Chapter 90
Chapter 90
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 91
Chapter Title: Hit Song and Hidden Genius
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Yeonwoo told Chae Hayeon he'd give her a song, then called Wakana and recorded it right there on the spot.
He figured singing it now, with the emotions fully immersed, would be better than putting it off.
Anyway, the song they made that way went up on Mango Player the next day.
[There Must Be a Reason to Keep Living
-Chae Hayeon]
-Chae Hayeon's new song?
-Wasn't this the one she said she made thinking of Lee Si-eun during that live?
-She said she couldn't give it to Lee Si-eun, but ended up giving it to Chae Hayeon 'cause she felt bad?
-Wow... but it feels like a super smart choice
-I started crying the moment I heard this song ㅠㅠㅠ
-Yuin-ah ㅠㅠㅠ How can a kid make such a sad song ㅠㅠㅠㅠ There's gotta be some deep resentment ㅠ
-Ah, Chae Hayeon's voice just pulls you in ㅠ Getting all misty-eyed
-It's so poignant ㅠ
-So sad ㅠㅠㅠ
The uploaded song climbed to 15th on the Mango real-time chart, signaling a successful start.
And the real explosion came from the live video uploaded to YouTube.
The live video of Chae Hayeon on Hyungnimban Teacher channel racked up views quickly.
Her expression blended with the calmly unfolding song conveyed a sadness beyond just enjoying the music, so many people left comments saying they kept replaying it over and over.
The problem was...
-Aren't we the ones that song was supposed to go to?
Legally, there was no issue, but verbally, the song's owner had already been decided.
It was a situation that left Lee Si-eun's agency understandably flustered, and Jiyeong, who had to handle it, pressed her temple lightly.
'The kid causes the accident, and why do I have to clean up the mess...'
Was this the fate of an aunt who volunteered as a nanny?
Jiyeong swallowed her anger inwardly and said.
“The song's concept suited Chae Hayeon better, so there was no choice, she said. I'm sorry. You know how old Yuin is. He makes songs better than adults, but what he does is pure 7-year-old.”
-But still...
“So Yuin said he'd make three songs instead. Songs that suit Actress Lee Si-eun better.”
-Three songs?
“Yes, ah, and it's not just any random ones? If you want, you can select three from the ones Yuin has already made.”
Silence from the other end of the phone. They'd called intending to get mad, but with no legal issue and now three songs offered as compensation, it seemed tempting.
Yeah, it had to be tempting.
Even I would be.
Jiyeong thought that way and waited quietly.
-In that case... ahem, we appreciate it.
“Phew, thank you for understanding. I'll contact you once the songs are ready soon!”
-Yes, we'll wait.
After hanging up, Jiyeong let out a sigh. She'd smoothed over what could have blown up into a big problem with just songs.
In this industry, bad blood never led to anything good.
Better to end on good terms and build connections to avoid backlash later.
“It's tough.”
Still, with Chae Hayeon taking the song and grabbing 2nd place right after Lee Si-eun's high-teen rock 'n' roll, wasn't it win-win?
“This isn't the time for that.”
Jiyeong sighed and started tackling her backlog.
At first, the head office JOP said just make songs and produce, but things had changed a lot.
JOP Korea Branch was more serious than expected.
Unlike the Japan HQ focused on genre music, JOP Korea, with strong influence from Nana-se, was shifting to idol business like most Korean agencies.
So they aggressively scouted people from other agencies, but it wasn't easy.
How would execs used to working only in Japan know who to scout?
And among them, Jiyeong was known in Korea as skilled and well-connected, under the company label?
Of course inquiries poured in, and before she knew it, Jiyeong was leading the overall operations of JOP Korea Branch.
She recommended capable people, then ended up leading them; she spearheaded trainers, in-house producers, trainee recruitment.
Even scouting talented trainees from other agencies.
As a result, Jiyeong spent more time at JOP Korea Branch than at SSHIN.
Well, it wasn't bad, all things considered.
If she brought in trainees she eyed, had trainers she selected teach them, and made idols with her most beloved nephew, that is.
“Still, I wish there were no such troubles.”
Jiyeong thought of Lee Si-eun's agency with a wry smile, then checked her smartphone.
“What's this now?”
She spotted an unexpected email from Nana-se.
[Jiyeong-ssi, it's Nana-se. The music director proposal for the Super Sentai series that Yeonwoo-kun requested has been approved. Not the next season series, but for this season's theatrical film. I'm sending the contract...]
“Sentai... music director?”
Jiyeong suddenly recalled what Yeonwoo had said not long ago.
‘If I become a music director next time, I'll do Super Sentai!’
No, he actually went and did it?
