“It’s a song you made yourself, and you’re doing this, is that okay?”
Daniel turned the memory over in his mind, trying to recall the last time he’d ever been scolded.
First of all, in the last ten years, no, even within twenty, he couldn’t remember being scolded.
To begin with, he wasn’t even at an age to be scolded by anyone. Past forty, now in middle age, what would there be to get scolded for?
On top of that, he had no family, so there was no wife to scold him.
And because he’d lost his parents early, he hadn’t grown up hearing nagging, either.
More than anything.
He had never, ever been scolded in the process of recording.
“At least if it’s just recording for practice, that’s kind of harsh, isn’t it?”
At least, until today.
“It’s not that bad.”
“It is that bad.”
“Did you even listen properly?”
“I listened clearly.”
Daniel and HS were locked in a clash of nerves, separated by the studio booth window.
Looking at HS like that, Daniel thought he was trying to seize the initiative early on.
That he was deliberately picking a fight.
There were, very occasionally, composers like that.
“Then what exactly is so bad about it, specifically?”
“From the start, your pitch was already off, and when you say ‘you—,’ your breathing trembles too much, so it’s unstable. And not only that, when the second phrase starts, you lose power completely…”
But he listed the problems in detail, without stopping.
“I’ll listen for myself.”
As if that was enough, Daniel raised one hand to cut off HS mid-sentence and asked.
“Fine.”
HS immediately played back the take Daniel had just recorded.
— ♬ ♬ ♬
Daniel slowly chewed over the criticisms HS had made, focusing on his own voice coming through.
If he decided it was definitely just nitpicking, he planned to storm out and say something right then and there.
But it was a take made up of only three lines, and yet every “error” HS had mentioned was in it.
“Ah.”
When the playback ended, Daniel let out a stupid sigh.
Because the fact that he couldn’t put proper strength into it, using his poor condition as an excuse, was plainly captured in his voice.
And because embarrassment came rushing in that he hadn’t even realized it himself and had spoken so loudly.
“Let’s take a short break.”
Daniel opened the booth door and came out, pretending to be calm.
“I think it’s because I couldn’t drink today, so can’t I just have one bottle of beer?”
As he asked, he held up the beer bottle he’d brought with him earlier.
Originally, he’d meant to have a celebratory drink after the work was done today, but to endure this immediate awkwardness, he needed alcohol in his system.
“Then have you been recording drunk this whole time?”
“Usually I did it with at least a beer on the side.”
“Does it make sense that a singer can’t sing without alcohol?”
“Why doesn’t it make sense?”
Daniel added, pushing back against HS, who only kept scolding him.
“People say artists rely on alcohol when inspiration won’t come, don’t they? And usually when people drink, their sensitivity gets deeper too.”
“That’s not something scientifically proven.”
“Don’t you feel stifled living with everything blocked off, so rigid and tight?”
“Soon we’ll have to film the whole process in front of cameras. Are you going to be drunk every single time?”
HS instead pressed him sharply.
“It’s film that will capture your final 모습. Would you like it if you were always dead drunk?”
At the words “final 모습,” Daniel flinched for a moment.
“Fine, I get it.”
He nodded as if conceding.
Right.
He’d forgotten two facts.
One was.
That this album production would be made into a documentary.
And the other was.
That it would be footage capturing his final life.
Yes.
If it was footage capturing his final life, then it was better to be sober, if possible.
Just as Daniel nodded faintly, resigned.
“Then let’s do this.”
HS, watching his face, continued casually.
“From now on, if you show up on every scheduled workday without being late, I’ll allow you one bottle of beer.”
Out of nowhere, he made a proposal that would be quite welcome.
But Daniel didn’t let go of his suspicion.
“You’re not going to change your mind later, are you?”
Because the guy he’d seen didn’t seem like the type to show kindness to others.
To reverse a decision he’d said no to once, and say he’d let him drink as long as he wasn’t late.
Wasn’t that suspicious?
“If you come prepared to record properly, I really will let you drink.”
HS answered with a benevolent expression, as if he were being generous.
Is it really true?
Well, judging by his personality, if the singing was good, he did seem like the type who wouldn’t meddle much…
“That goes without saying.”
As Daniel answered boldly, HS added, cutting cleanly.
“Non-alcoholic, though.”
He knew it.
Yes.
He’s not that kind of guy.
“Then I won’t drink at all.”
When Daniel slumped onto the sofa as if offended, HS looked down at him with a stricter face and asked.
“Daniel, do you think there’s an instrument in this world that drinks alcohol?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I haven’t seen one yet.”
At the incomprehensible remark, Daniel half-heartedly chimed in, “Me neither,” and looked up at HS’s face.
With backlight casting shadows over him, HS’s face had a chilling edge to it, despite how young he looked.
“So. Then why is this instrument going on and on about alcohol?”
HS asked in a voice even colder than his expression.
“I seriously don’t know what you’ve been talking about since earlier.”
Pressed down by the momentum, Daniel avoided HS’s gaze, pretending it was nothing, and grumbled back.
Before long, HS sat down at the control table and added.
“Put the beer bottle down, and get back into the booth.”
It was a voice that made fear ripple through him, like something terrible would happen if he disobeyed.
