Pen and Paper Translations

Engineer Yoo Jae-woo of A&R Team 2 found himself agreeing with what the team lead had said:

“Yes, the chief was right.”

If there was truth in the claim that two people obsessed with perfection had come together, well, here was the proof.

“Hmm, I’m not entirely satisfied. Let’s do that again, please.”

“Mister, I’m going to have you sing that part one more time.”

“Your breathing was too heavy there. One more take, thanks.”

Hyunseung frowned, dissatisfied, shaking his head. Immediately afterward:

“Huh. That final note drop doesn’t work. Let’s try it again.”

“I heard a scratch in your voice. Let’s do it again.”

Then Moon Beom-jae would criticize himself in turn.

“I’ll push myself a little more. That last segment was off.”

The result was a ceaseless back-and-forth of “Again,” leaving A&R staff members collapsing left and right.

“I’ve never stacked this many takes on a single track. We probably have enough different takes to make ten versions…”

“Didn’t you say Hyunseung was running on no sleep for days while finishing other songs? Is he secretly a dolphin or something?”

“They don’t call him the sadist for nothing. The track is already good—how can it get any better?”

They spent as many as four days – 3 nights – cooped up in the studio, napping in the break room and brushing their teeth in the shower room, but still:

“It’s getting even better. Let’s go one more time.”

True perfection remained out of reach.

“I feel like I’m gonna puke.”

“I already did…”

“Hang in there—if you puke, you’ll lose your stamina.”

Meanwhile, Hyunseung’s eyes still gleamed brightly, but the staff’s eyes were lifeless and ringed with shadows. Even seasoned engineers used to all-nighters found the schedule punishing.

“Is Min Hyunseung a robot?”

“Even a robot would’ve run out of batteries by now.”

“Maybe it’s just youthful energy?”

“Age doesn’t explain everything, though…”

At first, they had eagerly joined in, excitedly brainstorming where to add effects and how to tweak the arrangement. They admired the track’s flawlessness and the excellence of Moon Beom-jae’s voice.

That was just the first day.

“You guys can go home if you’re tired.”

Hyunseung glanced at them and spoke casually:

“Huh? N-no, it’s not that…”

“We’re tired, yes, but…”

“We wanted to see this through…”

The engineers exchanged awkward looks. They’d boasted that they’d be useful, so leaving now would make them look bad.

“Honestly, I doubt I need much help. You’re only exhausting yourselves by sticking around. It’d be more efficient and rational for everyone to focus on their own tasks.”

His brutal honesty made them slump on the console in dismay.

“He’s unbelievably direct…”

“Guess we haven’t helped in a big way.”

Indeed, as engineers, they had little to do; they were basically spectators. They’d only watch Hyunseung dominate the recording booth, directing everyone’s moves, cheering in admiration. One might say they’d gotten their roles reversed: you couldn’t tell who was the engineer and who was the composer.

No way can we leave now…

They’d already come this far – they wanted to see it through to the end, more out of pride than anything else.

Not just them; inside the booth, an almost combustible energy flared between Hyunseung and Moon Beom-jae. Eventually…

All of them lost track of time, starting to doubt this recording would ever end. Until:

“That’s it.”

“Yes, that’s good.”

On either side of the booth’s window, Moon Beom-jae and Hyunseung finally gave each other the thumbs-up. The engineers stared in disbelief.

“Wait, is it really done?”

“It’s over?”

“So it does have an end!”

The booth door, which had been closed for ages, opened with a creak.

“Sir, that was a ton of work.”

“No, you worked hard.”

Stepping out, Moon Beom-jae patted Hyunseung’s shoulder. Then the entire A&R team erupted with joy.

“That was fantastic, sir! You must be exhausted!”

“You truly are a legend—”

“This track is going to be insane!”

But:

“Wait, wait—”

Moon Beom-jae was more concerned about the final outcome than their praise.

“Might be too soon to celebrate. I’m pretty sure it was good, but I’d like to hear the final product to confirm.”

Nothing’s truly over until it’s over.

Those words made the entire A&R team blanch.

They already had one “music maniac” in Hyunseung—turns out there were two of them.*

We should thank Oh Do-hyeon for rejecting the track…

Hyunseung covered his face with one hand, letting out a subtle smile. He couldn’t help wondering: What if someone else had sung this piece? They’d have likely given up already, sprinting out of the studio after the first day.

Countless times in the past, collaborating artists had ended sessions early. But here was a “famed instrument” who was every bit as obsessed as he was. The synergy thrilled him—a guilty, exhilarating pleasure.

