The Art of the Tie-Up
“Better terms?”
“Yes. Would you like to take a look?”
Suyun dragged Hyun-ah along—who was still clinging to her side and chanting, “Let me tell you why Train Trail is so amazing!”—and finally made it to Manager Jung’s desk.
Written politely in accordance with Japanese business etiquette, the email, stripping away the various detailed clauses and royalty rates, summarized as follows:
Up to here, it's within the realm of common sense...
The first and second points were standard terms, and the third felt like a win-win. Group Sound would get paid while gaining exposure, and the production studio would get more promotion. But...
“Aaaagh!”
“What is it now?”
Hyun-ah shrieked the moment she saw the fourth clause. Suyun stared at her with a deadpan expression, but Hyun-ah paid her no mind. She grabbed Suyun by the shoulders and began to babble excitedly.
“We get to meet the creator of Train Trail! Do—do you have any idea what an incredible opportunity this is?!”
“Not really, no.”
“Ugh...”
Suyun twirled a strand of her hair. The creator of Train Trail would be a mangaka, but was meeting a manga artist really such a great opportunity? Then again, if she imagined herself getting a chance to meet David Gilmour... she could understand how Hyun-ah felt.
“How does this compare to B-2?”
After reviewing the terms briefly, Suyun looked away from the monitor and addressed Manager Jung. At her question, Manager Jung picked up a sheet of paper, glancing back and forth between it and the screen to compare the contracts.
“Without even needing to look at the fine print, the royalty rates themselves aren't drastically different! The key lies in clauses three and four!”
“Didn't the other side mention something similar?”
“Yes! An in-universe band... I think they did mention something like that, but that wasn't an official offer. It was just verbal!”
“Then we should treat it as non-existent.”
The rates were similar, but Red Rock had a slight edge. Furthermore, unlike B-2, who had only verbally discussed additional terms, Red Rock had explicitly written the collaborations into the contract.
Looking at it this way...
“We absolutely have to do Train Trail! Right?!”
“There really is no reason to choose Torikoi. But...”
Hyun-ah suddenly leaned in close. Suyun flinched slightly before speaking.
“Couldn't you have just said we should do Train Trail from the very beginning?”
“...Huh?”
Hyun-ah's face went blank. Suyun twirled her hair again and continued.
“In this case, things actually worked out better because we didn't bring it up beforehand. If we had agreed to do Train Trail two days ago, we wouldn't have received such a sweetened offer.”
“That... that's true, right?”
“But what if we had already made our decision and sent the email? You can take back words between friends, but you can't just retract an offer between corporations.”
“W-well...”
Had she not thought that far ahead? Hyun-ah's face was flushed with excitement, but the fierce spark in her eyes from when she was practically forcing Suyun to read Train Trail had completely vanished. Instead, she had reverted to her usual timid self, walking on eggshells.
“That's why I always tell you. If you really have something you want to say...”
Suyun was about to raise her voice as usual, but she stopped herself. Lecturing her now would just be more of the same nagging. Instead, she ran a hand through her hair and spoke in a calm, measured tone.
“Hold on. Come over here for a second.”
“Y-yes?”
Suyun grabbed Hyun-ah by the wrist, pulled her into the small practice room set up in the office, and shut the door. When she turned around, she noticed something odd. Hyun-ah was always a bit timid, but right now, she was practically trembling.
“Hey.”
“Y-yes?!”
“What's wrong with you all of a sudden? Are you feeling sick?”
“N-no! I-I'm fine...!”
“Really? Well... when we play as a band, we sometimes ad-lib, right? What do you think about in those moments?”
“Uh... so suddenly?”
“It's sudden, but answer me anyway.”
Hearing this, Hyun-ah let out a deep sigh, only to startle herself and quickly steal a glance at Suyun. Suyun stared back, wondering what on earth she was doing. Shrinking back slightly, Hyun-ah finally spoke.
“Uh... I just, you know, just do it...”
“Of course you do. But have you ever thought about this? What if, the moment you start to ad-lib, the rest of the band suddenly goes in a completely different direction? Your own playing would fall apart.”
“Oh...”
Hyun-ah's voice trailed off, and she fell silent, lost in thought. Suyun twirled her hair and continued.
“In my case, I play with trust. Because of all our practice, I know how the rest of the members will play. I have faith in that.”
“I... I think so too...”
