Pen and Paper Translations

“I’m against this project.”

He spoke in a tone that reminded one of a father objecting to his son’s marriage.

“Why, of all people, Seojini? There are plenty of great singers out there, aren’t there?”

Mr. Kim tried repeatedly to cajole Hyun‑seung as he walked behind him, but without success.

“Hyun‑seung, I already put together a list of singers for your comeback! The lineup is stacked—let’s just quickly review the list and decide.”

But Hyun‑seung didn’t even pretend to listen; instead, he simply walked ahead.

In truth, he was completely absorbed in the Nintendo game he was holding.

“Pause the game for a minute.”

“Why?”

“Think it over one more time.”

“I did.”

“Then try it one more time.”

Mr. Kim’s pleading voice gradually faded away, and finally a deep sigh escaped Hyun‑seung.

Wasn’t he the one who, using his own authority, had managed to secure a top-notch composer with outrageous terms? With all the achievements he’d chalked up and the solid standing he’d built in the company…

“Choosing Seojini as your first project?!”

These days, the adjectives thrown around describing her ranged from “the singer on the decline,” “the has-been,” to “old-school Seojini.”

She was never exactly warm or friendly, and perhaps because she had been in the entertainment industry since childhood, she always seemed a little down, frequently making mistakes on hard-earned variety show appearances.

Her stubborn pride often led her to engage in petty quarrels with other panelists—quarrels that usually ended with her getting completely edited out.

She always ended up getting bashed in reviews.

Three years as a trainee, six years in the industry—nine years total.

And for the past three years, she’d been on a steep downward spiral.

Thanks to the blazing popularity of her early debut songs, she could still generate a little buzz now, but recently she wasn’t bringing in proper revenue for the company at all.

No wonder some of the key players in the company now referred to her as “a huge headache.”

Who in their right mind would take on such a singer?

Judging from the sample tracks that Hyun‑seung had sent before the contract, if she truly had the ability to produce songs at that level, then sooner or later a good opportunity would surely come knocking.

Unlike other rookie composers whose priority is to release songs even if they don’t succeed, there was no reason for a composer of Hyun‑seung’s caliber to tie himself down to a singer like Seojini.

If his first release under the new contract turned out to be a flop, wouldn’t that completely change how people viewed him?

“Stop sighing already. At this rate, my studio’s going to collapse!” Mr. Kim snapped.

“Do I look like I can’t stop sighing?” Hyun‑seung shot back.

“If you just get your tuning right, you can produce some really great sound from this instrument.”

With a half-smirk, Hyun‑seung added, “Anyway, if I’m such a headache, why don’t you just leave it to me?”

His tone was nonchalant and half-apathetic, yet there was something oddly trustworthy about it.

“Either way, the opinions of those directly involved matter…”Mr. Kim mumbled, trailing off.

“I’ll ask the parties and get back to you.”

For some reason, it made him feel as if he truly understood the saying that “no parent can beat their child.”

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Click—

The thick soundproof door swung open, and a solemn-faced Mr. Jooji‑tae appeared. It was clear that nothing was going well in the recording session.

“Mr. Kim?”

Mr. Kim, who had been cautiously making his way in, noticed Mr. Jooji‑tae abruptly stop the backing track with a quick “thwack!” and asked, “What’s up this time?”

Mr. Kim cleared his throat several times with a “Hmm, hmm!” before speaking.

“I’m really sorry to intrude at such an advanced stage, but I’ve got a proposal for you.”

Mr. Jooji‑tae, his curiosity piqued, stood up.

“Sorry to interrupt your work, but could we have a word for a moment?”

Nodding lightly, Mr. Jooji‑tae led Mr. Kim to a sofa tucked away in the corner of the recording studio.

“Would you like a drink or something?”

“No, I’m good,” he replied. “Then, about the proposal…”

Mr. Kim glanced briefly toward Seojini in the recording booth before quietly continuing, “I heard you’ve been under a lot of stress handling Seojini.”

“Every time her numbers drop, it feels like all the blame falls on you…”

“Given the pressure coming from the company, it must be really tough.”

After finishing, Mr. Kim cautiously added, “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but…”

Mr. Jooji‑tae studied Mr. Kim’s face, wondering what proposal he had in mind.

“Why not have the new rookie composer handle Seojini’s single this time?” Mr. Kim suggested.

Mr. Jooji‑tae looked at Mr. Kim with a mix of surprise and intrigue. “Excuse me? What exactly do you mean by that?”

Mr. Kim continued, “Isn’t it really tough for you handling her album? What if her overall project’s put under your production? That way, you’d sort it out yourself.”

At that, Mr. Jooji‑tae asked, “Are you talking about just changing the producing or directing?”

In other words, he was asking if he could completely step away from this album.

“No, I mean we’d replace all the songs with new tracks from our rookie composer.”

