The Secret Behind Old Love
I closed my eyes and let the music filling the room wash over me. I'd heard it hundreds of times, enough to know every subtle shift in dynamics and the structure of the entire piece. The beautiful timbre blended seamlessly with the strings, tickling my ears.
The trainers always demanded the impossible. Feel the music, build the emotion—nothing but vague, intuitive instructions. How do you feel invisible music? How do you build emotion around it?
[♬~♫~♬]
Before I knew it, the song had reached its latter half. The part where the love interest finally understands the protagonist's feelings. At first, it's the agony of unrequited love, then the protagonist confesses. As the melody crests, the love interest realizes it too—but they already have someone else, and too much time has passed. And with that, the song ends.
That's Old Love, Senior Lee Ji-yeon's song. Once, I asked her what emotions she poured into it, and she replied ambiguously...
'I hate being stolen from.'
...before changing the subject. I didn't know many songs back then, but singing this one earned me the president's approval. My oppa, watching my first evaluation, was so surprised he praised me, saying I'd sung it perfectly. Thinking back makes me smile for no reason.
But the trainers said I lacked understanding of the song. They gave me all sorts of tips, but it wasn't enough to grasp Old Love. They joked that I should experience unrequited love myself since I couldn't feel it directly—and I couldn't laugh. It stung that I wasn't recognized because I couldn't comprehend aching love. Was love for my family not enough?
Just as deep doubt crept in, they told me to rest for a day. In the end, I decided to take the day off and sort my thoughts.
Oppa came running the moment he heard I was resting and dragged me into the city. He said it was natural for a manager to worry, but it still made me happy. I forgot all the weight on my shoulders and just enjoyed my time with him purely. We played games, bantering casually, and stopped at quirky cafes. There was a minor commotion, but we brushed it off and watched a movie—a decent romance flick. The cheating husband gets stabbed to death in the end. Watching the wife sob that she'd rather be the one stabbed made my heart heavy.
Imagining the person I love dying made my chest tighten. If my beloved family died... And if oppa died...?
My heart dropped. My fondness for him was bigger than I thought.
He even gave me a present—a couple's accessory. I couldn't wear both alone, so I gave him one as an excuse. It wasn't even something I bought, but I felt proud.
We drank until I passed out, but thankfully, I didn't make a fool of myself. Oppa is reliable. He looked a bit untrustworthy saying I could be a celebrity, but the way he stood up to the president to protect my family was cool. Things really improved for them because of it. The more it happened, the more urgently I felt I had to repay him.
[♬~♫~♬]
The song ended, the outro fading out. The music stopped, leaving silence in the practice room. All the advice I'd heard flashed through my mind. The countless tips started making a little sense.
Soon, the track restarted.
[♬~♫~♬]
A beautiful voice laid low, filling the floor. I recalled my meeting yesterday with composer Han Jeong-suk.
She asked me a few questions—surprisingly, none of the ones the president and I prepared. First, about my first love. I'd never had one.
Second, who I loved most. I said my mom and little sister.
After hearing that, she pondered for a long time before sharing her own story. She said she met President Choi when they were young. He dragged her gloomy, school-skipping self to class, holding her hand. At first, she got angry and hit him, but his firm insistence that she graduate pulled her heart along too.
They luckily went to the same high school, but she was anxious the whole three years. With his handsome looks, straightforward personality, and great singing, every girl liked him. When the school's prettiest girl confessed, he turned her down coolly, saying he didn't know love yet—and it only boosted his popularity.
Anxious, she started dolling herself up. She imitated celebrities he liked and learned composing to support his dream of debuting as a singer. Her debut song hit big, and thinking that was enough, she tried confessing—but disaster struck. A senior singer he'd caught the eye of seduced him, leading to pregnancy and marriage.
After marriage, hellish days followed. His ex-wife called during sex as if it were nothing and even filmed videos while Han Jeong-suk was next door, sending them to torment her. Demonic acts done so casually to humiliate her. I wanted to cover my ears at the horror.
She recounted the atrocities so calmly it was eerie, like she was insane. How could she stay so composed after that? Eventually, they divorced, and she ended up in debt. Hearing the ex-wife reaping what she sowed in a miserable old age eased my mind a bit.
Finishing her tale, she called it a friend's story and launched into another similar one. Wondering if she just loved talking, I listened quietly. That person debuted as a singer in school and brought her childhood friend as manager. The debut song exploded, propelling her career. When Han Jeong-suk gave her a song and asked why she wanted to be a singer, she said to become famous and protect the man she loved.
