Chapter 118 : Human Warmth
Chapter 118: Human Warmth
Artists were the kind who wished to shine.
Some envied that, calling it confidence.
Others sneered, saying it was nothing but an inflated ego.
Perspectives differed, yet the conclusion was the same.
They all wanted to reveal themselves.
Sometimes blatantly, sometimes in subtle secrecy.
‘Which one was I?’
Tae Junggi, too.
There was a time when he had wanted to shine more than anyone else.
Through his music, through his name.
But as time passed, he came to understand.
That the desire to shine was born from hunger—hunger for recognition.
So instead of turning away from that hunger, he tamed it.
He chose the path where the light would follow him naturally.
And thus, sitting at the top of Tomorrow Entertainment, he looked down with satisfaction at the kingdom he had built.
The world had changed.
Yet still, there were creators who couldn’t hide their own colors.
Composers, lyricists, singer-songwriters, producers…
Those who lived by pouring their colors into the world without restraint.
Tae Junggi found a strange satisfaction in watching them.
One in particular.
‘The more I see, the stranger it gets.’
Among those people, there appeared one who could never be pinned down.
Stay.
He claimed to have no color of his own.
And to have no color meant the confidence to reflect every color.
Someone who showed nothing, yet reflected everything.
As Tae Junggi looked into Taeyoon’s deep, dark eyes,
he suddenly found himself thinking that very thought.
What’s he thinking about for that long?
……Does he not like the title?
I’d actually put quite a lot of thought into it.
Ashes. The plural form of ash.
Metaphorically, it meant ruin, extinction, or defeat.
From what I’d seen, Taeshi’s lyrics weren’t about change or ascent.
They were about the ashes left after everything had burned away.
What revealed itself only once everything was gone.
In the end, Taeshi was speaking about essence itself.
And I thought Ashes was the title that expressed that essence most vividly.
Besides…… within Ashes lay another meaning only I knew.
a she.
The woman who had been hidden away.
The one who couldn’t speak in her own voice beneath her father’s shadow.
Just like STY hidden within STaY, Seo Taeyoon.
Through this song, I wanted to draw Taeshi out completely.
That’s why—
At the very least, I wanted to finish the title myself.
If CEO Tae Junggi refused to yield even on this, I was ready to unleash the scrappy side of me buried within.
“Ashes…….”
When the word <Ashes> flowed out from Tae Junggi’s mouth,
“Uh……?”
I couldn’t help but look dumbfounded.
Just once.
He had merely murmured the title under his breath.
And yet—I was sure of it.
This was a sign of approval.
Otherwise—
There was no way he could pronounce <Ashes> with that much swag!
Sure enough, Tae Junggi spoke in his calm tone.
“It feels good.”
“Oh wow, your pronunciation is…… really cool, sir.”
Was it that he liked my response?
This time, Tae Junggi actually smiled—a real one.
For someone whose expression never changed, he even let out a faint laugh, a quiet “Ha-ha.”
Phew, thank goodness.
I almost blurted out, ‘Must be because you used to be a rapper—your pronunciation’s got that insane swag!’
“You’re really unpredictable, Writer Stay.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Have you decided on the producing direction?”
“Yes.”
“Can I hear it?”
I straightened my posture and answered.
“I intend to leave everything to Taeshi.”
“Do you mean you trust her?”
“If I had even the slightest doubt, I wouldn’t have started.”
A short silence.
Whether he liked my answer—
or simply had nothing more to say—
I couldn’t tell.
But Tae Junggi didn’t ask me anything further that day.
Not about the producing direction, nor the concept.
He didn’t add a single unnecessary word.
Why was that? I wasn’t sure.
But his expression seemed as if—
he had already heard every answer he needed.
Tae Junggi spoke to me briefly.
“Good. I look forward to working with you, Writer Stay.”
Caught off guard, I bowed my head.
It felt like a signal that the meeting was over.
I stood, exchanged the formal courtesies, and was about to turn to leave when—
“Wait a moment.”
With a tone slightly higher than before, Tae Junggi called out to me.
He suddenly reached out his hand.
I took it.
Firm, just like his impression.
And yet, damp and warm.
A palm that carried human warmth.
Suddenly, it occurred to me—
I wasn’t the only one who was nervous.
He, too, must not have felt entirely at ease in this meeting.
“I hope we can see each other for a long time.”
Before I could even respond,
Tae Junggi added, like a vow,
“Thank you.”
A short, low voice.
And I found that I really liked how it sounded.
Because I was certain—
it was genuine.
The commotion at Tomorrow Entertainment—
was perhaps inevitable.
The reason people were gossiping was simple.
Something completely unimaginable was happening.
Taeshi, who had always insisted on doing only rap, suddenly declared she’d be doing techno rock.
That alone, maybe, could be overlooked.
But then? The CEO, Tae Junggi, who everyone thought would explode with anger, actually approved it.
Even more—he gave the producing role to Stay.
Whether it was on the rooftop during smoke breaks,
in the cafeteria at lunchtime,
or at the bar across from the office after work, where employees gathered to complain about their bosses—
the talk never stopped about Taeshi and Stay.
“That young guy’s really something.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I heard the title wasn’t originally <Ashes>.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. The CEO wanted it to be <Shift>, but Writer Stay changed it, apparently.”
Most of the reactions were positive.
Everyone, from heaven to earth, already knew that the image Taeshi had worn didn’t suit her.
