The Double Life of a Genius Musician

Chapter 87: Acting Like a Genius

Busan Goblin’s attention toward Taeyoon.

That wasn’t just simple curiosity.

His animal-like sharp senses reacted.

Stay.

That guy had to be a comrade.

‘You can tell at a glance.’

A monster recognizes another monster.

Even if he seemed like just another idol, mixed in, smiling carelessly.

No.

Absolutely not.

Even that was a thoroughly calculated image.

Ordinary people summed up their identity with the simple word, ‘genius.’

Stay probably would too.

But Busan Goblin knew.

A genius wasn’t born. A genius was made.

Meticulous market analysis, understanding the public, self-reflection… and on top of that, worldly desire.

Only when all those were added together could someone create a ‘hard worker acting like a genius.’

‘I had times like that too….’

Who am I? Busan Goblin.

Among the skills I picked up running coffee errands for my hyungs since middle school, the one I mastered best was ‘strategic thinking.’

In this field, it’s hard to survive if you’re simple.

You have to pretend to be simple to survive.

Acting like you don’t care about all the attention and admiration pouring in.

Acting like brilliant melodies just popped into your head every time.

That was the image people expected from a young genius.

Pfft.

Busan Goblin let out a faint sneer.

The word effort wasn’t enough.

That was how much he had gritted his teeth and climbed up to where he was now.

Genius? Give it to the dogs.

Stay was definitely the same as him.

That was the common ground between them.

‘My predictions never miss.’

In front of Manny Entertainment’s PC café.

Pulling his cap down low, he tapped away at the keyboard, certain.

Not accidental talent, but systematic thinking and logical judgment.

That was what truly decided victory on the battlefield.

I was the cold strategist.

Thinking that, I dove into StarCraft.

My expression was deadly serious.

Even more than when I worked on a track.

A moment later.

[YOUR FORCES ARE UNDER ATTACK]

“…Huh?”

My main base SCVs were mercilessly attacked.

Two Zealots had already chopped down the workers mining gas.

“No, what is this? This is single player… right?”

…Lost. Thıs text ıs hosted at NoveI★Fire.net

[YOU HAVE BEEN DEFEATED]

The once-confident me stared blankly at the monitor.

The sound of someone giggling behind me must have been my imagination.

‘What the…? Did StarCraft AI get upgraded to pro gamer level or something?’

(Self-proclaimed) strategist Busan Goblin.

Crushed in a 1:1 StarCraft single player match!

“Signum’s follow-up track recording, you said it’s today?”

“Yeah.”

“I heard it’s his first time producing. Even if it’s Stay… will he be okay?”

“True.”

The man downed his now-cold jujube tea and added worriedly.

“He’d better be okay.”

The rooftop of Manny Entertainment.

The place where the ‘real’ conversations of office workers happened.

Cigarette smoke drifted slowly into the air.

Producer team and A&R team staff were whispering.

It was thirty minutes before the recording of Signum’s follow-up track.

“But why did he insist on producing anyway?”

Someone carefully brought it up.

Dragging down the corners of their eyes as much as possible.

The polite way of saying, ‘Alright, time to gossip, let’s talk freely.’

Staff members gathered around the ashtray.

It wasn’t out of malice.

Jealousy and envy.

They were just trying to soothe feelings somewhere in between.

So this was.

Something like a cowardly diversion.

“After releasing a few hits, you’d want to try producing yourself.”

“He should just stick to writing songs. He’s still young.”

“All those kids who succeed young are like that.”

“If it were me, I’d have gone the idol route. Composing idols and all, they’re doing well, right? Make more money too.”

“But he’s not that young either… is he? Where do you find a rookie who’s already finished his military service? Tsk.”

Thick smoke scattered into the air.

Not everyone enjoyed this kind of talk.

There were definitely some exchanging disapproving looks.

Go Minseo was among them.

‘So this is what you all talk about? The smoking area isn’t anything special.’

A senior once said.

‘The smoking area is a classroom of wisdom!’

That the most important conversations flowed out on the rooftop smoking area.

Go Minseo had come up to see if that was true.

Holding back her stinging eyes just to eavesdrop.