For a brief moment, Mr. Jooji‑tae’s face lit up with a smile, but he quickly composed himself and asked, “And do you think that’s even possible?”

“It’s not impossible.” Mr. Kim said, shrugging slightly. “Well, it might mean the release date gets pushed back a bit.”

Mr. Kim’s firm response made it clear that this was a really good opportunity, at least in his eyes.

“Besides, that guy isn’t exactly picky. When I think back to my rookie days, I had to work my way up step by step through some very tough times.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Don’t you know? I heard that, despite being a rookie, he’s pretty damn talented—and contrary to everyone’s expectations, Seojini’s upcoming album might actually be a hit.”

He added passionately, “In any case, isn’t this a golden opportunity for that guy?”

“An opportunity, huh…”

“Let’s assume Seojini’s album is a success.”

After a heavy silence, Mr. Kim continued, “This is a prime chance for the higher-ups to notice us—an opportunity you simply can’t miss.”

Mr. Kim swallowed roughly, holding back a sneer that said, “Then why don’t you do it?”

He’s so fired up…

Mr. Jooji‑tae wrapped his proposal in the word “opportunity,” though no one really expected Seojini’s album to succeed.

After all, hasn’t she been on a dramatic downhill slide for three years now, earning the notorious nickname “the youngest has-been” on the internet?

“Alright, let’s call it a day then,” Mr. Jooji‑tae said, trying to hide his laughter as he wrapped up the conversation.

“Will you report back to the higher-ups?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, of course,” replied Mr. Kim.

At that moment, there was a loud “Bang!” as the recording booth door slammed shut.

“Hey, did you hear that?”

Mr. Jooji‑tae remarked as he looked over at the door.

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Mr. Jooji‑tae then continued, “So, our head producer for this album is being replaced.”

Mr. Kim’s face fell in disbelief as he looked at Seojini.

“Seojini, since when did you hear about that?”

“Since a little while ago.”

“But that rookie composer…”

Seojini, waving her hands dismissively as if to say “Enough already,” immediately left the recording studio.

“Anyway, you’re such a hothead.”

Mr. Jooji‑tae mocked as he watched her exit the room.

Mr. Kim just stood silently, staring at the door through which Seojini had just left.

Meanwhile, as Seojini stepped out of the studio, she paused and took a deep breath.

She’d known all along that her contract renewal was uncertain and that her standing in the company was on shaky ground.

After all, in the past three years, not even one of her album releases had ever broken even, despite her seemingly never missing a day of hard work—leaving her chronically short of luck.

Sigh…

Being given a rookie composer’s slot meant that no one in the company really expected anything from her.

“It’s absolutely maddening…”

Her endless sigh showed no sign of stopping.

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Meanwhile, Hyun‑seung spent the entire day listening to Seojini’s songs on repeat—from the hit first album to her more recent releases that had performed miserably.

“Sure, the songs from her debut were pretty good…”

But her more recent tracks were all below par.

“The musicians sound awful.”

For the most part, it felt like they were forcefully squeezing out her high notes. And because they chose more mainstream, fast-tempo tracks, even though her voice in the mid-to-low range was strong and powerful, when the tempos dropped and she finished the songs without any elaborate tricks, a sophisticated tone came through.

I guess a singer is a singer.

In short, Seojini was definitely a good instrument.

But she was an instrument with extremely high performance demands.

To play this “instrument” properly, a lot of meticulous care was needed.

At this point, one couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Seojini— after all, she’d unfortunately met the wrong performer and ended up being out of tune, producing dissonance.

I heard that earlier her vocal range was completely choked…

It almost sounded like her voice was restrained—the slight tremor in her quivering voice, the way she visibly shrank.

“Mr. Kim, are negotiations going well?”

Mr. Jooji‑tae didn’t seem too bothered; his attitude during the recording session spoke for itself— it was like watching them tear each other apart.

That was Mr. Kim’s job: persuading Mr. Jooji‑tae.

All I have to do is keep making songs, that’s my part.

Soon, Hyun‑seung fired up his voice memo app, humming melodies as he kept stacking up new recording files. Tap.

Only then did he put his phone down and stretch. His fingers hurt a bit from doing something he hadn’t done in a while.

“Alright, let’s get started.”

He had to channel all those intangible tunes from his head into the program, so he immediately began playing the keyboard, laying down the accompaniment, layering multiple tracks onto the rhythmic and adding bouncy piano melody with all sorts of additional sounds.

“Whew…”

Hyun‑seung wiped the sweat on his forehead roughly with his sleeve. He was too lazy to even turn on the air conditioner. And that wasn’t all—his hands wouldn’t let go of the keyboard for over 30 minutes, despite being terribly thirsty. Just do this, just do this…

As what was only in his head began to take shape and the lines of melody formed in the desired direction, a sense of certainty struck him. “This is incredible!”

