Chapter 116 : A Sad Misunderstanding
Chapter 116: A Sad Misunderstanding
Was this finally the outbreak of a father-daughter war?
It had been bound to happen eventually.
Because of Composer Stay.
No—perhaps, thanks to him?
Han Ji-hyuk thought so as he arrived at the practice room where Taeshi was.
“Hm?”
From the crack of the practice room door, left in darkness—
Taeshi’s singing voice flowed out.
The message he had to deliver was simple, but his feelings were complicated.
‘She’s good... That’s why it’s a shame.’
After several minutes had passed, Han Ji-hyuk finally opened the door and entered the practice room.
“Si-hyun. Junggi-hyung wants to have a meal together.”
Catching her breath, Taeshi asked Han Ji-hyuk,
“The Chinese restaurant at the Hangang Hotel?”
“That’s right.”
“Again today?”
It was a short question, but Han Ji-hyuk instinctively knew.
Taeshi’s mindset had changed.
Even just from her attitude now, it was clear.
A demo song not coordinated with the company—
She was singing it freely in the company’s practice room.
If it were the usual Taeshi, she would have flinched and shown signs of panic, but today was different.
She was calmly confirming the meeting location instead.
On a normal day, she would’ve just said, “Okay. That place,” and moved on.
“Why? Not feeling it?”
This time, he had no choice but to ask back.
“Yes. I’m sorry, but that place makes me uncomfortable.”
“...Huh?”
“That’s a place where we meet as CEO and artist. Would it be alright if I chose this time?”
She took the initiative to choose.
Every word was careful.
But at the same time, her clear intention beyond those words was unmistakable.
Once she saw Han Ji-hyuk give a faint nod, Taeshi spoke her thoughts with clear enunciation.
“Not there. Please let him know to come here. Keep the time the same.”
It was a firm declaration he couldn’t refuse.
It was Tae Junggi who arrived at the meeting spot first.
One hand holding a menu, the other tapping the table slowly.
The atmosphere wasn’t familiar.
Feeling awkward for no reason, he skimmed through the menu.
Okonomiyaki, highball, seared tuna, spicy fried chicken, cheesy seafood tteokbokki...
Do kids these days hold meetings in places like this?
Thankfully, it was a private room.
If a photo had been taken, it would’ve been annoying.
Even so, he didn’t storm out of the place.
Uncomfortable as it was, he accepted it.
That was his current strategy.
“Interesting.”
Looking at the menu reminded him of a traditional pub he used to frequent in his younger days.
They sold Japanese, Chinese, and Western dishes all under the name of a traditional pub. Seems like it’s still the same these days.
Those were good times...
Just as he was about to fall into unnecessary nostalgia—
Slide—
The sliding door opened, and Tae Sihyun appeared.
“You came early. I’m sorry.”
“Sit.”
“On a day like this, we could’ve come together. I was at the company too.”
At her murmured words, Tae Junggi couldn’t lift his head.
He admitted it.
At some point, he had started treating her as just an artist, not a daughter.
But it wasn’t twisted fatherly affection.
It had been a rational judgment for the sake of success.
He wanted to ease the tense atmosphere.
So he could only mutter something like this:
“You like Chinese food, Si-hyun. I was trying to treat you.”
Tae Sihyun answered plainly.
“No, I don’t.”
“...?”
Tae Junggi looked surprised by the unexpected answer.
“I don’t like Chinese food.”
“Then why were we always going to Chinese restaurants?”
“Because you always chose the place.”
“...You could’ve said something.”
An awkward silence fell.
The food was served, and only after he finished a glass of what was apparently the trendy highball did Tae Junggi finally speak.
“Composer Stay… his song is good.”
“Yes, it is. It grabs you, right?”
Tae Sihyun answered eagerly, as if she’d been waiting for the topic.
Tae Junggi watched his daughter respond with unusual brightness.
“It’s the first time I’ve been offered this kind of concept. How should I put it… I felt really excited.”
Sparkling eyes. Shoulders that bounced slightly.
It was an attitude he’d never seen before—or perhaps, hadn’t seen in quite a while.
Tae Junggi took a deep breath.
Then he poured out everything he’d been holding back.
“Changing your concept isn’t something you should try carelessly. I get it. It’s tempting. But losing your identity means destroying everything we’ve built up until now.”
In a tone both gentle and firm—
He continued with a dull, textbook-like explanation.
