The trio of birds strike their final pose as the welcome comes to a delightful end.
A perfect appetizer.
Just enough to fill you—just enough to leave you starving.
And the audience?
Oh, they're losing it.
"That can't be the end, right?! I need more!"
"Don't play with me like this—I demand the rest!"
"You cannot leave us like this—what is this, performance edging?!"
"That, my dear friends, is how you leave a stan panting."
"This has to be illegal—where's the rest?!"
The hunger is real.
And LEAVEN?
They don't leave their guests starving.
Five-star service isn't a goal—it's the standard.
Coming from Bread Music, where everything is served fresh, polished, and ridiculously satisfying, they know exactly how to keep people coming back for more.
So when the lights dim once again—
You already know.
Another spotlight appears, this time soft and warm.
And beneath it stands Ryu.
Draped in a beautifully tailored kimono and hakama, adorned with golden dragons that coil and shimmer with every subtle movement—living, breathing extensions of his name.
He looks… unreal.
Otherworldly.
Like he stepped out of a myth and decided to bless the stage for a moment.
The light wraps around him gently as he lifts his violin, resting it against his shoulder. The bow meets the strings—
And then he plays.
And plays.
Each stroke sends waves through the air—soft, yet powerful. Gentle, yet commanding. The melody pours into the stadium, filling every corner, every chest, every held breath.
And as he plays—
The stage begins to wake.
Lights flicker on, slowly, deliberately, as if responding to him. As if he's calling them forward.
And when the stage is finally fully illuminated—
There they are.
One family.
One collective.
One team.
One heart.
LEAVEN.
Twenty-one members. Five sub-units. Two soloists.
One united force.
Each member stands adorned in custom-tailored pieces—no two the same. Every outfit tells a story. Their lives, their cultures, their identities—woven into fabric, stitched into existence.
Monarch stands regal in a Barong Tagalog, crowned with a golden headpiece that fuses a royal crown with a traditional salakot. A perfect embodiment of his name—and his roots.
Isaac?
He's giving high-fashion farmer chic.
Like he'll milk a cow at sunrise and walk Milan Fashion Week by sunset—and somehow make both look expensive. It's bold, it's personal, it's him.
August shines in an elaborate hanbok—drenched in bright, unapologetic yellow. Not just yellow—sunshine. Joy. Warmth. It's almost too much… and yet, it's perfectly, undeniably August.
And Pink?
Oh, Pink came to play.
Full drag. No hesitation.
The wigs? Out.
The heels? Weapons.
The makeup? Pure drama—Kweens energy turned all the way up.
Nails? Long, blinged, and ready to make a statement.
Pink isn't just showing up—he's representing, loudly and unapologetically.
And these are just a few.
Because every single member?
Ate.
Devoured.
Left no crumbs.
They stand together, shining like stars scattered across a vast night sky—exactly where they've always belonged.
Up there.
Untouchable.
Radiant.
And the only correct response?
Is to look.
To admire.
To witness.
Not reduce them to noise, to petty drama, to whatever nonsense social media tries to turn everything into these days.
No.
This?
This is bigger than that.
This is art.
And it demands to be seen.
****
This time—
The audience erupts.
Screams. Cheers. Applause crashing into each other like waves.
Light sticks flood the air, glowing in every color imaginable—no fandom divisions, no rivalries. Just one massive, unspoken truce.
Tonight?
Everyone's here for the banquet.
And everyone's eating.
And oh—let's not forget.
Every single one of them is holding a handheld mic.
Yeah.
Very much giving, "Just so we're clear—we're singing live."
No shortcuts. No hiding.
Just raw, unfiltered vocals.
Ahn Jae lifts his mic, taking in a deep breath.
But in that split second—
Something feels… off.
He can't explain it. Not fully. But it's there. That gut feeling, sharp and persistent, whispering that something isn't right.
And then—
He finds out exactly what it is.
🎶빛이 내려… 너는 누구야?🎶
He sings.
Or at least—he should be singing.
Because the stadium?
Is silent.
No sound.
Nothing.
A ripple of confusion spreads through the crowd. They see his lips move, clear as day—but there's no voice. No audio. Just… emptiness.
And there it is.
His mic is dead.
Completely busted.
Ahn Jae reacts on instinct, fingers quickly searching for the switch. He flips it once. Twice. Again.
Nothing.
Still dead.
Outwardly, he stays composed.
Professional.
Unshaken.
But inside?
Oh, inside it's a whole different story.
The panic doesn't creep in slowly—no, it rushes in. Fast. Aggressive. The kind that claws at your chest before you even have time to process it. The kind that screams something's wrong before you can even think straight.
And then—
A tap.
