Chapter 85 : A Shy Murmur Turns Into a Bold Confession
Chapter 85: A Shy Murmur Turns Into a Bold Confession
Catching the public’s attention was an easy thing.
At least from Manny Entertainment’s perspective.
Exposure meant sales.
It was an absolute truth that applied across every industry.
Soon, no matter where people looked, they would see only Signum.
Manny Entertainment cleverly used exposure to manipulate public interest.
“Get the press release ready right now!”
“Yes, sir!”
“That pop music critic—what’s his name—Jung Hyunsu! Contact him in advance. Once the album is released, we need the material sent out immediately.”
“But that guy always trashes idol albums.”
“Hey, this time is different! It’s Stay, Stay!”
“Ah-ha?”
[ Signum’s 2nd single, featuring top domestic and international artists. ]
[ Signum, the most anticipated ‘5th generation’ idol. ]
[ From Busan Goblin to Stay—the star composer war in K-pop! ]
[ Who exactly is STaY? The story behind becoming Signum’s producer? ]
[ The hero of ‘UTAR’! This time joining hands with Signum. ]
A singer revealed themselves through music, and through that music, they communicated with the public.
That “communication” also included album sales.
The saying that each time an idol community mentioned a group, sales went up by +10,000 wasn’t even an exaggeration.
So, Manny Entertainment also spurred forward the promotion for Signum’s 2nd single.
The idol scene might always boil down to fandom wars, but this time it was different!
They had both Busan Goblin and Stay on board.
Now the story shifted.
There was no need to even mention Busan Goblin being a muggle pick.
And to bring in Stay, who had raised a masked-animal band to the top with just one song, only to flop?
That could not happen!
Too much effort had been poured in. If they failed, they might as well shut the business down.
The music industry, after all, was a kind of “business.”
They sold albums and they sold merchandise.
But what people saw was just the tip of the iceberg.
The real business lay elsewhere.
They sold dreams, illusions, and a sense of belonging.
Specific genres gave fans a sense of identity and the belonging that came from “consuming content together.”
Songs at the top of the charts were a kind of trend.
Consuming trending music, feeling in step with the times, was also a kind of belonging.
“Isn’t Avalanche exciting?”
“It’s oddly similar to ‘More Than Time’ but feels a bit younger.”
“Exactly. There hasn’t been a track centered around bass, right?”
“And that’s the freshness. Freshness becomes the trend.”
The first rule of a merchant.
Know the value of your product perfectly.
Manny adhered to this rule thoroughly.
The essence of this product—Signum’s 2nd single—was simple.
Anticipation through contrast.
Tension through rivalry.
And at the center, of course, was ‘Busan Goblin vs. Stay.’
Busan Goblin, the guaranteed blockbuster, and Stay, chasing right on their heels.
Without realizing it themselves, they were about to stage the rivalry of the century.
[ Oh, I heard Signum got a song from Busan Goblin? ]
2nd single about to explode.
↳ Huge expectations.
↳ If it’s Busan Goblin, they’ll at least hit average success lol.
↳ Aren’t they guaranteed at least 1 million copies?
↳ Whoa, Signum picked by Busan Goblin ㄷㄷ
↳↳ What the hell is that, you nerd.
↳↳↳ Rumor has it they only give songs to groups destined to succeed.
↳ Nah, they give tracks to all the big ones lol.
↳↳ True; I just hope no scandals blow up. The kids are cute though.
[ Stay is more legit than Busan Goblin. ]
I think the follow-up track will overtake the title. If Signum uses Busan Goblin’s song, they won’t be able to bring out their individuality.
↳ That’s sharp, actually.
↳↳ Who even are you? Talking like it’s some inside thing again.
↳ Don’t you know Cheongseong? UTAR. Stay wrote all their songs.
↳↳ Ah~~ that band my dad likes~~ you mean them?^^ Feels like their songs will be a bit old-fashioned;; lol
↳ They still can’t beat Busan Goblin.
↳↳ 222 Can’t ignore the difference in class.
↳ But since they’re a band-type idol, I’m more excited for Stay. I heard they’re going to perform live this time.
