55 – Main. (3)
55 – Main. (3)
55.
“Oh.”
A sound of admiration slipped out as I watched Han Goyo, Jin Sohyang, and Seo Chaerim practice. It was their first proper rehearsal, so it was still rough in plenty of places, but the harmony section was noticeably smoother than before.
More than that, the awkwardness between Goyo and Sohyang had mostly faded. It wasn’t just that the tension disappeared—they were actually exchanging opinions.
“Make that part a bit softer.”
“If you just say ‘softer,’ how am I supposed to know what you mean?”
“Then after ‘in the end, like myself,’ come in a little lower and slower.”
“Wait.”
I wasn’t the type to tear up easily, but seeing the fragments of onstage chemistry I’d been waiting for still hit me. At the center of it all was Seo Chaerim. Within the structure of the song, she naturally coordinated between Goyo and Sohyang.
Thinking about it, there really wasn’t anyone else suited for that role. Goyo carried herself like she owned the stage—in both good and bad ways—and Sohyang didn’t back down either, openly stating what she thought. Neither of them was wrong. I chose Goyo as the centerpiece of this song, but that didn’t mean I chose Sohyang just to sacrifice her as a throwaway build-up tool. Just like I had a role I wanted Goyo to play, I also had a role I wanted from Sohyang. I would talk about that later.
For now, real practice had finally begun. After a few more sessions like this, we could move on to recording.
I organized the upcoming schedule in my head. The first thing that needed to be recorded was Taeyoung’s track, “Da Capo.” Just like he said, Kim Taeyoung finished the entire recording using only his right hand.
In three days.
Perfectly.
Even thinking about it again, the guy was unbelievable. The quality was insane. Even without seeing it live, just listening to the recording made it obvious why people called him a genius.
Taeyoung’s playing had a power that healed people’s hearts. It was unbelievably gentle—hard to match with the cocky, playful way he usually acted.
After we wrapped the recording, Taeyoung smiled and said, “Still, thanks to you, I think I can finally let go of my regrets.”
I bit my lip as that moment resurfaced. After this Winter Festival, Kim Taeyoung was joining an entertainment company. He said his parents already finished the discussions with the company they planned to sign with.
It made me feel strange.
I knew Taeyoung became a singer in my previous life, but I didn’t expect him to sign this early. Back then, he only started trainee life after graduating Seolwon Arts High. Now he hadn’t even finished first year, and he was already signing.
Does this change the future?
…Well, it should still be the same company as before. Probably.
I sighed.
An entertainment company.
Maybe it was time to think seriously about that too. Not for me—this was about Suyeon.
After the festival stage, Suyeon received trainee offers from three or four companies, but she rejected them all. Not for any dramatic reason—those companies only handled idols, and Suyeon wanted to be a solo singer, not an idol.
More offers would come anyway. Once you entered Seolwon Arts High, opportunities overflowed.
Still, before that happened, I wanted to raise Suyeon’s name value as much as possible. It was greedy, but I wanted her to debut directly as a singer instead of getting stuck as a trainee. As a trainee, you never knew when you’d debut. And it wasn’t just about songs either. Even if I wrote something for her, if the company rejected it, that was the end of it.
…Maybe there was another way.
I opened my phone, went into the cloud app, and checked the channel I made: [Drop Pop].
I’d only uploaded three songs so far. I barely posted and rarely promoted, so of course not many people found it. The average views barely cleared a thousand.
But the comments were unusually active.
Most of them, anyway, came from someone with the username “SsomSsom.”
Judging by the comments, the reception wasn’t bad at all.
Maybe I should grow this channel during vacation. If I uploaded consistently, I could probably build it up.
The cloud wasn’t just a free music streaming site. Producers and companies also used it to find talented trainees or unknown singers. Plenty of aspiring artists uploaded songs there hoping to get scouted. If they got lucky, they could sign a contract and release an official track right away.
Release music…
Just thinking that far made my chest feel tight again.
If my goal this year was to win the scholarship, then next year my goal was to release music. The problem was, I didn’t really know how to do it properly. I’d said it many times: releasing music itself wasn’t hard. Record, register it with the copyright association, send the materials to a distributor, and it would be uploaded to music sites. Worst case, like with “Addressee Unknown,” I could work with the school and release it through them.
The real problem was promotion.
In this era, a song didn’t succeed purely because it was good. No matter how high the quality was, if you didn’t promote it, it died. Promoting didn’t guarantee success either—it just raised the odds. There was a reason big companies sent their artists to music shows even when it barely made money. It was all for exposure.
There was also a reason singers tried to sign with big agencies.
The problem was that I was a composer.
