Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: This Life is Space Star 35
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When I suggested working with a source that everyone else had given up on, the reactions from my younger members were split right down the middle.
“Really, can we pull this off? Don’t bail later, okay? Let’s just think realistically and start with something easier.”
New Black’s main vocalist, the one in charge of reality checks, was skeptical.
“I’m pretty worried about it, but if you say you’re doing it, hyung, I’m in.”
Our main dancer gave a supportive smile tinged with concern.
Junghyun just shrugged like it was up to me.
The maknae was munching on a pickle, proudly flashing his thick wallet.
“Do whatever you want. Your heart’s what matters most. I don’t know jack about composing, so I’ll just treat you guys to snacks instead.”
The vote came out 3 in favor, 1 hold, 1 against.
And just like that, we settled our opinions on the debut track.
Ri-hyuk didn’t seem thrilled.
“Majority rules, so I’ll go along, but can we really do this? Objectively, the difficulty’s way too high.”
“Hyung, didn’t you say the exact same thing during year-end evaluations?”
The maknae jumped in.
“Back then, Woojoo hyung threw out an idea, and you shot it down saying there wasn’t time and it’d be too hard realistically.”
“You’re really no help at all. Whose side are you on?”
“Obviously the composer who’ll give me the good parts.”
The maknae fed me a pickle with a cheeky grin, and Ri-hyuk clicked his tongue in disbelief.
That’s when Bijoo spoke up, like something had just clicked.
“Come to think of it, I was curious during year-end evals too. Hyung, how do you compose or arrange?”
“Yeah, me too.”
“It was super weird back then. You suddenly said you’d finish by tomorrow, and boom—next morning, full arrangement done.”
I dipped a slice of pizza in sauce and answered.
“Finishing early was thanks to Executive Director Jo’s help. If it’d been just me, the computer work would’ve taken way longer.”
“So how’d you do the arrangement without a machine?”
“By hand. Rough sheet music.”
The members stared at me like I was from another planet.
“By hand?”
“Yeah.”
“Where’d you even live? 19th-century Europe?”
“I did it in the military like that. Couldn’t install Logic or Pro Tools on the unit computer. Hands were all I had.”
Mentioning the military seemed to make it click for them.
What can I say.
It’s like an unknown world to them—they’d probably buy it even if I said I was raising combat boars in the barracks.
“So how do you work, hyung?”
Junghyun asked.
“We need to know so we can figure out how to help.”
“Oh, my process.”
I recalled how I usually made music.
Building a stage in my head and working from there.
But explaining that would probably get me even weirder looks.
“I’ll say this upfront: don’t stare at me like I’m a freak after. I know I’m a bit unusual.”
“Just spill it, ajusshi. What’s left to shock us?”
“Well… it’s like this.”
I set down my pizza and said,
“Everybody close your eyes.”
They all shut their eyes on cue. Meanwhile, the maknae peeked and swiped a slice Ri-hyuk had saved.
Holding back a laugh, I continued.
“Eyes closed? Now picture a familiar space. Something big. Your school auditorium works, or the music show stage we performed on.”
Their eyelids fluttered as eyeballs darted beneath.
“Good. Now in that state, set up a session on that stage—put instruments there. Guitar, bass, keys, sax, cello. Drums are just the kit—no other percussion yet.”
“Hyung, I forgot from the middle.”
“I can’t even remember. Hey, Wang Ji-ho, got it?”
“……I kinda did it roughly.”
Ji-ho, focused on sneaking pizza, barely responded. Only Junghyun seemed to half-follow.
“If you made it this far, you’re almost there. Next is easy. Put our five members up one by one and work. Imagine everyone singing. Layer melodies. Add instruments.”
“…….”
“Repeat till it clicks. That’s how I did the year-end arrangement—all in my head.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
They opened their eyes one by one.
At first like adjusting to light, then staring at me weirdly.
“Told you it’d sound strange.”
“……It actually works, hyung? Running instruments in your head?”
