74 – Genius Producer. (6)
74 – Genius Producer. (6)
74.
Jin Ilman, the main PD of Star Kingdom, was what people would call a failed PD.
His debut project, Living Legend, didn’t even break 1% ratings, so it got cut early after just seven episodes. The second program he led, Traveling Through Music, pulled good ratings, but it ended anyway because one of the cast members got embroiled in a school violence controversy.
And now, Star Kingdom—the program he was in charge of—was a pilot show. A program aired during the three-week gap between one show ending and the next one starting.
They said that if the response was good, it could be turned into a regular program, but Jin Ilman didn’t believe that. In reality, his next assignment was basically already decided.
Singastar.
An audition program that would start filming in mid-September.
That didn’t mean Jin Ilman was the main PD of Singastar. The main PD was Department Head Im Hoon, a CP with over fifteen years of experience, and Jin Ilman was the sub-PD assisting him.
So I have to do that damn sub-PD work again.
Jin Ilman let out a deep sigh.
But it wasn’t like he could complain to the station.
He’d already tanked two programs. And the second one, Traveling Through Music, didn’t just flop—it caused damage to the station itself.
“Director.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“We were wondering if we can start the work now.”
“Ah, of course.”
At Jin Ilman’s answer, Won Seongmin nodded and walked over to a male student. Watching that, Jin Ilman frowned.
Won Seongmin, Blue Aka’s leader.
He didn’t really care about the guy himself.
Won Seongmin wasn’t particularly entertaining, but he also didn’t seem like the type to cause trouble. The person Jin Ilman was paying attention to wasn’t Won Seongmin, but the male student Won Seongmin had brought.
A student in uniform, staring at a laptop with sleepy eyes. Won Seongmin called him a producer, but judging by how decent-looking he was, was he maybe an idol hopeful?
“That’s Seolwon Arts High’s uniform.”
The writer next to Jin Ilman whispered quietly. Seolwon Arts High?
Even Jin Ilman, who didn’t know much about arts high schools, knew Seolwon Arts High. One of Korea’s top arts high schools.
Hearing that Yoon Hajun was a student at Seolwon Arts High, Jin Ilman’s gaze changed—from anxiety to interest.
Right. A fairly well-known band like Blue Aka wouldn’t work with just anyone.
…Right?
That project album track they released last time was kind of trash, though.
Whether they knew what was going through Jin Ilman’s head or not, Won Seongmin and Yoon Hajun were talking about the song in front of the laptop.
“The genre is emo hip-hop?”
“Yes. I got inspired by Crack, the one we worked on this time. I’ve wanted to try this kind of music anyway, and it just clicked.”
“Are you doing melodic rap for this too?”
“No. It’s based on emo hip-hop, but instead of melodic rap, I’m going to lay it down low. Minseok’s voice is killer.”
“…Which Minseok?”
Blue Aka had two Minseoks.
Choi Minseok, the drummer, and Kang Minseok, the keyboardist.
At Yoon Hajun’s question, Won Seongmin went, “Ah,” then smiled.
“Kang Minseok. Between us, if we say ‘the Minseok who sings,’ it always means Kang Minseok.”
“Got it.”
So Kang Minseok sang too. I didn’t know that.
Anyway, the small talk stopped there, and they got into the real work.
As soon as the session started, Yoon Hajun’s expression changed. Those sleepy eyes sharpened. He listened to the track and let out a short note of admiration.
“It’s definitely good. But…”
“Feel free to say it.”
“This part here. Here. The part where it flips hard when we move from the depressed section into the intense emotions—it feels like too sudden a change.”
“Ah, that part. I left it out on purpose. I made four versions, but I’m still debating because I’m not sure which one works best.”
“Can I hear them?”
“Of course. I left it out specifically to discuss it with you.”
Yoon Hajun nodded, and Won Seongmin played the four prepared versions.
After listening with a serious expression, Yoon Hajun spoke carefully.
“The third one is the best in terms of impact, but the second one is the most natural.”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m stuck. I want to mix them, but if you do that, both strengths die.”
“Hold on.”
Yoon Hajun raised a hand as if he needed time, then tapped the table with his fingers.
Maybe ten minutes passed.
Then, as if something came to him, Yoon Hajun started tapping out notes on a virtual instrument. The cameras captured it.
An eighteen-year-old boy, playing a virtual instrument with a serious face—it looked surprisingly legit.
“It looks good on camera.”
“Yeah.”
At first, Jin Ilman thought Won Seongmin brought along some idol trainee he was close with, just to promote him on TV.
But watching him work, that didn’t seem right.
If anything, it looked like Yoon Hajun was leading the session.
When he finished, Yoon Hajun played the revised version.
“Oh.”
Won Seongmin’s eyes widened. Not just him—everyone watching did.
The song that had felt awkward earlier suddenly sounded natural. The flow was far smoother than the second version they’d heard, and it still had impact.
“That’s impressive for such a short time.”
“I tried it because it seemed like it would match a melody I almost used for Crack but gave up on. It actually fits really well. It didn’t match perfectly, so I had to rearrange it a bit, though.”
“Even rearranging it on the spot is impressive.”
“It’s nothing. I just borrowed a bit from that second melody.”
Yoon Hajun replied as if it was no big deal.
Jin Ilman let out an impressed sound and asked the writer beside him—
“Isn’t that kid good?”
It was a random question, but the head writer understood what he meant. Jin Ilman was saying they should push Yoon Hajun as a key figure.
“He doesn’t seem like a Blue Aka member—will it be okay?”
“We didn’t bring him. Won Seongmin did.”
“Well… then it should be fine. An eighteen-year-old producer. It’ll draw attention, he looks good on camera, and he seems talented too.”
“Right?”