“I don't know about the others, but I always say this, and I truly mean it. If there's something you guys need or want to do... I believe you'll speak up. That's why I always ask for your opinions. Because I trust that you'll share what's on your mind.”
Ever since her past life, Suyun had lived by this philosophy. Of course, some of the guys back then might have disagreed... but at least in the grand scheme of things, she took pride in never breaking that trust.
“The reason you took all these notes on Train Trail and came to show me is because of that trust. You believed that I wouldn't have made a final decision yet. You thought I'd be waiting for you. At least, that's how I see it.”
“...Yes.”
“But what if I had already made the decision? What if I had already sent the contract? Even if you knew it was your fault for being late, you'd still harbor a lingering feeling of, 'Still, isn't this a bit unfair?' And I'd be thinking, 'Why is she complaining now when she didn't say anything back then?' That's why speaking your mind is so important. To build trust, we need to exchange opinions more often and talk more.”
Humans are capable of distorting even the words spoken right in front of them. If even spoken words can be misunderstood, how much harder is it to comprehend what remains unsaid?
“So, always tell me. Whether it's this project, the next one, or anything else. If you don't speak up, I'll never know.”
Having finished her piece, Suyun looked at Hyun-ah. Since Hyun-ah was sitting with her head bowed, her expression was hidden, but her trembling shoulders felt different from her usual timid shaking. And that glint of light near her eyes...
Wait, did I mess up?
Should I not have said that to a Gen Z kid? Suyun scratched the back of her neck. They said people only nagged more as they got older, and she felt like she was proving that stereotype right. Yet, at the same time, she wondered why she was always so soft on Hyun-ah. If it had been Iseor, she would have just yelled at her from the start, beginning with, “What on earth are you doing?!”
Her thoughts drifted, winding their way to a completely different topic. Come to think of it, Iseor had eaten the snacks she bought and left in the fridge without asking. Her train of thought naturally concluded with a firm resolution to give Iseor a piece of her mind tonight...
The other members didn't have much to add. At most, Iseor had grumbled, “It's a bit of a shame about Torikoi, but oh well!”
And so, they sent a rejection email to B-2, and the contract with Red Rock was finalized.
“Th...”
“Hmm?”
“Thank... you...”
“For what?”
“Just... for everything...”
“Sure, whatever.”
Brushing off Hyun-ah's mysterious gratitude, a few days passed. The members of Group Sound headed to Animation Studio Red Rock. In an era of advanced civilization where AI wrote web novels and drew manga, they were bypassing electronic contracts to sign a physical paper agreement in person.
“I've never been to an animation studio before.”
“Isn't that true for most people? Who here would have been to one?”
“I... I have...”
“You have?”
Hyun-ah answered Seoha's question. While Seoha asked back in disbelief, Suyun looked up at the building. It was completely unremarkable, just a typical office building you could find anywhere in Japan. The only sign was a small aluminum plaque, about the size of a laptop, mounted on the first floor.
Animation Studio Red Rock
“Let's head inside!”
Manager Jung led the way with confidence, proving he had been here before. After taking the elevator up, they walked through a door with a small sign to find a standard office interior, where a receptionist was waiting for them.
“Hello! You must be Group Sound, correct?”
“Yes, that's us!”
“Right this way, please! Our producer and some other guests are waiting for you.”
“Other guests?”
Iseor asked. The receptionist only offered a faint smile and guided them toward the conference room. As Suyun walked, she stole glances into the open offices. Everyone was hunched over their desks, making the place look like a breeding ground for forward head posture.
“Hello~”
“Hello!”
“Hel—gasp.”
Hyun-ah froze the moment she peeked inside the conference room. Wondering what was wrong with her, Suyun stepped into the crowded room and began greeting people. She shook hands with the producer, then with the director...
“Hello! I am the creator of Train Trail, Ito Kazuyuki!”
“Ah, hello. I'm Ha Suyun, the leader and guitarist of Group Sound.”
“Hello~! I'm Sato Ai, the voice actress playing Arakai Rie in Train Trail!”
“Ah, hello...”
Though Suyun wondered why these people were even here, she finished exchanging greetings, shaking hands with the author and the voice actress. However, the introductions weren't over for everyone else. Especially not for Hyun-ah.
“A-Are you really Ito-san?”
“Yes, I am! Ah, are you by any chance Jung Hyun-ah-san?”
