The Double Life of a Genius Musician

Chapter 123: One Task at a Time

The free pass was practically a joker card.

Han Ji-hyuk’s greatest reward.

It wasn’t just a certificate.

It was a token of trust — an unconditional acknowledgment of ability.

Any proposal approved under this card went through without review.

Budget, manpower, time.

Anything needed was provided.

It was the unspoken guarantee from the highest authority in the organization — a promise to be your breakwater.

And the reason was simple.

There’s always a reason behind that person’s choices.

And the results always come back with meaning.

Some people in the company even joked that the authority was like having a royal command tablet.

That’s how rare, powerful, and irresistible this card was.

So then—

‘……Why on earth?’ Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs noveⅼfire.net

Han Ji-hyuk couldn’t make sense of what was happening now.

The card he had handed over to Seo Dongyoon had returned — as a weapon for resignation.

The guy who understood its meaning better than anyone.

The guy who had seen the weight of it for years.

……And he was using it as an excuse to quit?

Rather than feeling hurt, curiosity came first.

‘I do have an eye for people. Neither of those brothers turned out ordinary.’

He had guaranteed the guy’s success — yet he chose adventure instead.

What could he possibly be longing for so much that he’d leave the company he’d endured for five years?

And of all times, now — right when he’d achieved his brightest results.

Han Ji-hyuk quietly asked the question.

“May I ask why?”

It was the first time.

The first time he’d ever asked a resigning employee for their reason.

He had never cared before.

He’d never had reason to stop them — or the time to.

But this time was different.

He wanted to hold on to Seo Dongyoon.

Because he was Stay’s brother? No.

Because he had exceptional ears? Even less so.

Surprisingly, Han Ji-hyuk saw something else.

The fact that he had pushed through with <Electric Party>.

Wasn’t that a failed project?

Didn’t it only blow up by luck thanks to DJ Blackhole?

That wasn’t entirely wrong.

But what mattered more was…

He had gone against the opinions of senior producers and pushed through with his own conviction to the end.

And he’d done it as just a second-year employee.

Stubborn, determined.

People like that would succeed anywhere they went.

Han Ji-hyuk wanted to work with him.

Preferably under the same banner.

If possible — for a long time.

He hid that desire as he waited for an answer.

A moment later, Seo Dongyoon calmly spoke.

“I’ve found people I want to work with.”

At that, Han Ji-hyuk couldn’t bring himself to ask anything more.

A season passed.

And Hyung really became unemployed.

What on earth was making him so happy?

Seeing how the corners of his mouth were always lifted, I guessed that doing nothing suited him perfectly.

Even I felt giddy watching him.

“Hyung, why are you grinning all the time these days? You like resting that much?”

“Do I look like I’m resting?”

Nod, nod.

“If you think that, I’m a little disappointed.”

Correction.

Hyung wasn’t resting — he was devoting himself to housekeeping.

And surprisingly, he had a knack for it.

Every morning, he made green juice for me.

The house shone like it had been polished with gold.

And every meal was fit for a king’s table.

His newfound leisure after leaving the company turned entirely into looking after me.

“Thanks for the meal again today. The japchae was great. Thought Mom had come over.”

“I told you, I’m pretty good at this. You’re still keeping your word about supporting me, right? Maybe I should become Stay’s manager.”

What? No way.

Why waste your talent like that?

“What are you talking about, Hyung? Are you out of your mind? Don’t bury your abilities like that.”

“……What’s with that face. You’re dead serious, huh?”

I wasn’t exactly serious-faced… but I was sincere.

Because Hyung was the most thorough, capable, and reliable person I’d ever met.

I didn’t know what he’d end up doing.

But whatever it was, he’d do it a hundred, a thousand times better than I ever could.

That’s why he’d managed to survive over five years in that suffocating Tomorrow Entertainment.

“It’s just that it’d be a waste of your talent.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got plans. You think I’d just mooch off my little brother?”

“Why’d you have to say it like that……”

People need breaks when they’re tired.

And so what if he did mooch off me a little?

I owed him plenty already.

Not that I could say that out loud.

