Pre-Release Single "Suyeon, Dinner's Ready."
From last night, after the meeting wrapped up, the door to that room had stayed firmly shut. Hyein glanced worriedly at it. She knew her daughter had a habit of skipping meals and sleep whenever she got fixated on something—ever since that all-nighter incident before—but today felt extreme.
She hasn't collapsed, has she?
"Just a sec."
A response came just as the worry hit, and Hyein let out a sigh of relief before scooping out the rice.
By then, her daughter had emerged from the room, and Hyein nearly screamed internally. Those dark circles under her eyes were straight-up panda levels.
"Did you pull an all-nighter?!"
"Uh... yeah, I guess. What time is it now?"
"6:32 p.m."
"Ah..."
Suyeon stood there blankly for a moment before shuffling over and setting her chopsticks down. Hyein debated what to say, then decided on nothing. Well, she was young— one all-nighter wouldn't kill her...
"Dig in."
"Yeah, you too."
Their dinner greeting had become so routine it felt awkward without it now. Suyeon mechanically shoveled food into her mouth with her spoon, just like always. Watching her, Hyein spoke up.
"That schedule we talked about yesterday... you think it'll work out? Isn't it too much?"
"Hm..."
At that, Suyeon set her spoon down and spread her hand wide, folding fingers one by one. Hyein's heart warmed at the analog cuteness of it all, and her daughter tilted her head slightly.
"Doesn't seem too tough."
"Manager Go Kyung-min mentioned six months, but we don't have to stick to it that rigidly. You know Mom's the boss, right?"
Hyein said it to her daughter, who looked utterly exhausted. The company, the business—it was all for maximizing profits and growth, sure, but ultimately, it was to bridge the distance that had grown between them over the years. For her daughter. No point succeeding if it wrecked her happiness.
"No, it's fine. The schedule's a bit packed, but... nothing I can't handle."
"Alright..."
With that, Suyeon picked up her chopsticks again. Dinner ended in silence. As her daughter stood to put water in the coffee pot, Hyein suddenly got curious.
"So, the track you're working on now—is it one from your old stuff?"
"Nah. The ones I had prepped don't fit a pre-release single."
"Why not?"
Instead of answering, Suyeon dumped two Maxim coffee mixes in, stirred vigorously with the packet, tapped it a couple times, tossed it, and then spoke.
"Title tracks or pre-releases... people prefer stuff that's easy to listen to, straight-up mainstream."
Her daughter kept explaining. Unlike other countries that promote albums through lead singles without a strict "title" concept, Korea picks 1-2 tracks per album as titles and focuses on those. So titles have to chase mass appeal. The kind that makes you think, This band's/singer's/idol's track slaps—maybe check their other stuff? Which means the rest of the album can be freer. In other words, non-title tracks on this album weren't super commercial, per Suyeon.
"Tracks like that would just flop as a pre-release with zero buzz. No point. So I gotta make something new."
"Is that... okay? You think you can pull it off?"
"It's fine."
Suyeon gave a faint smile at her worry—small, but utterly free of doubt.
"I've got melodies sketched out from spare time... Pick one that fits the album, polish it, rearrange nicely. Easy."
She swept her hair up halfway, long strands cascading back to reveal her face clearly. Tired, a bit worn, but carrying the confidence of someone who'd gotten it done—or already had.
"Look forward to it. Even you'd loop it nonstop... the kind you'd listen to even if it wasn't by your daughter, Ha Suyeon. I'll play it for you then."
Her daughter muttered that and headed back to her room. Hyein sat dazed for a bit, then smiled warmly. Watching her grow was always a joy.
"Cut."
He raised his hand and spoke into the mic. The song stopped instantly. Silence hung for a moment, then his voice flowed through the speakers into the booth.
"I told you earlier. You're trying to sing too hard. Why keep cranking the volume?"
"No, but when you're singing..."
Iseo pushed back from inside the booth, but he cut her off, gripping the mic.
"Lemme explain why to dial it back. From the singer's side, sure... Woooahhh~~~~! You wanna belt it like that. But think about it. 'Right here——!! E—!! Standing—!!!' If you sing it like..."
His voice soared suddenly, clean and powerful. Everyone's faces lit up in awe.
But Myeongjeon wasn't satisfied.
"Fine once or twice, but would you wanna keep listening to a track where it's full-throttle emotion every time? Sure, sometimes you crave that, but not on streaming loops."
"Uh... yeah, fair."
