Chapter 306
Chapter 306
Rattle.
The inside of the moving vehicle was quiet.
Seated in the spacious van, the members each seemed occupied—some listening to music, others working on their smartphones.
Kim Rae-bin tried to recall today’s schedule and his detailed preparation notes, but he soon gave up. His thoughts simply refused to move in a productive direction.
And he felt a sense of guilt toward himself for that.
‘How negligent of me.’
In common terms, it could be defined as being 'utterly exhausted,' but to him, it felt like nothing but laziness.
‘…Everyone else is working so hard.’
Only then did the scene of the manager and the members discussing today’s itinerary flash through his mind.
—It’s a shoot at an outskirts studio, right?
—Yes, that’s correct.
—Then it’ll take quite a while to get there~
Indeed, it felt like a significant amount of time had passed since they boarded the car.
Perhaps it was because an aimless anxiety had been pacing back and forth in his mind the entire time, even though he hadn't invited it.
The moments when he had to stay still were the hardest.
In the past, times like these would fly by as he recorded various plans or musical inspirations that suddenly struck him.
Kim Rae-bin turned his head, trying to escape the memories of failure that were replaying once again.
A flash of blue caught his eye.
‘Blue?’
Looking out the window for the first time in half an hour, he saw they were on a major road flanked by mountains.
The van was… driving on a highway.
“…?”
They said they were going to the outskirts, but wouldn't entering a highway like this mean their destination was in a completely different region?
Kim Rae-bin didn't have a license. However, based on his memories of traveling for regional events, a reasonable question occurred to him, but he quickly suppressed it.
I’m in no position to ask questions.
Telling himself to at least work hard as instructed, Kim Rae-bin stiffened silently in his seat, swept away by the predictions and worries that continued to surface of their own accord.
Park Moon-dae, who was sitting next to him, caught a glimpse of his state before turning his head back.
‘He hasn’t noticed.’
A little while later.
“Oh, we’re here.”
The members began to climb out of the stopped car. Kim Rae-bin followed them out of habit but soon hesitated.
The place they had stepped out into was halfway up a mountain on the side of the road.
The only thing there was a single, rustic old house, which appeared to be their destination.
‘Is it a nature-friendly concept…?’
And before Kim Rae-bin could blame himself again for his lack of preparation, the manager climbed back into the driver's seat and gave the members a nod.
“Well then, I’ll be waiting down below.”
“Yes! We’ll contact you later!”
“…??”
This, too, was quite strange.
‘Is he not accompanying us during the shoot?’
Leaving them to handle the work at the site on their own was a first since TeSTAR’s dedicated team had been established! In this unfamiliar situation, Kim Rae-bin momentarily forgot his sense of helplessness and looked around.
A cool breeze blew through the autumn mountains, which were beautifully dappled with changing leaves.
As if a tight knot had been loosened, the wind seemed to blow right through his heart.
‘I didn’t know there were mountains like this in Seoul.’
He reflected on his narrow knowledge and prejudices. Was this not a magnificent landscape, looking like one of the ridges of the Taebaek Mountains in Gangwon-do where he used to live?
Just then, a road sign caught his eye as he turned his head.
[Seoraksan ↑ 32m]
“……??”
Kim Rae-bin fell into a state of confusion.
Seoraksan was… in Gangwon-do.
In other words, this wasn't the outskirts of Seoul… it was actually Gangwon-do!
At this point, even someone steeped in self-reproach couldn't help but speak up.
“I-I apologize, but I would like to inquire if there might have been an error in setting the destination!”
The members turned to look at him at his panicked shout.
“Why?”
“This does not appear to be the outskirts of Seoul, but rather deep in the mountains of Gangwon-do!”
“That’s right.”
“Pardon?”
Ryu Cheong-woo answered gently.
“This is the right destination, Rae-bin.”
“…????”
Kim Rae-bin fell into further confusion. Only then did Park Moon-dae, who had sent the manager’s car away, turn back to look at him.
His respected hyung was smiling.
“The shoot….”
“We didn’t come here for a shoot.”
“Then…?”
“We just came to the mountains. To do a bit of self-improvement and cultivation.”
Park Moon-dae answered quickly as if he didn't even want to say the words out loud, but he gave a slight smile at the end.
“This is a composition camp.”
Kim Rae-bin’s jaw dropped.
*
Stepping inside the quaint brick cabin, it looked like a cozy mountain retreat, save for a single, unnaturally modern TV.
However, Kim Rae-bin remained standing dazed in the middle of the living room covered in floral wallpaper, still unable to wrap his head around the situation.
“Kim Rae-bin, sit down!”
“Wow~ it really feels like we’re on an MT. Right? The budget feels exactly like one, too.”
“D-do you want some fruit?”
By the time he snapped out of it, he was sitting on the floorboards that were beginning to warm up, holding a slice of pear in his hand.
“…?”
What on earth was happening? Without even properly noticing that everyone except him was acting perfectly natural, Kim Rae-bin fell into deep thought, analyzing Park Moon-dae’s words.
…A composition camp.
‘He clearly seemed displeased with my continued attempts at composing….’
Did he mean he would check the results until they were done properly because he was so frustrated? He felt a momentary surge of fear, but perhaps this was what he had been hoping for.
‘If I continue to receive Hyung’s feedback and refine it, I might be able to write good songs like before.’
It might be extremely painful, but instead, his heart grew impatient.
He wanted to start writing a song right now, get evaluated immediately, escape this current state of helplessness, and return to how he was before….
So, as soon as Park Moon-dae, who had gone to the kitchen, entered the living room, Kim Rae-bin shouted out.
“Excuse me, may I ask what exactly you mean by a ‘composition camp’?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
Park Moon-dae pulled some equipment out of a bag. It was his familiar laptop.
