She raked her silver-streaked blonde hair into a wild mess and muttered curses.
“Crazy, crazy, crazy.”
The woman, looking like a personified ghost bride, was none other than the so-called rising star, “Sarah Stewart.”
“Why won’t it work!”
Eyes bloodshot, Sarah pounded on the master keyboard like a madwoman.
With that mania rolling off her, even her manager didn’t dare approach.
“Hoo….”
The more time she spent in the studio, skipping meals, the thinner Sarah grew.
“Has the CEO said anything?”
At that, the manager who was dozing on the studio sofa like a mouse, gave a start as if shocked and blurted, “Huh?”
“Did the CEO say he had anything to tell me? Any message?”
“Uh, uh….”
Sarah slumped forward on the worktable, deflated. She had her reasons.
─ ♬ ♬ ♬
What kept looping through her earbuds was the culprit.
The track was a song Sarah had composed, an unreleased, untitled piece.
To be precise, it was a song she composed, then arranged by some nameless man.
Yeah, and that was the problem.
If it were purely her composition, she’d release it tomorrow, but since someone else’s hand had finished it, she couldn’t do that.
Moreover, because the man was nameless, she couldn’t even ask his permission, and Sarah felt she was about to go insane.
The CEO, who’d said he’d try to track the man down, had never followed up.
In the end, she’d set to work thinking she only needed to make a better song… and half a year had passed… and nothing better had come out.
“Arghhh!”
You could kind of understand Sarah’s descent into madness.
Because of her personality issues, she’d been banned from variety shows and social media; the only thing she was allowed to do was make music.
And even that, she couldn’t.
Even her personal work had fallen into a swamp of slump, where she flailed and sank.
Bang, bang, bang!
These days, deafening crashes rarely stopped in Sarah’s studio, and rumors swirled around her.
Things like her starting using drugs since she couldn’t finish songs.
Or that now she’d stooped to beating on her manager as an outlet.
Those kinds of grim stories.
“Sarah, Sarah.”
Andrew, passing by, heard the racket and burst into the studio.
“Stop!”
He grabbed Sarah’s hands as she hammered the keyboard out of control.
“You’re going to hurt your hands.”
To Andrew’s eyes, Sarah was painfully gaunt.
Dark shadows pooled under her eyes, and the wrist in his grip looked so fragile it might snap at any moment.
He’d heard she’d been under a lot of stress from work lately, but he hadn’t realized it was this bad.
So emaciated that in a dark place you’d mistake her for a ghost—he couldn’t help but sigh.
“Let’s just get a song from another big-name composer and use it. This won’t do.”
Andrew’s tone was firm.
“No. Absolutely not.”
Sarah refused, cutting him off.
“No, this is going to ruin you. Just for this one, do it that way, and from the next one, try again.”
He tried, calmly, to persuade her, but Sarah kept shaking her head and shrilled her refusal.
Normally, Sarah acted like everything was too much trouble, but when it came to music, she always became a crazy person like this.
Probably
because her pride in her own music was so strong.
“I’m only going to sing songs I made myself. Period.”
Andrew held her gaze in a silent duel, then snorted and looked away first.
Who could ever win against that mule-headedness?
“Fine, but don’t do it in a way that harms you. Pushing like this won’t suddenly make ideas appear.”
It wasn’t a plea. It was advice.
An artist has a duty to take care of their body. Of course, the company also has a duty to care for an artist’s body.
It may sound harsh, but an artist’s body is their asset and managing it is a must.
“Hm?”
Then Sarah pricked up her ears like a cat that caught a whiff of something tasty and drifted, entranced, across the room.
“What are you doing?”
Even as Andrew asked, she shushed him and hunted around for the sound.
“Found it.”
Sarah grinned and picked a phone up off the floor.
It was Andrew’s phone, dropped when he rushed into the studio.
─ ♬ ♬ ♬
A NewTube video was autoplaying on it.
─ Villain daddy, if you ever hate me, you can hate me all you want.
She couldn’t tell exactly which country the song was from, but on screen a man in a ridiculous helmet and a shirt about to burst struck bodybuilder poses to the music.
“Oh, that’s one of those trending challenge videos.”
Andrew added context about the clip and reached to take his phone, but Sarah smacked his hand away.
“Just a sec.”
With a grave expression she replayed it again and again, watching and re-watching.
To be precise… it looked like she was listening to the song the video used.
“Hmmm.”
It was clearly a clip posted for laughs, but Sarah watched with a seriousness that almost made Andrew and the manager burst out laughing, they barely held it in.
