Chapter 113 : This Is Real Grit
Chapter 113: This Is Real Grit
Taeshi was, quite literally, in hyper-focus mode.
At this point, I finally understood why Tae Junggi had suggested rap to her.
That gentle, docile appearance had just been a disguise.
As she gripped the pen and began writing lyrics…
What she held wasn’t a pen—it was a knife.
I even found myself worrying, absurdly, that the laser beams shooting from her eyes might burn through the paper.
What do you even call something like this?
Right—grit.
Taeshi had that.
All those so-called “gritty concept” idols that came out these days were fake. This was the real thing.
“Can I really write however I want?”
See? Even her voice sounded different already.
“If you were going to interfere, you wouldn’t have asked me in the first place.”
“Writer Stay, just do whatever you feel like doing. Look at your phone, take a nap, or go grab a cup of coffee.”
And with that, she immediately switched into focus mode—
whether I was sitting there or not.
That, too, was surprising.
Normally, when someone’s watching you that closely, you can’t focus, right? You’d get distracted.
I was sure she was younger than me.
Maybe it was because she’d been a trainee since she was little.
She acted without hesitation.
About thirty minutes passed.
“Here.”
“Already done?”
“You told me to say what I wanted to say. Honestly, I could’ve written more, but the song’s too short. I wish it had, like, five verses.”
Pfft—
I burst out laughing.
How could she make a joke sound that serious?
I took the notebook and skimmed through the lyrics quickly.
“Oh…?”
When I told her to say what she wanted, she’d unleashed her fury.
The result was a surprisingly solid set of lyrics that matched the explosive track perfectly—though they’d need a bit of polishing.
– Goodbye to the suffocating dream.
– I can’t embrace your way completely.
I had a feeling these lines were what she really wanted to say.
At first glance, it looked like lyrics about a woman ending a relationship, but anyone who knew the story would catch the real meaning right away—
a desperate desire to break free from her father.
I didn’t let on that I understood.
Sometimes, you just had to appreciate things at face value.
While I was still studying the notebook intently, Taeshi suddenly spoke.
“I’m good, aren’t I?”
That one casual line—
sent a chill up my spine.
At that moment, I saw Taeshi differently.
It felt like I’d discovered the hidden raw track buried in an old mix.
That confidence of hers—
sharp and clear.
It wiped away every memory of her clumsy rapping on stage.
The real punch was in the chorus.
– Face the breath, the words, the scars head-on. Don’t look back.
I knew instinctively—
which types of lyrics hit hardest in the high notes.
The “ah” sound carried better than the “uh” sound for those high belts, you know?
“Did you study lyric writing?”
“I didn’t learn formally, but I practiced a lot. …How is it? Worth a look?”
“Try singing it.”
“Now?”
“You’ll only know if it fits once you sing it.”
“That’s true.”
Taeshi took a deep breath.
Instead of warming up her voice, she bit her lip and slowly rolled her neck.
See? Grit.
A subtle madness, too.
Just like when she rapped before— she didn’t hold back, not one bit.
She’d probably do great.
It was, after all, the story she’d always wanted to tell.
As she gripped the notebook and got ready to start singing—
Bzzz-bzzz—
“Huh? Wait a second.”
A text came in from hyung.
[My brother: The CEO barged in. Calm before the storm.]
I could already imagine what was going on.
I stopped Taeshi before she could start singing and stood up.
“You shouldn’t sing here. We’ll need another place.”
“Huh? Another place?”
“You can do it, right?”
“Wha—do what?”
“Let’s show them. What we’re trying to do, and what you can show them. It has to be now.”
Seeing her hesitate, I added lightly, as if offering a favor.
“If we pull this off today, I’ll give you a present.”
“…What kind of mission is this? And what kind of present?”
Come on, no time to talk.
This was the only chance.
Better to show them once than explain it a hundred times.
“I’ll explain on the way. Let’s go. What are you doing? Lead the way.”
“Me? How can I lead when you haven’t told me where we’re going…”
“Oh, right. The main conference room. I don’t know where that is.”
“Ah…”
With that, Taeshi briskly opened the door and led the way to the conference room.
See? She wanted to do it too.
* * *
Bzzz—
“Huh? Wait a second.”
A text came in from hyung.
[My brother: The CEO barged in. Calm before the storm.]
I could more or less guess what was happening.
