Chapter 106 : My Younger Self
Chapter 106: My Younger Self
Though misunderstood as an old-school boss who comes down to the A&R team just to nag, Han Ji-hyuk was, in fact, the most influential person in the company.
The Content Executive Director.
A common position in media, but an unfamiliar one in the entertainment industry.
That’s right.
At Tomorrow Entertainment, affiliated artists weren’t seen merely as singers, but as “content.”
Something to be sold, discussed, and reproduced...
A product, essentially.
To put it simply, they were looking for “artists who could become a brand.”
Music was just the beginning. Growth, even failure, all became part of the story.
“At this level, you can see the whole picture. But right now, how should I put this… It feels like we’re constantly blaming external factors for the disruption.”
“Are you referring to Stay?”
In response to Dongyoon’s question, Han Ji-hyuk asked back.
“That’s right. Shall I be honest for a moment? Hyoeun. They’re saying it was a ‘noble defeat’ for losing to Han Yujin because of Super Ride. Deputy Seo, what do you think?”
“I think it was an honorable death.”
“Interesting statement. Why’s that?”
“Lee Hyoeun was already experiencing fatigue from the repeated concept. But she insisted on pushing through with the same one, and the result—as you know.”
When Dongyoon shrugged, Han Ji-hyuk’s eyes sparkled.
He unfolded his arms and placed a hand at the edge of the table.
It meant he wanted to hear more.
“Neo Nova was the opposite. They got a good song, but forcing a drastic concept change was their downfall, in my opinion. It was too difficult for the fandom to accept.”
“Wasn’t it the same for Signum? A band idol group turning into a generic idol group?”
Maybe because it was a group from another agency—
Even at the provocative term ‘generic,’ Dongyoon answered calmly.
“Even though their choreography became more intense and the stage more idol-like than before, they didn’t completely discard their identity as a ‘band.’”
“Identity, huh...”
“If anything, I’d say they became more of a true band idol group. The right song helped guide that transition naturally. Thanks to that, Signum succeeded in their branding as a ‘band idol’—albeit belatedly.”
It was a sharp insight.
Stay had indeed brought a song powerful enough to flip the entire world.
But the hidden essence needed to be considered.
What if that song had gone to a different artist? Would it have still been a hit?
That’s anyone’s guess.
Stay didn’t just look at trends—they looked at the artist.
From the perfectly fitting song came the choreography, the mood, the music video, the album jacket...
All of it came together to create a proper “content.”
“The problem’s not with Stay. I need to get this guy, Seo Dongyoon.”
Han Ji-hyuk leaned back in his chair again.
His sharp eyes scanned Dongyoon’s appearance.
Seo Dongyoon.
He had heard of him, but the guy exceeded expectations.
It felt like...
Seeing his younger self.
Maybe that’s why.
Without realizing, he threw out a question.
What would this extraordinary guy say in response?
“So in the end, the planning was flawed?”
You’d think he’d need time to mull it over.
Neither side offered an easy answer, after all.
But—
Dongyoon responded without a moment’s hesitation.
“If you say something’s wrong, that implies there’s a right answer. But in planning, there’s no such thing as a correct or incorrect answer. If there were, the company wouldn’t need so many teams. Might as well hire a fortune teller instead.”
...A foolish question met with a wise answer.
Exactly. There’s no right or wrong in planning.
Han Ji-hyuk picked up the now-cold, lukewarm tea.
And today—he didn’t mind the lukewarmness.
“If I may be so bold, Director, I think you feel a heavy sense of responsibility. Earlier, you said you were afraid people might blame Stay for all the failures.”
“I did… say that.”
“Don’t worry. Once you work with Stay, you’ll understand.”
“How amazing Stay is?”
To that, Dongyoon answered with a mischievous grin.
“No. That Stay’s nothing special either. That we’ve all been desperately clinging to some so-so composer.”
Ha. A small chuckle escaped.
The kind of response that truly puts people at ease.
A quiet compliment slipped out like a mutter.
“It’s been a while. Since I’ve felt this kind of ease.”
If being an entry-level employee is Easy Mode, team leaders are Normal Mode, and directors like him unlock Hard Mode.
At a glance, it may seem like they hold absolute power, but reality tells a different story.
In a ruthless organization, they’re in a fragile position—one where getting axed at any moment wouldn’t be surprising.
If the CEO is the solid upper level, the Content Executive Director is the one walking the tightrope between that upper level’s pride and the actual fieldwork.
From above: Produce results.
From below: Why are you interfering so much?
Even when things are good, it’s love-hate. When bad, it’s checkmate.
If it succeeds, it’s thanks to the artist.
If it fails, the first thing people say is, “Wasn’t the planning trash from the start?”
You can’t even vent about it anywhere.
Because the invincible comeback is: “Don’t you get paid a ton? So what’s the problem?”
As if sensing all that...
Dongyoon calmly reassured him.
“Once you meet Stay, you’ll feel even more at ease. I’m sure they’ll exceed expectations.”
No time to get lost in emotions.
The meeting with Stay. That was today’s priority.
“Let me make you a promise.”
Han Ji-hyuk decided to offer the best gift he could give.
“A free pass.”
“Sorry?”
“No matter what anyone says, no matter what kind of pressure you get. I’ll unconditionally trust and support what Deputy Seo decides, just once. I’ve heard a lot of good things today, and you even brought Stay along.”
“……You mean…”
“Just once. I’m giving you a chance to use the Content Executive Director. I may not look it, but my voice carries some weight, you know that, right?”
“Thank you.”
Dongyoon bowed his head.
His expression was calm.
If he had known how soon he’d have to use that “free pass,” he probably wouldn’t have reacted so mildly.
‘…What’s this?’
In front of the promised meeting room on the first floor.
