What the Hell Is This Song?
The Ryu Se-a I know—my actual older sister—is stubborn in the best possible way.
In simple terms, once she decides on something or sets a goal, she won’t be satisfied until she’s seen it through.
“Hey, is that song really unfinished?”
“What if it isn’t?”
“Then I want to sing it.”
“?”
But that admirable trait of hers wasn’t exactly a good thing for me right now.
For some reason, ever since the day I first played the accompaniment for Cantabile, she’d been like this.
How should I put it…
It was a completely different reaction from the first time I played Cantabile in my previous life.
Back then, she’d simply said it wasn’t bad for something I made and moved on. That was all I remembered.
That was why I couldn’t understand why she was suddenly being so stubborn, and why I had no choice but to ask.
“Why do you want to sing Cantabile?”
“Is the reason that important? From the way you’re reacting, though, it looks like it’s already finished.”
…
We weren’t communicating at all.
A sigh slipped out on its own.
It felt like ever since I’d returned to the past, the first button had been sewn on crooked.
First of all, Cantabile was the very first piece I composed after properly learning an instrument, and it was also a song that ultimately never saw the light of day.
The reason was simple.
It simply hadn’t been made for commercial purposes. There was also the fact that I couldn’t find a singer who truly suited it.
Anyway, I had no intention of releasing this song to the world right now.
Of course, none of that was going to get through to the person standing in front of me.
So I decided to approach it as logically as possible.
“More importantly, can you even sing well?”
I’d only ever heard my sister sing when we were little.
I acknowledged that she had a good voice, but singing ability was an entirely separate issue.
Yet for some reason, my sister simply smiled and answered with complete confidence.
“Hey, I’m someone who used to do music.”
No…
What on earth did playing the piano have to do with singing?
Of course it helped with pitch and rhythm, but what truly mattered for a singer was vocal technique, emotional delivery, and overall singing ability.
“They’re completely different things. Do you just want to sing? Or is there another goal?”
“Hmm…”
For the first time, my question left my sister at a loss for words.
After thinking for a moment…
“Okay. Let’s put this conversation on hold for now.”
“What?”
“Mom!”
Suddenly my sister dashed urgently into the living room where Mom was.
After that, she didn’t mention Cantabile even once.
Well… for me it was perfect, since I could finally focus completely on what I needed to do.
But.
I had no idea that this conversation would later lead to a certain event…
I couldn’t have predicted it at the time.
After declaring that I would walk the path of music, the first thing I did was quit the academy I attended. The tuition money was then fully redirected to buying a laptop and composition software.
Grateful to my parents for generously investing in their son’s dream once again, I launched the composition program with a heart full of thanks.
Honestly, it would have been better if I had an electronic keyboard as well, but I didn’t want to burden them any further.
Perhaps it was because I felt a guilty conscience, having already received more than enough as an unfilial son in my previous life…
Still, since I had succeeded as a composer and given them plenty of allowance money, maybe my sins had been reduced a little.
With those bittersweet thoughts, I began to compose.
In truth, what I was about to do now was closer to copying than original composition.
I was bringing the songs I had written in my previous life into existence once more at this point in time.
The first one that came to mind was, naturally, Rewind.
Part of it was because the song had received fairly good reviews and significant attention, but more than anything, it was the piece I had created while thinking of Baek Yerin, so my attachment to it ran deeper than any other.
And truthfully, Rewind might still be unfinished.
While creating this song before my regression, I had often wondered:
What if Baek Yerin sang it…?
I felt a little sorry to Seo Yu-hwa, who had willingly sung it for me, but I frequently imagined what that timeline would have looked like.
For me, it was an incredibly happy fantasy.
Unfortunately, that fantasy always ended with nothing but greater regret.
But now things were different.
Baek Yerin was alive.
Just that single fact gave the current me tremendous drive.
“Hoo… But how am I supposed to record this?”
As expected, composing with the program itself presented no major problems.
Subjectively, I had been doing the exact same thing only a few days ago, after all.
The issue was recording.
Even if the melody and lyrics were perfectly prepared, bringing an unrecorded track to that ‘person’ would likely fail to earn a strong response.
Hiring a guide vocalist with my own money was impossible given my current situation.
Should I rent a recording studio and do it myself?
That seemed the most realistic option.
Actually, when I first started composing, I had tried recording a few times for fun, so it wasn’t particularly difficult.
Of course, the quality would be noticeably lower.
Objectively, my singing ability was average at best. Still, my understanding of the song was solid; if I invested the time, I figured I could produce a decent demo.
Hm? But why go through all the trouble of making a demo track?
Obviously, I needed to get confirmation on how good my songs were at this point in time.
In the life before my regression…
─All your songs are so honest.
─Um… Does that mean I have no talent?
─If I told you that you have no talent, would you consider giving up the composer’s path?
