Hyunseung began calling The Moon in every other day and put them through all hard training all day.
He soon realized they had a lot more gaps than he had thought.
They sounded decent on their own songs, but once they tried something unfamiliar, the flaws showed up one after another.
It was clear that never having received professional care was revealing itself here.
Fortunately, the four voices were strangely compatible in color.
Taken individually, each voice was an ordinary instrument, nothing special.
But when one acted as head, another as neck, another as body and another as sound, they came together like a guitar that could make a respectable sound.
Even so, each member would have to draw out every bit of his ability for that sound to become truly good.
“Your vocal placement is wrong from the start.”
Hyunseung said this to Ahn Jiho, his face serious.
“At this rate, your throat will be ruined in no time.”
Jiho lifted his bowed head and met Hyunseung’s eyes without wavering.
“I’ll try it again.”
Hyunseung shook his head without avoiding the stare.
“No. Singing a lot in the wrong way won’t fix anything.”
Vocal placement never improves in a single leap.
If you have used the wrong technique for a long time, correcting it is as hard as curing a chronic illness.
They really needed a professional vocal coach.
Knock knock.
Hyunseung could not train every member himself, and they did not belong to LS Entertainment, so he could not assign the company’s vocal trainer to them.
“Come in.”
If so, he would at least bring in someone who could help.
The door swung open and Kang Hajun strode in.
“Composer-nim.”
His manager followed with both arms full and set the packages on the table.
“What is all this?”
“I thought you might be hungry, so I brought boxed lunches.”
The members of The Moon began murmuring when Hajun appeared.
He was the hottest rookie singer in the music scene at the moment. It was impossible not to recognize him.
Only a little while ago, their own slot on a music show had been pushed forward to make way for Hajun’s debut stage, leaving them to open the broadcast with no MC mention.
So they could hardly fail to know who he was.
Still, they did not hate him.
Survival of the fittest ruled the entertainment world.
Hajun was the son of a famous conglomerate family, backed by the giant LS Entertainment, so from his debut stage to the spacious waiting rooms and massive promotion, everything would go smoothly for him.
They, in contrast, were with a tiny agency, unknown, begging for music-show spots, always first in the running order, crammed into tiny rooms, lucky to get a single news blurb.
The unavoidable gap was easier to admit than to resent.
A little twinge of envy was only human.
But maybe, with Hyunseung on their side, things would change.
While Jiho thought this, Hajun handed out the lunches with an unwrinkled smile.
“Please eat while you work.”
Except for Jiho, the others had been practicing on empty stomachs and were starving; they swallowed hard and looked toward Hyunseung.
At last Joo Woomin braced himself to speak.
“Composer-nim, could we eat quickly and then practice again?”
“Go ahead.”
“Thank you so much!”
“Don’t thank me. Thank the one who bought them.”
After exchanging glances, the members bowed their thanks to Hajun.
Hyunseung watched them, then fixed his eyes on Jiho.
“Jiho, as soon as you finish eating you start vocal training with Hajun.”
“What?”
“He studied with a top trainer and his placement is straight and open. Learn it from him.”
“All right…”
An odd tension filled the room for a moment.
Clap.
Hajun brought his palms together to lighten the air.
“Enjoy, everyone, and please look after me.”
Choi Jeonghyuk patted Hajun’s shoulder and grinned.
“Hey, you earn more than us, so you should be the senior.”
“Come on, we may be poor but we still have our pride.”
“Maybe we lost pride because we lost money first.”
Joo Woomin murmured “True…” and nodded.
Jiho, who had not touched his box, lowered his head and bit his lip.
Hajun was the very person who had bumped their music-show order; had he forgotten?
Irritation leaked out. He closed the lid of his lunch and muttered.
“We’re not even in the same company. What’s the point of buttering up nobodies like us?”
Receiving a lesson and being fed at the same time felt shameless.
Hajun, however, looked at him with calm, unreadable eyes, neither hostile nor angry.
“Did I speak too indirectly?”
His voice was mild as he added,
“Partly I wanted to be on good terms with you, yes.”
Silence floated for a second.
“But mostly I’m thanking you on behalf of Composer-nim.”
Jiho echoed, “Composer-nim?” and Hajun smiled easily.
“Right. I’m asking you to take good care of him.”
A subtle pressure spread through the room.
Although the words were soft, something weighty lay underneath.
Jeonghyuk let his spoon drop with a faint clink, startled by the sudden chill.
It felt as if the rice grains in his mouth had turned to sand.
Come to think of it, Yoon Jaeyi had spoken in a tone much like this.
Were they drawing a boundary because The Moon belonged to another agency?
Still, it was not outright hazing; Jaeyi had been kindly smiling only minutes ago.
But that was not what mattered.
Jeonghyuk picked up his spoon again; years in obscurity had taught him one truth.
Even Mt. Geumgang looks better after a meal.
Free food must be eaten while it is there.
Meanwhile, in a corner of the LS Entertainment lobby, a man sat reading a newspaper with leisurely air: it was reporter Gye Jinseong1.
“According to my tip, he’s coming in today.”
Though he held the paper open, his eyes kept scanning the people who passed.
“I’ve been here since six this morning.”
The one he was waiting for was vocal legend Moon Beom-jae, scheduled to visit for a concert meeting.
Interviewing Moon meant exclusive coverage of the spectacular guest lineup always kept secret.
But it was now five in the afternoon and Moon had not appeared.
Three take-out coffees later, Jinseong crushed the emptied cup and rose.
“Just one last coffee, then I’ll give up.”
At that moment a familiar low voice reached his ears.
“Thanks for today.”
He froze, crouched slightly, and saw long legs under a glossy helmet: HS.
A jackpot bigger than the pheasant he had stalked: a whole ostrich.
“Nice!” he squeaked, then clamped his mouth.
Beside HS stood Kang Hajun and four tall young men.
Where had he seen them? They had idol faces.
“Thanks to you, Jiho’s placement improved a lot.”
“It was nothing. I’m glad to help Composer-nim.”
Jiho, placement, idol group… Jinseong flipped his pocket notebook.
“The Moon, Ahn Jiho, interview request, 3 p.m. Cheongdam The Cafe.”
Yes, that rookie group whose leader’s eyes had been strangely sharp.
No one else had cared, so he’d dropped the story, but here they were with HS.
“A composer raising an idol… an aching finger2, maybe?”
He jotted rapid headlines.
“HS’s Idol Project? The Moon throws a gauntlet in the pop scene.”
Tapping the notebook, he smiled.
“LS Entertainment always serves the best dishes.”
His veteran instinct said this would be a huge scoop.
Now he would see how LS Entertainment reacted.
- Gye Jinseong was introduced in Chapter 42. He initially wanted to blackmail Manager Kim so he could get information about HS. He secured a meeting with HS and it led to the HS VS Jayble betting their careers. ↩︎
- The Korean idiom “아픈 손가락” literally means “the aching (or sore) finger,” but figuratively it refers to the one person (or thing) you cherish yet worry about the most—the fragile, troublesome, or underperforming favorite. ↩︎
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