Pen and Paper Translations

[Studio]

Checking the short text she’d received from Hyunseung after several days, Jung Arin narrowed her eyes.

“Studio? What am I supposed to do with that?”

It probably meant he wanted her to drop by the studio as soon as she saw the message. She got it. She understood, but still—would it have killed him to write a few more words?

“Seriously, what a personality…”

Clicking her tongue at how terse he was, she stepped into the LS building for the first time in quite a while. This was her first time setting foot in the building since she’d been kicked out and lost her trainee status.

Maybe that was why.

There was a strange tension in her steps.

Still…

After some digging based on the composer name “HS” she’d seen on the business card, she was sure now that Hyunseung was indeed the same person as the composer in all those rumors. Not only had he been credited as a co-composer for Gong Hyo-ju’s newly released single, but he was also the rookie composer who had produced Seo Jini’s album, reviving her career and propelling her back into the spotlight.

He really does seem like someone amazing…

Standing in the elevator, she took out her phone and began scrolling through the comments under entertainment news articles. Lately, online entertainment news was flooded with pieces about Seo Jini and Gong Hyo-ju.

 [Seo Jini in Japan: “First steps toward aiming for the Oricon charts!”]

ㄴ> I’m actually a student in Japan right now, and the response to her song is huge.

ㄴ> Is she the legendary Seo Jini who just outshone all the new idols?

ㄴ> Yeah, even Bluez and Nine Star got overshadowed by Seo Jini’s new track.

ㄴ> These days you hear it at least once if you’re walking around town.

ㄴ> IKR? If you say you don’t know Seo Jini’s song now, people think there’s something wrong with you.

ㄴ> Sorry, guess I’m clueless…

[[Official] Gong Hyo-ju: Enters domestic music charts for 12 consecutive weeks…]

ㄴ> But she’s always behind Seo Jini, so second place forever.

ㄴ> Is this some unintended “team kill”? Lol

ㄴ> Anyway, Seo Jini’s new release is better, let’s be real.

ㄴ> Gong Hyo-ju’s track is good too! Why pit them against each other?

ㄴ> People are just stirring up drama for no reason.

ㄴ> Ugh, can’t stand seeing this kind of nonsense…

Comparing the reactions to the two songs, Seo Jini’s was dominating, but that didn’t mean Gong Hyo-ju’s was a flop.

In short, just the fact that Seo Jini’s album became a huge hit, and Gong Hyo-ju managed to stay on the domestic charts for 12 weeks straight, was enough to prove Hyunseung’s capabilities.

Could I ever do that…?

If she borrowed Hyunseung’s own words: she was currently being “played” by a super-rookie-level composer who’d seemingly appeared out of nowhere, blazing across the scene.

But if I’d really been that talented…

Would she have scored borderline results in every monthly evaluation, ultimately leading to her expulsion?

Lost in thought as she stared at her phone, she soon found herself standing before the studio door.

“Whew…”

If Hyunseung heard what she was worrying about now, what would he say? She didn’t know for sure, but he might dismiss it with something like, “An instrument that has a sense of self? Does that even exist?”

“I am an instrument, I am an instrument, I am an instrument…”

Reciting this mantra under her breath, Jung Arin shoved her phone into her back pocket and knocked on the door.

Knock, knock—!

She knocked firmly, and the slightly ajar door creaked open with a scree-eek.

“Hurry up and get in here,”

Hyunseung said. He didn’t even bother with a greeting, just jumped straight to scolding. Despite herself, Jung Arin felt a faint smile forming on her lips.

“I came the moment I saw your text.”

Strangely, the brusque way he spoke seemed to ease the anxiety coiled in her heart.

“Is there an instrument out there that talks back?”

At that, Jung Arin clamped her mouth shut and just looked at him. Hyunseung frowned.

“Hey, why aren’t you answering?”

“How could an instrument speak?”

Hyunseung let out a sigh and got to the point.

“Anyway, I’m skipping the small talk. The track is finished.”

“Really…?”

“You think I’m lying?”

He asked sarcastically, then glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Before we start recording, there’s something we need to do first…”

Right then—

“Sorry, sorry. I was just double-checking something one more time,”

Manager Kim—one of the big names in the company—walked in holding a folder of documents.

“You’re Arin, right? I remember seeing you around.”

“Thank you…”

“Hyunseung explained the situation, right? Did you bring your seal?”

Jung Arin blinked in confusion.

“My seal? What seal…?”

