t go anywhere.”

Despite the slight delay in Eunsu’s responses, it almost feels like he’s in the room with them. Byeonghwi lets Mingeun and Eunsu’s careful dissection of five vs five year olds for every Fable member fade into the background. He’s always been something of a third wheel next to the two of them. The years that have passed since Eunsu’s departure dissolve in public interactions like this. It’s like he’s still one of them, and it makes it impossible for any of them to move on. 

And at times like this, when Byeonghwi is sitting in a hotel room of a foreign country, he feels almost guilty. It was Eunsu’s dream to be an idol to escape his small hometown and see the world. Why is he the one here instead, achieving a dream that was never his at all?

Mingeun kicks Byeonghwi’s leg under the desk. “You’re spacing out. Thinking about the worst five-year-old Haksu scenarios?”

“Yeah. They’re pretty bad,” Byeonghwi says. This isn’t his dream, but it is his job, so he plasters a smile on and continues Mingeun’s conversation.

SATURDAY, APRIL 27, 10:14 AM BST / 11:14 AM CEST — AIR FRANCE FLIGHT 1381 (SOMEWHERE OVER THE ENGLISH CHANNEL)

The roar of the jet engines drowns out any other noise, and that gives Haksu the confidence to take out a small camera. That, and he’s bored. The flight is only a little over an hour, but they’ve been on so many planes over the past two weeks that he’s exhausted everything he downloaded from Netflix and the majority of the same handful of in-flight entertainment options available on every flight.

“Mingeun-ah,” he says softly, poking Mingeun in the shoulder. “Where are we?”

“What?” Mingeun cracks one eye open, Haksu having interrupted his dozing off in his seat. Then he notices the camera. “Turn that shit off, hyung. McDonald's. Nike. Coca-Cola. Samsung.”

Haksu pouts and lowers the camera. “You’re no fun.”

Mingeun yawns and rubs his eyes. “Fine. I’ll do it. Ask your question again.”

Haksu doesn't really trust Mingeun not to mess it up again, so he does the exposition himself. He turns the camera on himself, so the two of them are in frame together. “We're going to France!” he stage-whispers. “It’s my first time, and I'm looking forward to it a lot.”

Then he turns in his seat and faces Mingeun. “Say something in French.”

He watches through the camera’s preview as Mingeun says, “Croissant. Cafeteria. Montreal.”

Haksu sighs, still disappointed. “I'll ask Andrew-hyung instead.”

The click of his seat belt unbuckling somehow cuts through the road of the engines. He kneels in his seat, pointing the camera over the back of his seat to where Andrew and Intak are locked in an intense game of air hockey on Intak's iPad. 

“Have you heard of Paris syndrome?” Andrew asks without looking up. The puck disappears into the virtual goal on Intak’s side.

Haksu stops the recording again. He trusts their video editors to somehow spin Mingeun's words, but not whatever Andrew is presenting him with. “I don’t have any kind of syndrome.”

Intak takes his iPad back. “It’s not something you need to worry about.”

Haksu can’t tell if his comment is meant to be demeaning, or if it’s just Intak being Intak. He ignores it and moves on, starting to feel slightly ridiculous as he turns the camera on again. “Have you been to France before?” he asks, deciding he doesn’t want to hear whatever French drivel Andrew will provide him with if prompted. He knows the answer to this question too, but the camera doesn’t.

“Once, when I was in college,” comes Andrew’s predictable response.

“Did you like it? Are you looking forward to performing there?” Haksu prompts. He’s used to conversations with Intak being akin to pulling teeth. Having the same experience with Andrew was unexpected.

“Of course,” he answers through gritted teeth. It comes with the silent assurance that he wouldn’t dream of saying anything else. “I thought you were bothering Mingeun.”

Haksu sighs, resting his chin on the top of his seat. “Mingeun’s boring.”

Mingeun jabs him in the side. “Am not.”

Haksu drops back into his seat, any thought of recording anything replaced with exacting his revenge on Mingeun. 

Daewoong’s icy baritone interrupts his thoughts. “You’re behaving like children. Sit down.” He stands in the aisle, looming over Haksu’s seat. “Camera, Haksu.”

He hands it over without complaint, leaning away from Daewoong and onto Mingeun, who pushes him off only half-heartedly. For once, it seems like Mingeun is actively trying not to cause problems.

Daewoong returns to his seat and Haksu rights himself in his.

“Your fault,” Mingeun whispers.

“Yours, actually,” Haksu whispers back, unwilling to take the blame for something he was provoked into doing. 

Mingeun shrugs. “Whatever.” Then he goes back to listening to his music, leaving Haksu to stew alone in silence.

MONDAY, APRIL 29, 3:49 PM KST — THE FABLE GROUP CHAT (SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA)

[vm4vm0]

GIRIBOY - Acrnm (feat.Goretexx) from sunisle on Vimeo.

Director paranoid paranoid

Executive Producer VM Project Architecture

Assistant Director Soobin Park , Jiwoo Kim, Mihee Seo, Eunbi Shin

Project Manager Kate Jeon Line Producer Yohan Joo

Director of Photography Hyungyun Kim

Focus Puller Seungji Lee

Gaffer Yeongsu Im

Art Director Jinsil Park , Bona Kim MU:E Jimmy Jib Operator Yungu Ji

Post Production Eunjeong Cho

Artist GIRIBOY Executive Producer Jihoon Moon Producer GIRIBOY A&R, Marketing Narae Shin, Jihoe Kim Manager Sejin Lim, Jungmoon Lee

Stylist GIRIBOY, Goretexx Hair & Make Up BLACK LIP

Presented By Linchpin Music Corp. Just Music.

choreography 韓國舞踊 Jeong Min Geun Mingeun Jeong, Hyoyoung Song, Hyeji Kim, Seunghee Seo Ahyoung Choi, Soyoung Jung, Suyeon Cho, Nahye Son, Donghoo Kim

choreography Lion Mask Dancing Wonjung Yoon, Jaemin Kim

Lion Mask Designer Dayun Kim

choreography (Live Performance) Monster Woo Fam Youngster, Faker, Hanbyeol, Aiden, jeongmin, Duck, Reckless, e.one

[fcble]

화룡점정 (畵龍點睛) (PAINT THE DRAGON, DOT THE EYES) is the third full album of fictional boy group FABLE. The album was released digitally and physically on MARCH 25, 2024. Title track PLATONIC LOVE was promoted for two weeks and received two music show wins. For the first week of performances, they also performed pre-release single CHASING THAT FEELING.

