When Seo Jini finished listening to the three songs, her impression could be summed up in a single phrase:
“Tailor-made.”
They were like garments crafted precisely to her measurements—highlighting her strengths and concealing her weaknesses—bespoke pieces designed exclusively for her.
“Jini, do you like them?”
When Manager Kim posed the question, she gave a slight nod. She liked them so much that simply saying “they’re pretty good” wouldn’t do them justice.
I can picture in my head how I’m going to sing each verse, each phrase…
Lately, singing on stage had felt burdensome and made her shrink back, but these songs gave her a different feeling. A surge of confidence told her she could pull them off. She could even envision herself performing them on stage.
Did he really compose these just for me? In a single day?
Her gaze stayed fixed on Hyun-seung. Then—
“How long are you going to keep staring at me?” he asked.
“Pardon?”
“Weren’t the songs good enough?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
She quickly snapped out of her thoughts and asked him back:
“Why are they so good…?”
Seeing her blank expression, Hyun-seung shook his head and continued:
“We’ll do a quick test, so do you think you could try singing them right now?”
“A test? You want me to sing those songs I just heard?”
“I need to see if you can pull them off, don’t I?”
At that, Seojini’s face hardened. And she wasn’t alone. Manager Kim, Team Leader Han, and even the sound engineer in the recording room all tensed up.
She wasn’t some no-name or rookie singer. Granted, her career was on a downswing these days, but she was still a singer of six years. For a rookie composer to suggest “testing” her, just to see if she could sing his piece—well, that was enough to rub anyone the wrong way.
Yet Hyun-seung paid it no mind and persisted:
“At least try scatting the last song.”
In truth, he wanted to check if there was any part of the song that didn’t sit well with her voice so he could head back for revisions. Since this was a “custom-made” track, he had no intention of recycling it for someone else. If she decided she couldn’t sing it, he planned to scrap it altogether.
Then—
“Could I… listen to them one more time?”
Biting her lips in hesitation, she asked him back.
“Of course.”
At the moment Hyuon-seung answered, everyone else in the room dropped their jaws.
Is Seojini actually accepting his suggestion so calmly?
This was exactly what Manager Kim and everyone else was thinking. Not only was she accepting it, but the notoriously proud Seo Jini was actually asking to hear the song again.
She must really love his songs…
Manager Kim rubbed his eyes in disbelief and let out a quiet chuckle.
“Please play the last track again.”
Wearing her headset once more, she addressed the sound engineer.
Tap!
In response, the sound engineer quickly hit the space bar, and the last track began to play.
In an instant, she was immersed in the music, humming along to the melody line as if she were alone in her own little world. Even though it was her first attempt, she sang as naturally as if she were following a familiar hit on the radio.
Tap, tap—!
Her feet, which had earlier tapped excitedly to the rhythm, started going again.
“Mm, mm—”
A slightly nasally hum slipped through her throat.
“I’d like to hear it once more.”
The moment the song ended, she blurted out urgently:
“One more time.”
And then again, and again, and again:
“Just one more.”
The 4-minute, 25-second track ended up playing on loop seven times, for a total of 30 minutes and 55 seconds. It was a fair chunk of time, but nobody scolded her. They just watched in silent astonishment.
She’s like a brand-new rookie singer…
A rookie who pours heart and soul into every single track, desperate to sing it, desperate to be on stage. Manager Kim couldn’t recall even her rookie self being this earnest.
Like most major agencies, LS Entertainment’s idol trainees often garnered attention even before debut if they had standout visuals. Seojini, too, had a fan café back in her trainee days, thanks to her powerful vocals and striking looks, which gave her a head start compared to other rookies.
Of course, that was only during her debut phase. After she released flop after flop, she stirred up a bad reputation and eventually topped the list of artists most avoided by composers, fueled further by rumors of her poor attitude.
Still, she always worked hard…
Her self-confidence had plummeted after she started working with producer Ju Jitae—an artist struggling to stay relevant, meeting a singer desperate for a hit. Perhaps they’d repeated a doomed cycle of failure, dragging each other down.
Manager Kim was lost in these thoughts when—
“I’ll give it a try now,”
She said confidently, taking off her headset.
“That’s enough.”
But the reply that came next left everyone in the room baffled once more.
“No need. I’ve heard enough.”
Hyun-seung flashed a satisfied look, as if the “test” was already complete.
“We’ll meet again on recording day. That’s all.”
Having confirmed what he needed, there was no point in listening further.
Thud—!
With that, Hyun-seung quickly opened the door and left. Everyone else just stood there, stunned, blinking in silence.
What is this, some kind of puppy trick?
In the end, the 30 minutes and 55 seconds of effort she poured into rehearsing seemed to evaporate into thin air.
By the time dawn was breaking, Hyun-seung was finally heading home. He had spent the night at his personal studio, tweaking the songs for Seojini.
