Spring Rain
Geumsugangsan — a land of embroidered rivers and mountains.
That was the old name for Korea's natural beauty, a landscape so exquisite it seemed stitched from silk itself. For as long as anyone could remember, the country's wilderness had held the Korean heart in its grip. In the Joseon era, the fascination ran so deep that an entire literary movement — ganghogado, the Way of Rivers and Lakes — flourished around the praise of nature.
The Korean people had always taken the wilds as their companion, making art and leisure of the land itself.
And I'm supposed to make music without talking about nature?
Master Ureuk would weep in his grave.
"All right, let's go with that. What about the tracks, then? Can you have all four ready?"
Kim Se-jun shook his head at Lee Hae-jin's question.
"Preparing all four myself would be a stretch. Which is why I wanted to ask — would you consider writing one of them, sir?"
"Me?"
Lee Hae-jin's eyes widened. The proposal had clearly caught him off guard. Until now, Se-jun had composed every last track himself.
"Yes. I'd consider it an honor if you gave me a song."
The sly smile that accompanied the request drew a short laugh from Lee Hae-jin.
"I'll give it a shot. Spring, huh... That could actually be fun."
A keen spark of interest lit in Lee Hae-jin's gaze. Reclaiming the number-one spot — a feat everyone else had failed at. Trying his own hand at it might be entertaining.
"And Dae-jun — would you be able to write one as well?"
"Me too?"
"Yes. I'd like to focus on just two tracks myself."
A faint flush rose in Song Dae-jun's face. Being asked meant Se-jun trusted his ability.
Song Dae-jun's a solid talent.
He was the producer who had composed Lotus, the track that had claimed the number-one spot on the charts. There wasn't a shred of doubt about his skill.
"All right. I'll give it a try."
At Song Dae-jun's answer, Kim Se-jun's expression brightened. That left him with two tracks of his own. Even cut in half, the deadline was still brutally tight — but it was something.
"Mine and Dae-jun's will be b-sides, obviously. You'll write the title track?"
Kim Se-jun gave an embarrassed little laugh at Lee Hae-jin's question.
"Doesn't the best song become the title track, regardless of who wrote it?"
"Don't give me that. You don't mean a word of it."
Lee Hae-jin snorted, and Kim Se-jun didn't deny it. In his own mind, he already knew exactly which song would take the title.
"So the title track is still the duet with Ye-eun, like you mentioned before?"
Kim Se-jun scratched his cheek, looking awkward.
"Honestly, that was the original plan, but I've changed my mind. The song I've got in mind for the title works better as a solo than a duet."
"Hmm. So Ye-eun's out, then?"
"No. I still want to do a duet with her — just on the other track."
"That works."
Lee Hae-jin nodded, but Ha Dong-jun's expression had gone uneasy.
"Is something wrong?"
Kim Se-jun asked, and Ha Dong-jun waved it off as if it were nothing.
"Ah, no. Ye-eun must've overheard it somewhere. She found out she was supposed to duet with you on the title track of your next album, and she's been throwing herself into practice like crazy. I'm just a little worried she'll be disappointed. Not that there's much we can do about it."
"Hmm..."
Lee Hae-jin let out a low sound. Kim Se-jun spoke evenly.
"I'll talk to her after the meeting. I'll handle it."
"Yeah. She'll be in the practice room."
Once the meeting had wrapped and the coming schedule had been sketched out, Kim Se-jun headed for the practice room.
She's going to be disappointed.
From title track to a mere b-side. Any singer would feel the sting of that. And given how fragile Lee Ye-eun's nerves were, the blow would land even harder.
A little tense, Kim Se-jun stepped into the practice room — and Lee Ye-eun's singing settled softly against his ear.
God. That voice just melts you.
A husky timbre, not unlike his own, but layered with a sweetness unique to a woman's voice, so that the whole of it felt impossibly gentle.
"Ah — hello."
Noticing him, Lee Ye-eun stopped singing, turned, and bowed at the waist.
"It's been a while. How have you been?"
"I've been well. You too, oppa?"
Lee Ye-eun's voice was barely above a whisper. Kim Se-jun scratched his head.
What could he say that would hurt her the least? He turned it over and came up empty. Experience had taught him that in moments like this, being direct was kinder than dancing around it.
"Ye-eun."
"Yes, oppa?"
"About my album. I don't think you'll be able to be on the title track."
"I knew it... Who am I to even think of being on one of your songs..."
Wait, what?
She had clearly misunderstood. Kim Se-jun hurried on.
"No — you're still on the album. Just not the title track. You'll be on one of the b-sides."
"...Really?"
Lee Ye-eun lifted her head a fraction, looking up at him.
"Yeah. Really."
A small smile touched her lips, and she nodded.
"Then... that's okay..."
"You're fine with it not being the title track?"
Her reaction had been so much milder than he'd expected that he asked again, just to be sure. Her answer didn't change.
"Yes. Just being on one of your songs is more than enough."
I was worrying over nothing.
"Are you sure you're okay with it, oppa? With me being on it?"
Just as Kim Se-jun was letting out a breath of relief, she had turned the question back on him. There was something anxious in her face. Fragile as she was, she seemed to have talked herself into a needless worry — that he was going out of his way, putting himself out, just to help her.
Lee Ye-eun's eyes welled. The words had clearly struck deep.
"Thank you..."
"Don't thank me. When you make it big, you can call me up for a duet of your own."
"Me?"
"Yeah. You'll be writing songs and putting out albums someday too, right?"