In Korea, there were the so-called “Big 3” entertainment agencies: ONE, SS (Stars), and CR (Crops). Each had its own style and pros and cons—but that was when you talked about artists. For composers, all three were notorious. They gave you a laptop, locked you in a studio, and made you write only for their artists. There was no way I was signing with a place like that.
But if I didn’t sign anywhere and worked alone, I was too much of a nobody. I might have been somewhat known inside Seolwon Arts High, but that was still just inside the school. In the professional world, I was a nameless seventeen-year-old.
“Are you worried about something?”
Jin Sohyang’s voice cut through my thoughts. I lifted my head. Han Goyo, Jin Sohyang, and Seo Chaerim were all looking at me.
Right. We were in the middle of practice.
“No. I was just thinking about something.”
“You were thinking that hard? You were frowning like that.”
As she said it, Sohyang reached out and rubbed at my brow with her index finger, as if trying to smooth the frown away. I let out a small laugh.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind lately.”
Then I looked at the three of them.
Come to think of it… what about them?
“A random thought, but what are you all going to do after graduation?”
I hesitated between casual and polite speech, but with Seo Chaerim here, I kept it polite. The question came out suddenly, and all three looked puzzled.
“Hmm. I’ll probably help with my parents’ business,” Chaerim answered first.
“You won’t sing?”
“Yeah. I decided singing is only until high school.”
“That’s a shame. I like your voice, unnie.”
“Can’t be helped.”
“What kind of business is it?”
Chaerim thought for a moment, then answered casually. “Something like a staffing agency.”
A staffing agency… it oddly fit, and also didn’t. Before I could think further, Sohyang spoke.
“I’ll probably keep being an idol. I still have time left on my contract.”
“Well, yeah.”
Finally—Goyo.
I looked at her. She didn’t answer right away. Honestly, she was the one I was most curious about. I still didn’t know why she disappeared. Even now, after hearing some of her past, I still didn’t understand why she vanished.
Goyo stared straight at me, then let out a soft sigh.
“I’m going to leave home.”
§ § §
We finished recording “Da Capo” successfully. Everything else was up to Kim Taeyoung. It was his song, not mine.
Practice with Jin Sohyang, Han Goyo, and Seo Chaerim was going smoothly. There were still things to fix, but at this pace, we could start recording next week.
I already had stage direction planned out in my head. All that remained was recording and naming the song. I needed to think carefully about the title.
Sunday. A rare lazy weekend.
I sat on the living room sofa and wrote down ideas for my major exam song in a notebook.
“Oppa.”
Suyeon called to me. I looked up. She wore a thick padded jacket—she must have just gotten back from the academy.
“You’re back?”
“Yeah. Ugh, it’s cold.”
She took off her jacket and sat beside me, then looked at me with a dissatisfied expression.
“Are you still really busy lately?”
“Hm? Ah. Yeah. I’m all over the place.”
Once the festival ended, the Winter Festival was next. After that came the major exam. None of it was something I could do half-heartedly, especially with a full scholarship on the line.
“So you’ll be busy until vacation, huh?”
“Seems like it. Why?”
“I just want to sing soon. We haven’t worked together since ‘Come Home.’”
It hadn’t been that long since the festival, though.
I chuckled. Looks like she had built up frustration from not singing. After a stage like that, it made sense she wanted to perform again as soon as possible.
“Why? You want to work right away?”
“Yeah.”
“Just wait a bit. I plan to work a lot during winter vacation.”
“Really?”
“You don’t trust me?”
“You said that during summer break too, then kept doing other work.”
Suyeon pouted. I coughed awkwardly. I didn’t expect things to go that way back then, but still—I did lie. I had no excuse.
“Sorry. But this time I really promise.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
For real. That was why I didn’t schedule anything big for winter break. Well, aside from working with Goyo and Blue Aka, but that wouldn’t take too long.
Suyeon stared at me. I didn’t look away.
Eventually, she nodded as if conceding.
“I’ll trust you one more time.”
“Thanks.”
“So what songs are you going to work on during winter vacation?”
“I plan to make as many as possible. And you know the songs you practice at the academy?”
“What, the pre-existing songs?”
“Yeah. I’m going to rearrange them, record them, and upload them to the cloud.”
“Really? That’s great! ‘SsomSsom’ kept asking when you’d upload more songs!”
I gave a wry smile. I’d seen SsomSsom’s comments too.
“When are you uploading new songs, are you not uploading anymore, don’t disappear, if you’re struggling I’ll even donate so open donations, I’m dying here…”
And Suyeon replied to every single one.
“You like that person?”
“Who? SsomSsom?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course. They’re my first fan. When I debut and do interviews, I’m definitely going to mention them. I’ll say they were my first fan and gave me a lot of strength.”