Like their last full-length album, the majority of the tracks were written and composed by ANDREW with contributions by INTAK, MINGEUN, and HAKSU. Following the album’s promotions, the group embarked immediately on their second world tour, MYTHOS, starting in Seoul on April 10.

TRACK LIST

Arrival / written by Andrew Han, Park Intak, Kang Haksu ; produced by Andrew Han

Chasing That Feeling / written by Andrew Han, Kang Haksu ; produced by Andrew Han

Platonic Love / written by Andrew Han, Park Intak, Yoon Mingeun ; produced by Andrew Han

Feel Me / written by Andrew Han, Park Intak, Yoon Mingeun ; produced by Andrew Han

Late Night Calls / written by Park Intak, Yoon Mingeun; produced by Park Intak

It’s Raining / written by Andrew Han, Park Intak, Yoon Mingeun ; produced by Andrew Han

Light / written by Andrew Han ; produced by Andrew Han

My Name is Shadow / written by Andrew Han, Park Intak; produced by Andrew Han, Park Intak

Keep On / written by Andrew Han, Park Intak, Yoon Mingeun; produced by Andrew Han

Lovers or Enemies / written by Andrew Han, Park Intak; produced by Andrew Han

Blockbuster / written by Park Intak, Andrew Han, Yoon Mingeun ; produced by Park Intak

ERA NOTES

Andrew’s Sweetune era. Maybe he’ll be in Monotree in five years. You never know. 

Also their singers who sing era. They were extremely serious about it. Andrew made an appearance on Lee Mujin Service, where he covered Bibi’s “Bam Yang Gang,” Glass Animals’ “Heat Waves,” and Song So Hee’s “Moon Halo.” They also parodied Dingo's Killing Voice, performing the closest songs they have to hits and a few popular b-sides.

Both of their encore stages were part switches. The first one was fan-voted through Twitter polls. Intak asked fans three times on Weverse to please not make him sing Haksu's part. Fans obliged and gave him Andrew's part instead.

The second encore stage went viral after they randomly pulled names while Andrew was still finishing up his acceptance speech. Haksu did mangle Intak’s part while Intak looked like he wanted to die and Byeonghwi forgot Andrew’s lines twice but it was more endearing than anything.

Despite the album’s commercial success, they continued to face criticism from netizens and self-proclaimed former fans upset about their concept switch-up. The video essay “the problem with fable” saw its second moment in the sun. There were no responses from Fable this time around.

Their fandom is slowly beginning to fracture into OT7/8 fans and OT5/6 fans, the latter of whom would rather not have Mingeun (known liar) and Andrew (ruining the sanctity of the k in kpop) in the group. At the end of the day, they’re all buying albums and streaming songs and attending concerts. For the most part, the group is fine with pretending this isn’t happening.

As per usual with any negative attention, Mingeun's scandal was dragged up for the nth time. OT7/8 fans came to his defense with Demi Lovato Instagram-style Tweets.

[fcble]

DOUBLE A-SIDE: a single where both sides are designated the A-side, with no designated B-side; that is, both sides are prospective hit songs and neither side will be promoted over the other.

In which Andrew has some difficult conversations. FEATURING: Andrew Han, Yoon Mingeun, Park Intak, Kang Haksu WORD COUNT: 4.1k NOTES: Two shorter pieces with similar themes that are not exactly completely related to/reliant on one another. Can be read together or independently! Also not proofread please lmk if you find typos or something doesn't make sense.

[ A-SIDE — MAY 10, 2023 ]

Andrew steps into Intak's studio, announcing himself not with a knock or a greeting, but merely his presence. He sees a flash of movement as Intak minimizes one of his windows. 

Haksu and Mingeun trail behind him reluctantly. Andrew pulls Mingeun the rest of the way into the room and shuts the door behind all three of them.

"No one is leaving this room until we write our anniversary song," he announces.

"What if I have to piss?" Mingeun asks.

"Intak?" Andrew asks. It's almost telepathic to see Intak reach into the bowels of his desk and retrieve a plastic soda bottle. He spins in his chair and tosses it to Mingeun, who catches it, looking stunned. Andrew knows he has an almost addiction to Mountain Dew, and the bottles pile up until they spill over onto the floor.

"What if I have to shit?" Mingeun asks next.

"I don't think Andrew-hyung will keep you from using the bathroom," Haksu says. He steps around Andrew to take a seat in the worn loveseat, the only other chair in the room. He leans forward to look at Intak's screen. "Are you working?"

"Yes," Intak answers shortly.

"I asked Jaeseop to get us food if he doesn't hear from us in a few hours," Andrew says. He sits next to Haksu, dropping the bag containing his laptop on the ground, in front of Intak's electric keyboard. Its identical counterpart sits right next door in his own studio. He can't help the way his hands move automatically, picking out the beginning of Fur Elise.

“What kind of food?” Haksu asks, clearly skeptical of Andrew’s quite literal taste. “Pizza Hut, again?”

