New Year
It was December 31st, the day before the new year dawned, when Kim Se-jun visited his family home for the first time in a long while. He had been putting off seeing his parents, hiding behind the excuse of being busy — but even so, a man ought to show his face at least once a year. Otherwise, given his mother's temperament, she was fully capable of marching up to Seoul herself.
He reached his parents' house as dusk was settling and the sky had begun to darken. Climbing out of the car, Kim Se-jun stretched his arms over his head and drew in a deep breath.
The air was cold — but unlike the thick, stale atmosphere of Seoul, this was a clean, bracing freshness that filled his lungs. The scent of home, one he hadn't breathed in far too long. His mood lifted all on its own.
A quiet smile found its way onto his face as he opened the gate and stepped inside. The familiar courtyard spread before him — a massive pine tree catching his eye first, then the well-tended lawn and the gravel paths. He crossed them, stood before the door, and pressed the bell.
"Aigoo. What's this busy-as-can-be son of mine doing coming all the way home? Weren't we supposed to have to go to a concert hall just to see your face?"
"Haha... I'm sorry. I'll come more often next year, Mom."
"I guess it's a crime to be a parent. Come in already. Dinner's ready anyway."
Listening to his mother Park Jin-sook's warm, familiar greeting, he stepped inside. His father, Kim Chang-yong, was in the living room, tending to his orchids.
"You're here."
"Yes, Father."
"Good. Drop by more often. Your mother's nagging is going to be the death of me."
"Honey, you shouldn't talk like that. How much did you hound me about it? You were always making a fuss, telling me to call Se-jun and get him to come down."
At Park Jin-sook's blunt confession, Kim Chang-yong cleared his throat and went back to trimming the orchids.
Watching his parents, Kim Se-jun felt a prickle at the tip of his nose. The Ares Music Concert had been only a few months ago. These two had slept at his house that night and gone back down the very next day — and still he had failed to live up to their simple wish to see him more often. The guilt sat heavy in his chest.
"Come on, both of you. Dinner's ready."
Park Jin-sook, bustling about the kitchen, called them over, and Kim Se-jun and Kim Chang-yong made their way to the table.
"Mom... when are we supposed to eat all this?"
The table looked ready to buckle under a spread so lavish it could have fed an army. Every creature of land, sea, and air had been called up for duty. His mouth watered — and at the same time, a faint terror crept in at the sheer volume of it.
"I hear celebrities can't even eat properly because they're trying to lose weight. You should eat well at times like this."
"I don't really need to do that kind of thing. Anyway, I'll eat well."
Park Jin-sook's cooking, packed to the brim with a mother's love, was so extraordinary it seemed to melt the instant it touched his tongue.
"So what's your plan for next year?"
Park Jin-sook asked, picking up a piece of bulgogi, and her eyes held an inscrutable glimmer of expectation.
"By any chance... are you thinking of putting out another song like Simcheongga? Something about a mother's love this time, not just Dad's."
Kim Chang-yong chuckled, thoroughly pleased. Park Jin-sook's words were dripping with jealousy toward her husband, and his shoulders swelled without limit — though they promptly wilted beneath the razor edge of her stare.
"A mother's love would be nice too."
"Right! Like the story of Shin Saimdang and her son, Yulgok Yi I. How wonderful would that be as a song! Huh? They're even on our country's banknotes."
The suggestion was utterly sincere, but Kim Se-jun shook his head.
"I'll be starting album work next year, and the concept is already finished. I'll think seriously about that song next time."
The concept his mother had proposed wasn't a bad one, he had to admit. Turning the lives of great historical figures into songs sounded like it could be genuinely enjoyable work.
"Really? Then what's next year's album concept?"
Disappointed as she was, she could hardly force the issue. Park Jin-sook asked with a note of resignation, and Kim Se-jun wagged his index finger from side to side.
"That's still a secret. You'll hear it later. Knowing in advance would spoil the fun. Anyway — you two haven't had anything going on lately, have you?"
At his question, both their faces filled with pride.
"Nothing going on? People around us are hounding us for your autograph these days. Later on, I'll ask you for about fifty of them."
"Me too. Fifty."
Kim Chang-yong and Park Jin-sook. One well-raised son — they had no need for ten daughters. He was one of the hottest singers in the country, and whenever people found out he was theirs, the envy was enough to split a person's face in two. They were barely containing the grins that threatened to break out every time they ran into someone.
Looking at those two proud faces, Kim Se-jun beamed.
"Of course I'll do that for you."
"Right. You know Dae-seung, don't you? That guy asked for a whole five of them."
"...Uncle Dae-seung?"
At a completely unexpected name coming from his father's mouth, Kim Se-jun's eyes went round. Park Dae-seung — Kim Chang-yong's friend, a man Se-jun had always called uncle.
Huh. Uncle Dae-seung isn't the type.
Like his father, Park Dae-seung was a man of considerable reputation in the world of gugak. Unlike them, however, he had a stubborn, closed-off streak. He had always been a fierce nationalist, insisting that gugak was the one true music of Korea.
Before the regression, Park Dae-seung had held expectations of Se-jun every bit as high as his father's. That was precisely why Se-jun had been certain the man would hate him now.
"Yeah. Dae-seung thinks you're just something else. You know, after watching that performance you did in front of those Japanese, he was completely blown away. Said you showed them the spirit of Korea."
"I thought Uncle Dae-seung would hate me."