Light. Precise.
From behind.
Kang Ian.
His mic gently presses against Ahn Jae's back.
And just like that—
The panic?
Gone.
No hesitation.
No fumbling.
Ahn Jae takes the mic in one smooth motion and continues like nothing ever happened. Like this was always part of the plan.
Seamless.
Effortless.
Professional to the point it almost feels unreal.
The kind of recovery that makes you wonder if they've been doing this their whole lives.
🎶마음이 흔들려, darling…
내 숨도 너를 따라가.🎶
Crisis?
Handled.
Out on stage, the magic never breaks.
But backstage?
Oh, it's a whole different story.
Chaos.
Pure, unfiltered chaos.
Production crews scrambling, tech teams yelling over each other, voices overlapping in a storm of panic.
"What happened to his mic?!"
"Who checked the equipment?!"
"Fix it—now!"
It's giving cockroaches when the lights flip on—everybody scattering, everybody shouting, nobody breathing.
Because while the stage still looks flawless—
Everyone behind it knows just how close that came to falling apart.
****
Backstage, the blame game begins.
The production crew in charge of the mics are quick to defend themselves, insisting—no, swearing—that every single mic had been double-checked. Triple-checked.
Meanwhile, the sound techs are just as frantic, running through their systems again and again, making sure every switch is on, every level is up, every connection is solid.
"It's not us!"
"It's not our fault!"
Everyone's pointing fingers—but no one wants to be the one caught slipping.
Especially not with Bread Music's agents watching.
Like hawks.
Sharp. Silent. Judging.
Because right now?
This isn't just about a mistake.
This is about survival.
Still—no use crying over spilled milk.
What's done is done.
Now, it's about making damn sure nothing else goes wrong.
Because if another "technical difficulty" happens?
Yeah… some of them are not making it out of this night with their dignity intact.
—or possibly alive.
Back on stage, though?
You'd never know any of that chaos existed.
Because the show goes on.
When it's finally Kang Ian's turn—
Ahn Jae commits.
He twists, turns, and drops dramatically to his knees, presenting the working mic with both hands—like a loyal subject offering tribute to his king straight out of a historical K-drama.
Extra?
Absolutely.
Necessary?
Debatable.
Iconic?
Without question.
Kang Ian can't help it—the grin that spreads across his face is instant.
Bright. Amused. Dangerous.
He looks every bit like royalty, fully entertained by the offering before him.
And the audience?
Oh, they eat it up.
The screams that follow are deafening.
Eardrum-shattering.
Life-altering.
Somewhere in that crowd, people are already pulling out their phones, searching his name like their lives depend on it.
New stans are born in real time.
Bias lists?
Shaking. Collapsing. Being completely rewritten.
Because Kang Ian just walked in like, "Yeah… I'm him."
And people felt that.
Some were charmed.
Others?
Hit straight through the heart—like Cupid said "fuck the bow, I'm using a sniper rifle today."
Like sir—
Where the hell did you even come from??
Kang Ian takes the mic.
And the second it leaves Ahn Jae's hands—
Seamless transition.
No hesitation.
No awkwardness.
Ahn Jae is already moving, shifting into his next position like this was always part of the choreography.
Like nothing ever went wrong.
Because to him?
It didn't.
This is where he thrives.
Improv.
Quick thinking. Faster execution.
It's exactly why he's starting to build a reputation—why people are calling him the king of improv.
Always ready. Always sharp.
Weaving adjustments in and out of performances so cleanly you'd swear they were planned from the start.
And the best part?
He doesn't just recover the moment.
He elevates it.
Turns a near-disaster into something unforgettable.
And honestly?
That's a different kind of talent entirely.
****
Kang Ian steps into his part like he was born for it.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Just pure, undeniable presence.
He lives in the moment—owns it. Emotions spilling effortlessly, confidence radiating, his voice soaring clean and strong. His movements pull you in, hypnotic and precise, while that smile?
Dangerous.
Absolutely lethal.
🎶발끝이 스치면 색이 번져
심장도 물들어, I surrender
은은하게 떨리는 silhouette
내 눈에 담기만 해도 fever set...🎶
And the audience?
Gone.
Absolutely gone.
Screaming. Jumping. Losing their damn minds. Some look like they're about to pass out—and honestly? Valid.
Because this?
This isn't the Kang Ian they thought they knew.
This isn't trainee Kang Ian.
This is something else entirely.
A version of him that's evolved—refined, sharpened, elevated to a level that feels light-years away from anything they've seen before.
And they're witnessing it live.
In real time.
The energy spreads like wildfire. The crowd is vibing hard, and even the other idols and artists in attendance can't help but get into it—heads nodding, bodies moving, whether they realize it or not.