“Olive Garden,” Andrew answers cheerfully as he plays. He doesn't rise to Haksu's obvious bait—he's used to it. And he might have a point. They do eat a lot of Pizza Hut.

He turns his attention to Intak. “What are we starting with?”

“Nothing.” Intak says.

Andrew stops playing. “I was really hoping you were going to say something other than that.” He thought he could rely on Intak to have something, anything. Taein asked them months ago, in January, to start working on what would be their fifth anniversary song later in the year. Andrew had agreed, and then gone back to putting the finishing touches on his album. It was always Intak’s responsibility to produce concept-fitting songs that Taein actually liked. Andrew has no idea how to work in the gayageum and the taepyeongso and the piri and whatever else Intak uses.

Intak shrugs. “You could do it.”

“I couldn’t.” It’s a deep-seated conviction. Andrew can’t do whatever Intak does, because he doesn’t have that same knowledge of history and culture and Korea itself that seems to be inherently built into his group members. He’s reminded, embarrassingly enough, of when he heard their debut song for the first time, and asked after the vaguely string sounds in the instrumental. In Andrew’s head, string instruments were cellos and violas and violins and double basses, and maybe, and a more radical day, harps and lyres. Not Asian zithers.

“Don’t you think it’s time you tried?” Mingeun, this time. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, the room having run out of seats.

The room feels stuffy all of a sudden. Andrew has tried. Every sample Intak’s given him sounds shitty and stereotypical in his hands, like a soundtrack straight from a film scene where the characters step into a Chinatown somewhere and the lighting dims and the screen clouds with smoke. When Intak writes music with the same sample, it becomes uplifting, a celebration of a heritage and a culture yearning to burst forth in an increasingly anglicized world. Andrew envies him.

Haksu nudges Andrew with his foot. “You should.”

Andrew is frozen, unable to respond. Haksu is right. He should. But now, he feels like there’s too much at stake. His album did well—it’s their best-selling one yet—and that means he has a reputation to uphold. They have expectations for him now. They think he’s smart and talented and worthy. Andrew knows the limits of his own abilities. They don’t include writing a usual Fable title track. There’s a reason his album sounds the way it does—that’s what he knows, what he’s confident in. It’s a breath of fresh air next to the sameness of the rest of their discography. That’s his job. Not the traditional sound that defines almost all of their songs.

He pretends everything is fine. "Are you sure you don't have anything?" he asks Intak. "We don't have a lot of time."

Intak begins to scan through the files on his computer. "Because we spent so much time on your album," he grumbles. "I have demos Taein-nim rejected."

"Let's fix one of those," Andrew says decisively. Mingeun looks like he wants to argue. Or maybe that's how he always looks, because he always wants to argue.

They start with the longest ones first. Intak turns on his speakers and presses play on a three and a half minute audio file—Andrew can see the exact time if he squints.

“I remember this,” Haksu says, ten seconds into the song. As far as Andrew can tell, it’s Intak’s usual conglomeration of sounds. An unknown, echoing instrument skips in and out of the main melody. The bass is minimal, but consistent. It sounds almost interchangeable with the majority of their discography. “It’s from a long time ago. Our second mini album?”

Intak nods. “I tried again for our third. Taein-nim said no again.”

Andrew takes extensive mental notes on each subsequent song. The glacial pace of the second one, probably meant to be a ballad. The bass-driven third one, traditional instrumental lost in the 808s. The one with the beat drop that sounds like it switches to a completely different song. One with Haksu singing nonsensical demo lyrics that he doesn’t remember. Another slower-paced one, driven by a string instrumental. A rock song.

“Taein-nim said I should give that one to Neon Nights,” Intak says. 

Andrew shoots Mingeun a quizzical glance. Mingeun shakes his head. “She likes doing everything by herself,” he says in English, referring to Hwajung, the band’s main producer. The change in language surprises Andrew. They’ve all worked together before, on Andrew’s album, and then on a Neon Nights one. 

Andrew sighs. “Who doesn’t know?” he asks, also in English, because Hwajung is also Mingeun's girlfriend.

“Who do you think?” Mingeun says. “He’d get mad at me.”

It’s Haksu. Andrew knows that even if Haksu won’t say anything out loud, he’s thinking certain thoughts. Celibacy and pre-marital sex and they’re idols and all of that. 

He can't be mad at that. Mingeun and Hwajung are pretty good at keeping it on the down low, pretending they barely know one another at work. If Andrew hadn't seen them sit so close to one another they were basically sitting in the same seat while they worked on his album, he'd be no wiser than Haksu.

Haksu folds his arms over his chest. “You’re doing it again. Stop talking about me.”

"Learn English," Mingeun says, speaking Korean again. Haksu learning English would be of no detriment to them, Andrew knows. They'd fall back on broken, rusty, grammatically incorrect French, in which they can barely understand each other, because Mingeun speaks Canada's archaic French with an unintelligible accent.

Haksu grimaces. "That's Westernized," he says, as if he doesn't partake in a predominantly Western religion while dressed in Western clothes, about to eat Olive Garden in a few hours.

“The music,” Intak interrupts, and they go back to listening to shorter and shorter segments. Some of them are pieces. A chorus. A verse. Half of each. One is Intak humming a few bars. He clicks out of that one quickly.

“I wanna hear it,” Haksu says. His request is ignored.

A few minutes later, Intak finally runs out of demos.

“Taein-nim rejected all of those?” Mingeun asks. 

“I doubt he listened to all of them completely,” Intak says, “but yes.”

In Andrew’s ears, most of them have blended together. He’s grateful to hear Haksu say, “I like the orchestral one that goes like”—he hums a bit of the song—because it gives Andrew a chance to step in and say, “I thought that one was the best too.”