Only then did I realize who it was.
I asked, "So, did she protect the one she loved?"
'...I thought so, but probably not.'
No more details; she wrapped it up vaguely and asked me again: Had I ever had a first love?
...I said no.
She said she'd write a song, but I might struggle to understand it. While waiting, listen to Old Love and think of her stories while singing.
Recalling the composer's tale once more, I stood before the mic. Lyrics I'd sung hundreds of times tore at my heart; the melody piercing my ears felt utterly sorrowful. I couldn't finish—instead, I collapsed carelessly.
...
Old Love is the song Senior Lee Ji-yeon sang to protect oppa. To keep her man from being stolen. She must have thought, I won't let it happen to me, after hearing the story behind it.
Yet the man escaped her and came to me. Not Lee Ji-yeon, but me...
Chills ran from head to toe knowing oppa chose me. He rejected that incredible woman for me. A perverse thrill pierced my brain, making my mind reel.
I hugged my trembling body. Sweet moans escaped unbidden.
I remembered his arms holding me yesterday. He bought me warm food after I skipped meals for the meeting, bowed to mere thugs for my sake. He did end up fighting back...
First time I was grateful for being stronger than men. Unable to repay his actions for me, I'd sobbed pathetically begging for a hug—but he held me, whispering forgiveness for my faults, thanking me for letting him protect me. My heart nearly burst.
If I... succeed... Debut and grow beyond Lee Ji-yeon... Become so big Baek Ga-eun can't even glance my way... If I can protect oppa...
Just imagining it sent intense pleasure stabbing through me. Joy's blade shredded my veins.
"Hngh..."
To cool my fevered body, I leaned against the wall. Practice would have to wait.
*
"Yes, composer?"
'...Come.'
"...Yes? I can't hear you well."
Her voice was so faint I couldn't make it out.
'...It's done.'
'The song. It's finished. Come get it. With that kid.'
Han Jeong-suk hung up abruptly after her one-sided message.
...
She wrote the whole song in a day? Isn't composing supposed to involve revisions and additions? Even if she met Hyeon Ha-yeon, how does a song pop out overnight? Not even during Lee Ji-yeon's singer days. Did she have it prepared? Then why meet Ha-yeon?
...Anyway, good news. I informed the president and team to speed up recording. I left a message for him and headed down to fetch Hyeon Ha-yeon from her solo practice.
*
On the way to Han Jeong-suk's studio with Hyeon Ha-yeon, she seemed brighter than this morning. Her smiling about practice going well was adorable.
"Oppa, I finally sang Old Love right."
"...Really? All that practice paid off."
"I'm just starting to emote, and now I'm excited what song she'll give me..."
Old Love is tough to infuse with feeling, Han Jeong-suk's pinnacle. If humble Ha-yeon is satisfied, it's solid. I gained faith she'd nail whatever came.
"You nailed that, so you can sing anything."
"...You think so?"
"Of course!"
I felt her gaze, but traffic kept me from checking. Chatting with her, pondering how to mention Baek Ga-eun's cleanup, we arrived.
Han Jeong-suk greeted us haggardly.
"...Come in."
"Hello!"
"...Long time no see. This is a gift from the president."
Pity stirred seeing her snatch the items like loot. We barely sat in her cramped studio.
She played the song right away.
[♬~♫~♬]
A lyrical melody flowed. Guide vocals and lyrics were already laid in. It ended soon.
One thing clear: Not made in a day. Pro-level guide and structure take time. In just 24 hours? She had it mostly done.
Han Jeong-suk grinned at us post-playback. Her weary smile was creepy.
"...What do you think?"
"...I like it."
Han Jeong-suk and I looked to Hyeon Ha-yeon. Tears welled in her eyes, startling us.
"...The lyrics... are so sad."
Good song, but tear-worthy? My sensitivity dried up? Seen too much cruelty.
I handed her my handkerchief.
Seeing it, Han Jeong-suk asked oddly.
"...A handkerchief?"
"...Habit."
Actually, Lee Ji-yeon made me carry one; it stuck. No need to explain.
"Like it?"
"...Yes! Love it. Confident I can sing it great!"
She wiped tears, clutching it tight. She always vowed diligence, but this confidence was new. Ha-yeon grew too?
Han Jeong-suk grinned again.
"...Then I'll ask again."
Ha-yeon beamed, knowing what was coming.
"Ever had a first love?"
Ha-yeon still smiled.
"Yes!"
First... what?