Seojini…
Even though he was the one who’d sprung the sudden test on her, he was still impressed by her passion.
Most importantly, just from the quick snippets of her humming along, he knew:
She really is quite the instrument.
The difference between how she sounded after her first listen and how she sounded by the last listen was huge. Her pitch, rhythm, and even ad-lib points naturally fell into place. The moment he noticed, he figured there was no need to hear any more.
This is going to be fun.
Time passed, and before he knew it, he had arrived in front of his house.
“I’m back.”
He expected the lights to be off in the living room at such an hour, but they were on—and there was a busy energy inside.
His father spotted him and hurried over, communicating in sign language:
Father (signing): Oh, you’re just getting in?
Hyun-seung (signing): Yes. You’re up early, what are you doing?
Father (signing): I’m making breakfast.
Hyun-seung (signing): Need any help?
Father (signing): It’s almost done, so just hold tight.
While he lingered in the kitchen, unsure what to do, his sister, Hyun-ah, stepped out of her room in her pajamas.
“You’re just getting home, Oppa?”
“Yeah.”
She took a seat at the dining table and asked again:
“Aren’t you out way too much these days?”
“I’m busy.”
“Busy with what? You don’t even have friends.”
“Wipe the sleep out of your eyes.”
With that, he joined her at the table and looked over the big breakfast spread.
“I don’t like mixed-grain rice…”
A steaming bowl of mixed grains was set before him, accompanied by an array of colorful vegetable side dishes.
“I don’t like greens, either…”
Hyun-ah’s skeptical expression shifted to something between pity and exasperation.
“It’s the first full moon of the year, so eat them even if you don’t want to. Dad worked hard making this.”
At her nagging, he nodded and picked up his spoon.
“I was going to anyway.”
He chewed on his rice for a while, eyeing his sister now and then.
Suddenly she asked, sounding worried:
“Oppa, I have to ask—you’re not doing anything shady these days, right?”
“Shady? What would that even be?”
Now that his contract was official and he had a new project lined up, he figured it was safe to tell her:
“No, I actually got a job.”
“A job? Where?”
“LS Entertainment.”
On hearing that, Hyun-ah’s eyes narrowed.
“What are you doing at LS?”
“I’m a composer. I’ll be busy for a while.”
She froze for a moment, spoon mid-air.
“A composer? You? Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Just shut up and eat your multigrain rice.”
“Uh…”
Do I really have that little credibility with my sister?
Then again, if my older brother had been unemployed forever and suddenly claimed he’s a composer, I’d react the same way.
At that moment, his dad, who was seated across from him, signed:
Father (signing): So how is it? Tastes good?
Hyun-seung (signing): Yeah, it’s delicious. Oh, and…
He pulled his employee ID out from his pocket and slid it across. His father and Hyun-ah both stared at it wide-eyed, checking the name on the card and back at him in disbelief.
Hyun-seung (signing): I know it’s hard to believe, but I promise I’ll do my best as the oldest son.
His father gave him a gentle smile and a nod.
“It really does say ‘Resident Composer’ here…” Hyun-ah mumbled under her breath, reading the ID over and over.
“I told you, I’m a composer.”
She muttered, “Unbelievable…” to herself again.
“Do you believe me now?”
He pouted, feeling a bit wronged. Then Hyun-ah’s eyes started to sparkle.
“So you’re truly a composer at LS? That means you’re writing for LS artists, right?”
He nodded, and she followed up:
“So who’s singing your stuff now?”
“Seojini.”
“No way! Really? Then can you get me her autograph?”
He frowned.
“Why would you need that?”
“She’s famous!”
“Famous, sure—but do you know what her personality’s like?”
“I’ve heard rumors, but I think she’s cool, like a girl-crush!”
“More like a walking scratch…”
He mumbled under his breath, but she ignored it.
“Anyway, I’ll believe what I see with my own eyes.”
“Seeing isn’t everything.”
“Whatever! If you’re a composer, it shouldn’t be hard to get her autograph.”
When he responded with a low hum, Hyun-ah’s face hardened.
“You’re refusing? Then you’re lying. You’re not actually a composer.”
“I told you I am.”
“Maybe you’re just a new hire in the basement or something.”
“I’m not!”
“Then why not get her autograph for me?”
“I just don’t want to ask her.”
“Ha, so it was a lie!”
They kept bickering back and forth until—
Father (signing): You two have gotten so close lately. It’s nice to see.
In response, instead of signing, both siblings turned their heads in opposite directions and yelled:
“Not even close!”
“No way!”
And so, their squabble continued well after the multigrain rice had gone cold.
Back at LS Entertainment:
“For a ‘sample’ track, its completion level is pretty high,” said Goong Hyoju, one of LS’s own artists, in a thrilled voice.
“With a bit of refinement, I think it could turn into something amazing.”
She was known to be very picky about the quality of her music—so much so that she often pushed back her comeback if she couldn’t find a solid track. She’d even taken part in some of her own compositions.