"Hate you? He likes you, actually. These days, thanks to you, a lot of kids want to learn gugak."
Ah...
An effect he had never anticipated at all. Children who had awakened to the charm of the gayageum by watching him — it had never once crossed his mind that those children might become new seeds supporting gugak for years to come.
"If you were thinking the gugak world would look down on you, put that thought away. Everyone's proud of you."
Kim Chang-yong's warm words. In that instant, a massive burden Kim Se-jun had been carrying melted quietly away.
After ringing in the new year with his family to the sound of the midnight bells, Kim Se-jun came back up to Seoul two days later. His mother had a few things to say about how quickly he was running off, but he couldn't afford to linger.
Today, there was a meeting scheduled about his first album.
He headed for the agency with his heart already racing, and when he stepped into the conference room, three familiar men were there to greet him. Lee Hae-jin and Ha Dong-jun. And Song Dae-jun.
After exchanging cheerful New Year's greetings with Lee Hae-jin and Ha Dong-jun, he approached Song Dae-jun.
"It's been a while."
"Yes. You've been well? Ah — Happy New Year."
Song Dae-jun. There had been some minor trouble between them in the past, but after Se-jun's help, they had been getting along well. It was a little burdensome, the way the man seemed to regard him as a benefactor — but only a little.
Song Dae-jun being here... does that mean he's producing this album of mine?
Well, not a bad thing. Song Dae-jun's skills were solid, and with that sense of indebtedness hanging over him, he would surely give it everything he had.
"Since everyone's here, let's get started. First, Se-jun — do you want to go with a full album this time, or an EP? I'll match whatever you want."
A full album and an EP. Full albums — commonly referred to as a first album, a second album, and so on — also served as a marker of a singer's output, long-term projects that required at least eight tracks. An EP, also called a mini album, typically held four or five songs, fewer than a full album.
Lee Hae-jin had asked just in case, but he was certain Kim Se-jun would want a full album. Given Se-jun's hunger for songs, it was the most natural inference in the world.
Kim Se-jun gave him an answer that ran directly against that expectation.
"I'd like to do an EP first this time."
"Huh? For real?"
Ha Dong-jun echoed the question in a startled voice, and Lee Hae-jin's expression turned intrigued.
"Weren't you thinking of a full album?"
"I was at first, but considering the timing, I think an EP is the right call."
The concept he had in mind wasn't a poor fit for a full album, exactly — but time was far too tight. Putting out a full album within the window he wanted was simply impossible, and this particular concept was one that could not afford to miss its moment.
And I have a concept in mind for a full album too. The full album could be produced later. Right now, timing was what mattered.
"Hmm. If that's how you see it, we won't oppose it. It's more common to put out an EP before a full album anyway. But what's this about timing being important?"
At Ha Dong-jun's question, Kim Se-jun opened his mouth with a slight smile.
"I'd like to release this album in spring."
He put a particular weight on the word.
"Spring?"
"Yes. When the cherry blossoms are in full bloom."
"Don't tell me—"
"Se-jun, that's not..."
Having read his thoughts, Ha Dong-jun and Song Dae-jun both grew grave.
Spring. Hell for singers. A season in which taking first place was considered impossible, no matter what you released. Countless artists had thrown themselves at it, suffered their frustration, and swallowed their tears.
Lee Hae-jin laced his fingers together and looked at Kim Se-jun.
"First I want to hear your thinking clearly. The reason you want to release in May is because of spring, right? You want to target the season?"
"Yes. That's right."
Whenever a new season approached, songs tailored to it came pouring out. Summer brought cool, bursting anthems. Autumn brought lonely, aching ballads. Winter brought songs aimed at Christmas — like the one that had overtaken Se-jun's own track to snatch back first place.
And then there was spring. A massive hit from a few years ago. One critic had described that song like this:
"You know that's an enormous challenge, right?"
"Yes. I know."
Kim Se-jun answered with complete seriousness, then went on.
"Originally I was going to prepare a four-seasons concept, putting the emotions of spring, summer, autumn, and winter into it. But rather than doing that, I thought it would be better to just focus on spring."
"Why spring, of all things. Why a season at all. Of course if you make it, a good song will come out — but honestly, that song is going to be talked about in Korea for another ten years."
At Ha Dong-jun's words, Kim Se-jun snorted inwardly.
Ten years? Please. Even twenty years later, the moment spring arrived, that song was still collecting its pension. People used to click their tongues and say it was worse than a zombie.
While Ha Dong-jun and Song Dae-jun looked thoroughly uncomfortable, Lee Hae-jin sank into thought. Kim Se-jun's proposal was, without question, a formidable challenge.
But I want to hear it...
The emotion of spring, played through gugak — the gayageum among it. He was genuinely curious what that would feel like. And then there was Kim Se-jun's ability, which had never once betrayed his expectations. Wasn't it worth trying, just once?
"Think you can pull it off?"
At Lee Hae-jin's question, Kim Se-jun's face lit up.
"Yes. Of course. Though I haven't written the songs yet."
"That's about four months. Time is tight. If we miss the window on this album, it's all for nothing."
"Yes. I'll finish it, one way or another."
The answer was full of conviction.
"Alright. Give it a shot. This time, Se-jun's concept is going with spring."
At Lee Hae-jin's words, Kim Se-jun clenched both fists under the table.
Alright. My turn to collect a pension.