Chapter 61: "If You're Telling Me to Join the Company...?"
"Yeah. We're offering you the main composer spot at G&X, the lead producer position."
This wasn't some vague probe, testing my reaction. His words landed sharp and final. Firm, confident. Jung Pil-woon was certain that if he just dangled the bait, I'd come wagging my tail to G&X Entertainment, ready to sign on the dotted line.
The old me would've done it—no tail-wagging needed; I'd have crawled in on all fours. And it wasn't just me. Any mid-tier veteran or hungry rookie composer thirsting for success? A hundred out of a hundred would make the same choice.
It wasn't about producing some idol track to boost their name for a quick fame bump or paycheck hike. What G&X boasted was their curriculum.
Money? Sure, it mattered. But it didn't make up 100% of the decision. Cash alone couldn't buy the kind of inspiration that came from raw experience.
G&X had been preparing for this, quietly. Any composer showing promise got locked down early with a contract—a legal leash. Then, like shipping off their prospects to the minors, they'd send them to America to rack up credits with overseas artists.
Back then—or rather, in this timeline's "past"—they called it partnerships with small labels. But come on. Even a small U.S. label blew Korean ones out of the water.
After G&X started raking in global cash via Red Dice and traded up to a major American agency, the curriculum's grads started pumping out hits like clockwork. Collaborations with U.S. artists? Album releases? G&X turned the impossible into standard issue.
Even veteran composers who didn't need the money would hustle over with a fresh track just to snap a photo with some stateside rapper and post it on SNS.
And I had been the trailblazer for that curriculum.
The same thing from my past life was unfolding again. No—different this time. I'd caught Jung Pil-woon's eye faster than anyone. Our positions were reversed. I wasn't groveling for scraps from his hand anymore. Now, he was the one waiting for me to grab his.
Joining G&X and dismantling it from the inside, bit by bit? Not a bad play. The thought flickered through my mind. Just a thought.
Jung Pil-woon met my gaze and paused, breaking the rhythm.
"Before I hear your answer, a moment."
He turned to Jo Young-soo.
"PD Jo. The picture's win-win enough. But let's take the contract talk off the record."
"Ah, of course. Absolutely. Hey, cut it."
The arrow flew to the junior staffer in the production crew. The camera capturing us got its lens capped.
Jo Young-soo backed off easy, but his hands stayed mum. Jung Pil-woon wasn't the type to fall for weak ploys like that. He unclipped his own waist mic and handed it to the assistant director.
"Need a hand, Producer?"
"I'm good."
I stacked my mic on top of his. We moved spots.
I figured we'd head to the G&X Entertainment headquarters. His intent to sign me was ironclad. But he'd come prepared—they led me to an empty waiting room instead.
5:1. We settled around a long table, plenty of space for everyone to spread out comfortably.
Even seated, one staffer hustled about. No one spoke while he worked. I scanned every corner of the room.
The door opened. Black Label passed by in the gap.
The kids' voices echoed down the hall like it was coming apart; the staffer slammed the door shut, calling them noisy. But my eyes stayed open.
Thrilled Hye-soo and Ray gripped their parents' hands, leading the way. Won Ji-min trailed quietly behind—not very leader-like.
Won Ji-min... what's with her since earlier?
My vision narrowed, but the turmoil in my chest didn't. That final expression on her face stuck with me.
"No issues."
The staffer nodded, and Jung Pil-woon spoke.
"Alright, no more pests. Shall we get down to business, just us?"
"Sure. Fine by me."
A contract envelope slid across the table toward me.
"We've had a hard time gauging you, Falcon—no, Seo Hyun-woo."
Who was this guy? Even indoors, he wore pitch-black lenses like sunglasses.
Handling the contract personally in Jung Pil-woon's place? At least team leader. Maybe division head level.
G&X's badge could've made him strut, but he kept it dry, straight to the point.
"Of course, you've shown plenty through this Supreme Beat Contest. But outside this broadcast, your track record's basically blank."
"Yeah. I'm a rookie."
He nodded.
"Right. Would've been easier if that was it—we could've just rolled out top rookie treatment. But nooooo..."
He rolled his eyes.
"The chairman pushed back hard. You're no ordinary composer, Seo Hyun-woo. You're the miracle producer who revives the dying. Gotta treat you like top-tier. This is the result."