“How else’d I arrange in a day?”
Half-doubting faces all around.
Even back at TJ Ent., the TNT kids reacted the same when I told them.
‘That makes sense, hyung?’
Staring like I was an alien. Same vibe now.
Amazement mixed with exhaustion in their eyes.
“…….”
They all zoned out staring at me.
How much time passed.
Ri-hyuk broke the silence.
“What the heck. Where’s my pizza?”
* * *
First day in the studio wrapped, and we slipped back into routine.
Events, practice, lessons—now plus music work.
After belting Something with senior Jang Sowon at a local gig and heading back, it’d be group PT, vocals, dance training, language classes.
Once done, Junghyun and I headed to the studio instead of dorms, pulling all-nighters unlike the others.
Mostly technical stuff.
Debating how to refine the melody.
Concept was locked.
Our B-side concept: summer seasonal track.
Something heralded spring in style, so let’s make a summer banger for debut—that was the pitch.
Of course, that’s the boardroom version.
The real secret among us: ‘Summer, so summer song? Sure.’
Cool, refreshing summer vibe.
Junghyun and I kept tweaking Untitled’s melody to fit.
Simple enough.
Initially puzzled how to tweak it, but a few mental runs made it easy.
Not ‘cause my talent’s top-tier.
I couldn’t preserve the original’s subtle nuances like pros, so that made it doable.
Tried nailing the feel at first—failed.
So we ditched subtlety, remade from the beat.
Leaned on connections too.
Consulted senior Jang Sowon at events, got feedback from Executive Director Jo during lessons, chatted with company A&R and linked composers on breaks.
Progress was smooth.
“Where to reference instruments? Wanna polish the sound classy.”
“Scour Billboard top 100, easy.”
Top-line melody backed by US trends.
“This time, Junghyun, you try the intro?”
“Me?”
“You’ve got rhythm—nail the banding and attack points. Big impact. B-part suits Bijoo’s soft tone.”
“I think you’d do it better, hyung.”
Part talks led to member strengths/weaknesses.
“What about Ri-hyuk?”
“His vocal balance is solid—fits anywhere.”
“True. Wait for choreo. Put him where dance is light.”
Ri-hyuk would’ve blushed beet-red overhearing.
We progressed fast—even divvying parts.
That’s when trouble hit.
“Hey, Junghyun.”
“Yeah.”
“Can you picture this in your head?”
“……You mean that freaky method only you can do?”
“Nah, not that.”
I asked.
“Picture performing this on stage—in your head?”
“Uh… hold on.”
Eyes shut, ten seconds of thought, then open.
“Nope.”
“See? Doesn’t work.”
The issue: song identity.
Work going great, but it never felt like ‘our song.’
No matter the title, no New Black vibe.
Like polishing a gem perfectly but clueless what to make—necklace? Ring?
“What’s the problem, hyung?”
“We never considered our identity while making it.”
“Identity?”
“Something was Jang Sowon’s. This is ours. Needs that ‘New Black’ feel… it’s too bland.”
New Black’s identity—never crossed our minds till now.
What music do we want?
What emotions, codes to convey?
Focused solely on killer sound, ignored who we are, how to infuse us.
“Hmm…….”
Junghyun and I pondered silently in the studio.
His grip trainer squeaked, my keys clacked—dissonant mess.
Motion mimicry fingers lagged brain signals, mangling Rachmaninoff.
Like my head.
Time ticked. Junghyun ditched gripper for floor push-ups, then idea.
“Hyung, how ‘bout focusing on what we love?”
“Loves, huh. Sounds good.”
“What do you love?”
“Me? Number one: grandma. Two: money.”
“Uh… neither screams ‘our song.’ Rap could work, though.”
“Yo, what I love’s two things: HalMoney and Money. Like that?”
Lame rap cracks up the rapper.
But zeroing on loves had merit.
Ties to who we are.
“Gotta think what kinda singers we are. Means knowing ourselves.”