Not just A&R Team, but also the Art Team and the Marketing Team—
the overall opinion was one of relief.
“Wow, guess we don’t have to dress her up in those sack-like outfits anymore.”
“Yeah, and the makeup too. Heavy makeup really didn’t suit Taeshi.”
“Sihyun’s singing is actually amazing.”
“She should’ve done this from the start.”
And at the center of it all—was Dongyoon.
Assistant Manager Seo Dongyoon.
Everyone already knew he was capable, but to think he’d managed to bring in Stay.
The fact that he brought <Ashes> was another story altogether.
What truly mattered was this—
he had started working with Stay.
That’s how it was for composers. Once you worked with an entertainment company, you kept working with them.
Why? Because by then, you’d be used to the system, the people.
Lee Hyoeun, Legacy, Cardo……
Who would be the next lucky one?
Except—there was someone who was truly lucky.
I felt more envy than jealousy.
“I’m jealous of Assistant Manager Seo Dongyoon.”
“Why?”
“He’s got nothing but success ahead of him. He’s been in and out of the CEO’s and Director’s offices nonstop.”
“That’s true. Wow, I always knew Assistant Manager Dongyoon would pull off something big one day.”
But not everyone was celebrating.
In any group, there were always those who frowned upon anyone who tried to bring change.
And their resentment was neatly wrapped up as concern.
“I’m kind of worried, honestly. Our CEO isn’t someone to take lightly.”
“Exactly. He says yes to everything at first, but when something goes wrong later, you know exactly who he’ll blame.”
“What if we end up getting caught in the crossfire?”
“Taeshi sings well. The song’s good too. But…… it’s too difficult. Too abstract.”
The mood cooled almost instantly.
They called it concern, but—
if you listened closely, it all meant one thing.
‘Stay quiet! Don’t go shaking things up for no reason.’
Those who feared change were always the ones trying to keep their positions.
Even so, a small spark was quietly spreading.
It was a few days before the recording.
Work with Taeshi went smoothly.
At first, the fact that she was the CEO’s daughter made me nervous.
But, as it turned out, it was actually more convenient than not.
The budget, the staff—
there wasn’t much I had to worry about.
Collaboration with every team went smoothly.
Even the Art Team, infamous for their rigidity.
“For the album jacket—I want it to start out almost black-and-white in ash tones, then gradually add color until it ends in full color.”
“That’s not too difficult.”
“Oh, um…… can we vary the texture a little too? Start a bit rough, then make it sleek and glossy near the end.”
“The budget might get high…… but I’ll make it work.”
It was the same with the music video.
“I’d like all the concepts to flow seamlessly—from the 1970s to the present. Instead of cutting sharply between scenes, I want the time flow to feel natural, like a continuous sequence……”
“Time-lapse sequence? Okay, sounds good.”
Even for small things—like costumes or stage setup—I could express my opinions freely.
“I’d prefer the outfits to be less flashy. If we overdo it, it’ll look tacky. The song might have a 90s vibe, but the overall mood should stay modern—it fits the concept better.”
“Oh, noted. Got it.”
“For the stage, rather than decorating, please leave it open. I want the singer to stand out, not the set design.”
In the early stages, things had been awkward because of differences with Tae Junggi.
But now, everything was going surprisingly smoothly.
So smoothly, it almost felt wrong.
It was similar to other entertainment companies I’d worked with before—but different.
There were no endless cycles of “I’ll check and get back to you.”
It felt like playing a game.
A game where you’d used a cheat code to give yourself infinite gold—and could do anything you wanted.
Schedules moved along like that.
One day, when I got home, I asked my brother,
“Hey, is this okay? Things are going too smoothly.”
“Of course it is.”
“Why?”
“The CEO told everyone to back you up completely. No need to review budgets or plans—just greenlight everything. We call that ‘full delegation.’”
Ah… so this was what power felt like.
Oh no. I might get addicted to it.
Feeling slightly embarrassed by the thought, I joked,
“Don’t tell me they’re gonna bill me for all this later?”
My brother answered seriously.
“That won’t happen. Besides, I’ve been watching, and I think the CEO really trusts you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. At first, people gossiped that he made you the producer just to dump responsibility on you, but everyone’s changed their minds now. It’s not that at all.”
“Why?”
“He’s apparently been really pleased in every meeting. He even goes to cheer Taeshi on during her practice sessions.”
Was cheering for his daughter’s practice really that unusual?
“He used to just get reports, that’s all.”
I immediately understood.
Ah, maybe it was something like this—
A father and daughter who’d always looked in different directions… were now finally looking at the same thing through music!
And that song? Written by Stay.
……If that really were the case, I couldn’t have asked for more.
“Hey, Seo Taeyoon.”
“What now?”
“If this goes well, I might get promoted.”
“Oh? What, to manager?”
“Not sure. They’re talking about creating a new team.”
“Then you’d be a team leader? Wow, Team Leader Seo!”
I should’ve teased him proudly—
but instead, my brother spoke seriously.
“I don’t know why, but I’m not completely happy about it. Don’t go around bragging, okay?”
“Who would I even tell? You’re not exactly a celebrity, you know.”
Wasn’t getting a promotion supposed to be a good thing?
Well, he’d handle it.
For now, I just had to finish what was in front of me.
Taeshi’s first challenge, and my second project as producer.
I hoped this would give my brother some confidence too.
A promotion was one thing, but more importantly—
I’m the one who brought Stay!
He should be able to brag about that all around the company.