“Yes!! That's me!!”
“Ah! They told me there was a massive Train Trail fan in Group Sound, and it was you, Jung-san! It's a pleasure to meet you! I've heard a lot about you!”
“Y-you've heard about me?”
“Yes! A fan introduced you and Group Sound to me in a fan letter! When I listened to your music, it was absolutely amazing... I've become a fan of Group Sound myself!”
“Hieeeek...”
“Me too! I even subscribed to your premium channel!”
“Hueeeek!”
Watching Hyun-ah's eyes bulge in sheer shock, Suyun muttered to Seoha, “Keep an eye on her,” before heading over to the producer with Manager Jung.
“As for the contract terms... we will proceed along the lines we sent in the email.”
“Yes, understood!”
“I have one question.”
“Yes?”
The producer turned his attention from Manager Jung to Suyun. She asked the question she had prepared beforehand.
“Is there a specific vibe or genre you have in mind? If you have any preferences, we'll do our best to accommodate them.”
“Uh... to be honest, we don't know much about music.”
“I see.”
“Just make it good...”
Suyun twirled her hair. As always, it was “just make it good.” And as always, it was the most difficult request. People who said “just make it good” usually had their own preferences but simply didn't know how to articulate them.
It was like taking girls who said “I'll eat whatever” out for blood sausage soup three times in a row—eventually, they'd start telling you exactly what they actually wanted to eat. This was no different.
The only problem is, I can't do that here because they're the client...
“Even though we'll be the ones composing it, your input is still important.”
“Hmm... how about something trendy?”
“Trendy?”
“Yes. You know, the kind of vibe that blows up on TikTok or YouTube Shorts these days...”
Suyun twirled her hair. Anime music blowing up on those platforms? She made a mental note of it, filing it away in a corner of her brain.
The next day.
“Everyone, could you... spare some time for a moment?”
“Huh?”
It was after lunch. Suyun was in the living room, playing Cross Road Blues on her unplugged electric guitar, when she heard something so improbable she had to turn around. Hyun-ah was standing there, but the words that had just come out of her mouth were definitely not the kind of words Hyun-ah usually said.
“I think I misheard you. Could you say that one more time?”
“Could you... spare some time? There's something... I want to say...”
Hyun-ah repeated herself. Iseor, who had been munching on snacks at the table, widened her eyes. Seoha, who had been grumpily washing dishes after losing a bet, spun around, sending soap suds flying (some of which landed right on Suyun's head). Suyun almost dropped her guitar. Hyun-ah wanting to address the entire band was an unprecedented, historic event.
“W-what is it? Are you leaving the band?”
“Why would I leave the band...?”
“It's not that? Then what is it...”
If it's not that, then what on earth is this about? Iseor's gaze practically screamed the question at Suyun. While Seoha chimed in with, “Then what is it?” Hyun-ah went into her room and returned, dropping a stack of manga volumes onto the table with a thud. They were the very books Suyun had seen before.
“Wait, what is this?”
“The Train Trail... books.”
“I know that. But what are all these sticky notes?”
“I, well... I wanted to pitch Train Trail... to Suyun-nim...”
“I appreciate the effort, but you went about this completely the wrong way, Unni. There's nothing but guitars inside her head. Maybe if you made a fan comic of the Train Trail characters playing guitars, she'd read it.”
“What do you take me for?”
“Am I wrong?”
Suyun stared at Seoha, utterly dumbfounded. Meanwhile, Hyun-ah timidly raised her hand—even that gesture was remarkably on-brand—and spoke.
“We're doing Train Trail now...”
“Yeah.”
“Then... shouldn't we get to know Train Trail really well? Even if it's just an anime song, it's still based on the manga...”
“That's true... So you want us to read it?”
Iseor asked. But Hyun-ah shook her head and pulled out something else to show them. It was a map of what looked like Tokyo's 24 wards, covered in dense, detailed notes.
“A field trip... is the most effective way...”
“...You want to go on a pilgrimage?”
“A pilgrimage? Isn't that what Muslims do? Going to Mecca and bowing to the black stone...”
At Iseor's words, Suyun voiced her confusion. A pilgrimage? What holy land was she talking about? Did she want to visit Shinto shrines in Japan? As a Korean, shouldn't they avoid that kind of thing?
But the other three were staring at Suyun as if she was the one talking nonsense.