As soon as the call came from HS, Ahn Jiho pulled his cap and mask low over his face and headed for the studio.
“Composer-nim?”
He’d been contacted first with a request for help, so he’d thought it must be urgent…
But now that he’d rushed over, HS was stretched out on the sofa, asleep.
No, wait…
Could he actually have collapsed from overwork? Come to think of it, during the Peekaboo recording, and again during this “Villain” recording…
Ahn Jiho had never once seen HS sleep properly.
With that thought, Ahn Ji-ho hurried forward.
“C—composer-nim!”
When he shook him lightly, only HS’s hair rustled and fell out of place.
There wasn’t the slightest movement from him.
Suddenly Ahn Jiho’s heart dropped to his toes and bounced back up again.
Thud, thud, thud!
With hands shaking like the end of the world had come, he grabbed HS’s forearm tight.
“Open your eyes, please.”
HS’s body lolled like a doll, moving wherever his hand pushed it.
“G—get up.”
And then:
“Quit messing around.”
Like a leaf falling aimlessly in the autumn wind, his hand slipped off and plopped to the floor beside the sofa.
“No, composer, come on—don’t do this. W—wait a sec…”
Eyes growing wet, Ahn Jiho babbled, flustered.
“I haven’t even repaid you properly yet, and if you go like this…”
Just as he was bowing his head into the edge of the sofa…
“Hey, are you crying?”
A voice, teasing, came.
“Composer-nim?”
He slowly lifted his head.
A face grinning impishly looked back at him.
Utterly…
Infuriating.
“I asked, are you crying?”
“I’m not.”
HS gave a little snort and slowly pushed himself upright.
“That aside, I guess in your imagination I’m already dead?”
“Why don’t you get up when someone’s trying to wake you?”
“I haven’t even been asleep thirty minutes, man. If I’m tired, that can happen.”
Ahn Jiho straightened up from his crouch and studied HS’s complexion.
For all that annoyingly handsome face, there was a dark cast over it. He must have been seriously worn out.
“If you’re that tired, why not go home and sleep comfortably?”
“If I were going to sleep at home, why would I have called you?”
“Ah, right. What was it you needed my help with?”
At that, HS went to the console and brought up the DAW.
Then without a single word of explanation, he hit the space bar to play the track.
Tap.
Soon, a hollow sound like an autumn wind puncturing holes through fallen leaves began to fill the room.
Huh?
What’s this all of a sudden? he thought—
─ ♬ ♬ ♬
A very slow-tempo piano line began to faintly be heard.
─ ♬ ♬ ♬
A somewhat lonely melody gradually ate into the wind noise and asserted itself.
And then…
─ On a day when a cold wind brushes past your cheek.
A familiar voice came out through the speakers.
“Huh?”
At that, when Ahn Jiho turned his head, there was HS, face impassive.
“M—maybe…”
“Shh.”
HS raised a finger to his lips and shook his head, as if to say, say nothing.
─ On a day when the smell of rain-soaked leaves hangs thick.
A voice that was familiar, yet unfamiliar.
─ On a day when memories I’d kept buried keep lifting their heads.
The voice that filled the studio—where nothing sounded except the music—was one he’d heard many times.
For example…
─ I grope back through memory and stroke formless feelings.
HS, right beside him.
─ If only I could at least give it a name.
Did he actually sing the guide himself? Or is he planning to sing it and include it on the solo album?
─ I’m taken over by a mysterious feeling.
Then why hasn’t he done it until now?
─ I long for things that aren’t clear.
When he has this level of skill and feeling…
─ On some such day, I finally just collapsed.
A person who can convey a song’s emotion and season with voice alone…
Yeah.
“Isn’t this practically an insult to singers?”
Sure, if he were only good at composing, he’d just compose. Why would he direct vocals himself?
Only now did Ahn Jiho understand why HS obsessively barked “Again.”
He knows his own ability…
So an average vocalist just won’t cut it. I’d be the same.
─ I hate this empty feeling that alcohol fills me with.
Now certain the voice was HS’s, Ahn Jiho closed his eyes to focus wholly on the song.
