Chapter 44: "And... What I Want to Say?"
Won Ji-min clasped her hands together like an otter. Then she turned to me.
"To you, oppa?"
"No, not me. The next stage. Quarterfinals."
I clapped once, as if signaling the start, rubbing my palms together.
"Let's just speak freely."
The quiet studio held only the two of us. The computer was ancient and clunky, but the soundproofing foam was plastered everywhere, the rubber seals around the door were perfect, and the isolation was top-notch. No matter what stories or songs we made here, nothing leaked out.
Real fake documentary. No need to pretend it wasn't real, or act like it didn't exist, or ghost the writers and director sitting right there.
"When you want to express something, you can even curse if you feel like it."
We could work without watching our words for anyone else.
"Um... cursing is fine."
I wanted to test it once. Munchkin—would you level up to SSS alone? I wanted to see with my own eyes just how far the talent of Won Ji-min, who had become an icon representing an era, could go. A phenomenon no one else could witness even if they threw hundreds of millions at it.
"So... you're saying I should try composing whatever stage I want for this competition."
"If composing a full track is hard, just tell me the concept you want to pursue. I can write the song."
"No. I'll try composing it myself."
She turned it down flat. The boot-up was glacially slow, but her workflow speed was insanely fast. Her hands on the mouse and keyboard—her left hand already knew all the shortcuts. These weren't the motions of a beginner.
The first note hit quickly. I waited calmly.
Just because the next opponents were ballad singers didn't mean this track had to be a ballad. That kick she just laid down didn't have to be a strict drum beat, right?
I held back any coaching.
"Tch~ Hm. Uh-uh-uh. Tch."
She stomped her feet alone, humming some inexplicable tune, but I quietly waited for these individual notes to coalesce into a melody.
"Oppa."
Won Ji-min spread her arms wide. What, asking for a hug? I swallowed my internal joke that wouldn't land and turned.
Her widely spread arms had morphed into a fighting pose. She unleashed a barrage of air punches, then spat out one word.
"Done. I wrote it—!"
From start to finish, the whole process had taken just 30 minutes. Ironically, whether they spent little time or a lot, these kinds of people's tracks never varied much in quality. Polishing was the most you'd do. The big picture stayed the same. The ear-melting hook from the first bar was identical either way.
After firing off a few phantom Dempsey rolls into the air, Won Ji-min finally turned to me. She spun the mouse toward me.
"Oppa, consider yourself lucky. I don't give this chance to just anyone. I'm granting you the honor—the very first listen of my song."
She spoke shyly, cautiously. Was the brashness I remembered from my past life proportional to her skill? Like her talent not yet fully bloomed, her boldness hadn't filled out completely.
"Thaaanks~."
I raised my index finger and clicked the left mouse button. The cursor was already positioned; the music started playing on its own.
Dance/electronic genre. More precisely, pop house. The fast BPM made my heart race as the track barreled forward. The vibe swirled endlessly, keeping the ears hooked.
Hm. Even a total layman with zero composing knowledge would get one thing from this song: the vocalist gets no breaks. Lip-syncers just bobbing their mouths while seated need not apply. Just singing? Nah, you'd have to dance too.
And even I, who knew zilch about dance, could picture the vocals. Ah, here she's building up.Ah, here's where she'll drop it.
As an idol, not a composer like me, she knew exactly where to drop in this short three-minute span to make fans scream. Where to hold back so the song never dragged.
The progression of this lyric-less track played out perfectly in my head.
And she nailed this in 30 minutes?
In one word: telling luck-outs and system-cheaters like me to just drop dead.
Talent monster. What do you even say to a talent monster like this?
I gathered my thoughts calmly and spoke first.
"Dance track, huh."
"Yep! I didn't know what message to put in. No theme given or anything. Just... um... just."
Won Ji-min took a sip of her convenience store iced Americano and continued.
"I wrote something I know I can pull off. We're idols, right? How to make the same dance look cooler. What rhythm does the track need for that? Can't be too fast only. Um..."
Her worries birthed more worries. She said she had nothing specific she wanted to say.
Didn't matter. We could slap on a fitting message in the lyrics later. That was my specialty.
"What do you think?"
"Good."
