43 – turning point (4)
43 – turning point (4)
43.
To say this in advance, the arrangement of “At the End” wasn’t some mind-blowing masterpiece. It was good quality, sure, but it wasn’t the kind of thing that made you think, How the hell did someone come up with this? It was more like, Anyone decent at arranging could do something like this.
So why was Lee Ji-yoon impressed?
Because the arrangement brought out Yoon Suyeon’s talent.
Suyeon was still lacking and clumsy in many areas. She had incredible talent, but she had never properly refined or trained it. But this song covered Suyeon’s flaws. Her lack of vocal technique almost disappeared. The low, murmuring parts were transposed higher and given a quicker tempo, perfectly matching Suyeon’s voice.
Lee Ji-yoon narrowed her eyes. She could see it again—the brilliance Suyeon showed on her very first day at the academy.
Before she knew it, Suyeon finished singing.
“I’m done.”
At Suyeon’s words, Ji-yoon nodded. But unlike usual, she stayed quiet.
Normally, this was where she would have gone over the top: “As expected of our Suyeon~ She’s a genius~”
…Did I mess up?
No matter how she thought about it, there were no mistakes. When she sang the original “At the End,” she always messed up. But with her brother’s arrangement, she didn’t make a single mistake.
Once again, she thought, As expected of my brother.
Good thing she asked for help.
“Suyeon.”
“Yes?”
“Could you… also sing the original version of ‘At the End’?”
“Ah… yes. I’ll try.”
Suyeon hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
Ji-yoon played the original track, and Suyeon sang along.
As expected.
Ji-yoon stroked her chin as she listened. Suyeon gulped nervously. Even to her own ears, it was a mess.
What harsh criticism was coming?
Suyeon braced herself mentally, but Ji-yoon said something completely unexpected.
“Suyeon, do you have more songs you worked on with your brother?”
“Ah, around two more.”
“Can I hear them?”
“Yes.”
Suyeon nodded and pulled out her phone. With practiced movements, she played the songs she had made with her brother.
In total, there were three: “Runaway,” “Actually,” and “The Reason I Left You.”
She had already sung “Actually” during the academy audition, so she only played the other two.
Ji-yoon listened with a very serious expression, and the more she listened, the more convinced she became.
These songs were made for Suyeon. Not “songs Hajun made that Suyeon happened to sing,” but “songs Hajun crafted for Suyeon.”
The subject was different.
From the very beginning to the progression to the ending, even the tiniest details overflowed with consideration for Suyeon.
“Suyeon.”
“Yes.”
“When you sing your brother’s songs… how do they feel to you?”
“Hmm.”
Suyeon thought deeply. After a long moment, she spoke quietly.
“Like… a perfectly fitting outfit? No matter what it is, it just feels like it fits me exactly.”
“I see.”
As expected.
If even the singer herself felt that way…
Ji-yoon thought of Hajun. She had only met him once, but she could clearly tell he cared deeply about his sister.
Come to think of it, hadn’t he originally majored in Vocal, then switched to Composition?
…Don’t tell me, was it for his sister?
Ji-yoon shook her head.
No way. That would be too much.
But what if it was actually true?
And what if, from now on, Hajun kept making Suyeon’s songs?
Then she needed to change how she trained her.
§ § §
“It’s done.”
The song for Suyeon, “Come Home,” was finally complete.
Out of all the songs I’d worked on so far, this one took the longest. I was exhausted.
I collapsed onto my back and closed my eyes.
Once I gave this to Suyeon and told her to practice, the preparation would be complete.
I wanted to prepare stage direction too, but Suyeon wasn’t at the same school and had her own life. So unlike Han Goyo or Jin Sohyang, it was impossible to rehearse staging together from start to finish.
It was convenient for me, but still a bit disappointing.
Not that I could help it.
I thought about what I still needed to do.
First, the inspired song was almost done. That one was easy since I didn’t need to touch the structure—I just needed to add instruments to enrich the melody.
Which meant only one thing remained.
Kim Taeyoung’s song.
I sat up and loaded Taeyoung’s project file on my laptop. Listening to it, I frowned slightly.
I had managed to build the song using fragments of inspiration I’d felt before. There was still a lot to fix, but the core structure was done. Now it just needed trimming.
The issue was the instrumentation.
“As expected… piano is the right choice.”
This song was for Kim Taeyoung—a requiem for a genius who was forced to quit piano because of an accident. So I even borrowed parts of a public domain Requiem Mass.
I recalled what Hyoju said: there was no need to use too many instruments. Using just one instrument for the core part could have a much greater impact.
I knew about that method. I’d thought about it before. I’d just never actually used it—not because I disliked it, but because the songs I’d made until now didn’t suit that atmosphere.
But Taeyoung’s song did.
“At first, only piano.”
Then other instruments would join in, bringing life to the song. As it progressed, instruments would drop out one by one until only the piano remained.