─ When autumn passes will I be okay, will spring ever come?
Then, the melody that was until now hidden behind the voice, stabbed sharply into a corner of his heart.
A vague, wistful air seemed to lance through his blocked sinuses. He furrowed his brow.
─ Today too I’m like a fallen leaf, yeah, like that leaf there.
With each lyric line, keywords and scenes flickered through his mind.
A certain autumn day.
A dark alley.
A yellow utility pole.
Yeah.
The feeling from that day when, limp with helplessness, he took comfort in nothing but wind and the scrape of rolling leaves.
Back in trainee days.
Facing a biting autumn wind, enduring it in a long-sleeve tee, family, friends, ties now past…
Silently crying inside, longing for faceless others—those were the feelings.
This song was voicing those feelings.
“Hoo…”
Unwittingly letting out a stale breath, Ahn Jiho looked at HS.
Ahh.
Just what kind of days does this prank-loving composer live through, to make a song like this?
If I could peek into that head just once, would I understand?
No.
The mind of such a genius wouldn’t yield its secrets just by looking.
In the middle of producing his solo album, when did he even…
As if reading that thought, HS spoke the instant the song ended.
“I made it when I texted you earlier, so we’ll have to keep working on it a bit as we track.”
“Huh? You mean… you made this song in the time between texting me and me getting here?”
“Mm. Then I tried to catch a little sleep, but you showed up too fast.”
Ahn Jiho let out a breathy “hah” with a fear he couldn’t name washing over him.
It made you want to accuse him of lying, that’s how hard it was to believe.
“Anyway, that’s why I’m in a rush.”
“What’s suddenly urgent?”
“The release. The song you just heard.”
Ahn Jiho shrugged and answered on the spot.
“That’s something to ask the distributor for, not me.”
“Are you stupid? I can’t hand it in till the recording’s done.”
“Recording? Aren’t you singing this one yourself?”
“Nah. That was a guide I cut.”
“Sorry? That just now was a guide?”
When he blurted it out in shock, HS propped his chin on his hand, looking thoroughly put out, and elaborated.
“Yeah. We’ve gotta finish tracking fast so I can deliver it, and if I leave it to you, you’ll probably mess around, so I gave you a direct guide instead of just chords.”
Well, I’ll be…
“‘Mess around,’ huh?”
What an infuriating guy.
“We have to finish recording today. Listen three more times and then we go in.”
Merciless, too. How long has it even been since the solo-album tracking, and I’m already being tossed back into “Again Prison.”
“Isn’t it a bit much to tell me to sing after just three listens? If you gave me even a day…”
“You’re not hoarse from crying, and your legs didn’t give out so you collapsed—what exactly can’t you do?”
Honestly.
“Fine, I can do it.”
“Little colt Jiho, mm, you’re ‘응헌’.”*
“Seriously, quit teasing me.”
He really had a talent for forcing bravado out of people.
* (He’s mangling Jiho’s name with joke nicknames.)
Manager Kim watched Hyunseung in the company cafeteria and spoke up.
“Hey, Geum-jjok.”*
To Hyunseung, who was eating a pork cutlet without even cutting it, stuffing it in whole.
“I’m not Geum-jjok.”
“Fine, Eun-jjok.”
“Not Eun-jjok either.”
“Ah, Dong-jjok.”
“Yeah? What is it?”
Only after he’d hit on the right nickname did Manager Kim earn the right to speak. Lowering his voice, he asked:
“Eastie, what exactly are you running around doing these days?”
“Say that where people can hear and they’ll think I’m in some secret organization.”
At that, Manager Kim dabbed his own mouth with a tissue and then let fly like a machine gun.
“I mean, you suddenly announce a fan meeting. You personally produce the gifts and the merch and won’t even tell us what they are. Is that all? You suddenly say you’re making a collab album with Jayble, and now suddenly you’re releasing a track with Ahn Jiho, that’s why I’m asking.”
Hyunseung, who’d been chewing his rice thoroughly, suddenly gulped it down and replied point by point.
