Before starting the drama meeting, Ahn Sojeong popped a cheongsimhwan (a calming herbal pill) to quiet her pounding heart.
And with good reason.
“Haa….”
Not only had the audio files from HS arrived very quickly, but there were five tracks in total, and every single one exceeded my expectations in quality.
Truly.
It felt like all we needed to do was bring in a singer and start recording right away.
To think a headache like this could be taken care of in one go….
“I should’ve contacted HS from the start.”
For no reason I tangled things up with Hidden, put only HS in the middle of controversy, and made things awkward.
Now both the Hidden issue and HS’s controversy have been resolved nicely.
‘What a relief.’
If I’d kept clinging to Hidden, I never would’ve met songs like these.
Enough with the appreciation and amazement.
“Let’s finish this quickly.”
Ahn Sojeong yanked her hair straight back and tied it tight, then picked up a ballpoint pen that had been rolling around.
Listening to the tracks on repeat, she conjured up the faces of various cast members in her head.
02 is who, 04 is who.
Before long, she swiftly assigned the songs that would best fit each role.
Of course.
To match the script, the lyrics would need some tweaking here and there.
‘But the songs themselves don’t need a single touch.’
More than impressed, Ahn Sojeong clicked her tongue in awe, a look of reverence on her face.
In truth, she had originally majored in composition at a prestigious music school. Considered something of a prodigy, she’d been confident in anything to do with music.
Then she felt a huge pull toward OSTs—the way they elevated the charm of the screen.
Being decisive, she pivoted straight into scoring for visual media.
And now, a thought struck Ahn Sojeong….
‘Thank goodness I didn’t make “composer” my full-time profession.’
If she were currently working as a pop songwriter, wouldn’t that mean competing with someone like him?
She’d always brimmed with confidence in herself….
But imagining being put in that situation, she didn’t think she could even reach his toes.
‘So this is what a genius is?’
The tracks he’d sent were like coloring one big picture in different hues—presenting a shared theme from multiple angles.
Especially the track titled “01”—the moment she heard it, she was certain. This is it, this is the main theme.
Moreover, she didn’t know who the guide vocalist was, but it was perfect enough to drop straight onto the drama album.
It wasn’t that it flaunted enormous technical skill, but the voice captured the song’s emotion exactly as it was.
If possible, she wanted it to be this person….
Knock, knock!
Just then, a knocking sound came from fairly close by.
“Huh?”
Whipping her head toward it, she saw the overall director, Jang Min-o, standing there with arms crossed and a grave expression.
A famous director who moved between film and TV, he was, in an industry full of old-school “my-way” types, one of the rare open-minded ones—someone who fell squarely into the camp of actually listening to other stakeholders.
“The meeting time’s almost here and you were nowhere to be seen, so I came to fetch you myself.”
“Ah, is it that time already….”
When Ahn Sojeong hurried to stop the playback, Jang Min-o stopped her hand and flashed a small smile.
“But with this playing, I can’t even scold you.”
Nodding along to the music as it flowed, he added,
“You were tearing your hair out because the OST wasn’t coming together, so where did a song like this drop from out of the blue?”
To that, Ahn Sojeong answered at once, as if he were asking the most obvious thing.
“Drop from where? HS whipped it up just like that.”
Jang Min-o, startled—“Huh?”—strode over and asked,
“It’s not been long since we decided HS would handle the main theme, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“So I figured you were contacting for the sub-themes first….”
To Ahn Sojeong, his reaction made perfect sense.
“Actually, I was about to ask in this meeting if we could fix it as final, so you came at the perfect time.”
Jang Min-o nodded and replied,
“You’re the music director, not me, So-jeong. You can fix it without asking me.”
At that, Ahn So-jeong dipped her head lightly. “Thank you.” Being able to work with someone who respected each lead’s field… what a blessing by fate.
There were plenty of cases where that wasn’t so….
As Ahn So-jeong’s thoughts wandered—
“More than anything, even to someone not well-versed in music like me, what I’m hearing now is flawless as a main theme.”
Jang Min-o kept nodding along in time with the track.
“No, no.”
Only to pause.
“Tsk….”
Suddenly furrowing his brow, he scratched his forehead.
“Is there a problem?”
Was he going to take it back?
Or was he going to spout abstract notes with no grounding in musical theory—“make it more heartfelt,” “make it more heartrending,” that kind of thing?
‘I like it exactly as it is. I don’t have the confidence to suggest edits that would actually be better….’
As the silence dragged on and she started craving a cigarette again—
Snap!
As if struck by a bright idea, Jang Min-o snapped his fingers and spoke.
