Advancement (1)
I stared quietly at the eight neatly aligned audio tracks filling the monitor screen.
The work on my first full-length album, which I'd been preparing, was finally done. The title track was, of course, On the Road—the song that had brought me to this place. The remaining tracks had been carefully selected as well.
"Hoo..."
I'd gotten exactly the result I wanted. All that remained was locking in a distributor so I could finally release my music to the world, yet somehow a hollow emptiness lingered in one corner of my heart.
Maybe I should take a little break.
Normally I would have dove straight into bed and grabbed my game console, but for some reason my hands refused to move. It was strange. Only a few months ago my dream had been to live as a perfect freeloader off Mom's money for the rest of my life. Yet now, after weeks of being cooped up in my room, the situation had become unbearably stifling.
Had the audition experience changed me? Maybe so. On top of that, living alone had made me talk to myself more and more—something I'd never done before.
This is dissonance. That's what this is.
I, Han Jiyoung, had finally realized it. The life of a shut-in freeloader no longer brought me any joy.
"I need to get out."
Not just to the convenience store downstairs—somewhere far. In both my past life and this one, I had always thrashed around inside a narrow well. But things were different now. Hadn't I sworn that one day I would tour the world and let people everywhere hear my songs? The urge to leave on a trip—to acclimate myself early, breathe unfamiliar air, and hunt for musical inspiration—surged up inside me.
Money? No problem. I opened my banking app on my phone. Ever since On the Road had reverse-run the charts, the monthly settlement amounts landing in my account had blown past anything I could have imagined.
"Where should I go..."
Just picturing it made a little tune bubble up unbidden. Still, playtime only felt right after the work was finished.
"Let's handle this first."
I compressed the files into a single archive and uploaded them to my mail draft. The recipient was Sound Pick, the undisputed number-one music distributor in Korea. Technically, one phone call to Kim Taesung would let me ride Luminous Entertainment's infrastructure and distribute everything with zero hassle. But I didn't want that. I wanted to go as far as I could on my own strength first.
I was flipping through the mail folder to give the proposal one last check when an unfamiliar message caught my eye.
"...Studio Iter?"
My fingers froze on the mouse. Anyone who liked animation even a little would know that name. As if bewitched, I clicked the message open and read it through. My lips trembled the entire time.
"Whoa..."
An involuntary gasp escaped me. Studio Iter's works were exported worldwide. Their music flowed through the earphones of tens of millions of people across the globe. The shortest, surest shortcut to the world tour I dreamed of had just dropped right at my feet.
Without a second thought I shoved the distribution proposal I'd been about to send to Sound Pick straight into the delete button. Handing songs over to a domestic distributor was no longer the issue.
I hit reply at once. I had to do this. Absolutely. This was the chance to carve my name into the hearts of people not just in Korea, but around the entire world. The moment I pressed send, the sunset outside my window looked unusually radiant.
Shibuya, Tokyo—the offices of Studio Iter, where the lights never went out even late into the night. Junior assistant director Sato Kenji was glaring at his monitor with bloodshot eyes. For three days straight, hitting the refresh button on the inbox dozens of times a day had become his main job.
"Still nothing, Sato-kun?"
The sharp voice from behind made Sato's shoulders flinch. It was Tanaka, the music director for the project. He chewed his nails anxiously as he stepped up beside Sato's monitor.
"...No, sir. Still no reply."
At Sato's answer, Director Tanaka clutched his head and let out a howl of despair.
"Aaaagh! This is driving me insane! The release schedule is right around the corner, and if we don't get the main theme recorded, all the post-production stops dead! What the hell is that Han Jiyoung kid even doing in Korea?!"
Sato wordlessly opened a Korean entertainment community tab. Running the posts through a translator only fanned his anxiety higher: "Han Jiyoung missing theory," "vanished after winning," "the eccentric antics of a rich kid who does music as a hobby"...
Sato carefully offered his opinion.