"Ah — of course. Anytime you want, oppa. If I ever get that far."
A far-off future. Something she didn't even dare to dream of. Lee Ye-eun gave a small laugh, as if she thought he was teasing her.
Watching her, Kim Se-jun smiled to himself — a smile of quiet triumph.
Lee Ye-eun's songs. There wasn't just one or two he coveted. Even before the regression, how many of her tracks had he wanted to sing as a duet?
Ye-eun. No take-backs later.
In this life, a card laid is a card played.
Kim Se-jun's new album would hold four tracks in total. With Lee Hae-jin and Song Dae-jun each taking one, that left him with two of his own: the title track he'd already envisioned, and the duet with Lee Ye-eun.
"First — the title track's theme is flower viewing."
If it was spring, the subject was inevitable. Flower viewing. A pastime their ancestors had enjoyed for centuries.
"Flower viewing, the gugak way. Real scholar's leisure."
A pleased smile on his face, Kim Se-jun fired up Cbase. He already had a fair amount of the arrangement sketched out in his head — what sounds would fill the intro, the main melody, even the chord progression. Using a virtual instrument plugin, he dropped in the instruments he'd imagined.
"Hmm..."
Listening to the rough guide spilling from the speakers, he nodded along.
"Not bad..."
It wasn't bad. But something about it still felt lacking. Scratching his head, Kim Se-jun stood and headed outside. His feet carried him to the convenience store near his apartment.
Tonight was going to be another all-nighter. He could feel it.
A week later.
"Times like this, I miss being a nobody..."
Lee Joo-sung snorted at Kim Se-jun's groan. These days Se-jun was deep in composition — but his schedule was nowhere near idle enough to let him bury himself in it. The Korean Culture Promotion Agency. Thanks to his contract with them, he was out on a commercial shoot, and he'd been radiating reluctance the entire way here, pulled away from work he'd been absorbed in.
"You've worked hard."
Hong Seong-won approached to offer his thanks, and Kim Se-jun dipped his head.
"Thank you, sir."
"The last broadcast went over tremendously well. Everyone was in an uproar, I tell you. I've been enjoying life again thanks to you."
Hong Seong-won let out a hearty laugh, then added, more quietly,
"If there's ever anything I can do for you, you need only say the word. I'll help however I can, as far as my reach extends."
"Ah — thank you, sir."
Hong Seong-won patted him on the shoulder and moved off. Kim Se-jun turned the offer over in his mind. Hong Seong-won's help. He might not need it now — but there would come a time when that kind of influence would matter.
Once Hong Seong-won had gone, Kim Se-jun turned to Lee Joo-sung.
"Joo-sung."
"Yes, Hyung-nim."
"How's Ye-eun been lately?"
"Ah — honestly, I haven't seen her face in a while myself. She barely comes home. Pretty much living in the practice room."
"Mm."
There was worry in Lee Joo-sung's voice. Kim Se-jun nodded, looking quietly pleased, as if he'd expected as much, and held out a USB drive.
"Give this to Ye-eun. I was going to send it over messenger, but you're busy these days too. Use it as an excuse to go see her."
"Hyung-nim? What is this?"
Kim Se-jun's words had moved him deeply — and left him puzzled at the same time.
"The duet Ye-eun and I are doing. It's not finished — just a guide track — but it'll help her practice. Make it easier to find the emotional line, too."
He said it as if it were nothing. Lee Joo-sung was speechless. Did the man have two bodies? From what he'd heard, the title track wasn't even done yet. When had he found time to make this?
"What?"
"Hyung-nim. Aren't you pushing yourself too hard?"
Watching him stifle a long, exhausted yawn, Lee Joo-sung couldn't hide his concern. Kim Se-jun just laughed.
"For a celebrity, being tired is a good thing."
This industry was full of people who would have loved to be tired — and never got the chance, because nobody was paying attention. That he was tired at all, in a place like this, filled Kim Se-jun with nothing but joy.
"Let's go. No more schedule today, right?"
"No, Hyung-nim."
Kim Se-jun rolled his neck and started toward the car. Lee Joo-sung followed after him.
Lee Ye-eun turned the USB drive Lee Joo-sung had given her over in her hands, studying it closely. Kim Se-jun had sent it. A guide track, he'd said, for the duet they would be recording together.
What kind of song is it...?
It was only a guide — but it would be the first song with which she ever raised her voice to the world. With slender, jade-pale fingers, she connected the drive to her computer and opened the file inside.
A single file, two words on the label. Heart pounding, she hit play — and the music began.
A fine rain, falling like silk...
Then the gayageum — his signature — answering, string by slow string.
Rain against the eaves of a little pavilion.
And the strings, keeping time with the sky.
Wow...
Lee Ye-eun's mouth fell softly open. A sound of wonder slipped out of her as the gayageum's melody wove itself through the rain. It felt as if she were sitting in a small pavilion on some spring day, plucking the strings while a gentle rain came down. The tap of water on the eaves, and the gayageum answering in kind. The image formed in her mind of its own accord.
The sound of nature itself...
Then the geomungo joined, and the daegeum rose to support them both.
So this is what a genius sounds like...
The blend of tones wrapped around her ears so warmly that Lee Ye-eun could only shake her head. And in the same breath, a question surfaced.
"This isn't the title track?"
To her ear, it would have been no surprise at all if this had been the title. And yet Kim Se-jun had set it down as a simple b-side.
A fierce anticipation kindled in Lee Ye-eun's eyes. If a mere album track sounded like this...
She could not begin to imagine how beautiful the title song would be.