She looked back and forth between Hyunseung and Manager Kim.

“Oh, come on, Manager,” Hyunseung said. “Young people don’t carry seals these days.”

Then, turning to Arin, he asked again,

“Everything has an order, you know. We need to finalize your contract before you start recording, right?”

“Contract…?”

“What, did you think I’m running a charity? You think I’d just give you a song without a contract?”

At those words, Jung Arin’s eyes began to redden.

“No, you’re right. We should definitely sign…”

A contract. Just two syllables, yet it made her chest tighten with emotion. Probably because this was the dream she’d held onto for so long:

The time she spent as a “larva” in the basement practice room.

All the times she skipped meals, cut sleep, and practiced.

All the times she isolated herself from family and friends, standing alone in front of the mirror.

All because of her dream—because she believed she’d one day hold that single sheet of paper in her hands.

In other words…

This meant Hyunseung was now the person making her dream come true.

“Well then…”

Manager Kim pulled the contract out of the envelope and handed it to her.

“Take your time and look it over.”

“Okay…” she replied, accepting the contract.

– Standard Exclusive Contract for Pop Culture Artists (Singer-Focused)

Just seeing those words on the first page made her heart flutter—until:

“Manager, is this how you usually handle things?” Hyunseung said.

“What now?”

“She won’t understand any of this even if she looks it over. Give it here.”

Snatching the contract away, Hyunseung began flipping through it carefully, as if it were his own.

“The profit-sharing ratio is way too low, don’t you think?”

“Well, she’s a rookie, and it’s her first contract…”

“Even so, no way. She can’t sign it like this.”

Jung Arin bit her lip.

“But I… I don’t mind…”

Hyunseung shot her a look.

“You’ll regret that later.”

“Sorry? But—”

“Look, you’re young. You don’t know any better.”

He grumbled again,

“A difference of just a few percentage points in the profit split can change the entire digit in your payout.”

Manager Kim sighed and returned to the main point.

“Hyunseung, she’s a rookie and this is the standard contract. If she does well, we can renegotiate later—”

“Fine. Then add a special clause that says if her sales exceed a certain threshold, the profit split will be adjusted, okay?”

He handed the contract back.

“You keep bringing up that she’s a rookie, but does that even matter? All that matters is results.”

“Well, I get where you’re coming from. But Arin hasn’t shown any results yet, so—”

“Who said I’m asking for that clause for her? It’s for me. You still don’t trust me?”

A heavy tension settled between them.

What on earth…

Stuck in the middle, Arin could only look back and forth between them, uncertain. But one thing was clear: Hyunseung was pushing hard on her behalf.

“Ugh—”

Manager Kim, who’d negotiated countless deals armed only with his silver tongue, couldn’t break Hyunseung’s stubbornness. Letting out a sigh, he said, “I’ll revise it,” shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“Even Seo-hee can’t sway you, huh.”

Hyunseung paused.

“Seo-hee?”

A brief silence.

“Is she pretty?”

Manager Kim sighed deeply yet again.

---

Hyunseung pulled up a small chair for Arin to sit next to him.

“Keep your contract somewhere safe.”

Thanks to Hyunseung’s help, they finalized a very favorable contract without issue.

“Yes, thank you so much…”

Hyunseung, as if finding her gratitude a bother, waved her off.

“Enough. Let’s get to the point. We’ll release just one digital single.”

Then, turning to his computer screen, he said,

“I’ll let you hear it once, so listen carefully.”

Click.

He pressed the space bar, and music began to flow through the speakers.

“Oh…?”

From the very first note, Arin straightened her posture to listen.

“Wow…”

She couldn’t help but utter exclamations of admiration. When the track ended, she looked up at Hyunseung with shining eyes.

“Is this really…my song?”

“It’s my song.”

“Well, anyway, thank you.”

“Thank you for what?”

“For making it…for me.”

“I made it for myself.”

Hyunseung’s gaze stayed fixed on the computer monitor.

“To be precise, I composed it to show off my great performance skills.”

Arin pouted slightly. Just then—

“Sing the chorus you just heard.”

She gaped.

“Huh?”

She studied Hyunseung’s face. Is he serious? He wanted her to sing the chorus on the spot after hearing it only once?

“What are you doing? I said sing it.”

Arin spoke in a small, timid voice.

“Could I have a little time to practice…?”

Hyunseung’s voice turned sharper.

“Didn’t you say you’ve been practicing for six years?”

“Yes, but—”

“You still need practice?”