"And we're emphasizing this is an upbeat song. Gotta feel like you're smiling. Get it? Volume down. Light smile vibe. Like chatting softly. Take it from the top."
"This sucks."
End of recording day one. Iseo flopped to the floor like a wet sponge, and he stepped right over her with a hearty stride.
"Ack!"
Ignoring her pained yelp, he poured decaf coffee.
"One day of vocals and you're tapped? Looks like three days minimum from progress."
"...For real?"
"Duh."
Iseo sighed like the world was ending. He glanced out the window—night had fallen hard, stars twinkling.
Recording wasn't easy. Voice rusty from break, hours just syncing tempo. Days perfecting via full-band runs. More days tracking instruments on that base. He'd suffered enough mind games to coast worry-free for three years. Midway scoldings deflated the kids; he'd coax 'em back. Weird playing? Holler. No artsy bullshit, but don't play too textbook—keep personality. Tweak arrangements on inspired whims, re-record. Push till they whined, "Why re-record? Can't we just go?"
Hyeona had even bolted from the booth in tears midway. Brutal.
Was this Brian Wilson's headspace...?
Not that insane—40 years tweaking an album. He hadn't hit Smile levels, or even Korea's "most ordinary" legend's five delays and 11 mixes per track. But damn if he didn't get the vibe.
Keyboard? Ten takes with part fixes and redos. Hell, when Hyeona fled, Iseo went after her: "Yeonsu, she'll cry more seeing you—just lemme go."
"Worth the grind, though, right?"
"Kinda... yeah..."
Hyeona mumbled from the corner, drilling her part solo. Worn face. Prime golden years for college post-high school, wasted on album grind—fair to feel robbed...
"Keys sound killer."
"...Y-you say that, then... we redid it one more time...!"
"What, inspiration hit—whaddya want? Anyway..."
He scratched his head. MV production locked, concept pitched recently. Shooting soon, outfits shipping this week for video/stages.
"This track... I really think we can expect big things."
Not his usual blues-scale chords—money chords, the hitmakers. ~3 minutes. Bass riff that hooks instantly, addictive. Great feedback all around. Not just friends Iseo, Seoha, Hyeona, or Hyein's staff...
"Yes, it is."
"Spot on. Time to make a splash."
Not just Taylor'd's Kim Cheol-yeon—professor Chae Hogun, session guitarist Im Junhong, ballad singer Juhyeon, radio DJ Choi Sookyeong, and tons more music folks. Universal praise.
"Little more grind. Wealth and fame await. Almost there."
"Kinda... materialistic... isn't it?"
He shot Hyeona a glare at that. She yelped "Eek!" and buried back into keys.
Anyway, it really was almost done.
"Ugh, so freaking boring. Nothing fun?"
Her friend didn't reply. Peeking over, she was doomscrolling Instagram reels—swipe past boring, 10-sec linger on fun ones.
"Dopamine addict bitch."
"Says you."
No comeback. She muttered "Fuck..." and opened YouTube. Insta tired, TikTok tired. YouTube different? Nah, YouTube tired too. Infinite loop of all three, killing time at the cafe—that was her.
"Shit, time's flying again."
"Then go study."
"As if~"
Her friend flipped her the bird right in her face. She swatted it; back it came. Bit it—"Crazy bitch!!"
Stares from cafe folks faded quick.
"Asshole."
Ignoring the mutter, she eyed YouTube home. Nothing to watch, nothing to do.
Music time.
Into YouTube Music, inertia-tap [Browse] to [Latest]. Same list as yesterday... wait, new name at the bottom.
"Yo, ever heard of Group Sound?"
"Kinda... rings a bell."
Friend sat up from Instagram sprawl on the cafe couch. She showed the screen.
"These girls... uh... that audition! Won the audition thingy. Rock band, school violence buzz, audition drama... right? Or nah?"
"School violence?"
What juicy drama. She fired up search: Group Sound school violence.
Boring results. Apology to friend, everyone forgave, false accusation, mutual fight, etc.
"Pfft, just them scrapping? Total snooze."
She clicked an article for faces anyway—and jolted.
"Holy fuck, she's gorgeous."
"What? Who—holy shit. Insane."
Cold vibe. Photo staring off into the distance. She glanced at the article pic, then straight to YouTube Music, hit play.
Rhythmic drums kicked in, bass riff followed—fingers auto-tapping the table. Song not even over, but she was already falling hard.