Finally, the hardened look on his face softened, and a smile spread across his lips. In his previous life, due to panic disorder, he hadn’t been able to work for a while, and after regressing he had only been making demo tracks…

It had been ages since he’d produced a fully released song. That thirst for music had long been quenched. Perhaps his hunger for music had been parching his throat all along.

“Eh?”

His phone, which he looked at just then, surprised him. First, because it was already past 5 AM.

Second, because it was a text from Mr. Kim.

[ Mr. Jooji‑tae gave his approval. But do you really have to be “Seojini”? ]

Hyun‑seung decided not to reply. He put his phone down and immediately plugged in a USB to save the three finished songs.

What should I name these files?

Once again, he faced the final barrier. These were songs without even a working title.

“Seojini, Seojini, Seojini…”

After repeating her name a few times, Hyun‑seung, feeling too lazy to overthink, roughly named the files:

  [ Magic Lamp Genie 01~03 ]

It was a title with no real meaning at all.

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Mr. Kim headed briskly toward the A&R room.

Does this even make sense?

With a look of disbelief, he pulled out his phone.

[ I’ve sent the Seojini tracks via A&R email; please set up a recording date.]

Reading the text from Hyun‑seung, Mr. Kim let out a short laugh. Only 24 hours had passed. Wasn’t it just 24 hours ago that Hyun‑seung said he’d take on Seojini?

What the heck is this guy doing?

He knew well that Hyun‑seung had undeniable talent, but to produce a finished song in such a short span was certainly astonishing. How long did it take?

Click…

The A&R room, once the door opened, was bustling like a busy marketplace. “Sir, are you here?”

A team leader rushed over and greeted him. “Why is the A&R room so chaotic today?”

“Because of the email from that composer.”

Soon, engineers and A&R staff gathered in small groups like excited little chicks chirping away.

“Every single detail in this song’s arrangement is just mind-blowing.”

“Honestly, the track’s quality is too precious to give to Seojini.”

“But listening to it, it actually sounds like it fits her well, doesn’t it?”

Faces lit up with excitement and anticipation. Seeing all these reactions, Mr. Kim himself was suddenly eager to listen to the song.

“Is Jini here?”

Hearing a subtle sound from behind, Mr. Kim turned around and saw Seojini standing with a sour expression.

“She’s out there, and she’s already sung the song.”

 She muttered coldly, “Singing a song? As if a new track could come out.”

“Yeah?”

“Probably a recycled one, right?”

Mr. Kim couldn’t bring himself to answer; he couldn’t really scold her for her crude language.

Truthfully, she had every reason to be mad.

During the recording process, without consulting her, the head producer was changed, and the song was altered. In short, not only was the release date pushed back, but all the effort put in so far went down the drain.

Even more unbelievable: they expected the rookie composer to perform a “recycled” song he whipped up in a single day?

I’d be furious too, if I were in his shoes.

Even so, hadn’t Hyun‑seung’s tracks always amazed the A&R room before and also now?

He couldn’t judge without listening. “Jini, let’s head over to the engineer’s room and listen,”

Mr. Kim said. He took one engineer and one team leader and escorted her to the engineer’s room.

“Let me have a headset so I can listen on my own, please.” She put the headset on backward and closed her eyes. She wasn’t trying to take it seriously at all. Her plan was to listen carefully and then tear the song apart to cause a failure.

“Are you ready?” At her cue, the engineer pressed play on the file.

Click—

 Right then, Hyun‑seung, who was at the center of all this, opened the door and entered the engineer’s room.

“I was curious to see your reaction when you first heard my song—so carry on with what you were doing.”

 Freshly arrived, Hyun‑seung folded his arms and said, “Hurry up and play it.”

Seojini snorted softly and quickly turned her head away. Soon, silence fell over the engineer’s room. After a short while, the sound of footsteps tapping began.

“Huh?”

When an engineer finally tracked down the source of the sound, he couldn’t help but be astonished.

“Is Seojini really keeping rhythm right now?”

Even the tiniest movement was enough—she was clearly swaying with the rhythm.

Even when famous composers listened to their tracks, they would sit up straight and listen with intensity…

In fact, when the second track—her album’s title song—came out, she even snapped her eyes open and looked for Hyun‑seung.

As their gazes collided in mid-air and the third track finished, a total of 14 minutes and 15 seconds had passed.

“So, Jini, what do you think?”

Almost as soon as the song ended, a team leader asked.

“Don’t you think the song is pretty good?”

“Uh…”

“Maybe you didn’t like it?”

“Uh…”

“Jini, what’s wrong?”

She looked blank, her answer utterly devoid of spirit. Unable to bear it anymore, Mr. Kim stepped in and asked impatiently, “Do you like the song or not?”

Instead of answering, a heavy silence fell.

“Jini!”

Finally, Mr. Kim couldn’t hold back and shouted her name once more.

Barely managing to open her lips, and as all eyes fell on her, she finally blurted out, “Why is it good?”

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