“Weren’t you the one asking when I’d ever think about fan service? As for the gifts and merch, everyone will find out on the day. As for Jayble, I just thought it would be fun. And releases happen all the time. What’s the problem?”
At that, Manager Kim started to answer then shut his mouth tight. In truth, everything Hyunseung said was, again, correct.
It wasn’t as if Hyunseung had done anything wrong. From the company’s perspective, this was all cause to dance with glee.
He’d worried because Hyunseung seemed languid and laidback, but in fact he was quick-tempered and fast-acting.
More often than not, it was the company that couldn’t match Hyunseung’s pace.
“So when is ‘fallen leaves’ coming out?”
“They said they’ll try to lock it in ASAP and get back to me. We’ll prep PR materials tied to your fan meeting and push them together. If we bundle it, the effect will be—”
“So when? It can’t get any colder.”
“I’ll go back to Distribution after lunch and check again.”
Watching Hyunseung nod in acknowledgement, Manager Kim patted his chest in relief.
Sometimes, when he looked back at you sharp like that and asked, he felt less like Eastie and more like some second-life hyung.
“That aside, when do we get the final audio for the solo album?”
“Jayble says he’ll send it over once he’s done.”
“And you’re fine not doing the final yourself?”
At that, Hyunseung hummed for a moment.
“Well, it’s Jayble.”
He answered briefly and dabbed his mouth with a tissue.
Just then, the phone beside Hyun-seung’s tray started buzzing like crazy.
Bzz! Bzz! Bzz!
What on earth was coming in like that, one after another?
“Who is it?”
Pretending not to care, Manager Kim slid his own tray aside and asked.
“Oh, the singers who featured on this solo album are sending practice videos by time slot.”
“Huh?”
“Ahn Jiho, Jung Arin, and Kim Bomi—those three.”
“Tracking’s done. Why?”
“I told you, I’m unveiling the solo album at the fan meeting.”
“I didn’t know the singers themselves were performing the stages!”
“Why are you so startled? If I said I was singing myself, you’d probably faint dead away.”
“Now that would be something to keel over about.”
“Then go ahead and keel over.”
“Hu—h…?”
Manager Kim blinked, then sprang up like a flopping live fish and demanded:
“W—what do you mean by that—?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. I’m singing myself, so feel free to faint.”
“Tsk— Eastie child, it’s not right to lie to your elders.”
“It’s not a lie, and I’m not the type to lie. The album’s title track has me and Jayble both on vocals.”
At that, with a very worried face, Manager Kim fussed with Hyunseung’s shoulders and interrogated him.
“Did Jayble threaten you? Did he say he’d expose your face? That’s nothing to worry about. We’ll have Legal…”
“I didn’t get threatened. And I’m not the type to be.”
“Then, why…”
Lifting his tray, Hyunseung answered:
“He offered a deal I couldn’t refuse.”
And then he gave a slanted grin.
“Hahh…”
Looking at that face, ManagerKim let out a helpless laugh.
Apparently, this had gotten even bigger in scale than he’d expected.
“Eun-jjok, I’m coming with you.”
“I told you, I’m not Eun-jjok.”
Right.
To Manager Kim’s eye, this fan meeting was sure to set the world abuzz.
T/N: HS and Managerr Kim had a little wordplay volley built on Korean homophones and a common “gold–silver–bronze” chant.
- 동쪽 (dong-jjok) literally means “east(side).” With the vocative ending -아, 동쪽아 ≈ “Hey, Eastie.” It’s Director Kim’s teasing pet name for Hyunseung.
- In Korean, 금·은·동 (geum/eun/dong) = gold–silver–bronze (the medal order). Here’s the pun: 동 (dong) in 동쪽(“east,” written 東) sounds exactly like 동 (dong) for bronze/copper (銅).
So Kim mock-“misremembers” the nickname by cycling through the medal set:
“I’m not Geum-jjok (금쪽; ‘Gold-side’—nonsense).”
“Fine, Eun-jjok (은쪽; ‘Silver-side’—also nonsense).”
“Not Eun-jjok either.”
“Ah—Dong-jjok (동쪽; ‘East-side’—the real one).”
Leave a Reply to yatengarasuCancel reply