But it was all lies.

Still, she learned one thing.

That the saying, ‘When people are jealous, they badmouth,’ was true.

Instead of supporting the rookie producer, they mocked him in roundabout ways. Creepy, truly creepy.

I barely suppressed the cough escaping from me and lowered my head.

“I’ll go down first.”

“Hey, the youngest shouldn’t be coming to rough places like this.”

“Let’s go, Assistant Manager Go.”

A few seniors took the lead.

Go Minseo, the assistant manager, followed bitterly but paused for a moment.

“Well, that’s true but….”

Now that only certain allies were left in the smoking area.

Their talk grew more blatant.

“Why does the Chairman like him so much?”

“Collecting rookie composers is his hobby.”

“You know PD Kim was furious, right? He’s in his third year and still hasn’t been able to produce a track alone.”

“He deserves it.”

“Huh…?”

The mood turned cold.

A man with a ponytail bent over, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Anyway. Those recording today will have a hard time.”

“It’s the engineer who has it rough. Yeonho, you. Are you okay?”

The recording engineer.

Kang Yeonho stretched his neck out as he answered.

“As long as he doesn’t pretend to know everything, it’ll be fine. What’s really scary is when someone comes in with half-baked knowledge.”

At this, everyone nodded.

There were a few traits typical of rookie producers.

Sprinkling meaningless technical jargon was basic, and they often crossed their arms and put on a serious face, pretending to be experts.

That much was harmlessly cute.

Everyone did a little bluffing.

But once they started meddling with ‘I know this,’ there was no saving it.

The most dangerous point was equipment handling.

They would act like they’d picked up some slick tricks somewhere and try to show off.

Microphone setup, recording gear operation.

— Handling the gear shows real skill! I’ll dazzle them with flashy hand movements!

Most rookie producers went into recording with exactly that mindset.

“They must have practiced a lot, right?”

“Everyone says that.”

“Isn’t it hilarious when they act like they know everything? You can tell right away.”

“Obvious. I bet he’ll get flustered. Just mimic.”

You didn’t even need to see it to know.

Just pushing buttons wasn’t enough.

The thought of working with a clueless rookie already gave everyone a headache.

Writing good songs and managing singers were two completely different fields.

He didn’t even know what the most important thing was.

Chatter, chatter.

As if predicting the outcome of a sports match.

They analyzed the rookie producer’s possible behavior and joked like they were placing bets.

Almost like they were hoping it would turn out that way.

“I bet Stay will act like a know-it-all, for sure.”

“Of course.”

“Has anyone ever not?”

“Never.”

Now was the time.

Moments like these were when you had to get in your seniors’ good books.

The new publishing team hire slipped into the conversation, waiting patiently for his turn.

Looking straight at Engineer Kang Yeonho, he said.

“But you know….”

Engineer Kang Yeonho.

Rumor had it he was the real power behind Manny Entertainment’s engineering label, ‘Lumé Sound.’

The label with the highest salaries.

Who knew what the future would bring, but it wasn’t bad to get noticed by him.

“Even the song feels just a bit meh to me. Honestly, isn’t it too plain? It’s supposed to be for idols. The arrangement feels kind of flat too….”

The new publishing team hire didn’t notice.

The more he talked, the stranger the atmosphere grew.

“The only good thing is Writer Oh Jisoo’s lyrics. But is that enough to put him in the producer’s chair? That’s what I’m thinking….”

Sharp gazes gathered on him.

Only then did the rookie clamp his mouth shut.

“Huh, why are you looking at me like that?”

…Was this not it?

“Hold on.”

Kang Yeonho, who had been listening quietly, stepped forward.

Step, step.

He stood firmly in front of the publishing team employee and asked.

“You’re the new hire in the publishing team, right?”

“Y-yes….”

“Oh, no need to be so scared.”

Why so nervous?

Maybe I should’ve shaved this beard.

Kang Yeonho rubbed his chin awkwardly and said soothingly.

“Whatever else, let’s not badmouth the song.”

For a moment, silence fell.

“Huh? I was just….”

“I get that you want to look good in front of your seniors. But we’re employees of Manny Entertainment, right?”

