Lotus
A kid, huh. Going back to the past sure means you hear all kinds of things.
Kim Se-jun laughed inwardly at Song Dae-jun's words, as if he couldn't quite believe them. It was a clear snub, but Se-jun's experience sat as heavy as a mountain — he wasn't about to get riled up over every slight.
"I'll be seeing you around quite a bit. I look forward to working with you, Producer Song Dae-jun."
"Yeah. Sure..."
Se-jun offered a handshake with a smile, and Song Dae-jun, looking somewhat dazed, reluctantly put out his hand.
Does he have some kind of grudge against me?
Se-jun found the man's strangely hostile demeanor puzzling. This was definitely their first meeting today. They were going to be sharing the same company from now on — so why was he acting like this?
"You all keep chatting. I've got work, so I'll head up first. Se-jun, once you're done talking, look around the company a bit. I'll wrap things up quickly and finish showing you around."
"Yes, sir. Understood, Vice President."
"Have a good talk with Jin-ah and Dae-jun. Neither of them can quite get a handle on it right now, but they're both kids who used to write great songs."
Ha Dong-jun tapped Se-jun on the shoulder, turned on his heel, and left the studio. The moment he was gone, an awkward silence settled over the room.
"I heard from the CEO. He said you write songs well?"
Lee Jin-ah broke the tension with a warm, gentle question, her voice as kind as her expression.
"Not compared to you. That song you released last time — It Hurts. I was genuinely amazed when I heard it. You composed and wrote the lyrics yourself, right?"
"Oh my! You know that song? We barely even promoted it, so it got buried pretty quickly. I never thought anyone would know about my dark history."
Se-jun's words had clearly caught her off guard. Lee Jin-ah covered her mouth with her hand, startled. Even a well-known singer like her couldn't make every song a hit, and It Hurts, to be honest, had been close to a commercial failure.
"I happened to come across it, and it was really good. Isn't it a bit early to write it off as a dark history? I think if word of mouth catches on, it could even make a reverse run up the charts."
Lee Jin-ah's eyes sparkled, clearly grateful for the consolation.
"Thank you. You can drop the formalities. We're family at the same company — being so stiff is too distant, don't you think?"
Se-jun nodded at the softened look in her eyes and the warmer turn in her voice.
Lee Jin-ah doesn't seem to view my involvement negatively.
Like it or not, these were people he would have to stay close to for a while if he wanted to debut. If they were going to work together anyway, being on friendly terms couldn't hurt — and in that regard, he felt he would get along just fine with Lee Jin-ah going forward.
The problem is that guy.
Song Dae-jun was watching their conversation with a distinctly sour look. Se-jun's guess was that the man was thoroughly displeased about him inserting himself into the project.
At least it's not outright hatred, I suppose?
He looked dissatisfied, but since this was something CEO Lee Hae-jin and Vice President Ha Dong-jun had planned, he seemed to be swallowing it. Well, a producer at Ares Music should be able to separate the personal from the professional.
If he crushed him with skill, that would be the end of it. Looking at the man whose face was full of displeasure, Se-jun's eyes gleamed.
Even if you hate me, I'll make it so you have no choice but to say the songs I make are good.
"What did the Vice President tell you?"
"Just that the arrangement was giving you both a headache. That's about it."
"You heard right. Both Producer Song and I have directions in mind, but... aigoo..."
Lee Jin-ah, apparently finding it all so frustrating and hopeless, let out a deep sigh in the middle of her explanation. Song Dae-jun frowned at her.
"I'm just as frustrated, Jin-ah."
"So can't you just do it the way I want?"
"No. Absolutely not. That doesn't suit you."
"You're so stubborn!"
Lee Jin-ah pouted at his unyielding refusal, but Song Dae-jun only shook his head to the end. Se-jun couldn't make sense of any of it, and turned to her with a puzzled look.
"What's going on?"
"Oh — Producer, you'll have coffee, right? I'll explain things to Se-jun while I'm at it and bring some back."
"Yes. An iced Americano, please."
"Come on, Se-jun. I'll fill you in on the situation while we walk."
Lee Jin-ah caught him by the sleeve, and Se-jun, still not entirely sure what was happening, found himself being led out of the building. Warm sunlight poured down as they stepped outside. Shading her eyes against the glare with one hand, she began to explain.
"Producer Song and I have a difference of opinion. That's why the song work is going so slowly."
"Just so you don't get the wrong idea — it's not that he and I don't get along or anything. And I'm not trying to talk behind his back to you right now, either. You know what I mean, right?"
Se-jun nodded, and she smiled faintly before going on.
"The thing is, this isn't just any song, right? Since it's Bae Jin-goo's, I think the company wants us to play it safe."
"Ah, so that's why a producer was assigned from the start?"
Lee Jin-ah drew a circle in the air with her finger, signaling he had it right.
Ares Music was a place that respected its artists' wishes as much as possible. It was uncommon for a producer to be attached from the composition stage, but this case was different. The song belonged to Bae Jin-goo — a legendary veteran of the industry, a senior held in the highest regard. It wasn't that they didn't trust Lee Jin-ah. They had simply assigned the seasoned producer Song Dae-jun to her in the hope of making a more perfect track. That was Ares Music's true intention.