“It affects the label’s identity, too. Our strength has been consistency. That’s been the focus of our planning, and it’s your strength as well. But if you change that, it’ll cause confusion.”
Tae Sihyun merely stirred her chopsticks around the now-cooling side dishes.
The sparkle in her eyes from when Stay was mentioned had long since faded.
“Right now, whatever you do, people will say it’s ‘unexpected.’ That’s the worst kind of reaction for marketing. Familiarity is what sticks. And only when memories accumulate do you gain fans.”
As he stared into his now-empty glass—
Tae Junggi looked up and spoke again.
“Composer Stay’s song will go to another artist. You can cover it later or try remaking it solo, something like that. And you, Si-hyun. You’ve liked rapping since you were a kid. You’re good at it. And also…”
“Wait a second.”
Taeshi, who had been listening to his persuasive speech pour out like a waterfall, finally opened her mouth.
Doing it for the company?
Protecting her identity as an artist?
Okay, she could accept all of that.
But this—this she couldn't agree with.
“I don’t like it.”
“...Huh?”
“Rapping, I mean. Getting up on stage and pretending to be tough, all in the name of hip-hop—it makes me uncomfortable.”
“What are you talking about? You definitely said you liked rap...”
To that, Tae Sihyun answered firmly.
“No. I don’t like it. Just like I don’t like Chinese food.”
She didn’t add anything more.
As if to say that was enough.
In his confusion, Tae Junggi poked at the now-cold side dishes and muttered,
“Why on earth...”
Where did it all go wrong?
Tae Junggi swept his hair back with both hands.
He had believed she liked it.
He was sure of it.
It felt like his entire understanding of his daughter had been denied.
Why? How?
...At this point? Then what were all those years?
With a bewildered look, Tae Junggi fiddled with his empty glass.
Tae Sihyun only watched her father’s fingertips.
Then, very slowly—
She asked a question, like a sigh.
As if pulling out a memory she’d kept tucked away for a long time.
“Wasn’t it you—not me—who was happy, excited, and pleased when I rapped?”
An indifferent man.
Someone who always put work before family.
A machine-like person who judged everything by a cold standard.
She first saw her father’s human side—through an old video of him rapping on stage.
“Mom, is Dad coming home late again? Huh? But what’s that?”
“Oh, nothing. Go to sleep first.”
Whenever Tae Junggi came home late at night, Mom would stare intently at something on a small laptop.
Sometimes she laughed. Sometimes she looked serious.
“What is it? I wanna see too!”
“This kind of thing? Go to sleep.”
Her terrible curiosity had been the problem.
After confirming that Mom had fallen asleep, Tae Sihyun opened the laptop.
“What is this?”
Unfamiliar music flowed out.
A gritty beat. A familiar face.
Taeshi paused the screen instantly.
“Huh?”
On stage in an old video—
A man was owning the performance.
A cap pulled low over his face, a fluttering T-shirt, a half-worn padded jumper.
Rough lyrics and sharp rhythms burst out in turn.
His voice was low and deep.
But the expression on his face was strangely bright.
He waved his hands, twisted his body.
Sometimes he shouted as he interacted with the crowd.
“...Dad?”
It was her father, Tae Junggi.
A face completely unlike his usual self.
Not at all like the man who sternly dealt with employees while holding a phone to his ear.
“Wow...!”
Dad... was smiling.
Taeshi watched the screen, holding her breath.
She wasn’t shocked.
Just... amazed.
‘So Dad was someone who knew how to smile like that.’
The video ended.
She played it again. And again.
And then, very carefully, she mimicked her father’s rap.
“Yo, a brutal day. My head won’t rest, just empty it, fill this glass with beats... Is this right?”
The rhythm was off, her movements awkward.
But at that moment, truly—genuinely—
She felt good.
She wasn’t embarrassed or uncomfortable.
Standing in front of a small mirror, she copied her dad’s hand gestures and mimicked his expressions.
Quietly... she tried imitating that smile.
And it just felt. So fun.
So this was what fun felt like.
Fun enough to make a man like Dad smile...
It must be something truly happy.
After some time had passed—
Tae Junggi quietly watched from beyond the crack in the door as his daughter mimicked him.
‘Not bad.’
A satisfied smile appeared on his lips.
She likes it.
She’s good at it.
She’s got talent, just like me.
Si-hyun, like me, must be happiest when she’s rapping.
That was enough.
