T/N: Labor Day freebie~
Exactly three days after she’d first set foot in Hyunseung’s studio plus another six hours had crawled by.
“They say potatoes taste better when you roll ’em around, but at this rate this one’s going to get mashed.”
“Who’s worrying about who right now. Sleep five more minutes whenever you can.”
The engineers took turns catnapping as they held their posts.
All Lee Hyo-eun had managed were catnaps too, so she felt like she might faint with her eyes open at any moment.
Honestly.
She had vowed she would never whine, never show weakness but with her foundation undermined by sleep deprivation, that firm resolve collapsed like a landslide.
“Hyunseung, could we… take just a short break?”
“Okay. Then let’s rest two hours and go again.”
Now, at last, she began to understand why Park Shin-hu’s complexion had looked like that, and why the engineers had said the things they’d said to her.
‘They weren’t just saying it.’
Back in school she’d never imagined he had a side like this.
He’d always been quiet, not the show-off type; if you ignored the face, he was a character whose presence wasn’t exactly vivid.
But the Hyunseung facing her in the studio as composer and vocalist was a different person altogether. With hawk-eye sharpness he pointed out her mistakes on the spot.
He clamped down and wouldn’t let go, showing a dogged, relentless side.
Ah.
His words were still few.
“Again.”
Judging by how many times he repeated that one clipped word.
‘No wonder…’
Coming out of the recording booth, headset still on, Lee Hyo-eun gazed at Hyunseung, who was staring at the monitor.
‘I thought this face isn’t of this world….’
Right. Across three nights and four days together, whenever break time came, everyone else would collapse and snore.
Only Hyunseung would barely doze, leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment, then opening them again.
What’s more, everyone coming and going in the room were engineers handling the post-work.
Wasn’t he single-handedly doing composition, arrangement, and directing himself?
‘So he really isn’t human.’
In her weakened state, Hyo-eun was quietly building a hypothesis that Hyunseung wasn’t human.
No.
This wasn’t the time to be thinking like that. She needed every minute of sleep she could get.
She flopped onto the sofa like a diver; the cushions wrapped her up like hotel bedding.
“Ahh, so nice….”
Just as she was sinking into the cozy warmth…
“Don’t sleep too deep. Your voice will get husky.”
The devil’s voice.
‘That ruthless jerk.’
She couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. She only answered in a wilted voice, “Got it.”
‘Right. I’m the singing potato.’
When she first walked into this place, the fact of sharing a space with Hyunseung had made her shake with excitement….
Now there wasn’t a soft emotion like “flutter” left in sight.
To him, she was….
Really nothing more than “a singing potato.”
‘Not a woman….’
She hadn’t been harboring the greed that there might be something between them. Compared to Hyunseung, she felt too shabby.
Even so, he was the boy she’d once loved fiercely from afar; without realizing it, she must’ve entertained some faint expectation.
If she felt even a little disappointed like this.
But she also thought, it’s enough that I’ve gotten an even better opportunity.
Above all, she was here because she’d let go of her mother to chase a dream. This wasn’t the time to be doing nostalgia play.
Right.
First loves, by nature, don’t come true.
Vowing to bury her memories and feelings for Hyunseung deep in her chest as mere reminiscence, she drifted off.
At some rustling of voices, Lee Hyo-eun slowly woke.
Of course.
Her eyelids, as if someone had set bricks on them, only trembled heavily; they wouldn’t open easily.
‘I should get up…’
That’s what she thought in her head, but her body wouldn’t obey. Like water-soaked cotton, it felt as if she were sinking into a deep abyss.
“She’s sleeping well. Let her sleep just one more hour. She just became part of the LS Entertainment family, yeah? Go a little easy.”
An engineer’s voice.
“No. We need to finish quickly.”
Right behind it came Hyunseung’s cold voice.
“She’s not even from a trainee background. She’s a civilian. What if she actually collapses?”
“People don’t collapse that easily.”
A chorus of boos from the engineers followed, but Hyunseung, unbothered, went on.
“She’s the one who said she wanted to be a singer first. Then we have to teach her she needs at least this level of resolve.”
The engineers traded glances for a moment.
“To be honest, even most singers find it hard to endure HS’s recording sessions….”
Ki Yeon-seon spoke up, bravely acting as the representative, but Hyunseung didn’t even pretend to listen as he countered,
“A civilian wants to become a singer without once smelling the stale mold of a basement practice room… shouldn’t she at least put in this much suffering?”
“That’s true too…”
In the end, persuaded by the logic in Hyunseung’s words, the engineers all nodded.
Then, in unison, they turned their gaze to Hyo-eun’s sleeping face (she was pretending).
All the engineers looking at Lee Hyo-eun were thinking the same thing.
Though it was hard for her right now, the potato… no, Lee Hyo-eun’s life was surely about to change in one leap.
Presently, Ki Yeon-seon stepped close to the sleeping Hyo-eun and whispered softly,
“Hang in there, Potato….”
Hearing that, Hyo-eun felt tears rise for some reason.
The problem now was….
It had become an even more awkward timing to open her eyes.
‘Ugh, I should’ve just gotten up earlier.’
Just as she was regretting it and trying to judge the timing…
“Let me do the post-work on the earlier takes; let her sleep one more hour.”
Thankfully, Hyunseung bestowed mercy at just the right moment.
So our Hyunseung did have a heart.
At those words, the tension melted like snow, and sleep washed back over her.
Just as she relaxed and began to drift back into dreamland—
“But what if she thinks all recording work is like this, finds it too hard, and says she won’t be a singer after all?”