Sunglasses tapped the desk lightly. Take a look and decide, the gesture said. For a seven-year exclusive like an idol contract, the terms weren't bad.
I skimmed it. No plans to sign. But nothing else to do now. Broadcast wrapped. Head home like this? Shower and crash.
I looked up. Jung Pil-woon eyed me with interest.
Better to leave a good impression on the elusive Chairman Jung than nothing. Plus, questions had piled up.
"So this clause means..."
"Was Black Label always a trio?"
"Uh... yeah?"
Sunglasses glanced sideways. Hoping someone else to field it—he was out of the loop.
Jung Pil-woon stayed mum. One of the five spoke up.
"Why the sudden curiosity?"
The phrasing was clean, no flaws. But the tone bristled like fishbones.
"Not sudden. Hit me while working with Black Label. From what I know, don't you plan groups starting at four, pairing them up? Seen fives, sevens—but three's a first."
Odd.
Fishbones met my eyes.
"New Talent Development Team 1, Team Leader Young Eun-seong. Is there a law against girl groups as trios?"
No law. Never heard of a member dropout scandal either. Was it like that pre-regression? No memory surfaces—not from lack of interest, just gone.
"What about dropouts?"
Young Eun-seong furrowed his brow, reeking of offense.
Why? Rude? If this bugs you, good luck with what's coming—stuff beyond your wildest nightmares.
"Seo Hyun-woo... not sure what you're getting at here in a contract meeting... but maybe skip that talk."
"Ahem. Mind if I field this?"
The guy at the far end raised his hand.
Wait. Him.
"New Talent Development Team 2 leader here. I don't just handle Black Label, so I can't trek to Paju every time. But still, composer."
Team 2 Leader flashed a friendly smile.
"We've crossed paths a few times, right?"
"Hello, Team Leader."
"I figured you'd wonder before signing. Officially, Black Label's a trio."
She drove it home.
"No incidents, no scandals, one leaving—nothing. Zero worries. Won't happen going forward."
Team 1 Leader Young Eun-seong jumped in.
"Heard that? Exclusive contract or not, no Black Label scandals to tank your career. Don't sweat it."
He patted the contract's top.
"Exclusive. Exclusive. Even if—big if—something hits Black Label, just shift teams, right? Never been an issue from day one."
Wasn't planning to sign anyway.
Sunglasses timed his entry.
"Questions done? Time for your answer."
Another hand tapped the contract after Young Eun-seong.
"What do you think?"
New Talent Development Team 3's Kwon In-seong shook his head.
It felt just like G&X Entertainment HQ. A horde of staff lined up outside one waiting room at the Paju studio.
Kwon In-seong asked the PR Team Leader.
"What about you, Team Leader?"
"What do I think? This contract?"
"Yeah. Falcon. He'll sign, right? It's G&X."
"Who knows. Might already be locked in elsewhere."
"Nah, no way. They're all here to make a name."
Kwon In-seong made a fuss.
"Even if he is contracted somewhere, our offer trumps it—ditch them and join us. Life-changer."
"...Who knows."
The PR Team Leader, who wanted the news most, dialed back her hype. Tough sell.
If he were Falcon? Hard to say.
Black Label's championship composer. Interviews, variety gigs pouring in. Start a Nutyube channel now, cement the fame. G&X could back it at industry-top levels.
Any sane person? Ninety-nine percent sign. But Seo Hyun-woo wasn't easy.
"You see it earlier?"
"See what?"
Kwon In-seong, glued to his phone, asked. Team 3 was already buzzing in group chat about tracks to pitch him.
"Chairman and the composer. Looked like they knew each other."
"Huh?"
His texting thumbs slowed.
Kwon In-seong pressed the PR Team Leader.
"What? Chairman and composer buddies? I know the chairman too—from the show."
"Nah, not that vibe. Personal connection."
"Didn't feel that at all. How's some composer know the chairman?"
Kwon In-seong scoffed.
"Daddy's friends? Lol. Age gap fits."
The door opened. Meeting over? Seo Hyun-woo emerged first, beaming.
He greeted Kwon In-seong.
"Hey. Think we're good to wrap up."
Kwon In-seong jabbed the PR Team Leader's side. Whispered.
"See? Signed for sure."
No—the vibe peeking into the meeting room was anything but.