~ "After the clouds clear, the sun still shines. In the dark, I wait, but I'm not alone this time. Every drop of rain, a memory I hold, Every sunrise, a story retold." ~
Three full boxes of the EP After the Clouds Clear—a total of 540 copies. Not a small amount by any measure.
But by 12 PM, when Jang Haeseong opened the Itaewon record store in Yongsan District, Seoul, the shelves were empty by 1:30. Completely sold out. He was stunned.
"What do you mean there's none left? I queued for hours!"
"Isn't this the biggest record shop in Yongsan?"
"Hurry up and restock! Aish, why are you just standing there? Want me to teach you how to do your job? Call and order more now."
"Unacceptable!"
The complaints hit like a downpour the moment Jang announced the albums were sold out. It was overwhelming.
"Actually, you can pre-order on the JYP website—"
He didn't even get to finish. His voice was drowned by shouts.
"You think I don't know that? Pre-orders open at 2 PM. I wanted to get the album early, two or three hours ahead!"
"Great suggestion. But do you know it takes two or three days for pre-orders to arrive?"
"Don't tell me you only prepared this many copies?!"
Never argue with fans. Especially not fans who failed to buy the album.
Jang Haeseong was at a loss. A few copies? These fans bought ten to twenty copies each. They were their own worst enemy.
Of course, he couldn't say that out loud. All he could do was let his coworker calm the crowd while he called the store manager.
"Huh? Wasn't there a poster here?" He remembered putting it up in the hallway that morning. Now the blue-painted wall was bare.
He walked forward—more posters missing.
Posters getting stolen wasn't rare. Male idol groups often had theirs stolen, despite strict rules.
But today… every single one was gone. Even the promo posters taped to the glass doors had been peeled clean.
What could he do? Chu Zhi's popularity in South Korea was largely thanks to his visuals…
Itaewon's record store wasn't the only one—stores all over Seoul were wiped clean.
South Korea had officially gone into a buying frenzy.
JYP's President Park had learned from Sony Music Japan's past experience. For this release, they printed 200,000 copies—four times more than the 50,000 initial batch Sony did.
Smart move. But even Park had miscalculated one thing:
Back then, When I Close My Eyes, which swept across Asia, hadn't even premiered.
200,000 copies gone in a single afternoon. Not enough. Not even close.
Countless fans—Apostles—rushed to the official site to pre-order.
"Why can't I get the version 2 card? Aish… they must've underprinted them!" muttered Kim Jaehee after tearing through 30 albums, still missing one card.
Kim Jaehee, a name most would forget. A year ago, he was the MBC staff sent to receive Chu Zhi during his surprise Seoul visit.
He'd gotten in trouble for that visit, scolded by his director. But as Chu Zhi's fame grew, so did Jaehee's devotion.
Chu Zhi's success proved that outdated power plays were nonsense. You could break the rules—and still rise.
"Another ten albums. Last ten." He checked his wallet—just enough cash.
Earning around 18,000 RMB a month, Jaehee wasn't well-off by South Korean standards.
Spending over 4,000 RMB on 40 albums? Undeniably extravagant.
South Korean albums cost a bit more than Japanese ones, thanks to higher-quality photo cards and posters.
Chu Zhi's EP came with seven collectible cards: casual suit, sportswear, knitwear, long robe, formalwear, flight attendant outfit, and trench coat.
Unlike group idols—each with a single member card—solo singers rarely had multiple styles. Chu Zhi's versatility was rare.
The long robe and formalwear versions were the rarest—1 in 10 and 1 in 5 odds, respectively.
Jaehee lacked the long robe version. As a loyal Apostle, he wanted to post his full set on the fan cafe.
He was ready to head out when two news alerts popped up on his phone:
"Chu Zhi's Korean EP After the Clouds Clear sparks a frenzy—two injured in a stampede at a Guro District record shop." – Seoul Express
"After the Clouds Clear poised to break records. Critic Aizawa says: 'Buying an album purely for looks isn't healthy.'" – Jazz Report
Two injured. A stampede.
Maybe… it wasn't worth going out after all.
"Usually, we're all brothers and sisters in the cafe, but when it comes to albums… no mercy. Shameless," he muttered.
How had he managed to get 30 copies? Because his ex-girlfriend's younger sister worked at a shop and held them for him. Shameless? Maybe. But effective.
He placed a ten-copy order on the JYP website instead. As for Aizawa's critique? Jaehee just chuckled.
Buying for looks? Wasn't that true of every boy group? Who wasn't drawn in by visuals first?
"They're just jealous because Mr. Chu's looks outshine every active male celeb," he said with a smug smile.
Physical sales were off the charts—but South Korea's entertainment industry had two more metrics: music shows and digital streams.
Music shows required live appearances and voting. Digital streams meant listeners had to pay to listen or download.
Chu Zhi had no time for music shows, but JYP scheduled the digital release for 5 PM.
Good digital results could lead to what fans called a "perfect all kill"—PAK for short.
To get one, a song had to hit #1 on all major South Korean platforms.
Most platforms updated hourly, so PAK totals were tracked by the hour.
The hit girl group Nine-Color Deer once held the record with 171 paks. Their song topped every chart for over a week.
That's 168 hours, by the way. Anyone who's studied for exams should recognize the number.
Chu Zhi's three tracks—Universe, Go With the Flow, and Lights Out—took the top three spots on Melon. His title track, Universe, debuted at #1 across all major platforms.
At 5 PM, the release went live. By 6 PM, it had already secured its first pak.
The Apostles went all-in. Buying physical albums, streaming nonstop—they were relentless.
Different countries, different tastes. On Earth, Go With the Flow had gone viral on TikTok, while Universe hadn't stood out. In South Korea, the opposite.
The next day, it was time to announce first-day sales.
South Korea's physical album game? Wild.
The current record for first-day sales belonged to GZ boy group: over 1.6 million copies. Slightly below Earth's Seventeen, whose first-day sales exceeded 1.7 million, with 3 million in the first week.
But that was for full albums. For EPs, the record was held by the now-disbanded "Goodbye at the End" group: 370,000.
GZ boy group had only narrowly surpassed them, and their fanbases still clashed regularly.
Chu Zhi's combined physical and digital first-day sales? 480,000.
No joke—South Korean fans had terrifying purchasing power. An EP going for 20,000 won (about 100+ RMB) racked up nearly 50 million RMB in one day.
Faster than robbing a bank.
Chu Zhi's simultaneous dominance in physical and digital stunned the entire South Korean music industry.
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Perfect All Kill (PAK): A term used in South Korea's music industry meaning a song has reached #1 on all major music streaming platforms simultaneously.