“Well, yeah….”

The publishing team employee lowered his head.

The staff badge dangling from his neck swung pitifully in the wind.

Realizing he’d gone too far, Kang Yeonho softened his expression as much as possible and explained.

“See? There are A&R staff here, distribution team too. Talking about the song like that is kind of….”

He paused to choose his words, then snapped his fingers.

“Like you’re treating the company too lightly, right?”

“Uh.”

“You’re a Manny employee. Don’t you know your own company better than that? Do you really think the sharpest people here would give Signum such a sloppy song?”

And that was true.

Even if they had grumbled, out of jealousy, disbelief, or in some attempt to express camaraderie.

No one had dared to actually criticize the song.

That was what everyone thought.

“Right?”

“Y-yes….”

His expression was gentle, but his tone was cold.

“Still, I’ll admit, songwriting and producing are separate things. What do you all think?”

What was this whim now.

Were we supposed to badmouth or not?

Everyone gave awkward smiles, just watching each other.

The ponytailed employee jumped in quickly.

“Ah, right. The song’s amazing. That’s exactly why we’re worried. Depending on producing, the song can turn out completely different. I’m sure Senior Kang meant it like that too.”

As if he finally heard something sensible.

Kang Yeonho nodded and added.

“Producing might look like nothing, but there’s a reason the producer’s name goes at the very top of the credits. At the very least, they’re responsible for that one song. You can criticize with facts later, no rush, right?”

“Exactly, exactly. Engineers do all the post-work, but if the producing’s a mess, it’s a nightmare.”

“Oh wow, look at the time. Let’s head down. Ten minutes left.”

And so the rooftop smoking-room gripe party broke up.

At the side of the stairs going down, Go Minseo, who had been watching the whole scene, shook her head furiously and ran off.

‘…What a bunch of clowns.’

— The producer isn’t the star.

Repeating over and over what Teacher Moon Jungbae had told me, I opened the recording studio door.

There were still about thirty minutes left before recording started.

“Hello th—huh?”

Before I could even finish my greeting.

The Signum kids shot up from their seats all at once.

Once again, they pecked at me like raptors.

I had planned to sit down early and check the mood, but I knew it—no chance of a moment’s peace.

Facing the chattering Signum kids, I met each one’s eyes and asked.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Oooooh!”

“Hell yeah, I won!”

Asking if they slept well wasn’t that funny.

What was this about winning?

The Signum members high-fived, cheered, made a whole fuss.

“Wait, wait. Quiet.”

“Yes, sir! The producer hyung says be quiet!”

I put on a dignified tone, full of hyung’s vibe.

“What are you doing?”

At my question, Lee Yehwan answered.

“Hyung, you’re the first person to ask if we slept well before a recording instead of if we practiced a lot.”

Hwang Seunghyuk chimed in with a laugh.

“I told them. That hyung wouldn’t go with an ordinary greeting today.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Yeah, my ass.

These little punks, I swear…

“So did you sleep well, you brats?”

“Yes, sir! Slept a lot!”

“Looks like it.”

“Really? Now that I think of it, I did sleep deeply for once.”

“Me too.”

“But why’d you ask if we slept well?”

Why? Because before the big moment, sleeping well was the most important thing.

In other words, it meant they had no worries.

If you were anxious, you couldn’t sleep.

Thank goodness.

Them sleeping well meant practice went fine, they weren’t too nervous, and their minds were at ease.

Hearing that, the Signum kids once again went “Ooooooh….” in unison.

Cute little things.

Then suddenly, they asked back.

“What about you, hyung?”

“Me? Me too.”

I answered like that and just smiled.

Truth was, I’d tossed and turned.

I was too excited, wondering what colors they’d show through my song.

“As expected of PD Stay! We believed in you.”

“Brat.”

“From now on, I’m not calling you hyung. I’ll call you PD-nim.”

“Why?”

“Sounds cooler, doesn’t it?”

Geez.

As we were loosening up like that.

The A&R team leader came in, followed by a string of unfamiliar faces.

One by one, we exchanged polite greetings.

“Writer Stay? We’re looking forward to today.”

Now, it was time to show everything we had prepared, without holding back.