Chapter 56
Chapter 56
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 56
Chapter Title: Is the Writer Omnipotent?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Tap-tap-tap!
A steady rhythm of chopping on a cutting board echoed from the kitchen.
The sound woke Lee Hye-jeong, pulling her from bed.
She rubbed her tousled hair and forced her heavy eyelids open, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
‘Smells delicious….’
In the past, she’d been the first one up every morning, preparing breakfast.
But her routine had changed a few years ago.
Specifically, her weekends had.
It was all thanks to her son.
One day, he’d started making breakfast.
At first, she wondered if he’d taken some kind of medication.
Up until then, the only thing he’d ever cooked for her was half-burnt kimchi fried rice.
Yet suddenly, he was whipping up dishes you’d find at a traditional Korean restaurant.
And this after waking up at dawn for a workout.
She’d worried he might be sick.
The kid who used to sleep in every morning, needing her to drag him out of bed, was now up earlier than anyone, exercising and cooking.
On top of that, he’d quit his steady job to become a writer.
Her son, a novelist.
‘He’s just so unpredictable.’
Not that it was a bad thing.
Whatever he did, it didn’t change a thing.
He was still her handsome boy.
“I wonder what he made today.”
Best of all, having someone else prepare breakfast filled her with joy.
Cooking every morning drained her energy, and the constant smells dulled her appetite.
Sometimes, she just craved food made by someone else.
And when that someone was her son, how could she not be thrilled?
Especially since it was always delicious. Perfection.
With a happy heart, she stepped out of her room.
There he was, her son, bustling around the kitchen with a sturdy back, cooking away.
“Oh my.”
Her eyes landed on the spread on the dining table.
Especially the main dish.
“You’re up?”
“Yeah, son. Squid sundae?”
“You mentioned wanting some a while back.”
Come to think of it, she had.
About two weeks ago, there was a TV show featuring Gangwon Province specialties.
She’d casually commented on the squid sundae they showed.
“You remembered that?”
“I’m not sure if it tastes like the real deal from there.”
“Oh, my sweet boy. You’re amazing. Thank you~”
Lee Hye-jeong beamed, and Tae-seong smiled back.
Just then, the door to the master bedroom creaked open. Father Jeong Gi-yong shuffled out, scratching his belly.
“Yawn~ It’s the weekend, so breakfast is on Tae-seong, huh? Oh? Squid sundae.”
Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed one from the table with his bare hand and popped it in his mouth.
“Whoa—! My boy’s cooking is top-notch as always.”
“Hey! You’re eating it with your hands?!”
“Try it yourself. It’s incredible.”
“Oh! It really is.”
Lee Hye-jeong chewed on the piece her husband handed her, exclaiming in delight.
‘Some things never change.’
Watching them, Tae-seong recalled the first day he’d returned to this life.
His parents were exactly the same as back then, and a smile came naturally.
‘I should come by and cook more often.’
Since setting up his office, Tae-seong had been living in an officetel near it.
Still, he spent weekends at the family home.
Making breakfast for his parents had become part of his weekend routine.
“Alright, breakfast is ready. Dig in.”
“Sure~”
“Good work.”
As his parents settled at the table, Tae-seong served the rice and stew, finishing the setup.
* * *
Rest is important.
Even for Tae-seong, who’d lived countless lives, that held true.
Piling on too much work wore down body and mind without him realizing.
Push through in that state, and efficiency tanked.
Burnout was a real risk, too.
That’s why he prioritized daily workouts to keep his body sharp.
His mind, honed through repeated lives to a superhuman level, wouldn’t crack under this workload.
Even so, he made time for rest on weekends.
That rest meant family time.
Hanging out with his mom and dad, or taking short trips nearby.
“Have some fruit.”
After breakfast, the family gathered in the living room, watching TV.
He bit into the apple his mother offered, and sweet juice flooded his mouth.
“This apple’s great.”
“Right? A friend from the orchard sent them. Super sweet.”
“Apples are apples.”
“Oh, come on! Can’t you say anything nice?”
His mother scowled as his father casually snatched another apple.
Tae-seong chuckled and turned to the TV.
“Oh, right! I missed last week’s Mask Singer! Honey, put on Mask Singer!”
“Sure.”
As his father switched to the on-demand episode, Tae-seong grabbed another apple and asked,
“Mom likes Mask Singer, right?”
“It’s my one joy~ More fun than dramas for me.”
“It’s entertaining. Lots of old singers show up. And your mom loves music, so she guesses them right often.”
Mask Singer.
Contestants don masks and sing, judged purely on talent.
It unearthed hidden gems regularly.
Even non-singers appeared for the spectacle, appealing to all ages.
The mystery of guessing who was behind the mask added extra fun.
“I heard my friend’s daughter is on this week.”
“Her daughter?”
“Yeah. You know Aunt Su-kyeong? From when we lived in that apartment. Next door.”
He drew a blank.
No need to admit it, though.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Her daughter became a singer. An idol, they call it?”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. She was bragging nonstop about her appearance. Son, if you ever get the chance, you should do it too! Got it?”