He should’ve stopped with that thought.
But greed crept in.
The belief emerged—
That maybe, just maybe—
She could become someone like him.
No—someone even greater.
A better rapper than himself.
“Si-hyun, do you like rap? Is it fun?”
“Yeah. I think it’s fun!”
“Do you want to come practice at Dad’s company?”
“Dad’s company? Can I really go?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Okay. I want to try!”
The ‘empathy’ she had felt toward her father had been mistranslated into ‘I want to be a rapper.’
That day, he had mistaken his daughter’s small admiration for a succession of his own dream.
Maybe this had been a sad misunderstanding—
where a moment that once looked happy returned as a burden instead.
The same memory, but a different interpretation.
When the memory ended, there was still only silence.
Tae Junggi just looked at his daughter’s face, then slowly turned his gaze away.
But in that moment when the silence finally reached between them—
There was no longer a selfish father projecting his dream onto his daughter,
nor a timid daughter blindly following her father’s opinion.
There were only… two people,
trying in their own ways to understand each other.
It was only that their feelings had been interpreted differently.
Tae Junggi carefully picked up his chopsticks.
“Let’s eat first.”
His voice was low and steady.
Tae Sihyun merely nodded.
After the awkward movement of chopsticks circled the table a few times,
Tae Sihyun finally spoke with difficulty.
“Dad.”
“Yeah.”
“I… I want to stop doing what you tell me to.”
“...Huh?”
What did she mean?
Caught off guard by her sudden confession, Tae Junggi stammered like a machine breaking down.
Tae Sihyun continued firmly.
“I want to do what I want.”
It was the first time.
The first time he had ever heard his daughter’s true feelings.
He went blank.
It felt like someone had struck the back of his head hard.
“……”
In contrast—
Tae Sihyun’s mind became clear.
Even when she realized that she didn’t actually like rap.
Even when she heard people whispering that her greedy father was projecting his dreams onto her.
She had endured it.
She had clenched her teeth instead.
She wanted to prove—to everyone—that it wasn’t her father’s greed, but her own will.
If she could, she wanted to achieve that dream on her father’s behalf.
But now—it was different.
Now, she wanted to chase not someone else’s dream, but her own voice.
Putting down her chopsticks, Tae Sihyun met her father’s eyes and spoke clearly.
“Just like I’ve always done until now.”
That night.
Tae Junggi leaned back in his study chair and closed his eyes.
The space within his thoughts turned into a conference room.
The image of his daughter entering with Stay and singing came faintly to mind.
How was it, again?
‘...It was good.’
There were no grand words to describe that feeling.
The song, the atmosphere—
and the way his daughter sang.
Perfect.
There was no other way to put it.
Tae Junggi furrowed his brow.
The memory grew sharper.
Taeshi’s image came into focus.
In an unfamiliar place, with an unfamiliar person, singing an unfamiliar style of song—
...she smiled in an unfamiliar way.
He remembered it vividly.
After finishing the song, Taeshi had clearly smiled.
At the time, he thought it was just satisfaction.
But only now did he realize.
That smile—
it had been the same one he’d worn twenty-five years ago on stage when he rapped.
Why hadn’t he noticed?
...Or had he pretended not to?
Father Tae Junggi and CEO Tae Junggi clashed fiercely within him.
And in the end—
Father Tae Junggi yielded.
And then… one person came to mind.
‘Stay.’
It was certain.
That song had been created with absolute conviction.
Otherwise, there was no way he could have drawn out Taeshi’s hidden potential so perfectly.
Truly.
That young composer was changing the color and reconstructing the artist.
If that was the case—
then from start to finish, it was right for Taeshi to do this together with Stay.
Whether it was expectation or responsibility,
he shouldn’t interfere with Stay and Taeshi’s plan.
Even if the one interfering was himself.
Truthfully… maybe he’d just wanted to see every piece of that bold young man’s A to Z.
‘How did he write a song like that?’
With his conclusion firm, Tae Junggi grew impatient.
He immediately picked up his phone and instructed Han Ji-hyuk.
“Yeah, let Composer Stay know the song’s been pitched. Uh… I’d like to talk about the details in person.”
For whatever reason, it was good news that Tae Junggi had finally dropped his stubbornness.
“...The song title is Shift?”
But when I heard that he had named the song himself, I was honestly a bit startled.
This was a little…
Wasn’t it kind of… old-fashioned?