"But I see it differently. I respect and like Bae Jin-goo too, of course, but I don't want to compose while constantly worrying about that kind of thing. So I wanted to try something a little adventurous, and the producer says absolutely not. That's the difference."
"An adventurous attempt?"
"I want to turn the song into a dance track."
"What?"
The words burst out of Se-jun before he could stop them. Lee Jin-ah let out a small laugh.
"It doesn't suit me, right? Lee Jin-ah is a singer who's only ever done ballads. I wanted to break out of that. That kind of prejudice."
I can more or less see the situation.
From Lee Jin-ah's position, there were constraints on how the song could be made. From Song Dae-jun's, she was digging in her heels over something completely out of left field. Se-jun could sympathize with both of them, at least to a point. It wasn't the kind of disagreement where you could easily declare one side right and the other wrong.
"Then, Jin-ah."
"Yes?"
"What if it wasn't a dance track — but a remake you actually liked?"
She seemed to catch the intent behind the casual question, and a faint smile touched her lips.
"Oh. Are you going to try making one, Se-jun? Hmm..."
She fell into thought with a little smile in her eyes, and the thinking didn't end quickly. She was still turning it over when they reached the café.
"It's not an easy call. But if the song was genuinely good, I'd accept it."
Once their orders came out, she took a sip of her coffee and finally gave him her answer. Se-jun broke into a bright smile. It was more or less what he had expected. The Lotus she would sing in the future wasn't a dance track, after all. But her answer now was also a declaration of intent: if she liked the Lotus he made, she would sing it.
Their short walk over, they returned to the studio to find Song Dae-jun waiting for them, trailing a thick smell of cigarette smoke.
"Thanks."
"If you're grateful, then listen to my opinion."
"I already told you that's absolutely not happening. Jin-ah. It's too much of a gamble."
"You're so stubborn."
Song Dae-jun answered while sucking down his iced Americano, and Lee Jin-ah pouted at his unyielding tone, voicing her complaint all over again.
Lee Jin-ah is twenty-eight now, isn't she? She's cute in a way that doesn't match her age at all.
Amused by that cuteness, Se-jun let out a quiet laugh and took a step forward.
"Would it be all right if I listened to the song?"
"Oh? You want to? Producer, that's okay, right?"
"Yeah. Sure..."
Song Dae-jun still looked thoroughly displeased about Se-jun, but at Lee Jin-ah's request he nodded and clicked the mouse. A moment later, a song began to flow from the speakers connected to the computer.
Hmm...
Lee Jin-ah was looking at Se-jun with her eyes shining. He could read that gaze perfectly well — but if he was being honest, this wasn't it. It was fresh, certainly. The song itself wasn't bad, and if it landed, it might even have been a worthwhile attempt at transforming her image.
It just doesn't fit her at all.
The problem was that the track was wildly mismatched with Lee Jin-ah's image and atmosphere. Her greatest strength was her outstanding vocal ability, high notes included. This song, by contrast, didn't even need a high note in the bridge — the climax, where emotion was supposed to pour out. It was a track that couldn't make use of her strengths, packed with nothing but adventurous experiments.
If I were the producer, I wouldn't go with this either.
Se-jun shook his head, careful not to let it show. When the song ended, Lee Jin-ah was waiting for his words with her eyes full of expectation.
"What do you think?"
Her gaze was far too innocent for him to simply dump the truth on her, so he chose his words with care.
"The song is good. But I don't think we're at a stage where I can say anything definitive yet."
She looked a little disappointed, but she nodded, making an effort.
"Well, it's still just a simple melody with chords laid over it."
Even as she consoled herself, Se-jun shook his head inwardly. This wasn't the kind of thing that would change with a few revisions. And, quietly, he felt a sense of relief — the thought that his own song would shine all the brighter for it.
"Oh, Producer. You should play yours too. The song you composed."
Wait. Song Dae-jun made a song as well?
Se-jun was caught off guard. Lee Jin-ah grinned bashfully.
"The two of us should be collaborating, but instead we're each doing our own thing. We both insist our own song is better. Want to listen and judge for yourself, Se-jun? Whose is better."
At her words, Se-jun turned to look at Song Dae-jun — and found the man's gaze already on him. In that awkward exchange of looks, Song Dae-jun spoke in a stiff, reluctant voice.
"Want to hear it?"
He was, at least, someone who could separate the personal from the professional. Se-jun nodded at the offhand offer.
"Yes. I'd like to listen."
"Just a moment."
At Se-jun's answer, Song Dae-jun spun his chair around and rolled up to the computer. A few clicks of the mouse, and a song began to pour from the speakers.
The moment his own track started playing, Song Dae-jun's expression turned triumphant. Se-jun let out a small laugh at the man's confidence. No matter how well he'd made it, how good could it really be?
But Se-jun's thoughts stopped cold the instant a familiar intro reached his ears, and his face hardened in a heartbeat.
Wait...? It can't be.
Then came the verse. It wasn't a perfect match yet — but the melody and the chords were identical in structure to a song Se-jun knew all too well. The Lotus that Lee Jin-ah would sing in the future.
A hollow laugh escaped him, and Se-jun began to stare at Song Dae-jun in silence.
This song... you were the one who made it?