The Choice

The morning after Kim Se-jun's visit to Ares Music Headquarters, Lee Hae-jin, Ha Dong-jun, Lee Jin-ah, and Song Dae-jun were already gathered in one place. Song Dae-jun, who had pulled an all-nighter at the company, had summoned them to the studio at dawn, and now they sat wearing pleasure-laced smiles as the song poured from the speakers.

When the last note faded, Lee Hae-jin's eyes crinkled as he clapped Song Dae-jun on the shoulder.

"You did great. I love it. Completely."

Ha Dong-jun and Lee Jin-ah were nodding along vigorously, clearly of the same mind.

"I love it too! Producer, this is insane! How does a song transform like this in a single day??"

Watching Lee Jin-ah gush with sparkling eyes, Song Dae-jun ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠managed a faint smile through the exhaustion clinging to his face.

"Thank you."

"Nice. At this level, the song itself isn't a problem. President. A word, if you have a moment."

Ha Dong-jun offered Song Dae-jun a word of comfort for the night's labor, then shot Lee Hae-jin a meaningful look. Lee Hae-jin ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠caught it and nodded, and the two of them stepped outside, leaving only Lee Jin-ah and Song Dae-jun behind.

"Hoo. This turned into a headache in its own way, didn't it?"

"Tell me about it. Who saw Song PD finishing the track overnight?"

"Should we just have Jin-ah feature Se-jun on it?"

"Did you see Jin-ah's face just now? She was completely gone for that song. When it comes to wanting a good track, she's the greediest person in this company. She'll fight us to the death. And Se-jun hasn't even written a song yet — you think she'd just hand him a feature? From where I'm sitting, he doesn't have a prayer right now."

"Damn it. Of all the ways for this to get tangled. So do we have to tell Se-jun his debut's getting pushed back?"

Lee Hae-jin's face tightened. Ha Dong-jun nodded.

"That's the only way. I feel bad for getting Se-jun's hopes up, but we'll just have to tell him we'll debut him as soon as we can."

"Haa... What a waste. It's such a waste."

"I know. The kid's going to explode the second he debuts. But we can't just steamroll Jin-ah's opinion either. Think of everything she's done for this company."

"That's true too. All right. I'll talk to Se-jun myself."

"Please. It'll land better coming from the president than from the VP."

The conversation over, both men let out a long sigh at the same time. They had a solution. It was just a solution that left nothing but regret.

Song Dae-jun trudged toward home, his steps drained of strength. The exhaustion of a sleepless night pressed down on him, but he knew the hollowness in his body had little to do with sleep. Pulling all-nighters was something he'd done countless times in this line of work.

That's just cheap, Dae-jun.

Kim Se-jun. The debt he owed that man weighed too heavily on his heart.

The person who had made it possible for him to finish his song. And the result: he had completed the track with Se-jun's help, and Se-jun's debut would be delayed because of it. Worse, Kim Se-jun had known from the start that Song Dae-jun was wary of him — that he was treating him as a rival to be kept in check.

The moment they'd first met. The honest thought that had slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Brat.

And Se-jun, watching him mutter that, had just smiled faintly. It should have been insulting. Humiliating. And yet Se-jun had let it roll off him like it was nothing, then gone on to help him even knowing it might delay his own debut. The man was a giant. Compared to him, Song Dae-jun felt painfully small.

This isn't right.

At the very least, he needed to come clean — to tell them Se-jun had helped with the song. If that fact came out, maybe Se-jun would still get to be on the feature.

Decision made, Song Dae-jun drew a deep breath and turned around. Retracing his steps, Ares Music Headquarters came back into view. He swallowed hard and was about to go inside when someone called his name.

"Oh? Producer Song Dae-jun?"

"Se-jun?"

It was Kim Se-jun. His eyes were as hollow as Song Dae-jun's own, fatigue plastered over every inch of him — as if he, too, had been up all night.

Did he pull an all-nighter? But why?

The man looked steeped in exhaustion. And yet, somehow, joy and a kind of freshness clung to him as well. An awkward silence hung for a moment. Then Kim Se-jun bowed at the waist in greeting.

"Good morning."

"Ah — yes. Good morning."

After returning the greeting, Song Dae-jun fumbled for something to say.

"What brings you here?"

It was meant to break the tension, but even he knew it was a stupid question. The president had called Se-jun in to tell him he wouldn't be on the remake. And here he was asking the man himself. His face started to heat with embarrassment — and then Kim Se-jun said something unexpected.

"Ah, I have a song I'd like to play for you today."

"A song?"

Watching Kim Se-jun nod, Song Dae-jun's expression sank.

Ah. He hasn't heard yet.

"Se-jun. The remake is already finished. Yesterday — with your help. Thank you. And... I'm sorry."

Song Dae-jun hung his head, too ashamed to look up. A murmur reached his ear.

"I knew it. Good thing I stayed up last night."

"Pardon?"