Mateo left his house with a thick scarf wrapped tightly around his neck.
When he stepped out onto the street, cold wind brushed his forearms, and with each breath, white vapor poured from his mouth.
“It’s cold.”
He wasn’t the type to go out much to begin with, but on days when the cold came crashing in enough to make his body shrink, he wanted to go out even less.
But today, there was someone he had to meet, so he forced his feet forward.
“One espresso, please.”
Entering the cafe, Mateo naturally ordered an espresso.
Tap, tap.
Then he walked over to the man sitting with his back to him in a corner seat and patted his shoulder.
“If people found out you were sitting here, everyone would gather.”
Mateo sat down across from him and met his eyes.
“They wouldn’t even imagine I’d be sitting here.”
“That’s true.”
“I use gaps like that. It works better than you’d think.”
The man took off his sunglasses and smiled mischievously.
Along the edge of his deep-set eyes, traces of time had already settled in thickly.
Daniel.
When Mateo first met him in his mid-twenties, he’d been a guy who shone, glittering brightly.
Flashy, unique, like a ping-pong ball that could fly off in any direction.
Even when they were producing his debut album….
He would suddenly guzzle a bunch of alcohol and show up at the studio, insisting that his voice right now perfectly represented his youth, and demand they record immediately.
And another time, he said a woman he loved had appeared and then suddenly vanished.
In a word.
He was like chaos personified.
And that guy….
Now, sitting there with his bare face, looked like a middle-aged man.
He’d entered the age of middle age, so it made sense.
‘If only it were just age…’
Daniel had delivered the news on a night when a storm was pounding down.
That he didn’t have much time left, and that it was probably karma for drinking too much.
Even then, Daniel had been smiling.
And then he asked Mateo to help him prepare his final album.
Wasn’t that cruel?
How could he ask the person who worked on his first album to do his last album too?
So Mateo had refused immediately.
Of course.
He had spent countless nights awake, agonizing.
In the end, he’d concluded, “I can’t.”
“So, you met the guy?”
Mateo, finishing his thoughts, asked as he took a sip of hot coffee.
“Yes. Just like you said, he really is a weird one.”
“Right.”
“But his skill is good, so I can’t quite hate him.”
At that, Mateo let out a small laugh. HS’s face suddenly came to mind.
That face that was irritating, but hard to truly hate.
“So you understand what I mean.”
Daniel laughed along for a moment, then.
“It hasn’t even been that long since I asked, but he tore apart and fixed up the track I sent. And the whole time he wasn’t even mocking me, he still kept the basic melody line intact.”
He added with a bitter smile.
“Maybe it’s consideration for someone who’s going to die soon.”
When he finished, an inexplicable silence flowed between them.
“Anyway, thank you.”
The one who broke the silence first, before it could drag on, was Daniel.
“For introducing HS to me.”
“Well, it’s nothing.”
Mateo shrugged like it was no big deal and waved it off.
“Still, thanks to that, I’ll be able to live a glamorous life until the day I die. No, even after I die.”
But Daniel, looking sincere, took Mateo’s hand again with his dry, withered hand and repeated his thanks.
When you looked closely, Daniel had always been good at saying things like this. Or rather than “things like this,” he expressed his feelings directly.
But still.
A glamorous life even after death… what did he mean?
Slide.
Mateo, curiosity suddenly rising, shifted his gaze.
“You’ll find out soon.”
Daniel answered immediately, as if he’d read that look.
“Then I’ll get going.”
He picked up his sunglasses and offered a farewell.
“You’re leaving already? It’s been a while. Stay and talk a bit more.”
“I want to hang around with you a bit more too, sir, but HS threatened that if I’m late, he won’t give me even a sip of beer.”
At that, Mateo tilted his head like he had no idea what that meant, and asked, “Huh?”
“No, seriously, he’s young, but he’s so rigid. He won’t let me drink even a sip while we work.”
Right, Daniel was a guy crazy about alcohol.
Once, he’d even thrown a ridiculous tantrum saying he couldn’t sing without alcohol, and Mateo had scolded him harshly.
In the end, Mateo had given in to Daniel’s stubbornness, but HS was absolutely not someone who would accept that, or yield.
“So what I negotiated for was one bottle of beer….”
Wasn’t it obvious just from the message Daniel showed him?
If you’re late by even 1 minute
Not a single drop of beer.
Warning
No entry to the studio for drinkers
He was the kind of guy who, even when working with Mateo, thought even the time to drink a single sip of water was a waste.
“And even then, he threatens me like this, so I can’t live from how unfair it feels.”
“Daniel found his proper match.”
“No, isn’t he being too strict with someone who’s going to die soon?”
In an instant, Matteo’s expression turned cold and hard.
“You’re not dying soon.”
Daniel probably meant it as a joke, but Mateo couldn’t treat it as a simple “joke” and laugh it off.
“Sir…”
“So don’t say things like that, even as a joke.”
Mateo scolded Daniel in a firm tone, then loosened the scarf he was wearing and wrapped it tightly around Daniel’s dry, thin neck, adding.
“Still, go wild properly once, like someone who’s going to die soon.”
At that, Daniel answered.
With the bright, innocent smile he’d had.
Just like when he was in his twenties.
“Yes. I will.”
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