Chapter 144 : I Must Be Seeing Things Because I’m Tired
Chapter 144: I Must Be Seeing Things Because I’m Tired
I sometimes looked up articles analyzing my songs.
When I did, I often found various people posting their own analyses.
Pop music critics, YouTube, bloggers.
Or just regular listeners.
Even with the same music, one might hear love, while another hears memories.
That diversity sometimes became a comfort, and sometimes a mirror that retraced points I had missed.
It amazed me every time.
STaY.
It was me, yet somehow not me—something like that?
There was a certain fun in seeing myself from a third-person perspective.
This particular YouTube channel was especially interesting.
“Oh-ho?”
They had pinpointed the exact element I had hidden.
[ I like music ]
[@lsymusictrend * 21 subscribers * 3 videos]
I’d seen this kind of channel now and then, but my reaction was usually no more than, “Hmm, interesting. Nice video.”
But for some reason, this channel lingered in my mind.
[ Doubline, 5 Reasons It Had to Be No.1 ]
Just from the title, I had a preconceived notion.
A mix of music analysis and fan-driven praise.
I thought it might be one of those so-called clickbait videos.
The font was rough, and the editing was clumsy.
Honestly… it was kinda tacky?
And yet, the content was sharp.
At the very least, it wasn’t a flimsy analysis that just used “Doubline” for some easy views.
— This week’s music show No.1, Doubline. Why?
It started with a short intro.
Then it listed five numbered reasons…
“Interesting.”
I especially liked No.3.
The analysis that a breathing space was placed after the chorus intrigued me.
— Without this, it might’ve ended up a generic mass-produced ballad?
…That kind of footnote-style commentary felt fresh too.
The closing line was great.
— What makes this a well-made song is that the listener’s emotions don’t tire out before the song does. It wasn’t made by calculation, but by empathy.
Mmm, I liked that.
There was no way I could just move on.
Tok-tok-tok.
As both encouragement and agreement, I left a comment.
It was a shame such a good channel had so few subscribers, so I clicked the subscribe button too.
That made it my third subscribed channel.
The first was Sierra, and the second was KIM Entertainment.
Just after leaving my second comment, I chuckled to myself in satisfaction—and that’s when a familiar voice rang out.
“What are you doing?”
“Eep!”
It was CEO Kim Minsoo.
Startled, I quickly turned off my smartphone screen.
“Like someone who saw a comment praising themselves and is giggling with glee?”
Then he let out a sly “Hehe,” as he massaged my shoulder.
Not exactly right… but not wrong either.
I quickly objected.
“No, I wasn’t!”
It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t a comment—it was a YouTube video.
“You were though.”
“And could you please stop using that tone?”
“What tone?”
“The whole ‘like someone who blah blah blah’ thing.”
“Why? People seem to like it.”
“That’s just because…”
He’s the CEO—of course they just laugh politely.
Who would dare say the CEO isn’t funny?
I wanted to say it, but I couldn’t.
As far as I knew, we weren’t even ten years apart in age. So why did he talk like that?
I stared at Kim Minsoo, deep in thought.
He really was cut from a different cloth than us.
Even though he was a musician who wrote and produced songs, too.
He never showed up with stubble, never wore a cap, never wore a hoodie, never wandered around like a zombie sipping coffee.
He was the textbook image of a CEO you’d see in a drama.
“So? What is it? Don’t keep me waiting.”
He looked so expectant I just said it.
“Because you’re a chaebol?”
Ah, seems like that wasn’t the answer he wanted.
He narrowed his eyes.
Time to swiftly change the subject.
“Where’s today’s meeting?”
“The vocal practice room. We should head up now.”
The reason I was visiting KIM Entertainment today—
Was to meet Lumière.
For the first time, I wanted to write a song for a girl idol group.
It started for a really simple reason.
A few days ago, Hyung provoked me by saying, “I don’t think Taeyoon could ever write one of those cute, bubbly girl idol songs.”
And I replied, “Why not?”
