The Double Life of a Genius Musician

Chapter 126: French Toast and Tteok Mandu Soup

It was rare for an arrangement to surpass the original.

It wasn't just a matter of skill.

Every listener remembered the “moment they first heard it.”

The more intense that impression was, the more unchangeable the initial emotion became.

Moreover, the structure and sentiment of a song were most densely composed in its “original” form.

Arrangement was interpretation, not creation.

Which meant it often felt less natural than the original.

So should one play it safe to avoid damaging the original? That might be safe, but it easily lacked character.

Just think of competition programs.

Multiple arrangers joined in, grand orchestras roared, and the vocalists gathered emotions like a Spirit Bomb and exploded.

Of course, the audience was soaked in tears.

Even in that kind of situation—

The listener would eventually return to the “first” version.

Not the remake, but the original.

But then.

‘……This is way better?’

This song would be different.

That was his honest impression as the original composer.

Stay had reinterpreted the emotions head-on.

The arrangement, combined with the vocal interpretation, reshaped the texture of the song to a level of “recreation.”

The tone, more delicate than the original, drew a deep immersion from Do Gibong.

They even added a few lyrics that weren't in the original, and those blended in as if they had always been there.

‘Was my song really this good?’

To exaggerate a little more—

This was no longer Do Gibong's song, but Stay’s story now.

Maybe that was why.

He felt sorry for the unnamed vocalist……

But they were annoyingly good.

And suddenly, he felt greedy.

This was the dilemma Do Gibong, a composer from a failed idol group, faced.

‘Should I not have said anything?’

‘Still, I can’t help wanting it.’

‘Should I just say I said something crazy because I liked it too much?’

‘No, it wasn’t nonsense. It was real.’

The angel and devil inside him started a childish argument.

Professional ethics VS Greed.

Do Gibong couldn’t side with either.

After a moment of hesitation, he barely managed to ask:

“The vocal isn’t finalized yet, right?”

Taeyoon paused.

In that one short sentence, Gibong’s sincerity, nonchalance, and desire were all conveyed at once.

In other words, he was beating around the bush.

But Taeyoon didn’t pick up on that.

“Why? Do you want to sing it yourself?”

“……See? You’re always super perceptive at times like this. Yeah. I like it. I love it. I’m going crazy over it. Happy now?”

Do Gibong cleared his throat for no reason.

“I’m not saying I have to be the one who sings it.”

“But you’re not saying you won’t, either, right? Wow, did I arrange it that well?”

“……A lot.”

Do Gibong was honest.

Surprisingly so, even to himself.

He really wanted to sing it, just once.

Properly, from the start.

At eighteen—if only he could go back to that time.

He’d be able to express all the feelings he had kept hidden.

If he could sing this song again—

He felt like he could make up for that lost time, even just a little.

Even just a little.

But everyone knew—

That time would never come back. Never.

“Well, in that case, why not give it a try?”

“Oh-ho. In that case—”

Do Gibong quickly began setting things up.

In an instant, the studio became a recording booth.

“Ahem, not sure how this’ll turn out, but……”

Taeyoon still seemed indifferent.

At least at this point, he thought it was just one of Do Gibong’s mischievous jokes.

I could only blink as I watched Do Gibong standing in front of the mic.

‘So it wasn’t a joke……?’

Who would’ve thought Do Gibong could sing with such delicacy.

I had never even considered the possibility.

If I had, I would’ve never let him anywhere near a mic.

‘Oh my god. What if someone had told him not to sing?’

The Do Gibong I knew was the textbook example of a “hit songwriter stereotype” burned into the public's mind.

He drank coffee like water and talked too much.

He hated losing and loved to daydream.

He had dark circles under his eyes and always wore hoodies.

He sucked at games but always wanted to bet.

For the record, I didn’t.

Anyway. That performance just now was a foul.

If he sang that well, how was I supposed to stay focused?

“Hyung, why are you good at singing?”

“Don’t you get it yet? There’s nothing I can’t do.”

But you’re bad at games?

I didn’t say that out loud. He’d really get sulky.

“I thought you didn’t like singing?”

“Yeah. That was definitely true—until I heard the song you brought in.”

“Can you not say that like it’s some big, serious thing?”

“Taeyoon-ah. I’m being serious right now.”

Yeah, you really looked it.

“It’s been a while since I sang. Felt good. How was it?”

“I used to think some things were impossible no matter how hard you tried, but I guess not.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re really different from before.”

Was it because the emotion came through properly?

Or maybe the arrangement suited Gibong’s tone well?

Either way, he nailed it.

“Right? I should use this opportunity to release it as a single.”

Releasing an album with a forgotten song—

Not easy, but not entirely impossible either.

More importantly—

It made for a compelling narrative.

Though I felt weird saying it myself……

The fact that two star composers from Manny Entertainment, who once fiercely competed for title tracks, had collaborated would definitely stir up buzz.

Still, if I had to be honest—

Junhyun matched the tone I had in mind better.

Gibong-hyung was just too…… impatient.

Like his emotions rushed ahead of the song?

“The guide vocal from earlier and you—skills-wise, you’re definitely better.”

“Uh-oh? Wait a sec. Guide vocal? So the vocalist’s already been decided?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah……”

Do Gibong looked as if he had lost everything in the world.

I understood what he was feeling.

But from my end, it wasn’t something I could overturn.

I decided to think of Do Gibong singing today as nothing more than lavish praise for the arrangement.

That way, I could pretend not to notice his lingering attachment to the song.

“Could you please reconsider just once?”

It was a situation that simply couldn’t be ignored.

“Are you serious?”

“You know better than anyone, right? I swear, I’ve never lied in front of music. If I do, may lightning strike me.”

Uh-oh.

Do Gibong was slowly shifting into begging mode.

