Pen and Paper Translations

Jung Arin, after about two weeks of grueling practice, was finally able to start recording.

“It’s cold…”

She mumbled quietly, curling up into a small ball with her eyes still closed. Suddenly, she jerked her head up and murmured, “Huh?” while glancing around.

When did I fall asleep?

She’d only needed to record one song, yet it had already taken three days.

“Let’s take a break.”

Hyunseung had called for a rest when there was only the finishing stage of recording left.
Possibly because she had pushed through her fatigue, she dozed off without realizing it.

What do I do? He’ll be furious that I fell asleep. Maybe I should get up and pretend nothing happened. What time is it…?

She tried to look around, but her eyelids felt unbearably heavy.

Before it’s too late, I should get up and apologize…

Just as she mustered her resolve to sit up—

Creak—

The studio door opened, and she sensed someone enter. In the end, Jung Arin had no choice but to keep pretending she was asleep, in an awkward position.

“Wow, feels like it’s been ages since I’ve been to the studio.”

“Yeah, it has been a while.”

“Right? I’ve been so out of it these past few days.”

“Thanks to that, I’ve been eating alone in the cafeteria every day.”

From the sound of their conversation, it seemed obvious that Hyunseung and Manager Kim had just come back from eating at the cafeteria.

“Hmm?”

Manager Kim, who had been picking at his teeth, furrowed his brow.

“Doesn’t this look exactly like the situation we had with Jini’s recording?”

His gaze was fixed on Jung Arin’s back as she lay curled up on the sofa.

“That kid Arin is really going through a lot.”

“Going through what? She’s fine.”

“Look, this is what I mean.”

Manager Kim pulled a face and said, “Hey, think about how hard it must be for the poor soul who has to record with a ‘music freak’ like you.”

“But the results are pretty much guaranteed, right? Better than ruining everything later.”

Annoying as it was, there was no good way to argue against that.

“You little punk…”

Manager Kim briefly reminded himself that one day he really wanted to beat Hyunseung verbally—just once.

“Oh, by the way.”

He flicked the toothpick into the trash next to the computer and asked cautiously, “You sure you’re okay with this?”

It was a question borne of lingering concerns.

“What do you mean?”

Manager Kim jerked his chin toward Jung Arin.

“You don’t know the CEO very well. One small slip, and you’re done being the favorite.”

“He doesn’t strike me as that narrow-minded. And who cares if I’m not the CEO’s favorite?”

Hyunseung shrugged.

“Why would I want a man in his forties doting on me?”

“You have no idea how desperate people are to stay on his good side…”

“That’s other people’s business. I’m not interested.”

With a casual answer, Hyunseung plopped down on the studio chair again. Manager Kim asked another question:

“Plenty of big-name singers were lined up for your songs this time, weren’t they? You turned them all down and brought in a trainee who got kicked out. Think that looks good in the higher-ups’ eyes…?”

Jung Arin’s ears perked up as she pretended to sleep.

Big-name singers…?

Manager Kim pulled a small notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped through it page by page.

“Park Shin-hu, VMS, Kim Jin-oh, Kain… who else…”

Hyunseung waved him off, saying, “That’s enough, that’s enough.”

“We’ve practically finished recording anyway. What’s the point of talking about that now? Also, please don’t use phrases like ‘the higher-ups.’ Anyone would think we’re talking about some celestial emperor or the king of the underworld…”

Manager Kim let out a small sigh, then:

“Hey, Hyunseung. Let me ask you one thing.”

“You’ll ask more than just one.”

“Why did you pick a trainee who’d been kicked out?”

This was a question Arin herself had: Why choose me, of all people…?

The artists Manager Kim had just mentioned all but guaranteed a certain level of success. They were well-known, had proven talent, and overshadowed her in every way. So why had he gone with her?

“I think she’s a pretty good ‘instrument.’”

“That girl?”

“Yeah. She just had the wrong person playing her.”

He was presumably referring to the company’s trainee trainers.

“So you’re saying the trainers here couldn’t play her properly?”

“If they had, she wouldn’t be dozing on that sofa, would she?”

“But from what I saw in her trainee records, she was always near the bottom…”

His unspoken point was that Hyunseung had had far better options.

“That only proves it’s the player’s fault.”