“Let’s give it a listen, quick!”

Meanwhile, the engineers were dying to confirm the final master and then go home. With the possibility that it might also be a new “immortal classic,” their excitement soared.

Sure enough:

“Are you still there, hearing my voice…?”

As the vocals poured from the speakers, everyone whispered the same phrase:

“My god…”

It sounded like they’d created something monumental—a “major accident” waiting to break the music scene.

At last, every track on HS’s first personal album was complete. Normally, Hyunseung could crank out a large volume of songs “factory style,” but this time, it had taken him considerably longer. Granted, by industry standards, it was still unbelievably fast.

Anyway, Manager Kim was leading him to the marketing department, since it was an important release.

“You did great. Lunch is on me today.”

“Cafeteria, right?”

“What? You think I’m that cheap?”

They bickered lightly, then arrived at the marketing office.

“Good day, everyone. Time for a caffeine break.”

Manager Kim deftly handed out coffee bribes.

“You’re here about releasing composer HS’s album, correct?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Bet it’ll be a big hit. I wonder who he is? I’ve heard all sorts of rumors about him. People say he’s super weird but also apparently quite good-looking…”

“That’s all hearsay.”

“Huh? I heard he’s like a dolphin, recharging fully on just ten minutes of sleep. And apparently has a worse temperament than Beethoven…?”

Manager Kim glanced uneasily at Hyunseung. Meanwhile:

“Oh, speaking of… about the release date…”

“Yes?”

“We’ll try to push it forward as much as possible.”

That made Manager Kim narrow his eyes.

“That’s nice of you, but there’s no need to rush. We can do a normal schedule—”

“I think rushing might be best.”

“Why? Are your quarterly numbers down?”

At that, the staffer gave him a meaningful look.

“You really haven’t heard the rumors?”

“Which rumors?”

The marketer lowered their voice:

“It’s about Jayble.”

Hyunseung squinted:

Jayble…

A name he’d heard countless times in his past life—a composer with a solid career, known by many for a string of hits, recognized widely at home and abroad, also known for multiple personal albums that each soared on the charts. That alone made him a pioneer who proved that a composer’s personal album could be commercially viable.

“What about Jayble?”

Kim asked. The staffer clicked his tongue.

“Word is he’s releasing a personal album at the end of the year. Rumor says he’s been working intensely. So all the artists who’d planned for a late-year launch are pushing it to next year—they don’t want to go head-to-head with him.”

Hyunseung’s lips curved into a slow smile.

Jayble…

In the previous life, Hyunseung remembered that the album Jayble released in late December was full of unstoppable hits, generating huge royalties for him. Now, if Hyunseung timed his own release well, he could do something he’d never done in his past life: go head-to-head with Jayble in a direct chart battle.

I finally have a chance to face that “previous generation’s genius.”

He felt his heart pounding in excitement. Of course, Kim had no idea what was on Hyunseung’s mind.

“Then we need to hurry, right? Put it out before the end of the year—don’t go anywhere near that time.”

After all, the staff said everyone else was shifting to next year. If LS seized the open slot in the chart first, the coast would be clear. And as they got closer to the holiday season, there’d be a bloodbath of Christmas songs. With Jayble’s mega release on top of that, it’d be total carnage on the charts.

Hence, they decided:

“We’ll aim for as soon as possible. Don’t even get close to the year’s end, right?”

Kim said to the staffer.

“Right, I’ll make it happen.”

But from behind came Hyunseung’s calm voice:

“Hey, Manager. Can I talk to you a sec?”

That tone made Kim uneasy.

“The answer is no.”

“What? I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“Still no.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Kim insisted in a flustered tone:

“It’s definitely not happening.”

Hyunseung smirked faintly, and Kim’s chest tightened. As always, the man’s “crazy ideas” were about to surface.

“Can’t we just have one normal plan, please?”

“For what?”

“Let’s just go get lunch or something!”

Kim tried to dismiss the conversation, telling the staffer, “Take care!” He hurried away, but Hyunseung stepped right up to the marketing staff:

“I’d like to schedule my album for the end of the year, if possible.”

Kim groaned.

“I knew it! I told you it’s not happening!”

Of course, it matched his worst fears.

“Your album…?”

The staffer gaped, connecting the dots:

“Then you must be HS…?”

They recalled how they’d just been gossiping about HS. They coughed awkwardly.

“So, yes. If we can do a late-year release, that’d be great.”

Hyunseung made his polite request:

“Please—at year’s end.”

This sealed the impression that Hyunseung preferred a bumpy, treacherous dirt road over a neat, paved one.

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