It sounded too awkward.

Instead, I quietly gave him a double thumbs-up.

“By the way, don’t let things get awkward with Tomorrow Entertainment just because I left, okay? If there’s an artist you want to work with, go for it confidently.”

“Awkward? No way. I don’t care about that stuff. If someone sings my song, I’m the lucky one.”

“There aren’t many who know we’re brothers, so if anyone asks, just pretend you don’t know me.”

“Got it. Don’t worry.”

And I meant that.

When it came to work, I kept all possibilities open.

Especially since there were a lot of tempting artists at Tomorrow Entertainment.

First and foremost, Cardo.

We’d already scheduled a meeting for when they returned from their Asia tour.

They’d really liked my beat and mixing.

I was also reviewing other idols carefully.

After working on Signum’s album, I’d started to get a better feel for idols.

Ah, and there was one case I had turned down outright.

None other than Lee Hyoeun.

She kept asking for songs like <Super Ride>, but… something about it didn’t sit right.

Not that I could just say, “Hey, only Han Yujin can sing that!”

When I told Hyung about that briefly,

He nodded and said, “Good call!”

After clearing the table,

Hyung brought out some fruit and asked,

“Hey, Seo Taeyoon. Can I ask you something? You got time?”

“Yeah, I’m heading out later in the afternoon, so now’s perfect. What’s up?”

“I’m curious about your secret.”

“Oh? You’re gonna start writing songs too, Hyung?”

My eyes sparkled.

That was the best thing I’d heard in a while.

Working on music together could be really fun.

Sure, we might end up fighting over who’s right and maybe even scuffle a bit — and I’d definitely lose to my bear-like Hyung — but that was fine.

Because even that sounded like a good time.

But Hyung deflated the moment.

“Songwriting, really? I prefer planning and polishing raw gems.”

“Still, just because it’s a big entertainment company doesn’t mean all the songs that come in are amazing, right?”

“That’s true?”

“When you listen sometimes, don’t you ever think, ‘I could write something better than this! I’d rather do it myself!’?”

Sometimes when Hyung came home after a day of listening to demos, he’d collapse in exhaustion and sleep with earplugs in.

As if he never wanted to hear another sound in the world.

So I’d throw him a half-joking remark — my way of showing respect and encouragement.

But Hyung answered rather seriously.

“I don’t think that way. Or maybe, I can’t.”

“……Really?”

“Yeah. I know how much heart creators put into making and sending their songs. I just can’t think like that.”

“Oh?”

“Instead, I think more about how I could make it better. Like, ‘If only I tweak this part, it’d really come alive.’ Or, ‘This one would suit another label better — what a shame.’ That kind of thing.”

……Ah. The mood suddenly turned solemn.

A lot of thoughts came to mind.

So this was how Hyung approached his work.

No wonder he’d become the ace of Tomorrow Entertainment.

Maybe he was even more genuine about music than I was.

That thought flickered briefly through me.

“For someone like that, what do you need a secret for?”

“Oh? Look at that tone. Don’t tell me you’re sulking because I said I wouldn’t write songs?”

“Sulk? Me, your Hyung?”

“It’s written all over your face.”

“Tch, fine, I’m sulking. So at least humor me and try it once together! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Not just anyone can write songs.”

Hyung pulled a playful face and added,

“I’m no genius like you.”

What was that supposed to mean all of a sudden?

He wasn’t the type to say things like that.

His eyes were serious, but the corners of his mouth still curled upward.

Meanwhile, I didn’t laugh.

Because this wasn’t funny.

“Genius, my ass.”

Even so—

Hyung let out a small, amused snort.

“‘Stay’ and modesty don’t go together, huh?”

“Alright, alright. So what do you want to ask? A secret? What kind of secret?”

“What else? I’m talking about how you write songs that fit each artist so well. Come on, tell me. How do you draw out their hidden charm? Every time I listen, it amazes me.”

Ah, that’s what this was about.

I paused, choosing my words.

It was hard to explain, and even if I did, he probably wouldn’t believe it.

But this was, in a way, a promise I made to myself.