I stopped Taeshi, who was about to sing, and stood up from my seat.
“You shouldn’t sing here. We’ll need another place.”
“Huh? Another place?”
“You can do it, right?”
“Wha—do what, exactly…?”
“Let’s show them. What we’re trying to do, and what you can show them. It has to be now.”
Seeing Taeshi hesitate, I added lightly, as if doing her a favor.
“If we carry out today’s operation perfectly, I’ll give you a present.”
“…Operation? And what’s the present?”
Come on, no time to talk about that.
This was the only chance.
Better to show them once than explain it a hundred times.
“I’ll explain on the way. Let’s go. What are you doing? Lead the way.”
“Me? How can I lead when you haven’t told me where we’re going…”
“Oh, right. The main conference room. I don’t know where that is.”
“Ah…”
Taeshi briskly opened the door and led the way to the conference room.
See? She wanted to do it too.
It was an unusual event.
The CEO, Tae Junggi, had stormed into the demo evaluation meeting.
Dongyoon thought,
‘So, it’s finally happening, huh?’
The moment Tae Junggi appeared, the entire conference room fell silent.
Through the open window, only faint car horns could be heard outside.
“Good afternoon.”
As soon as Tae Junggi entered the room,
the employees of Tomorrow Entertainment greeted him formally—nothing more.
An uninvited guest.
It wasn’t a pleasant entrance.
Still, a CEO was a CEO.
Someone forced a smile and spoke to him.
“It’s been a while since you’ve joined a meeting, sir. Should I get you a cup of coffee?”
A joke dragged out by force.
Tae Junggi didn’t respond.
He simply walked slowly into the room.
After sweeping his gaze across the conference room, he said blankly,
“I just came because I wanted to listen to some music.”
Then he sat naturally in the chair beside the head seat.
Team Leader Bang Hyunwoo immediately stood up.
“I’ll replay the demo, sir.”
“No. I’ve heard enough.”
The uneasy air snapped into stillness.
Everyone avoided eye contact, sitting stiffly in silence.
If you made eye contact now?
You’d just get marked.
Tae Junggi tapped the remote control in front of him with his fingers and asked,
“What did you all think?”
Dozens of eyes darted nervously around the room.
Amid the tense silence, Executive Director Han Ji-hyuk spoke up.
“The response has been good.”
“Is that so?”
Tae Junggi clasped his hands together on the table.
“The song is good.”
His tone was flat and emotionless.
He did say it was good—but the words that followed made everyone tense.
“But… it’s a bit much for Taeshi, isn’t it?”
He ended the sentence sharply.
No one dared to argue.
It wasn’t just about hierarchy.
The track was too intense—and more importantly, it had been created outside his control.
“The company’s been quite noisy about this.”
It wasn’t an interrogation, but the question weighed heavily over the room.
“If we overturn her image with a song like this, who’s going to handle the aftermath?”
Han Ji-hyuk stepped forward.
“Nothing’s been decided yet, sir. This is only an evaluation meeting.”
Tae Junggi’s sharp eyes fixed on Han Ji-hyuk.
Short, piercing.
He wasn’t the kind of man to humiliate his Executive Director in front of the entire A&R team—normally.
“Who sent the lead?”
A refined way of asking what he truly wanted to say.
‘You knew Taeshi’s concept, and you still clapped for this demo?’
Han Ji-hyuk answered,
“It was proposed by Writer Stay.”
“I see.”
Blink. Blink.
Tae Junggi slowly blinked a few times.
No one could read his expression.
He should’ve been displeased—
he definitely should’ve been.
But he couldn’t get it out of his head—
that mesmerizing melody, that explosive high note.
Conflicting emotions swirled in him.
If that demo hadn’t been for Taeshi,
if it had been for another artist—
he would’ve been thrilled, thinking a diamond had just walked in on its own.
But the problem was, the song’s owner was Taeshi.
And on top of that—
‘This demo sounds like a finished track.’
Stay’s demos were flawless.
Good enough to go straight onto an album.
Tae Junggi turned to Han Ji-hyuk and asked,
“Before we even talk about the concept—do you really think Taeshi can handle this song?”
Some bit their lips, others swallowed their words.
He wasn’t asking about her ability.
He was asking whether she deserved to sing it.
Or rather—whether the company was ready to acknowledge that she did.
I can’t.
That was what Tae Junggi was saying.