“Hmm…”

“How could the instrument itself be to blame?”

Secretly listening in with her ears perked, Jung Arin suddenly felt her nose tingle.

He might talk brusquely, but…

Just knowing there was someone who acknowledged her value was enough to comfort her for all her past struggles.

“Phew. Anyway, I’m still worried.”

Manager Kim murmured, sounding uneasy.

“It’s not like the song’s come out yet, or the album’s been released. Part of me wonders if we should stop this while we still can…”

Hyunseung smirked.

“If you’ve got that much free time, maybe you should worry about what to eat for lunch instead?”

“We eat fine in the cafeteria. Why would I worry about lunch? That’s the nutritionist’s job.”

“Right, and playing this instrument is my job. So maybe you don’t need to worry about it. I doubt you’ll be much help.”

As always, Hyunseung was brimming with confidence. From Manager Kim’s perspective, though, concern was only natural. It was as if Hyunseung had left a smooth, well-paved road in favor of a rough, treacherous path.

“Seriously, drop the worrying.”

Seeing Manager Kim’s expression, Hyunseung spoke in a gentler tone than usual: “You know what the most pointless kind of worrying in the world is?”

“Worrying about celebrities?”

“Then who else would you worry about?”

“That’s just how the saying goes.”

“DUI, drugs, assault, scandals—there’s plenty to worry about.”

“So what do you mean, then?”

Hyunseung smiled. “The most pointless thing to worry about is me.”

If anyone else had said it, it might have sounded like a joke. But hearing it from Hyunseung somehow felt reassuring.

“You little…”

Manager Kim picked up a headset and added: “Okay, then let me hear the track.”

“No can do.”

“Why are you being so stingy?”

Hyunseung shrugged. “You’re just going to say it’s good, anyway.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you always say that.”

Despite the words, Hyunseung tapped the Enter key lightly, and the music started.

Click.

The backing track began, and Manager Kim immediately put on the headset. As the intense intro seized his ears, Jung Arin’s voice soon entered.

“Wow…”

He couldn’t help but exclaim. The track had a so-called “money chord” progression—the kind that sells—but it had a distinct identity, and Arin’s unique vocals brought out an addictive charm. The melody and lyrics were catchy. Even without deep musical knowledge, it felt unmistakably like a good song.

Manager Kim had a simple method for judging songs: if he could easily imagine the track at the top of the music charts without it feeling out of place, he classified it as “good.”

Yes, this one definitely had a chance. The more he listened, the more confident he became. He couldn’t guarantee it, but he felt it had more than enough quality to become a hit.

“I think this is going to work…”

“Huh?” Hyunseung asked.

“This is really good.”

Manager Kim took off the headset, looking visibly moved.

“Didn’t you say it wasn’t finished?”

“That’s right.”

“You could send it for mastering right now.”

Hyunseung answered firmly,

“I still have more fine-tuning to do.”

“You recorded for three days straight.”

“Does the duration matter? All that matters is the final result.”

“Man… you really are a music freak…”

Manager Kim trailed off, glancing at Jung Arin curled up on the sofa.

“Anyway, wrap it up nicely. Like you said, once you’re done and send it off, the rest is in the company’s hands. Both you and she have worked so hard; I’ll do what I can to ensure this pays off.”

Hyunseung addressed Arin’s back: “Hey, did you hear that?”

Immediately Manager Kim whispered frantically:

“Hey, hey, why would you wake her up?”

Hyunseung shook his head.

“She’s not sleeping.”

“Huh?”

“She’s awake.”

He spoke toward the back of Arin’s head, where she lay quietly.

“How long are you going to pretend?”

Arin, curled up with her back turned, flinched.

How did he know?

When did he figure out she was awake?

Oh God, what do I do…?

She hadn’t meant to, but she’d ended up eavesdropping on their conversation while pretending to sleep. Blushing furiously, she bit her lower lip, at a loss for what to do next.

“I’ll count to three,” Hyunseung said calmly.

“One.”

Arin pressed her burning face into her hands.

“Two.”

Then—

“Ah! That was a good nap!”

She jumped up awkwardly and forced a laugh.

“Ha-ha, should I head into the booth right away…?”

Hyunseung shook his head.

“Wash your face first.”

