Chapter 98
Chapter 98
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 98
Chapter Title: Once Again, Writer
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“You two live in Korea, so you can just meet up separately, huh?”
“Yeah, after the season ends. You can join for a drink then.”
“What? You’re saying no until then?”
“If you really wanna hear the song that bad, just drop by the studio.”
Lee Woo-hyung’s expression lit up at Woo Ji-hyun’s words.
Visiting Elder’s studio didn’t sound like a bad idea at all.
He might even get to record his own voice there.
‘That could work.’
Lee Woo-hyung stroked his chin, imagining gifting his girlfriend a recording or CD he’d made himself.
It definitely seemed like a solid option.
“Fine by me. As long as you don’t break any of the equipment.”
“You write lyrics in the studio too?”
“Usually. But lyrics don’t need any gear, so I do it at home or even in the car.”
“Which is harder—composing or writing lyrics?”
Both were ways of expressing himself through words, so there was some overlap with writing novels.
That’s why Woo Ji-hyun’s eyes sparkled as he asked.
“Tough question. I don’t know about others, but for me, they’re about equally hard. Both need inspiration.”
“You work on both at the same time, then.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been in a slump lately. Nothing’s clicking, which is new for me.”
Elder lifted his glass with a bitter look.
He’d never once thought making music was easy.
But he’d never felt this blocked before either.
“Maybe it’s because you’ve been pushing nonstop without a break? Since debuting, you’ve dropped a song almost every month. Sometimes even every two weeks. As far as I know, you’ve never taken time off.”
“Now that you mention it…”
Woo Ji-hyun nodded at Lee Woo-hyung’s words.
He was a fan of Elder’s music, so he knew the last three years pretty well.
“I haven’t rested, yeah.”
“That’s why it’s time to take a break. You’re not a machine. And that’s a line our very own writer Woo Ji-hyun always says.”
“True. You need to give yourself breaks in the middle.”
“I see.”
Elder reflected on the past three years at his friends’ not-quite-advice.
Having started music relatively late, he’d whipped himself forward without stopping.
He had to work harder and more desperately to make up for lost time.
Then his songs started charting higher than expected, even hitting number one sometimes, so he threw himself even deeper into music.
To keep that success going, he’d pushed himself harder.
And he was still doing it.
But lately, nothing he composed or wrote satisfied him.
“Slumps hit everyone. The key is, you don’t avoid them—you overcome them.”
“Exactly. Must be the arts thing. There’s so much overlap.”
Woo Ji-hyun muttered softly so as not to disturb Elder, lost in thought.
Lee Woo-hyung, who’d been quiet too, nodded in agreement.
He thought the same.
You couldn’t escape a slump by dodging it.
‘The more you try to avoid it, the more it clings—that’s a slump for you.’
Lee Woo-hyung glanced at Elder, recalling his own countless slumps.
He could sense the frustration without words.
But slumps had to be beaten alone.
No one else could fix it for you, and no one could fully understand.
“Maybe I’m not enjoying it anymore?”
“Hm?”
“Nothing. Just thinking out loud. Hey, I made a new track—wanna hear it? No lyrics yet, just the melody.”
“Sure?”
Elder pulled out his smartphone from his bag, seeming to have sorted his thoughts.
Lee Woo-hyung and Woo Ji-hyun exchanged cautious glances.
A new track meant an unreleased one.
“Of course. Actually, I want your honest take. I can’t tell if it’s good or if I’m forcing it. Judge it for me. Music should convey emotion through sound alone, lyrics or not.”
“In that case.”
Lee Woo-hyung nodded firmly.
He could give a straight opinion.
He wasn’t an expert, but he could say if it was good or bad.
Maybe his outsider ear would make it even more honest.
“Mmm.”
Lee Woo-hyung closed his eyes as the piano intro played.
The gentle, sweet melody pulled his eyelids down naturally.
Woo Ji-hyun, on the other hand, whipped out a notebook and pen from his bag at the first note.
You never knew when inspiration might strike, so he always carried them.
Scribble! Scratch!
Unlike usual single words or ideas, Woo Ji-hyun was jotting down full sentences.
And fast, matching the melody’s pace.
“Hm!”
Elder, who’d been sitting still with the music on, craned his neck to peek.