He does think it was one of the better ones, but mostly because it was nearly complete. His best guess for its rejection is because it's not nearly as upbeat as some of Intak's other compositions. Andrew figures it should be fine for an anniversary piece. It's better that way—something slower and steadier that demonstrates their growth as people and artists.

He starts thinking of lyrics. Something provocative and dramatic. Intak’s demo lyrics are all about a nostalgic, wintry longing that brings to mind comparisons to Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” Andrew is thinking about something in the opposite direction, something bigger, something brighter. Love is like a volcano?

“I want to keep the idea of the lyrics,” Haksu says, breaking Andrew’s reverie.

“It’s our anniversary,” Andrew says, nearly rendered speechless from Haksu’s words. “If the melody is melancholy, the lyrics should be happier.”

“No one says shit like ‘melancholy,’” Mingeun says. “Let’s keep going with Intak-hyung’s idea.” At some point during their listening party when Andrew wasn’t paying attention, he migrated from the wall to the floor next to Intak’s desk.

Sometimes Andrew despises democracy. They weren’t always democratic. Not in the days when it was just him and Intak, because then it was Intak making most of the decisions. Andrew never wanted to intrude or overstep. He has the confidence to do so now, but he knows this is an argument he won’t win.

So he relents easily, says “Fine,” and pulls out his laptop. Mingeun looks surprised at his lack of disagreement. He really enjoys arguments, Andrew thinks.

He plays audio engineer, because he still disagrees with the idea and theme of the song. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches the three of them gather around Haksu’s notebook to develop Intak’s fledgling ideas. He sits back in his seat, losing himself the layers of the song. He listens to the song forward and back. He turns on and off each one individually, and then two or three at a time. He pictures the way the vocals will layer on top and underneath. He thinks about asking Haksu to sing one of his new lines, just so he can experiment with it. He tries not to imbue it with his own style—an extra synth here and there, a secondary melody in a minor key, one too many layers of vocals.

His flow state is interrupted by the chime of a new text message. It’s Jaeseop, texting exactly three hours after Andrew told him he was heading to work.

bringing ur food (๑>◡<;๑), he reads. Below is a selfie of Jaeseop holding a plastic bag, the sky bright blue behind him. 

“Andrew,” Intak says loudly, and Andrew looks up, surprised that his name came from Intak and not Mingeun.

Andrew tugs his headphones off and watches Intak rip a page out of Haksu’s notebook. “Do the demo with this.”

“Me? Why can’t Haksu do it?”

Mingeun snatches the page from Intak’s hand. “I’ll do it if he doesn’t want to.”

“Andrew’s doing it because he’s going to arrange it,” Intak says. Mingeun reluctantly hands the paper over to Andrew. “He’s the one who wants to stay in this room until the song is done.”

“I said that for all of us,” Andrew says.

They’re interrupted by Jaeseop’s arrival. He seems cheerful as he sets down the bags on the little space remaining on Intak’s desk. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he asks, “Is it going well?”

For some reason, the onus is on Andrew to answer. He feels the weight of their gazes: Jaeseop is expectant, Haksu is skeptical, Intak is steady and bored, and Mingeun’s is his usual scowl.

“It’s going very well,” he says.

Haksu gives him a reproachful glance and says, “He’s underselling us. We could finish the song today, as long as Taein-nim approves of it.”

Jaeseop brightens. “Sounds good! I can’t wait to hear it.” He sounds like he genuinely can’t wait to hear their song. 

He leaves just as quickly as he arrived. The door is barely shut behind him when Haksu stands up and announces, “I’m going to church. Mingeun is coming with me.”

“I didn’t agree to that,” Mingeun complains.

“It’s Wednesday,” Andrew says at the same time.

Haksu looks at both of them like they’re stupid. “So? I worked on the song. I did my part. There’s nothing else for me to do.”

“He’s right,” Intak says. He crosses his arms and gives Andrew a look that very obviously says he shouldn’t argue. So Andrew folds without saying anything. 

To his surprise, Mingeun picks himself off the floor. “Thanks for the food, hyung,” he says, grabbing one of the bags on Intak’s desk.

The speed at which people work when they want to leave will never cease to surprise Andrew. He doesn’t think this is hard work as much as Haksu does. He could stay here for days or weeks, immersed in the music, so long as Jaeseop keeps providing him with food.

As Mingeun and Haksu leave, he hears Haksu grumble under his breath about Americans and fast food and forks.

“Chopsticks are from China,” Andrew overhears Mingeun say before the door swings shut.

In the quiet, Intak says, "I'll start working on the b-sides."

This comes as a surprise. "I thought we were releasing an anniversary song, not an anniversary album."

Intak looks like he was caught off guard as well. "I could have sworn Taein-nim said that to both of us."

Andrew is slighted. Why wouldn't he be, when he wasn't given these same guidelines? He's the one who's shaped and guided their sound outside of all the traditional title tracks. Fable can pull off other concepts, because Andrew pushed them in those directions, even if it was only one song per album.

“Do you think Taein thinks of your music differently than mine?" he asks.

Intak takes a minute to think about it. Andrew can practically see the gears turning in his head.

"No," he says, and Andrew wonders why it took him so long to come to that conclusion.

“He must,” Andrew insists. He refuses to let the topic drop. “I didn’t get to write our debut song.”

“I didn’t ‘get to’ write it either. I wrote it because I could write a good song."

“I can write good songs.”

“Yeah. I don’t disagree.”

Talking to him is like talking to a brick wall. Intak is smart, but there's always a disconnect between what he thinks and what he says. Andrew has to pry every response out of him, like he's pulling teeth.

Intak methodically unpacks the remaining takeout bag and takes a bite of his carbonara. “This sounds like it's really important to you,” he says with his mouth full. “Can we talk about it later?”