↳ Bass played live is insanely sexy.
↳↳ Now that’s facts, real idol-knower lol.
Stay’s Taeyoon belatedly noticed the behind-the-scenes maneuvering.
This level of media play was nothing new to Busan Goblin’s Do Gibong.
The difference in their reactions was also one of the viewing points of this big match.
For Busan Goblin, who was used to such large-scale publicity campaigns:
“This is why we work with Manny. Another success.”
…he said with a satisfied smile.
On the other hand, Taeyoon said:
“Seriously, it’s just a song, but they’ve wrapped it up like some once-in-a-century masterpiece? …Well, since it’s come to this, I’ll produce it properly.”
Between the pressure and the anticipation.
Somewhere in between, he steadied his heart.
And decided to focus on the opportunity given to him.
Producer.
A fine word.
There was nothing complicated about it.
A producer was the one who brought together the song and the singer.
It was the only way to perfectly express the Signum I envisioned.
I was excited. The plan was flawless.
The atmosphere Signum had to create and the message they had to deliver.
Even the role this song needed to play within the album—I had taken it all into account.
Though I hadn’t heard it yet, they said Busan Goblin’s track was the textbook of boy group songs.
A strong sound etched itself vividly in memory.
But there was always the other side. It risked inducing fatigue.
That’s why <Avalanche> had to be different.
It had to provide a clear contrast with Track 1.
So that the listener could not help but focus more intently.
Mastering, mixing—everything soft, smooth.
The essence of the song was simple.
Like a bass, subtly, slowly.
It carried a youthful confession: a vow to capture ‘you.’
But the ‘you’ the song spoke to endlessly was never fixed.
It could be a lover, someone listening to the song, or someone unexpected.
As the song built up, the bass became more prominent.
Bass didn’t always have to just provide backup.
It was always ready to step into the spotlight.
And when it did—
I reduced the reverb, emphasized the dry tone.
It was no longer the backup, but the main character of the song.
Its presence would stand out vividly.
So… it was a kind of reversal.
‘You’ were no longer an ambiguous figure.
You became a clear message.
That was the point I aimed for.
A shy murmur suddenly transforming into a bold confession.
‘Was bass always like this?’
Or maybe.
‘Wait… that wasn’t guitar? That was bass?’
The moment you realized the presence of the bass, you also realized you had already been captured by its deep resonance.
Simply put, in Signum’s 2nd single, the track that shifted the mood and complemented the emotional line was this one.
Ah, just thinking about it made me excited.
If a song was too mainstream, it lacked uniqueness; if it was too experimental, the public couldn’t grasp it.
<Avalanche> was the very song that held the middle ground.
Through my track, the Signum kids would showcase their own distinct colors for sure.
I was confident.
However, apart from that confidence, there was one minor problem.
I felt the emotional side was sufficient.
But I lacked the physical skills.
For Han Yujin’s album, I had only contributed opinions.
For UTAR’s album, I had participated more deeply, but there had still been a separate recording producer.
This was my first time taking the lead in decisions, so how should I put it—
I couldn’t afford to look clumsy.
Experience. That was what I needed.
So, I…
“Teacher. I want to learn recording.”
Recording? Now? Since it’s Taeyoon’s request, of course! Time? I’ll make time even if I don’t have any. Come quickly, hurry up.
I decided to use the strong connections I had.
It was true I was the type strong in actual practice.
But that only applied when there was sufficient training behind it.
Doing something many times was the foundation of everything.
Before jumping into practice, I needed training.
Slow learning was fine, but sometimes a crash course—a cheat key—was necessary.
Just like now.
“Oh, I’ve heard a lot about you. Taeyoon, right?”
“Hello. Please feel free to speak casually.”
I had come to a recording studio in Sinsa-dong with Teacher Bang Gicheol.
Wow, the atmosphere here wasn’t ordinary.
[ Velvet Tone ]
Velvet Tone…
As I looked around the studio, I thought the name didn’t quite match the atmosphere.
It felt almost like an old establishment.