A crowd had gathered like a swarm of clouds.
He checked the message his hyung had sent.
This was definitely the place…
Just as he was about to knock, someone called out to him.
“Are you perhaps Composer Stay?”
“Yes. Hello.”
Thinking it was one of the staff participating in today’s meeting, he bowed politely.
“Hm…?”
Suddenly, all eyes were on him.
From the end of the hallway, the lobby, even the elevators.
People standing like shadows turned to look at him.
Strange.
Tilting his head curiously, he entered the meeting room.
Two people, along with his hyung, welcomed him.
“Composer Stay! We’ve been waiting for you.”
“It’s an honor to meet you like this.”
A polite greeting, not too casual, a moderate welcome. The atmosphere wasn’t bad.
His hyung, seated toward the back, made a playful face.
He bowed again and took a seat.
The older-looking man was the Content Executive Director.
The other man introduced himself as the Team Leader of A&R Team 1.
“Thank you for the invitation. I’m the one who should be grateful.”
“Was your trip here all right?”
So this was what my brother looked like at work.
He was playing the role of a smooth, capable company man.
Not bad at all.
I suppressed a smile and answered.
“Thanks to your consideration, I got here comfortably.”
A string of cringeworthy small talk followed.
Saying they enjoyed my music didn’t even count as praise.
At first, they thought I was part of a foreign composition team, they were amazed how someone so young could write such a song, and they were already looking forward to whom I’d work with.
Honestly, I’d heard it all before, so it didn’t move me much.
But…
“Director, Team Leader. I think that’s enough introductions for now.”
The problem was that my brother was right there.
I knew it. The brother sitting across from me was secretly holding back a laugh.
“Composer Stay, your face is turning red. You must be the shy type?”
Why would you say that?!
I brushed my cheek with the back of my hand.
It felt hot. Maybe it really had turned red?
The man who introduced himself as the Executive Director let out a soft laugh as he stared at me.
Then, as if he couldn’t hold back, he asked,
“I heard, but I’m still surprised you’re this young. You seem pretty close with Deputy Seo?”
Hmm. Even I understood what that meant.
He was asking how we knew each other.
I glanced at my brother.
He crossed his index fingers into an X.
I pretended not to notice and asked back.
“Didn’t Deputy Seo mention anything?”
“Well, I mean, it’s not that important. But seeing you two together like this, it made me curious.”
All of a sudden, eyes turned to him, and my brother stared off into the distance.
I answered boldly.
“We’re brothers.”
“Pardon?”
“What was that? Brothers?”
As if they couldn’t believe it.
The two men looked back and forth between me and my brother.
Director Han chuckled in disbelief.
Team Leader Bang murmured with a dazed look on his face.
“How could that face be related to this face…”
Do we really not look alike?
Well… my brother does kind of look like a mountain bandit.
I shifted my gaze toward him.
Now his face had turned beet red.
Guess he was flustered.
But it couldn’t be helped.
Seo Dongyoon, Seo Taeyoon.
Anyone could tell we were brothers. We even spoke similarly from time to time.
Better to get it out now than end up in an awkward situation later.
Still in disbelief, Team Leader Bang asked again.
“By brothers, you mean real brothers? Not cousins or something?”
“Yes.”
Then Director Han stroked his chin and said, sounding rather serious.
“Now that I think about it… you do look alike.”
“Director… um… in what way?”
Team Leader Bang fumbled, and my brother gave a sheepish smile.
I listened closely.
I was genuinely curious what part of us looked alike.
“Your eyes. There’s a spark in them. Even if your features differ, you can’t fake the eyes.”
Strangely convincing.
I’d heard that before growing up.
That even though we didn’t look alike, our eyes were similar.
…Something about a touch of madness? I’ll assume it was meant positively.
“Thank you. You’re very dashing yourself, Director.”
“Haha. So that’s how you’re tied to Cheongseong too… But I wonder why Deputy Seo didn’t mention any of this. It’s been months now.”
That was probably his way of saying he was a bit hurt.
And I couldn’t let my brother get put in a difficult position.
So I stepped in to explain slowly.
“I asked him not to.”
“Why?”
“I thought it might come off as favoritism. I didn’t want people to think I was some composer trying to use his older brother’s position to sell songs to Tomorrow Entertainment.”
They all nodded.
“But this time, he brought it up first. He said the company was interested in Stay’s music. So I asked if he could help arrange this meeting. I truly appreciate it.”
I bowed a little deeper than I had when I first came in.
It was, to some extent, sincere.
They had waited for my song—waited for me. I appreciated that.
Of course, I wouldn’t just give them a song to their liking.
“My goodness.”
“You speak so well. No wonder Deputy Seo kept you a secret.”
The atmosphere wasn’t bad.
My brother must’ve been satisfied too; he was grinning like a fool.
Now it was about time I shared my thoughts.
What kind of artist I wanted to work with, what kind of music I wanted to make.
But Director Han’s compliments didn’t stop.
“Meeting you in person makes me trust you even more. Young people like you see things we miss.”
I just nodded along.
They said it was rude to interrupt.
“As expected… I’ve got an eye for talent. You’re a composer with exactly the kind of color that suits our company. Right, Team Leader Bang?”
“Of course, of course.”
“What do you think, Composer Stay? Do you agree?”
Wait a sec. What kind of question was that?
Color? My color matching Tomorrow Entertainment’s?
I couldn’t agree with that.
“Those are very kind words, but there’s something a bit off.”
“Hmm? What is it…”
“The part about color.”
“Oh, the part where I said you have the perfect color for our company? Why, what about it?”
I didn’t want to disrupt the flow, but I needed to draw a clear line.
I calmly corrected Director Han.
“I don’t have a color. And as a composer, I shouldn’t have one.”