“I’d always wondered if I could ever sing again someday.”

“And that ‘someday’ just had to be now?”

“There’s a bite in your words, huh?”

Of course there was.

It was great to see the original composer so moved by the rearranged version of his song.

But that didn’t mean I could just say, “Go ahead,” on the spot.

Why? Because as a producer, I’d worked on this piece from the beginning with Junhyun in mind.

“Hyung, I get how you feel.”

I paused briefly.

What kind of answer would be best?

I spoke firmly, not too heavy but clear.

“I thought this song was complete with Junhyun’s voice.”

Do Gibong nodded.

That gesture was a weighty sign of agreement.

“If you sing it, it might come out even better. But that’s not the picture I originally had in mind.”

I said it firmly.

So the end of my sentence wouldn’t waver.

Do Gibong stared at me for a while, then smiled faintly.

“Yeah, I know. I really do. I just got greedy. Sorry.”

There was no lingering regret or resentment in that smile.

“I think I just wanted to finally show what I couldn’t back then—what I wanted to show when I was younger. With my own voice.”

From the music video of <War, War>.

Was it just my imagination, or did I see the 18-year-old Do Gibong awkwardly dancing overlapping with him?

This wasn’t jealousy or rivalry.

It was the lingering desire to reclaim a bit of lost time?

I wasn’t sure.

One thing was certain……

I was conflicted right now.

It must’ve shown on my face.

Do Gibong waved his hands and continued.

“Taeyoon-ah, hey, you don’t think I’m just being pushy because I’m the original composer, right? I’d be really hurt if you thought that. I swear, I’m not.”

“Come on. Of course not.” Follow current novels on novelFɪre.net

“The lyrics were so good. I’ve lived with those feelings myself. Maybe that’s why it resonated so much. You know?”

Of course I knew. I knew all too well.

“Thanks for listening so kindly.”

“What for? Who’s the vocalist? They were really good. A rookie, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I liked that they still had a rookie vibe. The song felt clean. It didn’t feel like they were interpreting the song—it felt like the song was them.”

“Oh, you’re hyping them up way too much.”

“Well, the original song is just that good, right?”

“It’s not just the song. Hyung, you’re a genuinely awesome person.”

“Well, well. What do you wanna eat?”

We both laughed as we faced each other.

Honestly, today I realized that Do Gibong—also known as the Busan Goblin—wasn’t built for longevity by accident.

Maybe he was even more multifaceted and human than I’d thought.

From a business perspective—

If Do Gibong were to say something like, “Nope, if it’s not me, no one can sing it. No permission for the arrangement. Good luck,” and dig his heels in?

Then regardless of whether it was Baek Junhyun or Do Gibong on vocals—

This entire project might fall apart.

That’s how powerful the involvement of the original composer could be—enough to shake the whole plan.

The kind of person who could throw the whole flow off course.

That was the original composer.

And no one understood that better than he did himself.

Even so, he threw away all his pride and respected my opinion as the producer.

That was seriously not an easy thing to do.

“Hyung, are you busy next Thursday?”

“No, why?”

Now it was just a matter of wrapping up that lingering feeling cleanly.

Once Do Gibong saw Junhyun singing in person, he’d surely be able to settle his emotions properly.

If you didn’t properly seal off unresolved feelings, they could resurface someday and create an uncomfortable situation.

“Do you wanna come see the final recording?”

“Already? Wait, what? The album’s actually coming out? Where?”

“That’s something we’ll have to figure out later.”

“Introduce me. Just say the word. No, wait, should I just take this chance to release it as an indie album? Should I invest? I mean, I can afford it, you know?”

His attitude reminded me of CEO Kim Minsoo for some reason.

“No thanks. I already have a plan in mind. Anyway, are you coming to the recording or not?”

“Of course I’m coming. Where is it?”

“I’ll text you the address.”

As I sent him the address for Backstage—

I suddenly imagined us sitting around there, eating tonkatsu.

Ah, just the thought made me happy.

Even when I got home and sat down for dinner.

Even in the shower.

Even after I lay down to sleep.

The voices kept playing in my head.

Do Gibong’s delicate, emotional vocal.

Baek Junhyun’s calm and lyrical vocal.

The two of them conveyed the same song in completely different ways.

‘Let’s listen again.’

It wasn’t a matter of who was better.

The strange thing was—

The two voices somehow ended up sounding like one.

Their tone, breath, and sentiment were all different.

So why?

‘Ugh, I can’t take this.’

I kicked off the covers and sat up.

Click, click.

I listened to the two recorded versions all night long.

This wasn’t some simple debate of black bean noodles versus spicy seafood.

Or kimchi stew versus soybean paste stew.

It wasn’t that kind of simple choice.

“This is so hard. They feel so different.”

In the end, I couldn’t reach a conclusion.

Baek Junhyun’s voice pulled me forward, while Do Gibong’s voice kept making me look back.

Stories yet to come, and traces of emotions long gone.

The biggest problem was—they both fit this song so perfectly, it was hard to say who was better.

While I was pulling my hair out alone, I heard my hyung calling me.

“Seo Taeyoon, did you stay up all night again? Come eat breakfast.”

Oh wow, the sun was already up.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

Today’s breakfast menu: French toast and tteok mandu soup.

Seriously, my hyung was always so diligent.

“Why’d you bother making two different dishes?”

“You like bread. I like something warm. Do we really have to choose just one? Why not make both and enjoy them?”

“What the…… They’re completely different styles, how can you eat—huh?”

My eyes snapped open.

Just looking at the French toast and tteok mandu soup made it all click.

There’s no reason I have to choose just one.

“Hyung, thanks. You’re a genius, seriously.”

“……Did you lose your mind from sleep deprivation?”

My hyung looked utterly confused.