“I’m not the type ideas just burst out for. And inspiration doesn’t come to me all the time either.”

“Then?”

“I just… look and listen. For a long time. Longer and deeper than others.”

Hyung looked at me in silence.

Mouth slightly open.

He didn’t rush me or ask again.

He just waited to see what I’d say next.

“And most importantly…”

I smiled faintly.

“I just think about that person a lot. Because in the end, a song is about telling that person’s story.”

“……A person.”

Hyung let out a soft laugh.

“So you listen as far as you can hear, and see as far as you can see?”

“What? That actually sounds cooler when you say it.”

Crunch.

I took a bite of an apple and added casually,

“Oh, one more thing. Most people focus on what’s being shown. But I tend to focus more on what’s not being shown.”

I shrugged and looked at Hyung.

What’s with that face?

The smile was gone.

Instead, he nodded slowly.

That was all.

But it carried a weight heavier than any praise — a quiet, wordless understanding just between us.

See what they try to hide!

Ha, that sounded pretty cool even to me.

The weather was good, my mood was better.

Lately, I’d been taking care of one postponed task at a time.

I trimmed the hair that made me look like Muteoldosa, made a passport, listened to albums I’d missed, and did a ton of shopping.

Exercise… well, that could wait.

The Wild Ginseng really did work wonders.

Energy just overflowed.

And a few days later—

Enjoying early summer in Hongdae, I waited for my college friend Junhyun.

I pulled out my smartphone and opened a portal site.

Something amusing had happened lately.

The high-nosed pop music critics had started reviewing my songs.

In response, CEO Kim Minsoo and the UTAR members said things like:

“Now that you’re famous, they’re just hopping on the trend! Don’t be upset if they criticize you! No, actually, don’t even read them! I’ll write down every name myself!” — fussing out of worry.

But their concern was needless.

Fortunately, most of the reactions were positive.

[Stay’s music isn’t flashy. Instead, it’s astonishingly precise. Without overloading emotion, it strikes the listener squarely and shakes them. Rather than loud sound, it offers certain feeling……]

[Balanced spaces and finely tuned instruments placed like breaths. Before empathy, Stay’s music is observation; before comfort, it is understanding. A rare “composer who listens” in today’s K-pop……]

[You can clearly tell he thought of the singer before the listener. The vocalists sound like they’re truly conveying their own stories. This is the moment a song completes a person……]

Hmm… the more I read, the better it felt.

I stared at the screen until it could’ve worn a hole in my phone.

Pop critics’ writing — what could I say — had a lot to learn from.

Of course, there were the kinds of reviews CEO Kim Minsoo had worried about too.

Like the one newly uploaded today.

[It’s good to preserve the artist’s texture. However, a track like <ASHes> risks sounding like a repetition of the “Stay-style emotional method.” While the concept of Hard Singing was clear……]

Okay, back button.

And what do we do at times like this?

We just don’t look.

There’s no such thing as a flawless song in this world.

If someone wanted to nitpick, they could find faults even in a Beatles song or a Michael Jackson track.

CEO Kim Minsoo was right.

If you don’t look, it doesn’t exist.

I didn’t look. I didn’t see it.

When the promised time arrived—

Someone slid up beside me and gave my shoulder a squeeze. It was Junhyun.

“The man of the hour! I, the humble one, have the honor of meeting the great composer Stay.”

“……You’ve lost it. Can you not be so loud?”

Unfortunately, last time we’d only had time for a quick meal before parting.

Today, I really needed to confirm something.

As I recalled the tone of Junhyun’s voice from our last phone call, I asked,

“Did you eat?”

“No, if you said to meet at twelve, doesn’t that mean we’re having lunch?”

“How about tonkatsu?”

“We had that last time.”

Oh, come on.

“They’re different! Last time was Japanese-style tonkatsu, and this time it’s Western-style. Come on, let’s eat first. My treat.”

“……Fine.”

After eating and finishing cleanly with a Coke, we left the restaurant feeling refreshed and headed to the karaoke.

Now then—let’s see how this guy sings.