In the climax, only the piano.
When the climax ended, instruments would return, but this time, the piano would disappear completely.
Then in the final climax—the last part—the piano would return alone.
That was my idea.
And it wasn’t just for “vibe.” It was for Taeyoung.
For the genius who had to quit piano, who acted fine but still looked at the piano with eyes full of longing, I wanted to let him release that lingering regret through a single song, a single stage.
Not that I thought it would completely heal him, but at least… I wanted to ease some of that weight.
That was my honest feeling.
I knew better than anyone how painful it was to be forced to give something up against your will.
“The problem is… the piano itself.”
Instruments were strange things. You thought you just played them, but everything changed depending on how they were tuned and who played them.
Virtual instruments were great, but they would never match a real performance, even if you used a recorded sample.
And honestly…
I wanted Taeyoung himself to play the piano.
I knew it was asking a lot. He was limited to using only his right hand, and asking him to play piano again might be cruel.
But because of that, I wanted to ask him personally.
I stared at my phone, hesitating.
Should I text him or not?
After a long struggle, I finally sent a message.
—Hey.
[What?]
He responded immediately.
Does this guy stare at his phone all day?
I sighed. My chest felt heavy.
Was this really the right thing to do? Was this just my selfishness?
After wrestling with it, I finally typed:
—Can you play piano for me?
No reply.
I stared nervously at the screen. Maybe he was mad.
And I couldn’t blame him. He told me his deepest secret, and I turned around and asked him to play piano?
If he showed even the slightest discomfort, I’d apologize immediately.
As I was thinking that, his reply finally came.
[Why?]
Same words as before.
But between those words was fifteen minutes of silence.
I could tell how much he’d been thinking.
So I answered honestly.
—I need it to make your song.
Thirty minutes later—
[Okay.]
§
“So, is the song completely finished?”
“No, not yet. I still have some work left.”
The next day at school, Taeyoung spoke to me as soon as I arrived. He looked the same as always.
“Then once it’s done, send me the melody right away. You know how to write sheet music, right?”
“Obviously.”
“Good. I need time to practice, so send it at least a week in advance. For the piano, what kind are you recording on?”
“Grand piano.”
“Hmm. Then I’ll have to record twice with my right hand. You know how to layer recordings, right?”
I nodded.
So he planned to record the left-hand part separately with his right hand.
As expected of Taeyoung.
“And where are you recording?”
“I was thinking of renting a studio.”
It would cost a lot, but I could afford it.
Taeyoung thought for a moment, then sighed.
“I’ll just prepare everything.”
“That’d be great.”
“Yeah. Just send it when you’re done.”
After saying that, he immediately bent over and fell asleep on his desk.
I scratched my cheek.
Taeyoung never slept at school. Unlike me.
For him to sleep now… he must have really struggled with the decision.
Something in my chest ached.
At the same time, I felt determined to repay him—with the song.
Whenever celebrities said, “I’ll repay you with my work,” after causing trouble, I always thought it sounded stupid.
But now that I was the one in that position, I couldn’t think of anything else.
My heart felt heavy.
At least when Taeyoung woke up, he looked completely normal.
Anyway, the instrument prep was done. Now all that was left was to finish the song.
§ § §
Saturday.
Yoon Hajun headed to Lee Ji-yoon’s academy with Yoon Suyeon. Today, he was going to ask her for a favor.
In his pocket was a USB containing Suyeon’s completed song.
“Hello.”
Soon after arriving at the academy, Yoon Hajun greeted her casually. At the same time, Lee Ji-yoon, who had been waiting for Yoon Suyeon, looked at the two of them with a slightly surprised expression.
“You came with your brother today?”
“Yes.”
Suyeon beamed as she nodded. She seemed really happy to have come with her brother.
Seeing that, Ji-yoon smiled softly.
Siblings these days really were close.
“So what brings you here, oppa? Just dropping Suyeon off?”
“No, not exactly. I actually have something I’d like to discuss with you, teacher.”
“With me?”
“Yes. Could we talk for a moment?”
“Of course. Then Suyeon, go inside and warm up your voice.”
“Okay!”
Suyeon nodded and went into the lesson room, and Hajun followed Ji-yoon to the meeting room.
She handed him a drink and asked, “Is it okay if I call you Hajun?”
“Of course.”
“So, what did you want to talk about, Hajun?”
“Well, I was wondering if you could have Suyeon practice this song during her lessons.”
As he spoke, Hajun took out the USB and handed it to her.
Ji-yoon accepted it with an intrigued look.
“Is this the song she’s going to sing at the festival?”
“Yes.”
He had already mentioned before that Suyeon would be participating in the festival.
Ji-yoon thought for a moment, then asked, “Can I listen to it?”
“Of course.”
For her to teach Suyeon properly, she needed to hear it.
With his permission, Ji-yoon plugged the USB into her laptop and played the song.