“That’s nice.”
I didn’t know who they were, but I was sure they’d be thrilled.
“Ah, I really want to debut soon.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I want to debut and perform on more stages.”
She smiled. She looked like she had completely fallen for the charm of being on stage. The stage was addictive.
Then she said, “So I want to sing more of the songs you make.”
“That’s how it’ll be.”
Suyeon looked at me, as if asking, Really?
I nodded.
“Okay.”
She nodded along with me. Next year, Suyeon would enter Seolwon Arts High. That was when everything started. I would help her with every event, every festival, everything.
That was the biggest reason I stayed at Seolwon Arts High.
“Oh, and Teacher Ji-yoon asked if you could come by the academy sometime.”
“Huh? Teacher Ji-yoon?”
“Yeah. She said she has something to talk about.”
“I’ll stop by next week.”
Was it about Suyeon? Or about Goyo?
“And I got another call from an entertainment company.”
“Again?”
“Yeah. What was it… [Jiwoo], I think?”
“Oh, don’t even reply.”
“Why?”
“They’re trash.”
I said it firmly. Jiwoo was notorious for squeezing their artists dry—barely paying them properly, sending them to endless events. Total exploiters.
There were too many scummy companies.
“Mmm. I really want to debut, though.”
“I want that too, but you need to choose your company carefully. Once you sign, you’re stuck for at least five to seven years. If you sign with the wrong one, you’re just wasting time.”
“Yeah. Teacher Ji-yoon told me that too.” Suyeon frowned slightly. “Then do you have any companies in mind?”
“There are a few.”
Unfortunately, Suyeon hadn’t received offers from any of them. And the one I wanted most didn’t even exist yet.
Still, there was time. No need to rush.
“By the way, aren’t you going to upload ‘Come Home’ to the cloud?”
“Oh. Right. I need to do that.”
I had forgotten. Since we were already talking about it, I might as well upload it now.
I used my phone to upload “Come Home” to the cloud, and the moment it finished, a notification popped up for a new comment.
-I’m reporting this!
-No, I mean NEW SONG!
-I’ve been waitingㅠㅠㅠㅠ
The commenter was, of course, SsomSsom.
Did this person do nothing but wait for Drop Pop songs?
“Oh, there’s a comment.”
Suyeon smiled brightly as she checked it. I watched her.
Soon this year would end. Next year… what would happen to me and Suyeon?
With that thought, I went back to working on my major exam song.
§ § §
“Ah, I’m so happy.”
Jin Sohyang smiled blissfully at her phone. You’d think she would be annoyed about being in the practice room on a Sunday, but there wasn’t a trace of dissatisfaction on her face.
Watching her, Seo Chaerim laughed.
“What’s making you so happy?”
“My favorite singer uploaded a new song.”
“Uploaded?” Chaerim raised an eyebrow. “Not an official release?”
Sohyang nodded and turned her phone so Chaerim could see.
“There’s someone called ‘Drop Pop’ who uploads on the cloud, and their songs are so, so good. Especially the tone. Seriously, it’s a God-given tone. Want to listen?”
With Sohyang hyping it up that much, even Chaerim looked interested. She nodded, and Sohyang played the song without hesitation.
“Come Home” flowed out from the speaker. As she listened, Chaerim’s brows pulled together slightly.
Wait.
This is…
“I know this song.”
It wasn’t intense or flashy, but the hook—“Come over to my place. For a while, turn off your phone”—stuck in your head. It was strangely addictive, the kind you found yourself humming without realizing.
“Isn’t the voice amazing?” Sohyang said excitedly. “Just hearing it makes my heart race. I wonder what kind of person they are. They’re definitely a singer, right? If they are, I really want to meet them.”
Honestly, she could meet them immediately if she wanted to.
Chaerim didn’t tell her who Drop Pop was. Maybe they wanted to keep it a secret. That had to be respected.
When “Come Home” ended, Chaerim asked, “Does this person have other songs uploaded?”
“Of course! Want me to play them?”
“Yeah.”
Sohyang eagerly played the other songs on the channel: “Runaway,” “Actually,” and finally “The Reason I Left You.”
After she finished, Sohyang said, “Aren’t they amazing? The songs and the voice match perfectly. Honestly, if I could, I’d hire them privately and make them sing live just for me forever.”
“That… might not be ideal,” Chaerim replied flatly, then fell silent.
Just from the voice, she could tell. It was definitely that kid Ha Jun’s little sister.
So did that mean he made all these songs?
“Hm,” Chaerim muttered, scratching at her nail. “I think I might have made a wrong judgment.”
“Huh?”
“No. Just talking to myself.”