"From the Korean reactions, it looks like she cut off all public activity right after winning and completely dropped out of sight. Maybe... she's already signed with a major agency and is preparing some other huge project? Honestly, there are probably plenty of sweeter offers floating around inside Korea than ours."
At those words, Director Kawaguchi Shunsuke—who had been buried in a corner of the workroom—slowly opened his eyes.
"Wait. If you want to obtain a jewel, you have to pay the price in patience."
"But Director! The lyrics and the track are already perfect—they're just waiting for their owner!"
In truth, stress inside the studio had reached a boiling point. Kawaguchi's stubbornness had already rejected every top-tier Japanese singer. The song was ready, yet there was no one to sing it—a strange and precarious situation. Sato sighed and habitually hit refresh once more.
Ding.
"...It's here! We got a reply!"
Sato's near-scream brought the assistant directors who'd been sorting papers and Director Tanaka—who'd been clutching his head—springing up like coiled springs to crowd around the monitor. With trembling hands Sato clicked the message open.
"She's coming... to Tokyo herself?"
Music Director Tanaka's jaw dropped. Kawaguchi rose from his seat and let out a hearty laugh.
"See? I told you—you have to wait if you want the jewel."
He looked at Sato and gave instructions.
"Sato-kun, book the plane tickets yourself. Business class is a given, of course, and arrange the immigration process as a VIP protocol so it's as smooth as possible."
Kawaguchi continued in a tone as casual as if he were choosing today's lunch menu.
"Find her a five-star hotel. That young lady needs a good first impression of Japan if our work is going to go smoothly, doesn't she?"
Sato kept bowing as he scribbled notes into his pad.
"Yes, yes! Right away, Director."
"Ah, and when you go to the airport pickup, you go yourself. Do you speak any Korean?"
"...Only basic greetings, sir."
"Then hire an interpreter as well. Now hurry! We need every detail set before Ms. Han changes her mind."
Looking satisfied, Kawaguchi clapped Sato lightly on the shoulder and sauntered out.
"...Haa."
A deep sigh escaped Sato. His eyes felt strangely hot.
I definitely came here to learn directing, right? Why am I doing travel-agency work?
Flight reservations, hotel condition checks, protocol vehicle arrangements, interpreter interviews... This wasn't an assistant director's job—it was management or PR work. Inside he was weeping blood and wanted nothing more than to throw a resignation letter in their faces right then, yet Sato still reached for the mouse with trembling hands.
Still... it's Director Kawaguchi.
The pride of working under a master the whole world looked up to. Even if he was drowning in busywork, the moment he imagined his own name appearing in the ending credits when this project was complete, every complaint melted away like snow.
Incheon Airport Terminal 2. I sat by the window of the business lounge and took a sip of steaming coffee.
...Studio Iter is seriously for real.
Things had taken a strange turn from the moment I left the house. All I'd done was pack my passport and a few changes of clothes into a suitcase, yet at the appointed time a black luxury sedan was already waiting out front. A man who introduced himself as being from the country's top VIP protocol firm politely took my luggage, and the second I arrived at the airport a dedicated personal assistant attached herself to me. From check-in to baggage drop to security, I literally never lifted a finger. While I breezed through departure inspection via a private lane like it was a high-pass tollgate, the assistant quietly managed the necessary documents and guided my path.
I feel like I've become the chairman of some major conglomerate.
It felt oddly ticklish wondering why I was receiving this kind of luxury starting from the airport. At the same time, I felt down to my bones just how desperately they wanted my voice.
"Ms. Han Jiyoung, allow me to assist you with boarding."
Following the assistant's guidance, I boarded the plane. The seat was, of course, a business-class cabin that bordered on first class. Moments later the massive aircraft began rolling down the runway with a low vibration. As the altitude climbed, the airport lights outside the window shrank into vanishing dots. Below the plane that had risen above the clouds stretched a deep blue ocean and drifting banks of white.
Thump, thump.
A pleasant pulse beat in one corner of my chest. This was a leap. My first step out of the narrow landmass called Korea, toward a stage where my voice would ring out across the entire world. I was getting closer to my goal.