With her skin dull from accumulated fatigue, Arin smiled sheepishly.

---

A few days raced by.

Jung Arin not only finished recording smoothly, but the release date was also more or less set. Having wrapped up his part, Hyunseung decided to take a well-deserved break from the studio.

Manager Kim took over the baton, planning to handle things as usual—but he was seized by a strange sense of unease.

What’s going on?

Yes, Arin was a rookie, but the company felt oddly quiet. Even accounting for her newbie status, the lack of activity was baffling.

The PR department had been unresponsive for days, only giving cursory answers. During the song’s monitoring stage and when handing it over to the distributor, there were constant delays.

Even if she’s a so-called “parachute hire,” she’s an official LS Entertainment artist.

So why this lukewarm, half-hearted attitude?

Tap, tap.

Eventually, Manager Kim decided he needed to investigate personally. Carrying coffee as a sort of bribe in both hands, he headed to the PR office.

The CEO is at least keeping an eye on this project…

If it were to flop, it could affect Hyunseung’s future. Actually, more than that, Manager Kim was starting to feel a bit annoyed. The track turned out great. They’d produced such high quality with a trainee who was basically kicked out. Why was the company so lukewarm?

“Oh, Team Leader Gwak!”

Deep in thought, Manager Kim saw Team Leader Gwak walking by right as he arrived outside the PR department.

“Manager Kim…?”

Holding a thick stack of paperwork in each hand, Gwak gave a polite nod and was about to hurry off. Normally, he’d stop to joke around or chat.

So there is something going on.

Manager Kim quickly called out:

“Hold on!”

He offered the coffee he was carrying.

“Please share this with the PR team.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that…”

Gwak accepted the coffee with an awkward smile.

“Thank you. We’ll enjoy it.”

Glancing inside the PR office, Manager Kim tried to keep the conversation going.

“Team Leader Gwak, you guys are still super busy, right?”

“We never catch a break…”

“True. The PR department is the hardest-working.”

Manager Kim then jerked his chin toward the emergency stairs.

“Care to join me for a smoke on the roof? It’s been a while.”

Gwak hesitated for a moment, letting out a tiny hum.

“…Sure.”

Reluctantly, he nodded.

“I’ll just hand out these coffees, then I’ll be right up.”

Before long, they stood at the rooftop railing.

Fsssh—

Both lit cigarettes and exhaled a puff of smoke in unison, like they’d rehearsed it.

“Team Leader Gwak.”

“Yes, Manager Kim?”

A brief silence passed.

“I wanted to ask about Jung Arin’s debut.”

At the mention of “Jung Arin,” Gwak’s face noticeably stiffened.

“Yes, I’m aware.”

Manager Kim got straight to the point.

“She’s set to debut soon, but nothing seems to be moving forward.”

“Ah, that’s…”

“Just so you know, I’m not complaining. I’m just curious.”

Turning his head slightly, Manager Kim asked,

“Is there something going on?”

Gwak just kept smoking, saying nothing.

“C’mon, out with it. We’re friends, right?”

He gave a playful grin.

“We’ve shared countless cigarettes over the years. It’d be a shame to clam up now. If there’s a reason, tell me—so I can at least prepare.”

Gwak let out a troubled sigh.

“Ugh, this is driving me crazy…”

Suddenly, he raked his hand through his hair and glanced back at Manager Kim.

“This is just between us, okay?”

Steadying himself, Gwak continued in a low voice,

“It’s not that the PR team’s too busy to work on Arin’s debut.”

“Then what?”

“We have to conserve our resources right now.”

Manager Kim let out a small “Ah,” then asked,

“So it’s a timing issue?”

Saying “we have to conserve our resources” was a bit of insider slang, often used when the agency was saving its influence for the comeback of a big-name artist. In other words, they were sacrificing smaller matters for an upcoming major release.

But something felt off. As far as he knew, there were no major stars at the label who were due to resume activities imminently.

“Aren’t there no big artists scheduled for a comeback any time soon?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t say more.”

“Team Leader Gwak, seriously? Throw me a bone here.”

“Ugh, this is under a really heavy embargo…”

Lowering his voice, Gwak looked around nervously before revealing the truth:

“KOK is about to release a 10th-anniversary album.”

Manager Kim’s eyes went wide as saucers.

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