That’s when Lumière came to mind.
While studying KIM Entertainment, I’d also been observing Lumière.
Listening to their songs, watching their performances.
Catching them on variety shows—I got the feeling they were quite unique.
They seemed similar to Han Yujin, yet different.
So I got curious.
Especially about the leader, Lee Jeongin.
I had never heard such a deep, rich voice before.
I once caught her singing R&B live on a radio broadcast.
I had never heard a vocalist bite into each note with such delicate precision.
It was heart-wrenching, as if she had chewed up and swallowed a painful love.
I absolutely had to hear Lee Jeongin’s voice in person.
Not through a broadcast, but her actual voice.
I asked CEO Kim Minsoo:
“We’ll be seeing all the members today, right?”
“Yeah. Why? Got someone in particular you want to see?”
“The leader.”
“Jeongin? I figured you’d be interested. She is quite unique.”
Hmm?
He wasn’t someone who casually used words like “unique.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see for yourself. We’ll be up there soon anyway.”
At this, I only nodded.
This is why I liked CEO Kim Minsoo.
If I heard about someone’s unique traits in advance, I might form a bias.
I was eager to head up.
But it felt like CEO Kim Minsoo was stalling for some reason.
“You know I wrote their debut song, right? And the youngest member is Korean by nationality but lived abroad for a long time. What else…”
Listing things that would come up with a quick search… he was clearly buying time…
“CEO.”
“Yeah?”
“If you’re waiting for someone, it’s okay. I can wait.”
“Heh, sharp as ever.”
“Is it not okay if I go up ahead?”
“No. They’re meeting the kids for the first time too. I think it’d be good to go together.”
“Who is it?”
Normally, I wouldn’t have asked.
I would’ve just assumed he’d tell me when the time came, but strangely enough, today I was curious.
Because… CEO Kim Minsoo kept chuckling to himself whenever he mentioned “that person.”
Just how much must he like them to smile like that?
“Someone you’ll be glad to see when you meet?”
“Gibong-hyung?”
“Would you be glad to see Gibong? You saw him yesterday.”
“Then… ah, Teacher Oh Jisoo? Or that DJ-hyung who quit before?”
I listed everyone we both knew.
But CEO Kim just kept repeating, “Nope.”
“No, no. Our label’s new employee. A team leader.”
“Ah, I see.”
“What’s that reaction? Not happy to meet them?”
“That’s not true. I’m really looking forward to it.”
Meeting new people in the industry was always enjoyable. There was always something to learn.
Still, I wasn’t that excited.
“You’ll definitely like them. Really.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“The moment I saw them, you came to mind. You’ve got a similar musical wavelength, similar way of thinking.”
“Oh, that’s interesting.”
“You might even want to join our label after meeting them.”
They must be someone impressive, judging by how confident he sounded.
Still, I didn’t expect too much.
I’d met countless people in this industry, but no one ever clicked with me quite like my hyung did.
That’s what I thought as I stood there.
“Oh? There they are.”
CEO Kim waved cheerfully to someone behind me.
As I turned my head to greet them—
“Whaaa?”
I rubbed my eyes.
I must’ve really been exhausted lately.
Because the person standing at the end of CEO Kim’s gaze was…
“Hello!”
Why was my hyung—the one who looked like a mountain bandit—standing there?!
I really must be so tired I’m hallucinating.
Meanwhile.
At the same time, inside KIM Entertainment’s vocal practice room.
After finishing practice, the five members of Lumière were sitting on the floor, each with a bottle of water in hand, chatting about random things.
“Should I go short for the next album?”
“That’s a disease.”
“Pardon?”
“The short-hair disease. One of the three major idol diseases.”
“What are the other two?”
“The blonde disease and the long straight-hair disease.”
“Come on, if you take those out, what’s left!”
It started as a conversation about style.
“Ugh, I’m so hungry. If I eat any more greens, I’ll turn into a cow.”
“Ga-eun, you’re lucky. You’re the only one not on a diet.”