Wasn’t a true hidden gem always an old one?
It was clean, but you couldn’t hide the traces of time.
Beside the trash can, a stack of disposable plastic coffee cups had piled up.
What was amusing was that they were all from the same franchise.
Clearly, he was a man of loyalty and consistency.
“Nice to meet you. This is the first time Uncle Bang has ever brought someone here. Wow, you’re even better-looking than I heard?”
“Oh, I’m honored.”
“Let’s shake hands.”
I took the hand that the studio owner suddenly extended.
The aura radiating from his appearance was unusual.
His beard, though it seemed to grow however it pleased, somehow carried the air of an artist, giving a human touch.
His unwashed hair and hood pulled over his head made it clear at a glance he was a master.
A strange feeling came over me.
The kind of feeling that I might end up coming here often?
After the handshake, the owner handed me a business card.
I looked down at the card I had received.
[ Velvet Tone ]
[ Producer – Cha Yongjin ]
Cha Yongjin, teacher? Senior?
I was still debating what title to use when Teacher Bang Gicheol asked me a question.
“Taeyoon, what do you think? Not bad, right?”
“It’s amazing. He has the aura of a master.”
“Not the smell of sweat? Hah hah hah.”
“Ha ha ha. As expected, Teacher, your sense of humor is the best.”
“Don’t laugh so forcibly. It’s obvious.”
“Yes, sir.”
I had only exchanged a few words with Teacher Bang when—
Cha Yongjin widened his eyes at me.
“You’re close with Uncle Bang? Wow… I’ve known him since I was a kid, and he still scares me. Look, he’s glaring even now, isn’t he?”
“Well, he’s scary when he’s working, but sometimes he’s ki—…”
I almost carelessly said “cute.”
Teacher Bang Gicheol.
Maybe his image outside was quite different from how I saw him.
“Thanks to being treated kindly, I’m enjoying the work.”
A short round of small talk disguised as probing began.
Cha Yongjin.
Since he was an acquaintance of Teacher Bang Gicheol, I had thought he’d be older, but he was younger than my older brother.
Twenty-nine? Thirty? Somewhere around there?
Even so, they said he was quite famous in the industry.
Of course, he was someone introduced by Teacher Bang Gicheol.
“You’re very young, but they say you’ve been at this for a long time…”
“Oh, you hadn’t heard? I started coming here in middle school. But I got serious about learning in high school.”
“I see.”
“I originally wanted to be a singer, but one thing led to another, and here I am. Ah, when we’re working here, would you rather just call me hyung? Teacher, boss—those titles are a bit cringy.”
“Sure.”
That explained it. No wonder his voice sounded so good.
It was clear yet smooth.
His endings were precise, and his pronunciation was refined.
It was the kind of speech that inspired trust. Almost like a voice actor.
Light when speaking casually, but when he put emotion into it, it carried a chill.
Suddenly, I became curious to hear this studio owner—
No, this hyung—sing.
“But, hyung.”
“Yes?”
“Why didn’t you become a singer?”
“Ah, my father passed away, and things turned out this way. I inherited this studio.”
Maybe because his voice was so clear—
Even though it was a sad story, it sounded oddly calm.
Noticing my awkwardness, he tapped my arm lightly and asked.
“Now, I can only spare one session—three hours. Let’s get started. Exactly what do you want to learn?”
“Everything about vocal recording? From start to finish. Please take care of me!”
And so, I stepped into the studio for my crash course.
“Now, the most important thing before vocal directing is…”
Normally, when people thought of vocal directing—
It was natural to expect someone sitting at the console, pressing the talkback button, and stylishly leading the session.
At least, that was what I thought.
“That’s singing it yourself.”
“…Sorry?”
“What are you doing? Hurry up and get inside.”
“Me?”
“If you don’t even know how a singer feels, how can you give instructions? You know what empathy means, right?”
Was this really the right use of “empathy”?
Why was I inside the recording booth now?
Before I had time to escape, I found myself pushed in front of the microphone.
Without any chance to resist, my very first recording lesson had been forcibly begun.
What on earth was happening here?