He wanted to see what he was writing.
His eyes widened like saucers at Woo Ji-hyun’s words.
“Great song. Ballad threw me off a bit, but I liked it. Calm, kinda wistful, bittersweet vibe?”
“Elder’s done ballads before. Even idol tracks. He’s a rapper at heart, but his range is wide.”
“Really?”
Lee Woo-hyung looked mildly surprised.
News to him.
Elder ignored their chat, staring holes into Woo Ji-hyun’s notebook.
“You wrote lyrics?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Inspiration hit outta nowhere. Memories of unrequited love popped up, so I just scribbled.”
“Can I see?”
“It’s rough, just dashed off.”
Woo Ji-hyun mumbled, a bit embarrassed—he’d gotten lost in the music.
Elder nodded like it was fine.
The rawness might be just what he needed.
It could break his rut.
“No, that’s perfect. I like stuff like that. Unless you mind, of course.”
“Nah, what’s the big deal? I’m just shy. Feels weird showing amateur work to a pro.”
“Lyric writing’s like novels on a big scale. You turn personal or observed experiences into words.”
“But different fields. First time trying it too.”
Woo Ji-hyun scratched his cheek.
Appreciation was nice, but the embarrassment lingered.
“Me too. Lemme see.”
“Sure.”
As Elder took the notebook from Woo Ji-hyun, Lee Woo-hyung leaned in.
He wanted to check out a pro writer’s handiwork.
And see how his friend interpreted the melody.
“Uh…”
“Whoa.”
Elder and Lee Woo-hyung’s eyes widened together.
The lyrics were way better than expected.
A bit rough as Elder predicted, but Lee Woo-hyung felt them hit deep.
The awkwardness made them punch harder.
“Got a title?”
“Yeah, ‘Common Unrequited Love.’”
“‘Common Unrequited Love’…”
Elder stared at the lyrics with shaky pupils, dazed.
Perfect match.
His melody and these words felt one.
“Of course, that’s just my take. Your vibe when composing might differ.”
“Not quite my intended theme. But I don’t think anything could top this. Hey, wanna try lyricist?”
“Lyricist?”
“Yeah, let’s collaborate.”
Elder grabbed Woo Ji-hyun’s hand with burning eyes.
Woo Ji-hyun slipped away gently.
Grateful for the offer, but not for the touch.
“You’ve done everything solo till now—composing, lyrics, producing. All your songs are pure you.”
“That’s probably why the slump hit. Burned out doing it all alone. Music’s not meant to be solo.”
Elder’s gaze returned to the notebook.
Rough, beginner-level lyrics, but honest and raw.
They nailed the empathy every song needs most.
He didn’t want to let them go.
Or the inspiration surging now.
“Lyricist, huh.”
“I know you’re busy. How hard you grind. But it could be a great experience, a spark for you.”
“You pitching to Ji-hyun right now?”
“Yeah, straight-up recruitment. Join my crew.”
“Crew?”
Lee Woo-hyung, who’d butted in, tilted his head.
Didn’t fit Elder.
Outsider, maybe.
Genius types usually went solo anyway.
‘Did he break through?’
Some geniuses flailed in slumps forever; others escaped on a tiny trigger.
Elder felt like the latter.
‘Whoa, my role here’s bigger than I thought.’
Lee Woo-hyung grinned.
Looked like he’d helped Elder big time.
He was the one who’d brought Woo Ji-hyun.
“Top industry rates. Can’t lowball a genre lit giant.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It will be. Listening to music’s way different from making it. Tough too, but rewarding.”
Elder laid it bare.
Joy and triumph, but brutal grind.
Better to think it over than dip in lightly.
No room for naive dreams here.
“Honestly, I wanna try. Feels exciting. First time feeling this, so why not? But one thing clear: writing’s my main gig. I’m a novelist first. Can’t quit that—my calling.”
“Of course. I get that’s priority. Think of it as collaboration. Not too casually, though.”
“Kinda like a collab.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
Clink!
Woo Ji-hyun and Elder’s fists bumped lightly in the air.
Smiles crept onto their faces.
“Hey, don’t forget me. I set this up!”
Lee Woo-hyung thrust his fist out next.
A silent demand to join in.