“Should we ask the songwriter to grab food with us later? If the CEO’s there, he might say yes?”
“Yeah, then we’ll eat like pigs and starve for three days again.”
They were grumbling about their diets when the youngest, Kim Dabin, took a swig of water and muttered,
“You have to eat well to sing well.”
Leader Lee Jeongin agreed.
“Right. Honestly, if I’d eaten better when we recorded <Glow Up>, I could’ve hit the high notes better. That song felt a bit lacking, didn’t it?”
“...Rather than lacking, it was just difficult.”
Everyone nodded cautiously.
They had recently tried singing the demo track before the final pitching.
A song made by Music Ward.
“The melody’s nice, but the arrangement feels just a tiiiny bit off.”
“The emotion should’ve gone like this, right?”
Kim Dabin drew a straight line with her finger.
“Yeah, it had a kind of turbulent feel. Maybe because it was new?”
“Composer from Music Ward likes trying fresh things, after all.”
The members of Lumière weren’t the type to gossip disrespectfully about songwriters behind their backs.
Still, something about this demo felt… a bit off.
That’s when Lee Jeongin spoke up carefully.
“If it were by Stay, it probably would’ve flowed straight and then bent once at the bridge.”
Silence fell.
No one spoke, only the sound of water bottles being sipped filled the room.
Kim Dabin grinned and looked down at her headset.
“Oh no, here she goes again. Isn’t it time to stop listening to Super Ride?”
Lee Jeongin murmured, almost to herself,
“It’s my life song…”
“There it is again. Jeongin-unnie and her seasonal ‘life songs.’”
“Hundreds of life songs, the legend of Lee Jeongin.”
“But Super Ride is a masterpiece, to be fair.”
“I wonder what other demo will come in next.”
They glanced at their manager.
“What?”
“Who’s the songwriter visiting today? Can’t you tell us?”
“I don’t know either. Not even sure if they’re bringing a song.”
As his voice trailed off, Lee Jeongin suddenly blurted,
“I hope it’s Stay.”
Immediately, agreement burst from all sides.
“Me too.”
“Doubline would be great too.”
“Right? If not Stay, maybe at least Budo-oppa could write for us.”
“He’s busy with his own songs lately.”
Lee Jeongin lay flat on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
Could it really be Stay coming today?
That’d be way too much like a movie, wouldn’t it?
She thought as she recalled Stay’s works in her head.
Her thoughts raced.
Super Ride – Ancora, More Than Time – Avalanche – ASHes – Crossing Tomorrow.
What came next?
There was a pattern. This time, she thought of the companies behind each song.
ToMe – KIM – Manny – Tomorrow – KIM.
Almost like it had been planned.
Like each company took turns getting one track.
Brain on full throttle!
That meant the next one would probably be ToMe or another label.
Ooh, she felt pretty sharp.
Lee Jeongin shared her deduction with the members.
“What do you think? My reasoning?”
“As expected. You’re the leader for a reason—amazing deduction.”
“So what, we’ll get our turn around the fifth single?”
Their manager, watching them from a distance, snorted.
There they go again, hyping themselves up with fan theories.
If they found out the songwriter visiting today was really Stay, they’d cry.
He hadn’t told them.
The CEO had made him promise.
Stay had said he wanted to see them act as naturally as possible.
The manager straightened his face and changed the topic.
“The new label’s team leader is coming too, so behave yourselves and greet them properly. They’re the one pitching the song.”
“That person from before?”
“You’ve seen them?”
“Yeah. They were… really cool. Dependable-looking.”
The members of Lumière sat quietly, waiting for the songwriter and staff to arrive.
About ten minutes later—
“Oh? They’re here!”
Lee Jeongin was the first to turn her head.
Her face brightened with expectation and a practiced smile.
First came CEO Kim Minsoo. Then a sturdy-looking man—probably the new team leader.
And following behind him, finally—
“Huhhh?”
The real Stay she’d only ever heard about appeared before her eyes!