“Honestly, no clue. Team color? Us?”
“Time to find it.”
Scratching his stubble, he bit his lip.
Stopped push-ups, stood.
“Gotta talk with the guys. It’s our team color.”
“Yeah. After broadcast, chat. They’re coming soon?”
“Bit longer. Bijoo’s making ‘em redo practice—scheduling mismatch.”
Studio clock hit 10 PM.
Friday night.
Ha Seung-ju’s Music Cafe aired tonight.
* * *
11 PM.
30 minutes to Music Cafe air, studio buzzing with all five after ages.
Laptop on PBS channel, snack bags piled mountain-high on table.
“Hyung, can I just sip the beer?”
Maknae eyed it greedily, but Junghyun shook head.
“Nope.”
“Only one in school who hasn’t tried booze. Other group kids say hyungs/noonas let ‘em sip. Even Gil Chae-kyung did.”
“You tryna booze as a minor?”
Ri-hyuk, perched on sofa edge, crunched sweet potato sticks.
“And quit dropping crumbs.”
“Yes, sir.”
Maknae grinned, deliberately rubbing crumb hands.
“…….”
Sweet potato stick nailed his face.
I’d been deep in work.
Unconsciously beat-matching their bickering rhythm.
“Hyung, have one.”
Perfect apple slice offered. Turn—tray of peels, Bijoo.
“Thanks.”
“Mom says apples best when tired. Composing must’ve been rough—good job.”
“You’re the only one, Bijoo.”
Mid-munch, Junghyun set dried squid down, stuck out huge hand.
“I worked hard on composing too.”
“Here.”
“Ah, not the browned one. No clean one like Woojoo hyung’s?”
Bijoo smiles at same-age pal.
Nah, just lips.
Junghyun eyes peeler in his hand, face—clears throat.
“Man, that apple looks tasty.”
Bijoo turns to me.
“Talked to grandma?”
“She’s probably parked in front of TV. Wanna say hi?”
Hit shortcut 1, switched to video call.
Members sizing my head on screen slink behind me.
Kim Deok-soon Lady appears.
-Whoa, scared me! What’s this? Why your face?
Laughter erupts; I cringe.
“First video call in ages.”
-Then warn me first!
“Sorry. My apologies, Madam Kim Deok-soon.”
Grinning, introduced members.
“Grandma remembers our kids, right? Met December last year. Watching Music Cafe live with ‘em.”
-Oh yeah. Seeing faces cheers me up.
Wrinkles eased from my sight to beaming at them.
What. Why.
I’m the grandson, yet she likes them more.
“Hello!”
Her face brightens more at greetings.
-My, so pretty.
“Grandma. Grandson’s me. Focus here.”
-Saw your mug daily in this dump. Guy’s so petty—if I favor someone, boom, ‘Granny, I’m jealous.’
“……Grandma, they’re laughing at me.”
Ri-hyuk and Ji-ho stifle giggles. My pain that fun?
But I didn’t mind.
Weird personality.
Her salty, curse-laced dialect soothed me.
We chatted till broadcast.
Subtly flexed getting my own studio—no praise.
Just “don’t be a burden.”
Finally, laptop TV screen top-right: ‘Ha Seung-ju’s Music Cafe’ logo.
“Grandma, hanging up. Call after.”
-Channel 7? Small stuff’s blurry lately.
“Yeah, PBS 7.”
“Hey, Woojoo. No slip-ups this time? Like that weird bread last….”
“Huh? Can’t hear. Love you, grandma.”
-You little… .
Fading ‘you little’ echo, call ended.
Members stare, burst laughing.
“Yeah. Laugh…….”
Sighed deep, caught the bug.
Silly laughter lightened me.
Dad talk on Music Cafe, composing worries—head cleared a bit.
Now hyped for maknae’s black history moment.
“Whoa, logo gone. Starting.”
Laptop darkens, studio appears.
Everyone swallows, eyes glued.