Bristling with pride, she answered,

“Fine. Then just let me hear it once more.”

She was used to sudden tests like this—she’d faced them countless times as a trainee.

“Right, it’s only the chorus, not the entire song.”

One more listen, and she figured she could do it.

“Sure.”

The short chorus part played again through the speakers.

“Mmm…”

She hummed along, sketching the melody in her head.

“Got it now?”

When the brief chorus ended, Hyunseung handed her a sheet with the lyrics.

“Take a deep breath and prepare. I’ll cue from the bridge, so just make sure to come in on time for the chorus.”

He moved his hand over the Enter key and looked at her as if to say, You ready?

“Yes, I’m ready.”

Click.

He tapped the space bar, and the instrumental started from the bridge. Arin closed her eyes to focus completely.

♫“You said you liked me…”

Unfortunately, she barely got two seconds in before—

“Again.”

Hyunseung’s curt command cut her off, the accompaniment stopped cold.

♫ “You said you liked me… but the way—”

“No emotion. Again.”

♫ “You said you liked me… but—”

“Your enunciation is sloppy. Again.”

♫ “You sai—”

“You were off from the first beat. Again.”

♫ “You—”

“You’re not messing with me, right? Again.”

She kept getting cut off, never making it past the second line.

Suddenly, she remembered what Manager Kim had told her right after she’d signed the contract:

“Anyway, congratulations on signing. But let me warn you just in case…”

“Warn me?”

“You’re in for a tough time.”

“Huh? Why?”

“He’s a ‘perfectionist.’”

Shocked at his wording, she’d stared. Manager Kim had hurriedly clarified:

“A music perfectionist, I mean. The company’s sound engineers say every time they go out for drinks, they gripe about quitting because of Hyunseung…”

She recalled Manager Kim’s sympathetic gaze.

“Imagine how much harder it’ll be for you.”

Now she understood.

He really is a perfectionist…

Hyunseung was a complete “music maniac,” no question about it. If she didn’t do something, they might stay stuck like this for days.

“W-wait!”

Right as another “Again” was looming, Arin cautiously raised her hand.

“I’m sorry, but could you record a guide vocal and let me listen to it? The one I heard earlier was mostly humming, so I don’t have a clear sense of your style.”

He’d only let her hear that bare-bones humming track twice. Asking her to sing it perfectly with no practice—enough to please the composer—would be hard even for a seasoned singer.

Surely there’s someone at the company who could do a proper guide…

It felt harsh.

“Hah, this one’s high-maintenance,” Hyunseung muttered with a sigh.

“If I give you a proper guide, can you do better?”

“Yes! Absolutely.”

“I’ll sing it once, so pay attention and remember it.”

“You’re…going to sing it yourself?”

Hyunseung rose from his seat, stepped into the booth, and picked up a headset.

“Press Enter.”

“Right now?”

“Would you rather wait until tomorrow?”

When Arin hurriedly hit Enter, the pre-arranged bridge intro began. She watched him through the booth window with no particular expectations—until:

♫ “You said you liked me…”

The track itself was good, so it was no surprise it worked well in a lower male key. But—

♫ “Maybe I’m just too clumsy at showing it…”

She heard a gentle warmth in his mellow baritone, a softness usually hidden behind his sharp tone of voice.

♫ “If I made things confusing, I’m sorry, but I can’t help feeling upset.”

She might not be a professional, but with her six years of trainee experience, her ear told her everything she needed to know.

What the—

He sounded more like a vocal trainer than a composer. No, actually, he sounded so good you could believe he was a seasoned singer in his own right.

Wow…

She gaped, eyes wide at his flawless vocals.

“That’s it. Got it now?”

Finishing the chorus, Hyunseung walked out of the booth, asking nonchalantly.

What is he…?

Not only did he have incredible talent for composing; he also had a voice that surpassed many established singers. And while she hated to admit it, he was good-looking enough that it felt like a waste for him to be cooped up behind a computer running a MIDI program.

“Hey, are you listening?”

She was still dazed.

“Why don’t you debut yourself…?”

Hyunseung gave a little snort and shot back,

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about getting yourself a debut, okay?”

Suddenly, the phrase “God is fair” popped into her head. Genius-level composing skills, amazing vocals, and a handsome face—by all appearances, God had given him everything. But…

His personality and social skills…

It looked like God had “balanced things out” by giving him a personality so problematic that he’d need the rest of those gifts just to function.

“What’re you doing? Sing it again.”

And so, the session went on once more.

---