─No. If I have no talent, I’ll just have to work that much harder.
─Really? Then let’s see whether you keep those words.
─…?
To the mentor who had helped me succeed as a composer.
Raspberry Tree Entertainment, an entertainment company that had just begun its new journey.
Abbreviated as RT Entertainment, it was still an unknown fledgling agency, but its CEO was quite the opposite—a well-known figure.
Kang Beom-jun.
A singer-songwriter who had sparked a boom in folk music ten years earlier when the genre had been in decline, enjoying explosive love and popularity.
But he had decided to step back from his life as a singer-songwriter and take on a new challenge.
That challenge was founding his own entertainment agency.
Kang Beom-jun looked at the black nameplate engraved with his name on the desk and smiled bitterly.
Thanks to his name value, establishing the company itself had gone smoothly…
The real problem started now.
He had spent the past three months securing funds and establishing systems, so it was time to discover the true essence of an entertainment agency.
RT Entertainment’s purpose was not to sign existing celebrities and support their activities, but to discover trainees, nurture them, and develop them into stars.
From Kang Beom-jun’s perspective:
The current entertainment industry is a little stagnant.
Though he himself was part of that stagnant pool, it was precisely at times like these that a supernova was needed to purify the water.
And the brighter that supernova’s light, the greater the ripple effect it would create.
Of course, RT Entertainment wasn’t the only company thinking this obvious thought.
Hundreds of agencies were probably still running around the field right now, desperate to discover the best raw gems.
The agency that picked up the shiniest stone in that fierce arena would dominate the next ten years.
The audition notices had already been distributed.
There were other methods—street casting, producing a survival program to depict a dramatic debut process—but since this was their first attempt, he wanted to choose the cleanest approach.
He even planned to review the applications and select the list himself rather than delegate it.
Anyone could see that Kang Beom-jun was pouring his heart into this audition.
In that spirit, he had begun receiving application emails two days ago, and fortunately, quite a few applicants were gathering thanks to his name value.
Thanks to that, Kang Beom-jun was able to check his mail today with genuine excitement.
What kind of kid with dreams of becoming an entertainer applied today…?
But that thought vanished the instant he read the subject line of one particular email.
The same name had been sending emails for the past several days.
Kang Beom-jun wondered if there was a composer named ‘Ryu Won’ with such an unusual name.
Unfortunately, no such composer existed in his memory.
In other words, this was an unknown amateur composer.
That was why he hadn’t paid much attention to the emails from ‘Ryu Won’ until now. He had been too preoccupied with RT Entertainment’s historic first audition.
Still… it seemed he should give it some attention now.
The sincerity of sending an email every single day without fail, even though he had never replied.
Continuing to ignore such dedication wasn’t proper etiquette—not as a person, and not as a fellow composer.
Truthfully, listening to a few songs and giving feedback wasn’t that difficult.
Roughly ten minutes would suffice.
With that light thought, Kang Beom-jun opened the email from Ryu Won.
He opened the attached file and ran a virus scan first.
Just in case there was some impure intent again.
Fortunately, it didn’t seem to be that kind of file.
By the way, the title was… You Are a Cherry Blossom?
He played the file.
The melody slowly flowed from the speakers.
And the moment he heard the bright guitar sound of the introduction—
Kang Beom-jun’s eyes widened.
And one thought rose in his mind.
Was the person who sent this email really an amateur composer?
Amateurs usually had shortcomings.
No matter how outstanding the talent, composition was a field that required experience.
Yet he could find none of the sloppiness typical of amateurs, none of the missing pieces. Not unless his ears had gone bad.
Moreover, like a fortress built with solid bricks, the harmony and arrangement of the instruments, the song’s development—everything from beginning to end was perfect.
At this level, he must know without a doubt that his own song is good.
Just to be sure, Kang Beom-jun decided to listen to the other songs Ryu Won had sent.
Time passed like that…
Ten minutes.
Twenty minutes.
Thirty minutes.
Kang Beom-jun listened to all five song files as if possessed.
And when he finally reached the last one—the song titled Rewind that had been sent on the very first day—
He found himself wanting to meet this unknown composer named Ryu Won… no, this genius composer.
As quickly as possible, just as he had written in the reply.
Fortunately, the contact came within an hour.
After smoothly exchanging numbers, Kang Beom-jun immediately texted that he wanted to see his face.
But the moment he saw the reply, he couldn’t help tilting his head.
…Class?
Was he a teacher?
It was a job where concurrent positions were impossible, but it would be too much of a waste to let that talent rot.
He probably knew that and wanted confirmation from an expert.
In that case, the conversation would be even easier.
If he could persuade him properly and pull him fully into this path…
Of course, Kang Beom-jun soon realized he had made a huge misunderstanding.
“Hello! This is Ryu Won, the one who contacted you.”
From the moment a male student wearing a school uniform confidently walked into the headquarters.