The song was that solid—no notes needed. Release it under some no-name artist tomorrow, and it'd hit the "Morning Commute Playlist to Boost Your Exhausted Vibe" charts, spread by word of mouth, climb the Coconut charts. Bop-bop. Bops rise on their own.
I felt a twinge of anxiety. She'd absorbed everything from my Feedback sessions—would she devour me next? No, this kid's vessel for talent had been different from the start. Would my feedback even help? Or did she already know it all? Would my lowly foresight just hold back her gift?
I added nothing extra. She'd grow fine without special coddling.
Won Ji-min pouted at my sealed lips.
"Oppa... the song sucks, doesn't it? Yeah, it does."
"Huh?"
I hadn't expected the misunderstanding.
"The song's bad, so you're... racking your brain for how to say it without hurting my feelings, right?"
"Uh...?"
What the hell are you talking about? No one's mocking anyone—it's the opposite.
My head shook faster than my mouth could catch up. This was sincere.
"Of course? Why won't you say it?"
"Didn't know how to put it."
"Huh?"
Just be honest. Seo Hyun-woo. Even if I envied her talent, even if regression couldn't bridge the gap in our vessels and left me hollow.
Say what I really felt. Even if it was useless to her.
"The song... it's too good. No notes—nothing to tweak, no regrets."
"......"
"I know jack about dance. But I could see it: hard impact here,smooth and slow there. The stage unfolded in my head."
The whiny Won Ji-min from moments ago was gone. Five minutes back in time, she'd switched to calmly listening like Seo Hyun-woo.
"Made me jealous, honestly. Tell me to make something like this in 30 minutes—I couldn't. It's contest-ready as is."
I glanced at the still-rattling old computer. The software running was an older version than mine.
A true craftsman blames the tools, huh.
"Good. That's why I had nothing to say."
"......Fine."
"Huh?"
Won Ji-min looked up. She grabbed my cheeks with both hands.
Our eyes met, and she yelled.
"That's all I needed!"
Won Ji-min: Stability +2
"C'mon, don't shake. Nothing to shake about. What's got you trembling?"
Composer Lee Sang-hyun tried to soothe them.
"Earthquake or what? Why so jittery?"
He tossed mismatched jokes at the four guys lined up in front, keeping the chatter going.
Supreme Beat Contest. The finals summit loomed. Quarterfinals stage. Battling Black Label for a semifinal ticket.
Their opponents: ballad group Pepperoni. Suited up neatly, they loosened their throats nonstop.
"What do you think they'll do?"
One asked; another answered.
"Obvious. Didn't you see Rock One last time? They did trot, so these guys did trot too. Ballad this round? Heh."
The tension eased a bit. The stiff-faced guy at the end cracked a smile at the dumb joke.
Lee Sang-hyun seized it.
"Yeah. See? Smiling looks good. Just keep that energy."
"But Black Label crushed it last time. Didn't they eat Rock One alive?"
Still tense or out of it, the guy shattered the mood cluelessly—but his skull was about to shatter.
Lee Sang-hyun smacked the back of his head in a camera-blind spot.
"Hey, that's what you say now? We focus on us, we advance. Got it? Top four gets prize money."
He checked his phone. Group chat blowing up. Messages nonstop.
"My mom's bringing all her auntie friends for today's stage. On-site votes locked."
"Ooh, composer got the auntie squad? I called my dad's company folks."
Jo Yeon 1, Pepperoni's leader, pointed to a section.
"That whole block's probably Dad's employees."
Jo Yeon 1 could joke like that—he saw Black Label as a joke.
Until their new track's intro dropped. Thoughts flipped.
"Wh-what?"
Idols bringing idol-grade fire. Dressed in flashy headpieces and bracelets, they filled the stage with breathless energy.
Even ally Lee Sang-hyun was stunned. He muttered unwittingly.
"Good... the song's good."
"Hyung, not the time to admire them."
Jo Yeon 1 scolded the dazed composer, but it was pointless. The section he'd pointed to was jumping for Black Label too.
"N-not that one."
He thought. Must be another. But every section cheered Black Label.
"We're screwed. Total vibe killer?"
Pepperoni prepped a ballad of tragic lovers denied reunion. No need to plan semifinal staging.
They drank the cup of elimination and left the stage.