Kim Rae-bin felt like he was going to go stiff with tension, but he quickly reached out his hands to receive it.
Thud.
A heavy weight, focused more on performance than portability, settled into his hands.
He spoke in a trembling voice.
“Then… if I write a song starting now, will the others provide feedback….”
“You’re not the only one doing it.”
“Pardon?”
Without stopping, Park Moon-dae pulled a brand-new laptop out of the bag.
“Oh, is this a Moon-dae flex?”
“I’ll take the red one! REDMAN~!”
He distributed them one by one to the people reaching out.
“Everyone is going to compose something on their own. And negative feedback is forbidden.”
“…!”
“During the camp, you can’t receive feedback from the outside either. I didn't install PC KakaoTalk. Emails are forbidden.”
He was nothing short of a tyrant, but Kim Rae-bin couldn't even think of a way to argue.
Finally, Park Moon-dae pulled out his own laptop and opened it on a table, his back to the TV.
Click.
Reflexively, Kim Rae-bin followed suit and opened his laptop.
Seeing his program appear on the screen exactly as he had left it last time, he finally asked in a slightly trembling voice.
“Then, what kind of song should I….”
Cha Yu-jin cut in.
“There’s no purpose!”
“…!”
“Moon-dae said it. It’s a camp.”
Bae Se-jin finished the thought calmly.
“We’re just making them.”
Being holed up in a secluded mountain cabin for three days and two nights was approved with even more enthusiastic support than I expected.
‘…I didn’t expect the cabin to look this much like a regular family home, though.’
I spotted some ginseng wine sitting on the veranda and my eyes twitched, but I held it in.
Keun Se-jin and Ryu Cheong-woo had managed to find a cabin that looked exactly like a relative’s house in the countryside.
‘Maybe I should have left it to Bae Se-jin.’
Just then, Bae Se-jin spoke up.
“…The atmosphere here is cozy.”
“I-I agree.”
I take it back. I should have done it myself.
But since planning was my responsibility, there was no helping it. It had been a while since I tried to do something this unproductive well, so there were some growing pains.
I looked at Kim Rae-bin.
The kid was looking back and forth between his laptop and the others with a face that said he didn't know what to do with himself.
Well, that made sense. If someone suddenly told you to compose whatever you wanted on your own, that would be the reaction.
That’s why I had prepared a few candidate themes for composition.
“I’ve been thinking about what kind of themes we could each pick… to make it fun.”
I turned my head and switched on the TV. WeTube was connected via the smart TV, the only modern thing in this house.
There were a few conditions for selecting the composition themes.
First.
—It must not be TeSTAR’s work.
Right now, if there was any element that could affect TeSTAR’s career, Kim Rae-bin was in a state where he would worry about it, even if there was no feedback, by imagining hypothetical reactions.
‘It has to be a pure hobby.’
In the same vein, second.
—It must not be TeSTAR’s work in the future, either.
In short, I meant to give him no room for useless thoughts by ensuring there was no possibility of it ever being officially linked to us.
Of course, the theme had to be something that wouldn't cause anxiety—something that wouldn't cause trouble even if it were somehow made public.
‘That narrows the scope dramatically.’
And finally.
The most important point.
—It has to be something that piques interest.
Ever since the second team battle in Aju-sa, this guy’s taste had been clear.
‘Inspiration.’
Something he would want to turn into a song. So, the first theme I picked was this.
I operated the WeTube with the remote.
After logging in, I clicked on a playlist.
Electronic sounds, 8-bit noises, and text appearing on a black screen.
[Welcome to SECTION 127]
[!wARinG! ※L21%]
“It’s the boss theme BGM for the sequel to the sequel of Section 127.”
“Ooh~”
It was the sequel to Section 127, the well-made game we had collaborated with early in our debut.
‘This can absolutely never be used for work.’
Because of copyright.
And there was no chance of this copyright issue being resolved in the future. They had wrapped it up with a clean ending and moved on. Everyone knew that doing it again would be overdoing it.
‘But it’s fun.’
Because….
“I heard that the bosses in the second game were actually based on the tutorial members from the first game that we collaborated with.”
Because of this.
Connection and creativity.
‘I think they said something about them being grudges from a parallel world.’
Anyway, what was certain was that it was a choice that brought back memories of past work without any of the pressure.
[Sold OUT - II8: BGM]
On the screen, the sound of the first boss, based on the character ‘B11’ that I had played in the trailer, was just starting to play.
“How about we each try arranging the BGM of the character we played however we want?”
“Oh, that’s interesting! Moon-dae, you’re like a recreation instructor. Wow~”
Look at this guy making a fuss when he heard the whole briefing yesterday and voted unanimously for it.
However, this structure itself was necessary. A structure where everyone attempted to compose.
It should have been like this from the start.
‘I pushed too much of the burden onto Kim Rae-bin.’
I don't sing the entire first verse by myself just because I have the highest vocal stats among us, do I?
It should have been the same within producing.
When it came to the music tracks, I shouldn't have just given feedback; I should have participated more actively in the production itself and improved my proficiency, but I had put it off.
Because Kim Rae-bin was so good at it.
‘The songs are the most important part, so I shouldn't have done that.’
I shouldn't have let Kim Rae-bin hear things like he was the sole identity of TeSTAR’s music in the first place.
I should have personally handled it at least once, beyond just setting the concept and genre framework.
I thought to myself after checking the composition program installed on my laptop.
‘I hope this performance has the effect of easing some of that pressure.’
Right. Anyway, I should check his reaction first.
I looked up to check on Kim Rae-bin and opened my mouth.
“And next is….”
Actually, there was no need for a 'next.'
I closed my mouth. Kim Rae-bin was staring intently at the video on the smart TV.