“You even recorded a guide vocal?”
“I figured it would be necessary.”
Hajun was the one who recorded the guide.
Originally, he wanted to ask Han Goyo to do it, but lately… he had a bad feeling she would try to steal the song for herself.
What if she ended up rolling on the floor and flailing like Kim Taeyoung?
Just imagining cold, expressionless Han Goyo doing that sent chills down his spine.
“Hmmm.”
Ji-yoon listened to “Come Home” with a very serious expression. It made Hajun nervous.
“Come Home” was the hardest song he’d ever worked on. It got easier after he received inspiration, but it was still tough.
A perfectly smooth melody with no flashy parts, yet still addictive—an extremely difficult request.
But he pulled it off.
When the song ended, Ji-yoon let out a small exhale.
“…Ha.”
“Is it alright?”
“This is a song for Suyeon, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Hajun. Are you planning to keep writing songs for Suyeon?”
“Yes.”
Of course.
He changed his major to Composition solely for Suyeon.
At his answer, Ji-yoon let out a deep sigh, then nodded.
“Alright. So I just need to train her using this song, right?”
“Yes. Please take care of her.”
“Okay. Got it.”
She nodded.
Hajun finally relaxed.
If Ji-yoon handled it, there was nothing to worry about. That meant the recording could wait until later.
As he was thinking that, Ji-yoon spoke again.
“In that case, I’ll have to change the lesson style for a while.”
“The lesson style?”
“Rather than forcing her to practice genres she isn’t good at, I want to focus on maximizing her strengths for now. Of course, I’ll train her in her weaker genres eventually, but at this moment, I think it’s better to let her fully develop her strong points.”
Hajun agreed.
Suyeon needed to prepare for the festival and for Seolwon Arts High’s practical evaluations. Weaknesses could be fixed after that.
“Then I’ll leave it to you.”
“Sure. Ah, by the way—did you tell Goyo?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Hajun hesitated.
To be honest, she didn’t say anything. She just nodded like usual.
But he didn’t want to lie.
After a moment, he told the truth. “She said okay.”
“…That’s just like her.”
Ji-yoon smiled bitterly.
§ § §
Festival prep was done, and Suyeon’s lessons had started.
Now it was time to focus on Kim Taeyoung’s song.
I slept through classes, and the moment school ended, I went to the practice room to compose. When practice room hours were over, I continued working at home.
Before I knew it, midterms began.
Naturally, I shamelessly gave up on studying for midterms. The teachers wouldn’t like it, but it was what it was.
And it wasn’t just me. Taeyoung and a few others gave up too.
Which made sense.
Second semester was the busiest time of the year. There was the festival, then the Winter Festival to prepare for, and right after those, the major exam.
Why waste time studying for midterms?
Our class was already in chaos over who would perform at the festival.
“Major exam, huh…”
Festival prep—done.
Winter Festival prep—done.
The song inspired by the “Unrestrained” painting—I planned to perform it at the event. However, it wouldn’t be a solo. I was thinking two or three vocalists.
Anyway, festival and event prep were complete, but I hadn’t prepared anything for the major exam.
The major exam was in December, so I needed to start preparing by October at the latest.
I checked the calendar. It was already mid-September.
The sweltering summer was over, and fall was approaching. It felt like the season—and people—were shifting.
With that thought, I finished Taeyoung’s song.
As I said before, it was a rock ballad. More ballad than rock, but whatever—there was rock in it.
After finishing the track, I wrote out the sheet music and sent it to Taeyoung.
The writing was done, but the song wasn’t complete. To finish it, I needed Taeyoung’s piano performance.
[So I just need to practice this, right?]
—Yeah.
After replying to him, I looked at my schedule.
We planned to record his song after the festival, so for now, I could focus entirely on festival prep. Starting next weekend, I’d join Suyeon’s lessons. It was Ji-yoon who suggested it, saying the composer understood the song’s completeness best.
I wondered what performances others were preparing for the festival.
Among the people I knew, four were confirmed participants.
First, Han Goyo. She earned a solo stage as a top student. Of course she accepted it, and she already finished preparing her song, but she didn’t tell me or Taeyoung what it was.
Second, Kang Seonghun. He was performing as Class 7’s representative. I didn’t really care, so pass.
Third, Kim Taeyoung. He would be on the special stage with Blue Aka. He’d been going crazy preparing for that.
Blue Aka—currently conquering the world, and future world-class vocalist Kim Taeyoung.
And lastly, Jin Sohyang. She was also on the special stage. As a Seolwon graduate and the leader of Hwayangyeonhwa, she was invited, so the entire group would perform.
And they would perform the new arranged version of “Rough.”
She sent me the rehearsal video.
It was insane.
“They’re all monsters.”
Monsters—too many monsters.
In my previous life, it definitely wasn’t this intense.
…How did it end up like this?