One of the engineers opened his mouth again.
“What do you mean, what if? Then she’s just kicking away her own luck.”
“True, she wasn’t an aspirant or a trainee. She could cut things short and go find her own path.”
At that, Hyo-eun’s brows twitched. Part of her wanted to spring up right then and shout that that would never happen.
Even though she had no “aspirant” or “trainee” title, she had always carried a singer’s dream somewhere in her heart.
Her earnestness wouldn’t fall behind anyone’s.
But right now she was in the middle of acting like she was asleep, so she couldn’t. If she got up now, it would be painfully awkward.
“I doubt she’ll give up on the job of singer.”
Then came Hyunseung’s voice, speaking what was in her heart.
“She might waver for a moment, but she’ll definitely become a singer.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I saw the earnestness in her eyes when she said she wanted to be a singer.”
“Everyone dreams of being a singer at least once, though. Even I wanted to be an idol when I was a kid. If only I’d been better-looking….”
“It’s not just a matter of looks.”
“Did you have to point that out?”
“I say it because your physical specs are also severely lacking.”
A burst of laughter rolled through the room, briefly.
“Still, she’s a kid who even tried to go to an arts college. She’s not just a random civilian. If she were truly just any old civilian, I wouldn’t have given a firm yes to make her a singer.”
At those words, tossed out offhandedly, Hyo-eun’s heart dropped to her toes with a thud.
How did he know?
No way…
On graduation day, had he seen the materials about arts college among the papers her mom threw?
More than that.
‘Wasn’t he supposed to not remember anything about me?’
Had he kept the promise to “pretend he didn’t see”? With her heart surging again, Hyo-eun gritted her molars and held on.
Just before she’d fallen asleep, the resolve she’d carved to bury her feelings as mere memory crumbled with a roar.
“No wonder… for a civilian she sings pretty decently.”
Whether they knew any of this or not, the room grew lively again.
“Her voice itself is unique, and she doesn’t have any weird habits, so she seems easier to polish.”
“Her tone fits historical-drama OSTs. What if she ends up a specialist in those?”
“She does feel a bit like an uncut raw gem.”
The engineers piled on compliments for a moment.
“Or like an unwashed potato still caked with dirt?”
“Where does HS keep digging up those little new potatoes all the time?”
Snickering, they tossed jokes again in a playful tone.
Before long, Hyunseung’s offhand answer came.
“Just happened to dig one up by luck.”
At that low, resonant voice, the heart she thought had stilled…
Thump, thump—!
It kicked back into a fierce pendulum swing.
No.
So how exactly are you going to put away your feelings for Min Hyunseung?
How on earth do you do that…?
Before they knew it, the drama OST work was all finished. Because of the sudden special condition named “Lee Hyo-eun,” it had taken quite a while. (By Hyunseung’s standards.)
Dad Kim had seemed skeptical at first when he said he wanted to sign Lee Hyo-eun as an exclusive artist.
But once he heard the finished tracks, he flipped in an instant, calling him “our admirable golden boy” and preparing the contract on the spot.
Now, the drama OST work was all wrapped. Of course, sometimes a coordinator might ask for revisions.
That probably wouldn’t happen.
‘Because it couldn’t be better.’
And with good cause.
[ Red Thread Coordinator ]
For some reason, the coordinator, whose voice, despite the sound, gave off an old-uncle vibe, kept sending messages at all hours saying it was “just perfect right now,” so he could roughly guess the mood in the drama department without even checking.
Bzzzz!
Today she sent a video, saying the opening credits had been produced with his main theme vocal inserted.
[ The main theme really did it all! ] —came the feedback with it.
No matter how you sliced it, this woman seemed like the slightly tiresome type.
She talked way, way too much….
He would make sure they never crossed paths. He wouldn’t so much as set foot near the network building.
Bzzzzzz—!
Just then.
A call came in from the coordinator. Did she instinctively know he was bad-mouthing her?
[ Red Thread Coordinator ]
He stared at the screen, debating whether to pick up or not but only for a moment.
“Hello.”
There might be an issue, he decided to take it.
— Oho, jackpot!
Yep, maybe he shouldn’t have picked up.
— What’s this, you’re answering early today!
As always, with a weird little interjection, the coordinator answered at full volume.
“It was just timing.”
To keep her from dragging some strange preamble on and on, Hyunseung cut straight in.
“So, why did you call?”
— Why else! As the coordinator I’m touching base to share status, and to say hi.
“From now on, please do that by message.”
— Aw, you’re so cold! We’re practically one team. You have to talk by voice.
“Why would I be on a team with you….”
— Anyway, our music director said she really wants to treat you to a meal once. When would be good for you?
This woman… she wasn’t listening to a word he said.
“No need for a meal. Just make the drama well and insert my songs appropriately and sell the hell out of it.”
— We’re just grateful that’s all, so don’t feel pressured!
“It’s not pressure, it’s…”
— Do you like Korean? Chinese? Western? If not, Japanese? Say anything! I’ll try to book anywhere.
Somehow he had the odd feeling he was getting drawn into her pace. No, like his energy was being sucked out.
‘I need to get on to the next project.’
Right.
He wouldn’t waste any more time bickering. He’d just play along lightly and hang up.
“Then I’m about to jump straight into the next job. Let’s eat after the drama finishes successfully.”
On the other end came that chattery voice again, all worked up.
— That’s a promise! You must, okay, must!
Promise, my foot.
Click!
Hyunseung cut the call mercilessly and closed his eyes, heavy with fatigue.
Seriously. He should never go near the broadcast station.
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