“……”
His question hung in the air, echoing emptily in the conference room.
No one answered.
Finally, Seo Dongyoon spoke, his voice careful.
“I think that decision should be made by Taeshi herself.”
Tae Junggi’s gaze flicked to Dongyoon.
He was clearly voicing his opinion to the CEO.
Team Leader Bang Hyunwoo tugged lightly at Dongyoon’s sleeve, glancing nervously toward Tae Junggi.
‘What’s gotten into him today?’
Nothing good ever came from being marked by the CEO.
The best move right now was to keep your mouth shut and wait for his decision.
That’s how it had always been.
Even among the employees, Taeshi had been the company’s sore spot.
Everyone kept quiet about it,
but there wasn’t a single person in the company who didn’t know her tragic story.
Still, no one was bold enough to ask the CEO,
“Sir, why are you projecting your dream onto your daughter?”
That’s just how companies worked.
Even so—
Dongyoon spoke clearly, word by word.
“It’s true that the burden is heavy, but the potential is definitely there. We haven’t even heard Taeshi sing yet. She’s good. I think it’s not too late to decide after hearing her.”
It was a statement made with courage.
In truth, maybe what he really wanted to say was this—
‘You’ve never even really looked into what she’s capable of, have you?’
Even if his neck was on the line—so be it.
If he got fired for getting on the CEO’s bad side—so be it again.
That would just mean the CEO’s capacity was that small.
A company where you couldn’t even voice an opinion in front of the boss?
He didn’t want to be in one like that anyway.
And most importantly—
Dongyoon believed in Taeyoon’s song, and in Taeshi’s potential.
When those long-unsaid words finally came from Assistant Manager Dongyoon’s mouth,
the staff exchanged warm looks of agreement.
“Hmm…”
After a brief pause, Tae Junggi spoke.
“You’re from A&R Team 1, right? Name?”
“Assistant Manager Seo Dongyoon.”
“Alright, Assistant Manager Seo Dongyoon. What makes you so sure?”
Fingers interlocked, body leaning forward, eyes gleaming.
That posture and gaze said it all—
I’ll hear you out.
But you think you know better than me?
Dongyoon resigned himself inwardly.
‘Checkmate.’
No matter what he said, he’d lose his head.
If it had come to this…
He’d say everything he wanted to say.
Just as Dongyoon was about to answer—
Clack—
The conference room door suddenly burst open.
And there—
“Hello, I’m Taeshi!”
“No, you should knock bef… Hello, I’m Stay!”
There stood Taeshi, confident and upright, and Stay, following along awkwardly, bowing beside her.
“...Huh?”
“Sihyun.”
“Even Writer Stay?”
Taeyoon and Tae Sihyun strode in casually, as if nothing were amiss.
In a room full of tension and avoidance, the two of them entered as if they were the only ones ready for this.
Seeing a side of Tae Sihyun that he had never witnessed before—so full of spirit—
Tae Junggi let out a troubled sigh and released his clasped hands.
In the elevator on the way up, I explained the operation to Taeshi like a coach before the World Cup finals.
Operation? Simple.
To perform my song—with Taeshi’s lyrics—live. That was it.
The best plans were always simple, right?
“That’s it?”
“What else would we need?”
“No, I like it. I hate complicated stuff.”
I’d wanted to give her a grand speech, but in the end, I decided to just trust her.
Once Taeshi made up her mind, no one could stop her.
I couldn’t interfere with company policy.
But I could use my mirror to reflect a different side of an artist, couldn’t I?
Show them without regrets—that was enough.
“Shall we go in? You ready?”
“Hup!”
Taeshi took a deep breath, then declared passionately,
“No matter what happens, I’ll take full responsibility! Writer Stay, just trust me!”
I’d been worried she’d get nervous— but instead, she reassured me.
Though, honestly…
the fact that we were bursting into this meeting was already something happening.
Before I could even say anything,
Taeshi pushed the conference room door wide open.
“Hello, I’m Taeshi!”
Hey! You should at least knock, for heaven’s sake!
“No, you should knock bef—”
Too late—everyone’s eyes were already on us.
I hurriedly bowed.
“Hello, I’m Stay!”
Faces hovered somewhere between suspicion and curiosity.
And in front of them all stood Taeshi— meeting every gaze with confidence.
In that moment, I was certain.
The one who would overturn this entire scene wasn’t me.