Except—
Not everyone is impressed.
Off to the side, sprawled across a long couch, sits a man who looks… bored.
No.
Not just bored.
Annoyed.
And getting more pissed by the second.
Around him, his group members sit stiff, tense, like they're one wrong move away from disaster. No one dares to relax. No one dares to react. Their attention is locked—not on the stage, but on him.
Because whatever mood he's in?
They're about to feel it.
And who is this man?
Oh, don't play dumb.
You already know.
Yeah. Him.
Trust me—I don't enjoy writing about him either, but here we are. Life is unfair like that. 🙄
"Tch."
Kang Seo-yul clicks his tongue, irritation written all over his face.
He doesn't like what he's seeing.
Not one bit.
The idea of his discarded toys being cheered on like this?
Disgusting.
A waste.
In his mind, all that attention—all that praise—should be his.
Saved for him.
Reserved.
Owned.
But what really pisses him off?
Is the thought that the "dogs" he paid so generously are being completely useless.
Not doing what they were supposed to do.
And by "jobs"…
Yeah.
We're not getting into that right now.
You're smart. You get it.
Moving on.
Point is—
The brat is mad.
Salty.
And things are very much not going his way.
Because as the performance continues, a pattern starts to emerge.
Something's wrong.
More than wrong.
Suspicious.
Mic after mic starts failing.
Cutting out. Not working. Dead on arrival.
Not just one.
Not two.
But over half.
At this point, it's not bad luck.
It's not coincidence.
It's deliberate.
And somewhere, somehow, the energy shifts.
Because now?
It's giving very much—
"Someone is getting fired."
Or worse.
****
And the performance?
It turns into the NBA.
The way they pass those mics—clean, sharp, effortless—it's like watching a perfectly executed fast break. No hesitation. No missed cues. Just pure, instinctive teamwork.
Because every single member of LEAVEN knows this performance down to the last detail.
Who sings what.
Who moves where.
Who gets the mic next.
No confusion. No scrambling.
It's embedded in them—muscle memory, instinct, second nature.
And it shows.
What should've been a disaster?
They turn into a masterclass.
And the audience?
Oh, they're losing their damn minds even more.
Because it's not just that LEAVEN kept going.
It's how they kept going.
Full energy. Full commitment. No holding back.
Like nothing was wrong.
Like this was always part of the plan.
And that?
That hits.
It hits hard.
You can feel it in the way the crowd reacts—in the way their cheers grow louder, more desperate, more invested.
Because now, it's not just a performance.
It's a moment.
"This guys are no joke!"
"Oh my god—these guys are insane!"
"I don't even know who they are but I'm STANNING!"
And online?
Yeah… it's blowing up.
@Oppa-ya: LEAVEN IS THE VERY DEFINITION OF PROFESSIONALISM. TAKE NOTES.
@somally_Aaa: LEAVEN—I was NOT familiar with your game. OKAAAAYYY 👀
@Kimchi-wangja: I don't know them but I wanna stan 😭 someone tell me where to start!!
→ @hells_swarm: Welcome to the bakery, bestie! 🥐 They're LEAVEN under Bread Music. They haven't officially debuted yet—this is their FIRST live performance. Start with their survival show (same name, LEAVEN)—it's a MUST watch and totally different from the usual. You can also check Bread Music's official site for member profiles. Enjoy the ride and eat to your heart's content!
→→ @Kimchi-wangja: THANK YOU!! I'm diving in ASAP 🫶
And just like that—
The wave hits.
New fans. New stans. New loyal customers walking through the doors.
Because once you get a taste?
Yeah… you're not leaving.
Welcome to the Bread Music bakery.
Where everyone is fed—and nobody leaves hungry.
****
PS - You can listen to "Masterpiece" in full at YouTube (@FocacciaBread-Music), Spotify (https://open.spotify.com/album/466IfHJlnWFBlTPPWHdhJ1?si=UNISxrlaQYuwR5ZvdySV8w) or other digital streaming platforms.
****
Original lyrics:
[Intro]
빛이 내려… 너는 누구야?
마음이 흔들려, darling…
내 숨도 너를 따라가.
[Verse 1]
발끝이 스치면 색이 번져
심장도 물들어, I surrender
은은하게 떨리는 silhouette
내 눈에 담기만 해도 fever set
유리창 너머로 스치는 glow
그 한 줄기 빛도 너 같아, oh
만지지 않아도 느껴져 heat
그대 자체가 art… 너무나 sweet.
[Pre-Chorus]
한 번만, 바라봐 줄래?
(Just one glance, I float away)
숨이 멎어, 떨리는 이 느낌
Baby, you're my secret dream.
