A Very Special Performance Evaluation (3)
I have one unbreakable routine before I start composing. I open Notepad and dump every negative emotion from that day onto the page. It's to keep myself from turning into a total menhera. Because when it comes to composing, I want to make bright songs.
But just now, I'd accidentally opened that ever-growing Notepad file. Right in front of Kang Saero.
I cleared my throat and slammed the window shut, but one look at her eyes told me everything.
She saw it.
My bad premonition was spot on. Kang Saero asked in a somewhat flustered voice,
"What the hell is this?"
"It's just a routine I do when writing lyrics. Don't worry about it."
"I think it needs a bit more explaining."
"It's like a ritual to purge negative emotions. I don't want any bad vibes seeping into my compositions."
"Hmmm...."
What kind of reaction was that? Don't guys like male menhera types have zero market demand?
But Kang Saero lifted the corners of her mouth in satisfaction and let out a strangely seductive hum.
"Anyway, you. Your mental health's really okay, right?"
"Totally fine."
"Good. Let's do this."
The conversation shifted to the track production. First up: the timeline.
I planned to wrap this up as fast as possible.
"Let's finish this in exactly two months."
"Huh? It's a first-year graduation project."
"It's a summer seasonal song, so we gotta have it done before summer hits."
It's spring now, and summer's just a few months away—time's tight.
"The song we're making is called Blue Lemon Sky. We can shorten it to Bles."
"Got it."
"You've heard it, so you know—it's the ultimate summer track."
"Yeah, it is."
Blue Lemon Sky—or Bles—is pure summer vibes. It's packed with refreshing summer feels, blending rock sounds, band elements, and powerful vocals into an addictive melody. It even has a touch of that Japanese youth anime opening energy, giving it a fresh twist for the masses.
Kang Saero's take was similar.
"It's easy to sing along to, and listening gets your energy up, you know? The song just feels so refreshing."
And summer songs have to drop in summer. Miss the season by even a little, and they lose all their punch.
"That's why we're rushing it. No one wants a cool summer banger in the chilly fall winds."
"Sounds good. Up to there, I'm on board. Next question: can this actually chart?"
Kang Saero crossed her arms and listened to my whole pitch. Then she suddenly called my name.
"But Kim Seryeon."
"Y-yeah?"
Not just "Seryeon," but my full name with the surname—she hit me with it so formally that I flinched hard. Pretty delinquent types like her are scary as hell.
Brushing off my reaction, she dropped another random bomb.
"You know both my parents worked in the industry, right?"
"Yeah."
"So I know how this stuff works."
Both her parents were entertainment pros. Mom was an ex-idol, Dad an actor. But the real point came next.
Kang Saero seemed skeptical about my plan's feasibility.
"You might not know this, but music charts aren't exactly fair. Agencies usually pay to manipulate them. Or they buy bot accounts to stream and fake the rankings."
If you need proof, just look at the entertainment industry's deep dark secrets: chart manipulation, streaming farms, paid online promo, viral marketing, you name it.
With everyone around her in the biz, she knew it all too well.
"And we don't have an agency. So...."
"Better not get your hopes up too high."
Her tone was like, don't be too crushed if it flops.
I locked eyes with her across the table once more. School uniform. Bobbed hair with those red-tinted eyes. A hint of fierceness. Pretty delinquent in a nutshell.
For a split second, some primal trauma made me want to look away, but I held firm and stared right back.
"I know that already."
In my first timeline, I was an amateur composer. And I know everything that's coming in the future.
So let's rethink this. In this era, is it impossible to chart without an agency? Even with my looks as a cheat code, solid connections, current fame, and future knowledge?
Oh, and one more thing.
"That's why I brought you on board."
Wisdom from that self-help hit Mundaine: sometimes, be brutally direct.
"I'm gonna use you."
Kang Saero—who'd been acting all smug till now—froze in genuine shock.
"M-me!? Or do you mean my parents?"
"Who knows? Whatever it takes to succeed."
"You're more famous than me right now. You do it!"
"Together, we'll be even more famous."
"Whoa...."
Kang Saero let out a dazed laugh, like she'd been hit with a fresh shock.
"You're insane. Totally insane, Kim Seryeon. I had no idea you were this crazy."
Her face was already beet red. She fanned herself, but it wasn't helping—so she grabbed her iced Americano cup from the table and pressed it to her cheek.
The plastic cup, beaded with cold droplets. Her soft cheek squished against it.
So that's what her bare face looks like up close. Flawless skin. Pale. White. Pretty. I'd assumed a delinquent like her caked on makeup, but maybe she's more goody-two-shoes than I thought.
Still flustered, Kang Saero muttered softly,
"You're really insane, you know that?"
I have no clue exactly what part shocked her. But something sure did.
She couldn't even string words together anymore.
"......Huuuuuh."
It took her a while to pull herself together and ask,
"Okay, first question. Why's the song called Bles?"
"Titles these days need to hit hard and stick."
"Hmph."
Blue Lemon Sky. Bles for short. I pulled it from an existing song that fit perfectly—no deep thought about Kang Saero. Someone else was meant to sing it originally. Well, not a person exactly. A vocal synth engine? Anyway, I glossed over it and moved on.
"First things first: let's shoot a promo video."
"A video?"
"I told you—I'd use you."
"Heehee."
Why's she giggling when I'm straight-up saying I'll exploit her? Sometimes I can't figure out what goes through her head.
A bit later, after school, we stood at a bench behind the school where cherry blossoms bloomed beautifully, camera in hand. The school building looked great, sunlight hit just right—famous photo spot among students.
We set up in a good spot, mounted the tripod, stepped back a few paces, and started rolling.
One, two, three!
"Hi everyone, it's Kim Seryeon."
"Kang Saero, first-year vocal major at Hanseong Arts High!"
Kang Saero flashed a pretty smile and waved at her future viewers. I smoothly delivered my prepared lines.
"This is the first video on the new channel, and from now on, I'll be posting composing diaries and such."
This was the debut upload for my new YouTube channel, Composer Kim Seryeon, and the composing diary for our upcoming summer track, Blue Lemon Sky.
No one batted an eye at us filming. This is an arts high, after all—video production is a full department here. Shooting vids is everyday stuff.
"What's this, Kang Saero?!"
"Huh? Kim Seryeon?"
What the—
Wait, no?
The hardcore shippers still lurking at school came charging over.
Shippers. That addictive content everyone—guys, girls, influencers—loves. Pairing up hot guys and girls, pushing their fantasies, going full simp. The world's full of 'em.
How do we handle this?
While I panicked, Kang Saero took charge decisively.
"Kim Seryeon! Run!"
She grabbed my sleeve and bolted. Luckily, the footage came out perfect, saved safe on my phone.
Across from school, in front of the convenience store. Having escaped, Kang Saero caught her breath, then volunteered to edit.
"I'll handle the editing. I know how."
"For real?"
Surprising. She seemed like the type who'd be allergic to computers—total influencer delinquent vibe.
"Why so shocked? I did it back in middle school student council."
She gestured confidently.
"I'll edit it nice, add subtitles, send it over. You upload to your channel. Got it?"
The video went up that evening.
New channel, new video. Only an hour since upload.
But the response was already scorching hot. Proving the buzz from Star's Birth, the comments were flooding in real-time.