“So you want to use the fourth sample?”
“You want to decide right away?”
“The moment I heard it, the melody just popped into my head.”
The track that won her over so quickly was “HS 04”—one of the sample demos Hyun-seung had submitted before his contract.
“I’d like to check with the composer to see if I can add my own touch.”
“I’ll talk to him. It should be fine.”
Since the company owned the rights, it didn’t really matter which artist took it.
“I have you to thank, Manager Kim, for bringing me such a gem.”
“Oh, not at all.”
“I’d love to have a meal with the composer sometime—and I’ll treat you, of course.”
With that, Hyoju waved and bounded off to her manager. Manager Kim watched her leave and thought:
If Hyoju’s on board…
She was considered a “good daughter” of LS Entertainment. She racked up hits, brought in revenue, and had a stellar personality and clean image. Her massive fandom was a given.
Manager Kim had caught wind that she was preparing a new single, so he wasted no time in playing her one of Hyun-seung’s sample tracks. He figured she might at least show a glimmer of interest, but he never expected her to jump on board immediately.
Everything’s going so well.
He couldn’t hide his satisfied smile.
We can’t just put all our eggs in the Seojini basket.
If Hyoju released her single around the same time, one would likely do well even if the other didn’t. If Seojini’s single flopped but Hyoju’s succeeded, the company wouldn’t have any complaints.
It’s a win-win.
Feeling lighter on his feet, Manager Kim headed to Hyun-seung’s personal studio. He figured news that Goong Hyoju would sing his song would be well-received.
Screee—
He opened the door and was greeted by the low thump of a bass guitar.
“Oh, you’re here?”
Hyun-seung was seated on the sofa, strumming a bass.
“You can play bass too?”
“It’s a must for a composer.”
“Most people these days just sample it.”
“It’s still different when you play it live.”
Huh, so he’s got a bit of an old-school mindset.
“Anyway, Hyun-seung.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve got some good news.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“One of your sample tracks is going to Hyoju—Goong Hyoju.”
“Ah, okay.”
Manager Kim waited, but all he got was a lukewarm “Ah, okay.”
“Hey—Goong Hyoju’s taking your song.”
“Right, got it.”
“You do know who she is, right? She’s LS’s star singer-songwriter and the #1 ‘dream girlfriend’ of men across the country!”
“So?”
Hyun-seung glanced at him indifferently, still plucking at the bass strings.
“Am I supposed to do a happy dance right now?”
Manager Kim let out a hollow laugh.
What exactly is his standard for singers he cares about?
He’d put so much effort into working with Seojini, yet he was acting so nonchalant about Hyoju. Other composers would be ecstatic—offering to produce or direct the recording themselves, hoping to build a rapport for future collaborations.
It’s like he deliberately picks the hard road…
“Well, she wants to revise the demo a bit, so you’ll be sharing co-composer credits. That’s probably how it’ll go.”
“Alright.”
“And the pro team in-house will handle producing and recording direction.”
“Okay.”
“So even if Seojini’s album tanks, Hyoju’s single is basically guaranteed to do well. You don’t have to worry.”
“Understood.”
After hearing the same non-committal response three times in a row, Manager Kim squinted at him:
“Hey, Hyun-seung, don’t you think you’re acting kind of dense?”
“Yes.”
“Your height’s barely, what, a meter tall?”
“Sure.”
“I also heard rumors you might be a woman?”
“Whatever you say.”
“Seriously, are you even listening to me right now?”
“Huh?”
At that, Hyun-seung finally paused his playing.
“I can’t figure you out,” Manager Kim muttered, shaking his head.
In response, Hyun-seung just shrugged.
“More importantly—your phone’s ringing.”
As soon as he pointed it out, Manager Kim looked down to see his phone buzzing, the screen lighting up.
[CEO]
The moment he saw who was calling, he felt a knot form in his throat.
Why would the CEO call me directly?
Manager Kim had never once received a personal call from the company’s CEO. The gap between a department manager and the CEO is enormous.
Why now…?
He started running all sorts of scenarios in his head, but he didn’t have time to dwell on them.
“Who is it?”
“The CEO.”
“You should pick up.”
“Right.”
Clearing his throat, Manager Kim raised the phone to his ear:
“Yes, sir. Hello, sir.”
The CEO’s voice on the line was calm:
“Yes, Manager Kim. Are you on-site right now?”
“Yes, I’m in the area. May I ask what this is regarding…?”
A brief silence hung for about three seconds, but that was enough time for Manager Kim’s thoughts to race.
“It’s about switching out the producer for Seojini’s project.”
At those words, cold sweat beaded on Manager Kim’s forehead.
“Ah… So this is about Seo Jini?”
Another pause—this time around five seconds. Then:
“Could you come to my office right now?”
The CEO’s measured, no-nonsense voice reverberated through the line.
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