[Chorus]
Masterpiece, masterpiece
널 보면 온몸이 freeze
아름다워, 숨이 막혀
또 한 번 그려 보고 싶어
Masterpiece, masterpiece
내 마음은 on its knees
Oh 사랑아, 보이지?
넌 날 색칠하는 masterpiece.
[Verse 2]
조각하듯 너를 상상해
완벽한 라인에 넋을 잃네
드레스일까? 아니면 suit?
어떤 모습이라도 너무 cute
차가운 marble도 너 앞에선
따듯하게 녹아 내릴 것 같아
치즐이 속삭여, 조용히
너만 보면 숨이 차올라, softly.
[Chorus]
Masterpiece, masterpiece
널 보면 온몸이 freeze
아름다워, you're divine
Just let me draw you one more time
Masterpiece, masterpiece
내 마음은 on its knees
Oh darling, can't you see?
You're the art that's painting me.
[Bridge]
적을수록 깊어지는 너
한 글자마다 설레여 와
달빛 아래 너를 그리면
가장 예쁜 시가 만들어져
너의 웃음은 작은 주문
시작도 끝도 너의 향기
잠시라도 곁에 있어 줘
오늘 밤은 함께 머물자, please.
[Rap Verse]
Yeah—
발자국 소리만 들어도 느껴져, spark
너는 밤에도 빛나는 작은 별의 mark
걸음마다 rhythm, 내 심장과 sync
숨을 마시면 너의 향기가 drink
스치는 바람도 너의 음성 같아
한 글자 들어도 마음이 녹아
붓 끝, 손끝, 전부 너를 따라가
어딜 가든 masterpiece, 너 하나야
(yeahhhhhh~)
[Chorus]
Masterpiece, masterpiece
널 보면 온몸이 freeze
아름다워, 숨이 막혀
또 한 번 그려 보고 싶어
Masterpiece, masterpiece
내 마음은 on its knees
Oh 사랑아, 보이지?
넌 날 색칠하는 masterpiece.
[Outro]
가만히 있어 줘… breathe…
내 마음에 머물러 주길
My muse… my dawn… my fantasy…
영원히… my masterpiece.
****
English translated lyrics:
[Intro]
The light falls down… who are you?
My heart starts to sway, darling…
Even my breath follows after you.
[Verse 1]
When our toes brush, colors start to bleed
My heart gets stained too, I surrender
A softly trembling silhouette
Just holding you in my gaze sets off a fever
A glow slips past beyond the glass
Even that single ray of light feels like you, oh
I feel the heat without even touching
You yourself are art… impossibly sweet.
[Pre-Chorus]
Just once, will you look my way?
(Just one glance, I float away)
My breath stops, this trembling feeling
Baby, you're my secret dream.
[Chorus]
Masterpiece, masterpiece
When I see you my whole body freeze
So beautiful, it takes my breath
I want to draw you one more time
Masterpiece, masterpiece
My heart is on its knees
Oh my love, can't you see?
You're the masterpiece that colors me.
[Verse 2]
I imagine you like a sculpture in my mind
I lose myself in your perfect lines
A dress maybe? Or a suit?
No matter what you wear, you're too cute
Even cold marble before you
Feels like it would melt into warmth
The chisel whispers, quietly
Every time I see you, my breath fills up, softly.
[Chorus]
Masterpiece, masterpiece
When I see you my whole body freeze
So beautiful, you're divine
Just let me draw you one more time
Masterpiece, masterpiece
My heart is on its knees
Oh darling, can't you see?
You're the art that's painting me.
[Bridge]
The less I write, the deeper you become
Every single word makes my heart flutter
When I draw you beneath the moonlight
The prettiest poem comes to life
Your smile is a tiny spell
From start to end, everything smells like you
Just stay by my side for a while
Tonight, stay with me, please.
[Rap]
Yeah—
Just hearing your footsteps, I feel the spark
You're a tiny star that shines even in the dark
Every step got rhythm, synced with my heart
When I breathe in, your scent is what I drink
Even the passing wind sounds like your voice
One word from you and my heart just melts
Brush tips, fingertips, everything follows you
Wherever you go, it's a masterpiece—it's you
(yeahhhhhh~)
[Chorus]
Masterpiece, masterpiece
When I see you my whole body freeze
So beautiful, it takes my breath
I want to draw you one more time
Masterpiece, masterpiece
My heart is on its knees
Oh my love, can't you see?
You're the masterpiece that colors me.
[Outro]
Stay still… breathe…
I hope you'll stay inside my heart
My muse… my dawn… my fantasy…
Forever… my masterpiece.