Hearing the answer he wanted, Jin Ilman nodded with satisfaction.
Then he smacked his lips.
Finding a good character was great, but it still felt like something was missing.
Just a little.
A tiny bit more.
It would be even better if the character were more intense.
§ § §
Star Kingdom wasn’t an audition program—it was a competition program.
Over three weeks, singers from different genres performed, and they chose a winner.
Since the genres were so diverse, the lineup was varied too: rappers, bands, ballad singers, idols, solo artists.
There weren’t any top-tier celebrities, but everyone was undeniably skilled. That was because Jin Ilman only cast people like that.
Even if people called him a failed PD, it wasn’t like he had no eye for talent.
And Jin Ilman was very serious about music. His first and second failed programs were both music shows, too. And he was the one who cast Blue Aka, a band that wasn’t that famous in Korea.
The problem was that because he built the lineup purely around skill, there was nothing usable for TV.
Everyone was… too boring.
The idol group was trying hard to create footage, but that was about it.
In that situation, Yoon Hajun was like an oasis in the desert to Jin Ilman.
That didn’t mean Yoon Hajun was entertaining. For a high schooler, he was pretty quiet, and all he did when he came was music work.
Still, Yoon Hajun’s existence alone was bait. An eighteen-year-old producer.
Just filming him made for a good picture.
If the idols handled the variety side, then the one making viewers go wow would be that eighteen-year-old producer.
And Yoon Hajun had the skill to back it up.
From his first appearance, he rearranged things in one go. And the more Blue Aka’s work progressed, the more Yoon Hajun’s screen time increased.
Jin Ilman finally understood why Won Seongmin introduced him as a “producer.”
Ah… it’s just a little too bad.
Watching Yoon Hajun work hard, Jin Ilman let out a deep sigh.
The fact that the kid always spoke politely, and the way he spoke was gentle—it made his character boring.
“Now we need to record. How do you want to do it?”
“For instrument recording, please do it yourself, sunbae. I’m still lacking a lot in that area.”
“Understood.”
Won Seongmin and Yoon Hajun continued working, warmly and considerately.
It looked nice. Wholesome. Happy.
But it was useless for broadcast.
That wasn’t what the public wanted.
Emotion, calmness, laughter.
They were all good elements.
They weren’t bad.
But there was a limit to carrying a show with just those.
The most important thing in TV right now was a strong character.
A character viewers could immerse themselves in and root for.
As filming continued, Jin Ilman felt like he was burning up inside. There were limits to editing, too. You could only “make” a story through editing if there were at least some broadcast-friendly elements to work with.
Whether they knew what Jin Ilman was thinking or not, Blue Aka’s instrument recording finished smoothly.
Then came the vocal recording.
“Vocal recording today, right?”
“Yes.”
“Ugh. No footage again.”
“It can’t be helped. That’s why the higher-ups tried to stop it.”
“Still, it’s a music competition show. They have to be skilled.”
“Then stop worrying about footage.”
“But there’s literally no footage.”
At Jin Ilman’s whining, the head writer let out a deep sigh. What do you want us to do? You want this and that.
Then spend money and cast people who can sing well and are good on TV.
“Please take care of us today as well.”
As Jin Ilman and the writer talked, Won Seongmin spoke to them. They nodded with smiles and answered.
“Um, but…”
“Yes?”
For some reason, Won Seongmin didn’t go back to prepare for recording. Instead, he hesitated, looking at Jin Ilman.
“Do you have something you want to say?”
Jin Ilman asked.
Won Seongmin thought for a long time, then finally sighed and spoke.
“This might be kind of weird for me to bring up, but…”
“It’s fine. Say whatever you want.”
“About today’s footage—if possible, I’d like you to go easy on the edit.”
“What?”
At the unexpected request, Jin Ilman frowned.
What was this all of a sudden?
Won Seongmin normally didn’t say things like this.
No—if anything, he didn’t care about broadcast at all.
So why was he suddenly asking them to “go easy” on the edit?
He was already struggling because there was nothing to edit in a provocative way.
“Hajun is still young.”
“Ah… yes. Understood.”
For now, Jin Ilman nodded as if he understood.
Soon after, Yoon Hajun arrived at the recording studio and took his seat.
Not the usual Haul Studio, but a rented studio for recording. Yoon Hajun looked over the equipment and nodded, satisfied.
“Alright, we’ll start filming.”
Once everyone arrived, the assistant director announced the start of filming.
Of course, even if filming started, nothing really changed.
Blue Aka’s filming always flowed naturally.
But for some reason, their expressions were different today.
The members’ expressions split into two groups.
Some looked excited, like they were anticipating something.
And Won Seongmin and Kang Minseok kept sighing heavily, like they were worried.
What is it?
Jin Ilman scratched his head. Something felt different.
If there was one thing the sighing members had in common, it was that they were the ones doing vocal recording today.
Was something going to happen in the booth?
The first recording was Won Seongmin.
Inside the booth, Won Seongmin took a sip of water and said to Yoon Hajun—
—Go easy on me, please.
“Haha.”
Yoon Hajun laughed at the request. Same smile as always.
What was going on? Why was everyone acting like that?
Jin Ilman’s question got answered the moment work began.
“Again.”
One line.
After a single line, Yoon Hajun called for a retake.
The other members snickered, and Kang Minseok sighed with a worried face.
Ignoring all that, Yoon Hajun spoke with a cold expression—different from usual.
“Not like that. Then we can’t work, sunbae.”
“I’ll go again.”
“A bit more depressing.”
“That’s depressing?”
He was cynical in a way he hadn’t been before. Cold, and firm.
As if compromise didn’t exist, Yoon Hajun directed the recording session.
And Jin Ilman smiled.