“No. I thought I passed the audition and debuted in Fable to be a songwriter."

"I thought you passed your audition because you speak four languages."

Andrew shrugs, because he did say that, even though it's not quite true. Everyone lies on their resumes. He said that because he thought it would impress Taein, and it did. “Something should have changed by now.”

"You. You’re the one that should change," Intak says as he stabs his pasta with vitriol. 

He has changed. He’s older now, and wiser, as generic and contrived as that sounds, with a better understanding of his place in the world. He isn’t that same person who auditioned so many years ago with an unplaced confidence that he could survive and thrive in the cutthroat music industry. He’s accepted Fable’s middle class, second tier status, and he finds he doesn’t mind as much as he thought he would.

"I have."

Intak takes a long look at him and says, "Not enough."

Then, as if to signal that conversation is over, he puts his head down on his desk. "Record the fucking song, Andrew," he says, voice muffled.

They never write any b-sides.

[ B-SIDE — JUNE 3, 2023 ]

Andrew isn’t one to lose his temper. So he surprises even himself when he stands up and walks out of the room. Jaeseop is still talking. He pauses in the middle of his sentence.

“Where are you going?” His voice is muffled by the door and walls.

“Out,” Andrew answers from the other side of the door. “I’ve heard enough.”

He has heard enough. All Jaeseop had to say was that their album was delayed again. It could have been a text message.

He hikes up all three flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator. At the top, he leans his body weight into opening the door to the rooftop. It creaks open reluctantly, hinges squealing in discordant protest. Then he has to do the same thing to close it.

He takes a seat on one of the two stone benches, overlooking the city around him. There isn’t much to see. The sun is setting, and the glow of the copywriting sign becomes more visible with each passing minute. The other, taller, buildings cast long dark shadows and block out any possibility of Andrew seeing farther than across the street.

He sits there for a minute, thinking and trying to cool down. He’s unfamiliar with anger when it comes from within. Frustration and futility, sure, but anger is a different beast. That’s Mingeun’s forte.

The door protests again, inching open. Andrew stares. Another thirty seconds pass before Mingeun steps outside. Speak of the devil—or think of him—and he shall appear.

Mingeun leaves the door ajar. He takes a silent seat next to Andrew.

“Do you need something?” Andrew asks. He can feel his anger creep into his words.

Mingeun crosses his arms. “I need a reason to talk to you?” he asks. “You seemed upset when you left. Is that enough?”

“I was,” Andrew concedes. Mingeun could still have an ulterior motive. Jaeseop always sends the youngest members to do his bidding, like some villain with his henchmen.

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” he continues.

Mingeun rolls his eyes. “I can fucking see.”

He sounds upset. It shouldn’t be a surprise. He’s always upset about one thing or another. And why wouldn’t he be upset about this?

“I thought we were more important to Taein,” Andrew says, dropping the honorifics on purpose. “More important than a survival show trainee.”

Mingeun shrugs. “He could have something on Taein, like Haksu did.”

He matches Andrew’s use of honorifics. They both know the easiest way to get through to their CEO is to wear him down with astronomical persistence. A bit of bribery and blackmail never hurts either. Andrew can’t imagine what other secrets Taein might be protecting, especially after Haksu’s extravaganza. He thinks they’ve all learned their lessons since then: Taein should break fewer laws, Haksu shouldn’t stake his career on a few secrets, and the rest of them should sleep with one eye open around him regardless.

“Didn’t you watch the show?” Andrew asks. Mingeun watches every kpop survival show he can get his hands on. Where he finds all the time to do that remains a mystery.

“I did,” Mingeun says. “I didn’t care for him. What kid thinks he can cover Taemin in his audition? He only got as far as he did because his parents are famous. There’s nothing he could have done on his own for Taein to take notice of him.”

Andrew lets him go on his tirade. He’s feeling better. Even though he’s now left to face the reality of his delayed album. It should be their album, but he has a hard time thinking of it that way. He puts a part of himself into each and every one of his songs and albums. Granted, he has one album to his name, but he thinks his point stands. And even if his music is never as good as he wants it to be, as he thinks it should be, that shouldn’t stop them from releasing and promoting it. Intak releases, for lack of a better word, shit, on every EP since their debut. Andrew has never been offered that same opportunity.

“You’re not listening to me,” Mingeun says.

Andrew snaps out of it. “I am.” He’s not. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Fine.” Mingeun drums the fingers of his right hand against his thigh. “What do you want to talk about?”

This Mingeun makes Andrew uncomfortable. If it weren’t for his restless motions, he’d think it was a different person sitting next to him. He’s never this receptive or attentive or willing to talk.

“I don’t know.” Now Andrew is the one who doesn’t want to talk. The role reversal freaks him out a little. At the same time, he can’t pass up this chance to have a decent conversation with Mingeun.

Then it comes to him. “My stage name. I’m sick of it. I don’t think I ever liked it.”

“Okay,” Mingeun says simply.

Andrew expects more from him. He thought they were going to talk.

“Does it bother you that much? Am I supposed to feel bad for you?”

He should have known not to bring this up with Mingeun. It’s a touchy subject. Mingeun sounds more like himself now.

“It does.” Andrew wants to say more, but Mingeun isn’t done yet.

“I never liked your name either. It’s so presumptuous. Out of all the characters, you picked those two?” He looks disgusted. “That’s the reasoning parents use when they choose names for their children. You did it for yourself.”

Andrew fires back. “My parents never gave me a Korean name and they were never going to give me one. I didn’t have another choice. You should know that.”

They’ve known each other for years. That’s supposed to be common knowledge. How can Mingeun not know?

The smallest remaining rational part of Andrew’s brain knows it’s because Mingeun fills his head with so many other things. He’s got his near-encyclopedic archive of kpop groups and songs and dances. It should be easy to see why personal information would hemorrhage from his brain. Does Mingeun know their birthdays? He doubts it.