“How about we use the song that’s playing now as the opening theme?”
Not following, Ahn So-jeong tilted her head. “Sorry?”
By opening theme here, he meant the song inserted over the credits video with the actors’ faces and names, before the drama proper began….
Was he really serious?
“I’ve got a feeling.”
Judging by his expression, he meant it.
“Let’s go with this no matter what. Don’t even consider revisions—use exactly what I’m hearing now.”
An old-timer is an old-timer.
Ah.
Autocratic, but a righteous old-timer.
Hyunseung hovered over whether to pick up the incoming call.
[ Red Thread Manager ]
The last time they’d spoken briefly, the caller had been quite noisy and excitable, so he’d asked to stick to email if possible. Why call now?
Bzzzzzz—!
Apparently tireless, the manager not only placed a third consecutive call, but also refused to hang up easily.
By now, most people would’ve given up.
“Hello.”
Hesitating, Hyunseung took the call from the manager.
— HS!
A boisterous voice burst through the receiver.
He didn’t know the face, but judging by the energy, it sounded like a woman with a vibe similar to Jung Arin.
— Oh dear, you must be busy! I figured it would be better to say this over the phone!
Ah, maybe not.
Jung Arin didn’t talk like a gruff old man.
Anyway, what she said was that every track he’d sent had been fixed as final.
Listening, Hyunseung nodded as if he’d expected as much—then stopped.
“Hmm?”
At her addendum, his eyebrow twitched.
— The directors would like to use the soundtrack “01” exactly as sung by the guide vocalist!
“Pardon?” he asked, surprised, but she rushed on in a hurried tone.
— Would that be possible? Please don’t say no. The director will ride me hard if you do.
The air screamed that “no” was not an option, but Hyunseung wasn’t the type to let things slide.
He opened his mouth to volley back.
“No, that’s not the kind of thing that happens just because you plead.”
But it seemed she’d plated at least five sheets of brass over her face; she showed no intention of giving up.
— Then could you share the guide vocalist’s contact? I’ll ask directly! We’re going to insert this song into the opening credits video too—this is a huge opportunity!
In other words, not only did they want to use the version with Hyunseung’s own vocal as the official drama track—
They’d be playing it every time the drama started.
Well, great.
Because it was a track led more by voice than melody, he’d sung the guide himself to convey the mood precisely.
Had he known this would happen, he would’ve just programmed it in with chords.
Truth be told, he’d already sung once on an album he’d collaborated on with Jayble, so it wasn’t an impossibly awkward situation.
Also, since Hyunseung had no one he could call a friend, there were almost no people who could identify him by voice alone.
‘It should be fine.’
With that thought, and hearing her voice whisper “Please, please” over and over, he let out a small, amused breath and answered,
“The guide vocalist consents.”
— Huh? Are you together right now? If you could put them on, I’d like to say thank you….
“Yes, your thanks has been conveyed.”
Cutting her off cleanly, Hyunseung added,
“Any other points to revise, or requests?”
If she felt any offense, it didn’t show. She answered right along with the shifted topic, “Ah!”
— No revisions. If you could just roughly let us know when the recording will be completed, that would be great!
“Except for 01… give it two weeks to be safe.”
— T-two weeks?
“Yes, then I’ll see you by email in two weeks. That’ll be all.”
He moved to end the call, but—
— Ah! One moment!
Her urgent voice grabbed him from the other end of the line.
“What now.”
He asked, a touch curt, as if mildly annoyed.
— The title for track 01 hasn’t been decided yet, right?
He hadn’t thought about that yet, so the words slipped out before he knew it. “Ah, well….”
‘I’ve been too scattered.’
Sensing the awkward beat, the manager quickly laughed and reassured him.
— If it’s not decided yet, you can tell us later!
But Hyunseung was already mulling over a title.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t gotten as far as naming the song.
“Hm.”
He knotted his brow in thought—then, suddenly,
“Ah.”
A face surfaced in his mind, and he let out an involuntary sigh.
From his past life to this one.
Enough time had passed that he thought the memory was hazy.
And yet somewhere deep inside him, one face rose up—bright as the moon hidden in a dark night fog.
Maybe… when he sang this song, he’d been thinking of that person.
— Um, HS?
The manager, waiting quietly, called to him carefully.
“I’ve decided on the title.”
Hyunseung spoke calmly.
“After the flo—…”
— Skewer?
“No, flower.”
— Huh? Did you just switch to informal speech…?
“You misheard.”
At length, he attached the rest.
“Only After the Flower Fades.”
Right.
A flower… only after it fades do you realize, dazzlingly, just how terribly beautiful it was.
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