“Please... say something before you do things.”
Jiyeong rubbed her dry face.
This wouldn't do.
Thinking about it, leaving Yeonwoo, whose face was getting known, unattended was ridiculous.
But she couldn't just tell Wakana or Chae Hayeon to always keep him by their side.
She'd have to hire a manager for Yeonwoo.
Ideally, someone good at studies to tutor him, talented at childcare too.
Jiyeong immediately informed JOP's HR about it.
The HR manager, listening quietly to Jiyeong, tilted her head and said.
“At that level... isn't it more like a nanny? Wet nurse?”
“Ah, does it boil down to that?”
Yeah, offer a bit more salary and hire a tutor-cum-nanny-cum-manager.
“That sounds better.”
The HR manager nodded.
There might be complaints about overpaying for a manager, but with Yeonwoo as the subject, it was different.
Whether HQ or Korea Branch, Yeonwoo was always the top priority.
JOP truly cherished Yeonwoo.
To the point where both HQ and branches had a framed picture in the middle of the office with the phrase 'Yuin is music world's treasure, our future is Yuin.'
Being a Japanese company, they were great at showy gestures.
‘Not because it's my nephew, but he really is music world's treasure.’
Jiyeong didn't deny it.
Of course, it wasn't just her thought. Colleagues who recognized Yeonwoo's talent would think the same.
Jiyeong thought so.
* * *
But such thoughts weren't limited to those in pop music.
People who got hooked on his vlogs for a while, seeing him compose alone, play piano, and guitar, didn't doubt Yeonwoo's talent.
Most thought a true genius had been born in the music world. (Of course, a tiny minority of conspiracy theorists still existed.)
Beyond that, other music circles were starting to see Yeonwoo as special.
The other music circle was classical.
In Korea, classical was just background noise in subways for most people.
Meaning hardly anyone listened for enjoyment.
But this country bizarrely produced talent overflowing, with world-class figures popping up left and right.
Classical was no exception.
It produced the world's top soprano, world-renowned conductors, and with pianists at the forefront, various performers shone.
Park Jeonghun was one such person.
In the 1970s, he went to the Chopin Competition from classical wasteland Korea, took 2nd place—a solid result—and drew attention as Korean talent, then studied in Vienna, switched to conducting, guest-conducted for Berlin Philharmonic, Chicago Symphony, Cleveland Orchestra, and settled as conductor of Korea's top orchestra, the Korean Symphony Orchestra.
He could only guest conduct back then due to racial barriers, evaluated as an unlucky conductor whom the era's top maestros couldn't overcome due to prejudice against Asians.
Now retired at just over 80, his influence still loomed large over Korean classical.
And right now, he was fuming.
“Why is a kid like this wasting time on pop music?”
It was because of a video shown by a disciple he'd raised just before retirement.
The video was none other than Yeonwoo's vlog—specifically the piano performance one.
Just 7 years old, right?
He'd only learned piano from age 6, even.
Yet this kid rode swing so fluidly.
Not some smart kid mechanically repeating as told.
Park Jeonghun had seen countless such manufactured fake geniuses.
This kid was real.
A true genius he'd never seen in his 80 years of life.
“How can such a child... oh, what a pity. Oh, what a great loss.”
For such a child to be in jazz or pop instead of classical was truly lamentable.
If this kid had directly entered classical, Korea's base could expand, even lead the world.
He sank weakly into his seat.
In his youth, he thought if people like him—no, better than him—kept emerging, Korean classical would eventually draw crowds and interest.
But no.
Even with world-class sopranos or Chopin 1st places, only that person got attention; classical remained thoroughly niche.
Now, he didn't even dream of Korean classical development.
Just one wish.
If a kid like this shone in classical, showing Korea's potential to the world classical scene, that'd be blessing enough.
“With good teaching, forget Chopin Competition. He'd be a pianist any place—Berlin, Vienna—would want.”
Thinking so, he kept watching Yeonwoo's vlogs.
Though uninterested in anything but classical, he could tell Yeonwoo's composing and guitar were extraordinary too.
“Hm?”
How long had he watched?
Then, a familiar face caught his eye.
“Isn't that Heo Ok?”
Heo Ok.
A cherished disciple from his youth who got hooked on jazz, abandoned classical, and became a jazz pianist—a heartbreaking yet infuriating betrayal.
“Heh...”
And this genius was Heo Ok's grandson.
“What kind of connection is this?”
No wonder he was so good at jazz; he was Heo Ok's grandson.
“Was there a disciple of mine who keeps in touch with Heo Ok and that kid?”
Wanting to see that genius, he pulled out his old flip phone that no one else used and scrolled through contacts.