Mingeun rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but it didn’t have to be that one.”

What else could it have been? Andrew was never given any examples or suggestions. Just the thinly veiled threat that if he wanted to make it in Korea, he needed a Korean name. Mingeun should understand that.

“You always make everything about yourself. You never ask about me. Mingeun, how was your day? Mingeun, are you having fun on Shooting Stars? Mingeun, why does Taein hate you more than everyone else?”

“Taein doesn’t—” Andrew starts.

“Yes, he does.”

They lapse into silence, because Andrew knows, somewhere deep down, that as much as he thinks Taein dislikes him, Mingeun’s situation is worse. It isn’t a competition, but Mingeun’s always had it worse. He just chose not to see it.

When Andrew thinks Mingeun has cooled down, he says, “Tell me about your name.”

“Oh.” The surprise in his voice is evident from a single syllable. He gets over it quickly. “'Min' is the generational character. You know, the dollimja."

Andrew does not know, but he nods along and pretends like he does. Mingeun looks him in the eye and says, "You don't know."

He doesn't have it in him to argue.

"It means quick and clever," Mingeun continues, tracing the Hanja character on his thigh. Andrew recognizes it in pieces: the character for mother, radical 66. “The ‘geun’ character is the one for diligence.”

He writes this one with his finger too: 勤, speeding through the horizontal lines and finishing with a sloppy rendition of the strength radical. 

“It’s nice,” Andrew says, because it really is a nice name.

“Better than yours,” Mingeun says in a way that’s clearly meant to provoke. Andrew doesn’t rise to the bait. 

“Doesn’t seem like a high bar,” he says, and when Mingeun laughs at that, he feels like he’s crossed some impassable reach and brought the two of them a small step closer.

In the days that follow, Andrew drops his stage name informally. Most of the group calls him Andrew anyway. There's no special announcement. Daewoong calls him Yejun three times and Andrew doesn't respond three times, and after that, he gets the point too. Taein asks him about it, and Andrew spins a tale of authenticity and identity his boss clearly doesn’t give a shit about. But Taein doesn’t push further, and he’s left feeling more like himself than he has in years.

[fcble]

후래삼배(後來三杯) is the repackaged second studio album by fictional boy group Fable. It was released on July 20, 2023, a little over three months after the initial album. In addition to the original eleven songs, it contains three new songs, including title track "그리운 밤 (Nostalgic Night)". It was promoted for three weeks and received one music show win.

It is also the first Fable title track to not incorporate their signature traditional Korean instruments and styling. It was still relatively well-received by fans, with the exception of a few very loud fans on Twitter.

TRACK LIST !

유령 / written by Andrew Han ; produced by Andrew Han, Go Hwajung

그리운 밤 (Nostalgic Night) / written by Andrew Han, Park Intak, Haksu ; produced by Andrew Han, Park Intak

Young / written by Andrew Han, Park Intak ; produced by Andrew Han

Geppetto / written by Andrew Han, Park Intak ; produced by Andrew Han

Home Run / written by Andrew Han, Park Intak, Mingeun, Haksu ; produced by Andrew Han, Park Intak, Go Hwajung

Break of Dawn / written by Andrew Han ; produced by Andrew Han

Talk to Me / written by Andrew Han, Mingeun, Park Intak ; produced by Andrew Han

Gravity / written by Andrew Han, Haksu ; produced by Andrew Han, Go Hwajung

12:00 (심호흡) / written by Andrew Han ; produced by Andrew Han

5분 / written by Andrew Han ; produced by Andrew Han

나의 �� / written by Andrew Han ; produced by Andrew Han

Now or Never / written by Andrew Han, Mingeun, Haksu ; produced by Andrew Han

Dreaming / written by Andrew Han, Mingeun ; produced by Andrew Han, Choi Eunbyul, Yumi

Fire (CD only) / written by Andrew Han, Haksu, Park Intak, Mingeun ; produced by Baek Eunsu, Park Intak, Andrew Han

ERA NOTES !

If it weren’t for the single music show win they managed to scrape out—their first in almost three years—Yejun would have his creative freedom revoked. He’s on thin ice for now. 

The title track surprised a lot of fans for deviating from their normal concept, yet the reception was generally positive. The sales were good, they seem to be in charge of their music, and the line distribution is the most even it’s ever been.

The glaring exception was a few loud fan accounts hurling around accusations of the group turning their backs on the concept that made them famous, as if their music was ever meant to be fully representative of Korea and its history. The PROTECT FABLE Twitter accounts had their work cut out for them.

This album’s theme is maesil, the Korean green plum. It was obvious from the beginning that it was supposed to be released much earlier. Unripe maesil are harvested in May and June, which is exactly what they did in their variety show.

They also kept talking about it. Mingeun, Haksu, and Yejun in particular could all not shut up. None of them would say exactly why the album was delayed (again), hinting only at recent internal changes and complications.

Mingeun was on Shooting Stars at the same time. He didn’t miss a day of filming for either the show or their promotions, though he looked dead on his feet at their single encore stage. He said he was fine because he memorized the “Nostalgic Night” lyrics and choreography two months ago.

Haksu landed a solo maesil-ju cf. He cracked the top fifty of the individual boy group member brand reputation list for the first time.

[fcble]

FABLE (페이블, occasionally stylized as FA8LE) is a fictional, seven member kpop boy group under ZENITH ENTERTAINMENT, who debuted as the company's first group on AUGUST 8, 2018. Originally an eight member group, EUNSU left in mid-2021. They are best known for their unwavering traditional concept that incorporates elements of Korean culture and evokes a sense of nostalgia for a time that no one alive today has actually lived through.

