"Great Demon King Oppa, you've already done so well. Don't blame yourself—please take good care of your health! Don't believe what the news says. We, the Apostles, welcome Oppa's arrival."
"I asked my Chinese colleagues at the company and found out some things. Oppa was framed and went through a dark period before rising from the ashes, inheriting the power of the phoenix. The new album released this year was entirely written, composed, and arranged by Oppa himself. Not only is he a genius singer, but also a genius songwriter. I hope the album can be heard in Korea soon."
"The Apostles will always wait for the Great Demon King's arrival. Reports from The Asahi Shimbun and East Asia Daily are written by people who've lost their minds."
"Just saw someone online saying Korea doesn't welcome Oppa. I couldn't help but laugh—how can anyone speak for me? I welcome Oppa."
The above comments are all from Korean netizens, fully illustrating how mainstream media narratives and public perception in Korea have completely split on this matter. The two have become entirely unrelated—you oppose yours, I support mine.
A similar phenomenon exists in China. On Xiaohongshu, the average salary is casually reported as 50,000 to 60,000 yuan, but in reality, even finding a job that pays 5,000 to 6,000 yuan can be difficult in some cities.
Since Chu Zhi's fan cafe had no management—not even basic community guidelines—Korean fans grew wildly, organizing themselves and even giving themselves a fancy name.
Chu Zhi's alias on MBC's King of Masked Singer was "Great Demon King," and his skills truly lived up to the title. Thus, his Korean fans—no, his "devotees"—named themselves: The Apostles.
This fits right in with the naming conventions of K-pop fandoms (e.g., Fairies, Suns, Cassiopeias). The Apostles blend in perfectly.
Luckily, Chu Zhi himself didn't know about this, or the fandom's name would've taken an even more cult-like turn... and things would've gotten legally questionable.
"If everyone agrees, then we should—"
Before Niu Jiangxue could finish, she was interrupted:
"We need to think carefully. At least on this matter, acting impulsively will backfire."
The only person in the brokerage team who would voice opposition in such a unanimous situation was the ever-rational Brother Fei.
"If we release a physical album in Korea, I'm worried it'll give people ammunition against Brother Chu," Fei said. "First, for domestic fans—many don't mind spending a hundred or two to support their idol by buying physical albums. But if they have to purchase them through overseas proxies just to support a domestic star, it'll look bad."
Fei ignored the others' expressions and continued, "Besides—Brother Chu said his albums are free. Shouldn't Korean fans count as people too?"
His wording was subtle, but everyone understood the implication: even if you don't care about foreign fans, you shouldn't make it too obvious.
"Who would pay a premium for an album when there's a free version? And if we're seen as exploiting foreign fans, it'll backfire," said Xiao Qian, the team's online operations manager.
Xiao Qian rarely spoke up in meetings, but he couldn't stand Fei—always waiting until the last moment to interject, as if he were the only one with foresight.
"Brother, you're just arguing for the sake of it. Idols sell dreams, and fans chase those dreams. Spending money to chase a dream makes it more meaningful," Fei countered.
Old Qian, sitting nearby, discreetly tugged Xiao Qian's sleeve, signaling him to drop it.
"If Brother Chu only wants to focus on domestic growth, then fine—just consolidate the domestic fanbase. But personally, I believe Brother Chu has the potential to become a pan-Asian superstar. If that's the case, we need to pay attention to fanbases in Japan, Korea, and Thailand," Fei said. "We should think long-term and not sacrifice future growth for short-term gains."
His argument was solid. Broaden the horizon—there'd be plenty of future opportunities to "harvest" fans. Fei's words made Wang Yuan, Old Qian, and Niu Jiangxue pause to reconsider.
"We can't let JYP Entertainment handle the album distribution," Niu Jiangxue agreed. "But the company is planning to release Brother Nine's merch soon. We can let them handle that instead."
"In that case, I have no objections," Fei said, his expression relaxing.
Having a rational analyst on the team was great, but Fei's tone always carried a hint of condescension—as if everyone else was shortsighted. No wonder he remained an advertising agent instead of becoming a main brokerage. His attitude wasn't exactly team-friendly.
"Can we collaborate with TV stations to sell the MVs?" Wang Yuan suddenly suggested. "The new album has MVs for nine songs. If I remember correctly, Korea has a history of broadcasting MVs."
Where there's a will, there's a way. This was a fresh angle. Niu Jiangxue considered the feasibility: earn money from TV stations while letting Korean fans (The Apostles) watch for free. Best of both worlds—profit and goodwill.
Given the current hype, TV stations would definitely pay. Niu immediately tasked Fei with estimating the MVs' market value.
After the meeting, Wang Yuan checked her idol's INS account and murmured, "The follower count is going to skyrocket."
Among Asian celebrities on Instagram, K-pop stars dominated the rankings, with the top ones boasting over 40 million followers.
Chu Zhi had 17 million—the most among Chinese stars on INS. Only two others had broken 10 million. Li Xingwei, despite his domestic decline, still had over 8 million followers thanks to his Japanese fanbase.
Why did Wang Yuan suggest selling the MVs? She didn't actually care about the money, her behavior made it clear she wasn't lacking—like that imperial-green jade Guanyin pendant she wore, the kind often seen in films.
Fans understand fans best. Wang Yuan became a "mom fan" out of concern for Xiao Jiu, but she knew that without his looks, she wouldn't have been drawn in initially.
Falling for the face, staying for the talent (or character)—regardless of the latter, the former was the prerequisite. MVs like Like Smoke would show Koreans that their flower boys couldn't compete.
This is what a true visual king looks like. Our Xiao Jiu will win over even more fans.
The thought of Chu Zhi's INS following exploding and his fame rising further in Korea put Wang Yuan in a great mood. Humming The Wind Blows the Wheat, she headed home after work.
Chu Zhi had hundreds of thousands of followers on DAUM, but without understanding Chinese, Korean fans couldn't easily dig up content about him on Chinese platforms.
Like Smoke's MV became top-tier material on Bilibili, going viral domestically but struggling to spread overseas. Just like in Japan—without Koguchi Yoshihiro's repost, it wouldn't have blown up. Imagine the impact if the MV reached Korea after Chu Zhi's unmasking.
Meanwhile, more and more netizens were urging Chu Zhi to seek medical treatment. It was time for an official statement.
@EatABigOrange: [I don't want personal matters to waste public resources. I'll be okay—I still have my 8th-anniversary concert to prepare for, with gifts for my fans. Little Fruits, try searching for [Orange Home] on your app stores.]
Note the phrasing: not "I'm okay", but "I'll be okay." The fan community app's release was impeccably timed.
@EatASmallOrange: [Image]
For those unfamiliar with INS: it's image-centric. The attached photo showed Chu Zhi in a white shirt and black suspenders, captioned similarly to the Weibo post.
A slap, then a sweet date.
The sweet date had arrived.