"Ah, nothing. Anyway — congratulations! You finished the song. I haven't heard it yet, but I know it's going to be incredible. I had a feeling from the first time I listened."

The congratulations didn't make Song Dae-jun happy. He felt ashamed. He wanted to crawl into a hole.

"Thank you. And I'm really, truly sorry..."

At the repeated apology, Kim Se-jun tilted his head.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're apologizing for?"

"Well... you helped me finish the song, and because of that you're off the feature. I feel terrible."

Kim Se-jun just smiled, bright and unbothered.

"Ahh... it's fine. Honestly, I wouldn't even call that help. You would have solved it on your own even without me. I just helped you get there a little faster."

"Haa... I appreciate you saying that, but either way, your debut's getting delayed."

At those words — Ha Dong-jun's words, essentially — Kim Se-jun smiled, cold and sure.

After dropping that little hint on Song Dae-jun, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Kim Se-jun went straight home.

I'm out of time now.

He'd given Song Dae-jun a landmark on a road he'd been wandering. The man would find his way soon enough. Which meant the song would be finished in a flash.

"But that doesn't mean I'm giving up."

Smiling, Kim Se-jun set a black plastic bag on his desk. It hit the wood with a heavy thud. Inside: canned coffee and energy drinks, packed to the brim.

"First things first. I make the song."

His feature was a lost cause. But that didn't mean he could just lie down and give up. He would make his own remake — and use it to persuade them. Whether it would work, he had no idea. But he was going to try.

"If there's no path, you cut one."

He'd lived too long, seen too much, to stop over something this small. He drained a can of coffee in one go and sat down at his computer. He fired up the familiar Cbase, humming the melody still lingering in his head. His mouth murmured, his hands flew, and in his mind he kept summoning the image of Lotus as he saw it.

He chased that scene again and again, recovering the concept he'd conceived back then. It had to be done by dawn at the latest. An all-nighter was inevitable — and yet Kim Se-jun's face was full of smiles. The innocent, helplessly happy smile of a child who was simply having too much fun.

After listening to Song Dae-jun's song, Ha Dong-jun had gone back up to his office and thrown himself into work. Anything involving Kim Se-jun, he'd left to Lee Hae-jin. The man would handle it. He was about to sign a document when he stopped — his phone was ringing in his pocket.

The caller was Lee Hae-jin — but the voice was urgent, excited, nothing like usual. Ha Dong-jun had pressed the phone closer to his ear without realizing it. The man was saying the song was good, and yet he sounded like he had a headache. Ha Dong-jun couldn't make sense of it.

"All right. I'm on my way."

Nothing on his desk needed immediate attention, so Ha Dong-jun took the elevator down. Waiting there were Lee Hae-jin, Song Dae-jun, Lee Jin-ah — and Kim Se-jun. Everyone connected to the remake project, gathered in one place. Ha Dong-jun's brow furrowed. He leaned in and whispered in Lee Hae-jin's ear.

"What is this. You didn't tell Se-jun properly?"

"That's not the problem. Se-jun pulled something."

"Pulled something? What?"

Lee Hae-jin didn't answer. He just let out a long, heavy sigh. The private exchange over, the others greeted Ha Dong-jun. He returned ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their greetings, then turned to Kim Se-jun.

"What's going on? Se-jun, you didn't hear?"

He asked it with deliberate gravity. Kim Se-jun answered evenly.

"I heard. That I won't be featuring on Lee Jin-ah's track."

"Then why is everyone suddenly here?"

"I have a song I'd like you to hear."

Ha Dong-jun's face lit up. Just how good a song had this lunatic cooked up this time?

"Good. Great! Let's hear it!"

Grinning, Ha Dong-jun headed into the studio, and the others followed. It was a little cramped with so many people, but no one complained. They waited for Kim Se-jun's song.

Then Kim Se-jun hit play, and Ha Dong-jun folded his arms, letting the sound wash over him — a sound that stroked the ear like silk.

That's a gayageum.

From the intro, the gayageum's gentle melody unfurled. Then came an instrument even Ha Dong-jun, who had heard more music than most, didn't recognize. A plaintive sound that wrung the chest. Ha Dong-jun cocked his head, and Kim Se-jun kindly supplied the answer.

"It's a haegeum."

Oho.

Hearing an instrument like that grafted onto a pop song was genuinely fresh. And then the song continued. Led by gayageum and haegeum, drums and piano wove together into a harmony beyond words. It felt like the soundtrack of a fusion historical drama — fresh, distinct, and yet it never overreached.

When the last note faded, Ha Dong-jun opened his eyes and murmured under his breath.

"Holy... that's incredible."

Then he looked around.

"What's the problem here? The song's amazing. It's too good."

He said it with a bright smile. Lee Hae-jin sighed again, long and deep.

"Hyung. That's a remake of Lotus."

"What?"

"It's a remake. We have to choose between that and the one Song PD made. Can you pick?"

At Lee Hae-jin's words, Ha Dong-jun froze where he stood. Then, eyes wide, he managed to stammer it out.