Formed by former SM Entertainment executive LEE TAEIN, Fable's debut was well-received as far as small company groups go. Following two mini albums with progressively worse sales, their future looked gloomy until a performance of the title track of their fourth mini album, 가자, went viral, giving them their first music show win.

After regaining their footing, Fable leaned further into their concept, until the release of their second full album, 오비이락(烏飛梨落), in 2023. Helmed for the first time by YEJUN, it marked the group's transition toward a more general retro sound. Fable has since established themselves as a mid-tier fourth generation boy group, despite the huge individual popularity disparities—mostly between center HAKSU and everyone else—and a few major scandals—mostly centering MINGEUN and no one else.

GENERAL !

NAME: Fable

COMPANY: Zenith Entertainment

CONCEPT: Korea

COLORS:

DEBUT DATE: August 8, 2018

DEBUT SONG: 승천

DEBUT ALBUM: 경천동지(驚天動地)

FANDOM NAME: Fabulist 

GREETING: 옛날 옛적에! 안녕하세요, 페이블입니다! / Once upon a time! Hello, we are Fable!

MEMBERS !

OH KIYOUNG : b. 1994, lead vocalist + lead dancer

ANDREW 'YEJUN' HAN : b. 1995, main vocalist + visual

LEE JAESEOP : b. 1995, leader + lead dancer

PARK INTAK : b. 1995, main rapper

KANG HAKSU : b. 1997, main vocalist + center

BAEK EUNSU : b. 1999, main rapper 

YOON MINGEUN : b. 1999, main dancer + lead vocalist + lead rapper

LIM BYEONGHWI : b. 2001, lead vocalist + maknae

DISCOGRAPHY !

경천동지(驚天動地) : mini album, 2018

천우신조(天佑神助) : mini album, 2019

천정부지(天井不知) : mini album, 2019

��구동성(異口同聲) : mini album, 2020

옥골선풍 (玉骨仙風) : full album, 2020

낙화유수(落花流水) : mini album, 2020

환호작약(歡呼雀躍) : mini album, 2021

수복강녕(壽福康寧) : mini album, 2022

오비이락(烏飛梨落) : full album, 2023

후래삼배(後來三杯) : repackaged album, 2023

화(花) : digital single, 2023

화룡점정 (畵龍點睛) (PAINT THE DRAGON, DOT THE EYES) : full album, 2024

[fcble]

오비이락 (烏飛梨落) is the second studio album by fictional kpop group Fable. It was released both physically and digitally on April 12, 2023. The album contains eleven tracks, including CD-only FIRE, and title track HOME RUN. HOME RUN and b-side BREAK OF DAWN were promoted for three weeks, and received no music show wins.

TRACK LIST !

유령 / written by Andrew Han ; produced by Andrew Han, Go Hwajung

Geppetto / written by Andrew Han, Park Intak ; produced by Andrew Han

Home Run / written by Andrew Han, Park Intak, Mingeun, Haksu ; produced by Andrew Han, Park Intak, Go Hwajung

Break of Dawn / written by Andrew Han ; produced by Andrew Han

Talk to Me / written by Andrew Han, Mingeun, Park Intak ; produced by Andrew Han

Gravity / written by Andrew Han, Haksu ; produced by Andrew Han, Go Hwajung

12:00 (심호흡) / written by Andrew Han ; produced by Andrew Han

5분 / written by Andrew Han ; produced by Andrew Han

Now or Never / written by Andrew Han, Mingeun, Haksu ; produced by Andrew Han

Dreaming / written by Andrew Han, Mingeun ; produced by Andrew Han, Choi Eunbyul, Yumi

Fire / written by Andrew Han, Haksu, Park Intak, Mingeun ; produced by Baek Eunsu, Park Intak, Andrew Han

ALBUM CONTENTS !

The physical album is available in four versions, one for each character in the title. Each album contains: 1x CD-R ( 4 types ), 1x photo book (4 types ), 1x lyric book ( 4 types ), 1x poster ( 4 types ), 1x sticker sheet, 1 of 24 photocards, 1 of 6 polaroid cards.

ERA NOTES !

Their pear era. Peara, if you will. They’re idols (이돌s). They can commit to a bit. The center marker of their dance practice is a pear. The stickers in their album mimic the ones found on fruits.

The album is Fable’s first to be produced entirely in-house. Most of it was written and produced by Yejun, with smaller contributions from Haksu, Mingeun, Intak, and Neon Nights. They refuse to talk about how long it took for them to write the album, only dropping cryptic hints that it took longer than people think, and it wasn’t just the music production that took time, but the entire conception of the come back.

It is also their first title track to not overtly display their traditional concept, leading to mixed reactions. Yejun has defended his song multiple times, saying people should “take a closer look,” “listen without prejudice,” and maybe even “manage their expectations.”

The CD-track, “Fire,” caused the greatest uproar in boy group kpop for the year so far when it was revealed that the main producer was former member Eunsu. Reactions spanned the whole spectrum of “he didn’t actually leave the group” to “he left the group because they secretly hate each other but he still wants to be an idol and they bought the song just to spite him.” It wasn’t until the release of their behind-the-scenes content that Intak showed how long the song had spent in the depths of his hard drive, effectively changing the narrative to usual mistreatment allegations.

The concept haters (Mingeun, Haksu, Byeonghwi) had the time of their lives. Except for the part where they visited a pear farm for their variety show. It isn’t even pear season. They were doing farm work.

The album’s release was followed by a YouTube documentary describing the writing and recording process. That, combined with the lack of music show wins has led to the general consensus (and copium) that it’s for the arts and not the charts.

The title is nowhere to be found anywhere on the album, other than the character denoting the version on the spine. It takes buying all four versions to spell out the entire name. The strategy worked out, as it sold 300k copies, becoming the group’s best-selling release.