“Come on, don’t push our busy boy. He’s swamped with work—why would he do a show like that?”
“Why not? Opportunities arise.”
“So you can brag to your friends again?”
“Hmph! Like you didn’t brag? ‘My son’s in a drama,’ telling the whole neighborhood…”
“Ahem!”
His father flushed and looked away, drawing laughter.
Tae-seong refocused on the TV.
* * *
A new week began.
Tae-seong drove not to the office, but to Gangnam.
He arrived at a recording studio there.
Choi Woo-jong was waiting as the navigation guided him in.
Stepping out, Choi approached with a smile and greeting.
“Welcome, Writer-nim! Or should I say Composer-nim?”
“Call me whatever’s comfortable. So, we’re recording here?”
“Yes, as I mentioned on the phone. It’s the top facility in the country. Owned by the composer of ‘Breakup,’ who uses it as his office too.”
“Ah, you two must be close? Lending out a studio like this.”
“Not really that close, actually.”
“Huh?”
Choi Woo-jong led the way, continuing.
“He heard your arrangement of ‘Breakup’ and kept saying he wanted to meet you. So, we set this up while we’re at it.”
“I see.”
“If he’s rude, I’ll step in! So…”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Huh?”
Choi looked puzzled.
Before Tae-seong could explain, the automatic door slid open.
A flashy mid-20s guy stepped out.
Snapback hat, bold printed clothes. He glanced between Choi and Tae-seong, then addressed Tae-seong.
“You’re the one who arranged it…?”
“Yes, Jeong Tae-seong. Thanks for lending the studio today.”
“Whoa!”
The Galaxy let a swear slip, startling Choi mid-reaction.
“I’ve been dying to meet you! The Galaxy… no, Lee Jun-seok! Dude, your arrangement gave me chills—total respect!”
Lee Jun-seok rapped out his words, leaving Choi frozen awkwardly.
Tae-seong just smiled and replied.
“Thanks for liking the arrangement. The original was so good, it made rearranging easy. And I appreciate you approving it for the service track without permission.”
“Whoa! You talk like a pro, Writer-nim! Wanna tour the studio?”
“Sure.”
Choi was stunned as The Galaxy personally guided them.
‘Whoa… The Galaxy, rumored to be a lone wolf who doesn’t care about anyone, acting this friendly?’
Knowing the industry’s view of him, Choi’s shock lingered.
As Tae-seong predicted, Choi didn’t get it.
If The Galaxy disliked the arrangement, he’d have blocked the service outright.
Approving meant he liked it.
Having heard the original, Tae-seong knew The Galaxy’s style.
‘Genius composer type. Strong personality, evident in his tracks.’
These types were endlessly kind to those they respected.
Rude to others, sure, but that was fine.
So unlike Choi, Tae-seong hadn’t worried.
Mid-tour and chat with Lee Jun-seok, Sia arrived with her manager.
“Sorry I’m late!!”
“Come on in.”
“Long time no see.”
“Oh, hi!”
With Sia here, everyone was present.
Tae-seong cut to the chase.
“I read the lyrics you sent.”
“Uh… what did you think?”
Tension radiated from her.
Her voice trembled.
“They were excellent. Looks like you watched the drama and read the original novel. Right?”
“Y-yes. To write lyrics, I needed to know the story inside out…”
“You did great. They fit the work perfectly. Though they felt a bit off from the melody.”
“Oh… yeah… I figured.”
Disappointment crossed Sia’s face.
Her first self-written lyrics—she was attached.
But mismatch meant no go.
“So, new lyrics then…”
“That’s why I tweaked the melody a bit.”
“Huh?”
“Whoa! Rearranging to fit the lyrics?”
“Yes. They were that good. Perfectly matched the story.”
“But usually, lyrics fit the music. Fitting music to lyrics—that’s overkill, no?”
“Not wrong. But I value both equally.”
Composers have styles.
Lee Jun-seok was bold, distinctive.
Tae-seong was more inclusive.
No right answer.
Lee never collabed, didn’t care how others worked.
He’d taught himself, risen alone.
What hooked him? The ‘Breakup’ arrangement.
Someone who rearranged another’s song like their own—he wanted to see that skill.
“Here’s the version rearranged for the lyrics.”
Tae-seong played the track from his phone.
Gentle music flowed.
Similar flow to the ‘Breakup’ arrangement.
Minimal instruments, spotlight on vocals.
‘Wow—Just listening makes loneliness ache.’
Imagining Sia’s voice over it gave him goosebumps.
Real talent.
‘Almost my level…’
As Lee, self-proclaimed genius, admitted near-equality—
The track shifted.
Loneliness gained vitality.
Sudden mood changes usually jarred.
Not this.
‘What? How? Mood changed completely, but no dissonance.’
At the end—
It conveyed parting from loneliness.
No lyrics, no voice.
Pure music evoking that—chills.
“Per… perfect…”
Lee clapped unconsciously, awed.
“Thank you. Sia, what do you think?”
“Wow… I love it!”
“Shall we start recording then?”
“Yes!”
And so, the real recording began.