Meanwhile, the more Sarah watched, the more an odd sense of déjà vu crept over her.
No, it was more accurate to say the music in the challenge sparked déjà vu.
Clearly, it was the first time she’d heard it, so why? Why did it feel familiar?
No matter how she wracked her brain, the “why” wouldn’t resolve itself.
“Th-this… what country is this song from?”
She pointed at the video.
“I only know the challenge came over from Korea.”
At Andrew’s answer, Sarah began muttering like a madwoman, “Korea, Korea….”
From inside Hyunseung’s studio came an unbroken clack of keys. To be precise, chord-stabbing.
He’d made countless tracks through the night, but his body felt light.
Must be the PT paying off.
“Mm.”
Stretching long, Hyunseung eyed his biceps in the mirror with a pleased grin.
So this is why people work out.
Watching his body change day by day gave him a sense of accomplishment different from writing music.
Knock, knock, knock!
There was a knock just then. Assuming it was “Dad Kim,” he called, “Come in.”
But the door didn’t open, and a plaintive little voice piped up.
“H-Hyunseung—”
He undid the lock and yanked the door wide. Leaning against it, Lee Hyoeun pitched forward into the room.
“Why do you keep doing physical comedy? Are you really prepping to be a gag singer?”
Looking down at Hyoeun, sprawled on the floor clutching his pant leg, he shook his head.
“N-no! You flung it open so suddenly!”
Rubbing a knee she’d banged pretty hard, she got to her feet.
“But I saved the coffee.”
Even then she gave a bright little smile at the cup in her hand. What on earth made that fool so happy all the time.
“Why’d you come?”
“Why else? I brought you coffee!”
As she offered the cup, her eye landed on the DAW on his monitor and she skittered backward.
“Oh, you were working. Sorry for interrupting when you’re busy. See you later!”
Hyunseung snorted and waved her in. Never mind.
Truth was…he was the tiniest bit curious. Whether she’d met her father and how things had gone.
But if he asked and it turned out she hadn’t, or something had gone wrong, it’d be like poking a sore, so he didn’t bring it up first.
Only, Hyunseung did not possess the patience to sit on curiosity for long.
“So did you meet your father?”
He asked the instant she sat on the sofa.
“Huh?”
She blinked wide like a rabbit.
“What did he say?”
“You ran out looking like a beggar to go see him.”
“No, I was in practice when I ran out, so I looked a little—”
Hyunseung, exasperated, cut her off and repeated,
“So did you meet him or not?”
At that, Hyoeun lifted the corners of her mouth in a grin and answered,
“I actually came to say thank you. Thanks, Hyunseung.”
“So random. Thanks for what?”
“Because of you I became a singer… and I got a real family. Thank you.”
Understanding dawned and he nodded. So, she’d met her father, and it had gone well.
In fact, judging from her happy face and the phrase “real family”, he seemed a good father.
Good for her.
He swallowed the words, then downed the coffee in one go.
“Okay, off you go.”
Never mind he’d waved her in. Now that her business was done he flapped a hand, already annoyed.
“Huh? I’ve been sitting one minute.”
“What, planning to sleep over?”
“N-no! That’s not what I—!”
Face flushing, Hyoeun waved her hands furiously and stood.
“I-I’ll go.”
She headed for the door as if being chased out.
Then, as if something struck her, she clapped her hands and added,
“Oh right, I’m going to our high school reunion tomorrow.”
“So?”
“The one who posted that thing about me will be there. I’m going to settle it.”
“What?”
“Honestly, this is something the people involved should resolve between themselves. I’ll handle it.”
Hyunseung furrowed his brow.
“What exactly are you going to ‘handle’?”
“Huh?”
“They’ll all be in on it together. What do you think you can do?”
“I mean, that’s….”
He pressed on sharply.
“The moment you refuse one request, they’ll say you changed after becoming a celebrity, and you’re going to walk into that?”
“I still think it’s something I need to face at least once.”
“The company’s been responding promptly, it’s dying down, and you’re going to go stir it up and give them more to talk about?”
She bit her lower lip for a moment.
“You’re the one who said it, Hyunseung. To say it’s not true before it gets out of hand.”
Her tone held a firm core as she smiled. He covered his head with his hands and sighed.
“Ha…”
Why didn’t she know how to lean on anything, anyone.
And it bothered him how much that reminded him of himself.
“High school reunion, huh?”
When she nodded, he added,
“Then I’m a graduate of that school too, so I’m allowed to go, right?”
A beat of silence.
“Whaaat!?”
Her scream filled the studio.
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