[fcble]

🙊 for mingeun!!

🙊 ― a memory you don’t ever talk about.

In which Mingeun tries to go home. WORD COUNT: 1k WARNINGS: Verbal abuse. Extremely shitty parents. NOTES: Takes place mid 2020, amongst Mingeun's scandal, which you can read more about here and here.

Mingeun can’t go home. He knows that much. He explains the situation as best as he can over the phone to his older sister, Minah. It’s a difficult process—Mingeun chokes up over random words and backtracks multiple times to explain the whole story. By the end of it, his sinuses hurt from the effort of trying not to cry.

Two days later, Minah picks him up at Vancouver International Airport. 

Mingeun stares straight ahead at the road from the passenger seat of her Hyundai Sonata. “How long can I stay?”

In his peripheral vision, he sees the sideways glance he gets. “As long as you need to.”

But Mingeun doesn’t want to be a burden, and he knows she lives with her boyfriend—Stephen or Daniel or Kevin or some other similarly generic name—in an apartment barely big enough for the two of them.

“You won’t tell Mom?” he asks, just to reassure himself.

“Of course not.”

Mingeun figures his parents already know. They can read the news. His only hope is that they’ll assume he’s still in Korea, not that the CEO of his entertainment company is a such an asshole he packed Mingeun onto a plane and sent him halfway around the world.

Minah parks in her designated spot, and Mingeun lugs his suitcases out of the trunk.

“Is your boyfriend home?” he asks on the elevator up to the fifth floor.

“Gary? No, he’s at work.”

Mingeun is off on every count. The name of Minah’s boyfriend. Average working adult schedules. 

The elevator door dings open.

“Shit,” Minah breathes quietly. 

Mingeun looks past her to see a familiar silhouette pacing up and down the hallway. The freshly blown out perm, hair cut slightly shorter than a bob. The sensible black flats, silent on the carpeted floor. The timeless, stylish outfit, modest in its long sleeves, shin-length pants, and high neckline. It’s been almost four years since he left, but the sight of his mother still fills Mingeun with trepidation. He doesn’t think children are supposed to fear or despise their parents the way he does.

“Minah. Why don’t you answer your phone?” his mother asks.

Mingeun is relieved she didn’t talk to him first. He doesn’t wish her scrutiny on his sister—he doesn’t wish it on anyone—but at his core, he’s all about self-preservation.

“I was driving, Mom,” Minah says. “Please don’t yell in the hallway. Let’s go inside.”

She leads the way down the hall and into her apartment. Mingeun follows close behind, rolling his suitcases as quietly as possible. 

“Yah. Mingeun,” his mother says from behind him.

All she says is his name. Mingeun flinches.

“How come you didn’t tell me you were coming home?”

“I don’t know,” Mingeun mumbles.

“Just leave your stuff,” Minah says quietly in English. “We have to get rid of her first.”

Their mother is poking her way around Minah’s kitchen. She opens the refrigerator and sniffs. “Only takeout containers! Minah, you need to cook more.”

Minah hurries over and closes the refrigerator door. “I have work.”

Mingeun takes an uneasy seat on the edge of Minah’s couch, one of the only places that isn’t occupied by pillows and blankets and stuffed animals. This wasn’t what he expected to return to. He was thinking he could spend some time here, lay low for a few weeks, and then return to Korea to pick up the pieces of his career. His mother wouldn’t even have to know.

“I heard from Yerin you were in trouble. She showed me the picture of you at the airport. You know how embarrassing that is for me? The son I raised didn’t tell me anything. I have to hear through gossip.” She says the last word like it’s caused her personal offense.

Mingeun has no idea who Yerin is. Probably one of his mother’s friends, but he doesn’t pay much attention. Does that make him a bad son?

Minah takes a seat next to Mingeun, pushing aside multiple pillows. Mingeun likes her there. It makes the battle lines evident.

“Sorry,” Mingeun says to the floor.

His mother lets out an exaggerated sigh. “How did I have two worthless children?”

“Mom!” Minah snaps.

“Don’t talk back.” She flaps her hand in Minah’s direction. “So disrespectful.”

If Mingeun was braver, he’d say something. Something about how there must be some common factor that made both him and Minah act this way. Instead, he becomes very interested in the carpet threads under his feet.

His mother addresses him next. “You need to go back and apologize. How can you run away like this? You’re disgraceful. How can your father and I show our faces?”

These questions are rhetorical. Mingeun sits there, numb and quiet. He can’t explain the situation. She wouldn’t understand. He tries to tune her out, but his mother’s voice is loud and grating. Every word seems like a direct attack on Mingeun, cutting deep into his very being.

“We make so many sacrifices for you. You do nothing. First, you drop out of SM. Then you drop out of high school. Now you do this.” She gestures meaninglessly through the air. “Your father and I try to support you. You make it so difficult.”

“Sorry,” Mingeun says again. He keeps his head bowed, still interested in the floor. Maybe this way, no one will see the tears threatening to drop with each passing second.

When his mother stops to take a breath, Minah stands up. “That’s enough, Mom. We get it. You need to leave now.”

If Mingeun didn’t feel like shit, he would find it amusing to watch his sister strong-arm their mother out the door. Minah is younger and stronger, and with one arm around their mother’s back, she’s forceful enough to make their mother stumble. 

As it stands, Mingeun does feel like shit, and his vision is blurry with tears. He hears the lock click, and then feels Minah’s weight on the couch again.

She wraps him a hug, one hand stroking his hair, in a way Mingeun can’t remember experiencing for years. “I didn’t know she would be here, or that she would say anything like that. You know it’s not true, right?”

Mingeun doesn’t say anything in response, but finally lets himself cry into his sister’s shirt sleeve.