Yes, I'm All In

The first line flowed out.

Woo Jiyeon, who had been braced for another dance track, felt her eyes waver.

...These lyrics.

A night spent alone. The things lost along the way. And the one thing that still remained.

There was no mistaking who this song was about.

...This is your story, isn't it.

Park Songhwa stood before the standing mic with her eyes gently closed. Judging by that expression alone, an acoustic ballad wouldn't have seemed out of place.

Then came the pre-chorus.

The synths began layering on, measure by measure.

...This is professional-level work.

Who on earth is behind Songhwa?

The A&R team had, at some point, all leaned forward in their seats.

And then—

It detonated.

The odds? If it's the odds, then...

Woo Jiyeon's eyes went wide.

That's an all-in. A literal all-in, that absolute lunatic—!

The very plan that had made her clutch the back of her neck and question everyone's sanity was now pouring out before her eyes as an actual song. Shock and awe hit her at the same time, and even mid-gasp, the goosebumps refused to settle.

Still, this hook... there's something seriously addictive about it.

She glanced around and saw the same expression on every face. The PR team lead was staring with his mouth hanging open.

The title is "All In"... How am I supposed to turn this into a press release... no, wait a second.

Headlines began assembling themselves in her head.

...Huh? You know what, this might actually work?

Lee Mishin tilted his head. He had no idea what she'd done that day, but ever since he'd stared intently at that one moment, Park Songhwa seemed to have found her grip completely.

Yes. The stage he'd seen in the future was starting to overlap with the one before him now.

"Whoa..."

At Park Songhwa's suddenly transformed aura, a strange murmur rippled through the room. No one had ever dreamed Park Songhwa was capable of a look like that. So provocative, and yet so utterly unashamed.

If we're this stunned... I don't even want to imagine what the public will be like.

...Songhwa?

Good grief... what is that expression?

So she can pull off this concept too, huh.

What do you mean? She used to flatly refuse, saying it wasn't her.

Those sultry eyes swept from left to right across the hall. Then she smirked.

"...!"

That single bit of eye contact hooked every person in the room, and just like that, the showcase hall began turning into a concert venue.

Woo Jiyeon's eyes narrowed by degrees.

...Look at her breath placement.

The breathing design for the choreography was calculated down to every single beat. The consonants landed squarely on the downbeats, and her breath only rested in the half-beats tucked between them.

There's no way Songhwa worked this out alone. Who is it? Who directed her?

Park Songhwa drew in her last remaining breath and gave one final, cheeky wink.

...That is SO refreshing!

The backing track cut out. In a hall where only the sound of breathing remained, Park Songhwa bowed at the waist.

"...That was All In, our comeback title candidate."

Clap.

The first applause burst out from the back of the room. It was the youngest member of the A&R team — forgetting both hierarchy and propriety, his hands had simply moved on their own.

Clapclapclapclap—

Applause began filling the hall. And threaded through it, whispers started to spread.

"Wow, that hook just now... I'm going to be hearing it in my sleep tonight."

"It's been stuck in my head since it started."

"Man, but the title is really 'All In'?"

"...It fits, though."

That was when it happened.

"Alright, quiet."

Cha Eunseong spoke up. "You've all heard it, so let's hear it. Team Woo, you first."

Woo Jiyeon rose from her seat, her face a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tangle of conflicting emotions.

"If I'd only seen the title, I'd have smacked whoever wrote this plan with the approval slip. A singer who went into seclusion over a gambling scandal comes out with 'All In'? Public opinion is going to split down the love-hate line, no question."

"And?"

"But one thing is certain... I'm on the love side."

Another A&R team leader chimed in. "I nearly choked when I heard the title too, but honestly, the song does all the work. It hooks you from the intro, detonates at the chorus, and there's no dead spot anywhere. Getting today's listeners to stay past thirty seconds is the eternal struggle... and that hook is still ringing in my head right now."

"......"

"This is just flat-out a drug."

Cha Eunseong's gaze turned to the stage. "Songhwa."

"Yes."

"Aren't you scared?"

"I'm terrified."

Park Songhwa adjusted her grip on the mic. "But they say if you hide it, it follows you as a tag for the rest of your life. If you bring it up onto the stage, it becomes a weapon instead."

It was a way of speaking that quoted the very words she'd once been given, as if on purpose.

Cha Eunseong stole a glance at Lee Mishin. Even in this charged moment, the man wore an expression utterly detached from the mundane world.

Lee Mishin must have given her a great deal of support. Enough that Park Songhwa could stand back up.

He meant spiritual support, and in that sense, Lee Mishin's current position was the optimal one.

"The people who'd get angry at the title already know everything about my past anyway. So I'll meet them... up on the stage. With my head held high."

Cha Eunseong studied that resolute face for a long moment, then spoke quietly. "Fine. You've convinced me."

"......"

"Your comeback track. It's this one."

"...!"

Flowers of joy bloomed across Park Songhwa's face. Woo Jiyeon, looking somehow enlightened, shook her head side to side.

"Then we'll need a meeting with the composer. There's a contract to draft, too. Songhwa, you can tell us now, right?"

Every gaze in the room converged on a single spot. The very front row of the seating. The nameplate reading [Composer] — still empty.

The PR team lead jabbed a chin at it. "So they never showed. Must be a busy person? Still, if someone promised they'd come—"

Park Songhwa drew a deep breath. "First, I apologize for keeping it hidden until now. But there was a reason. If I'd said the composer's name first, the song would have come second."

"...What on earth does that mean?"

"If I'd announced the title 'All In' up front, nobody would have wanted to listen. The name is exactly the same. I wanted you to hear the song first, without any preconceptions."

Park Songhwa looked down at the blank nameplate. "The composition, the arrangement, the direction of this song — one single person did all of it."

"So... who in the world is it?"

Park Songhwa smiled slyly. "He's already here."

Woo Jiyeon looked around the room. Every face in the hall was one she knew. A&R, the PR team, the CEO, the road manager, the chief managers...

"He's been here the whole time."

Screeeech— The sound of a chair sliding back.

Chief Manager Lee Mishin stood up.

"...?"

Long hair traced a path down the aisle. He passed by Woo Jiyeon's seat. And then, at the very front row—

[Composer]

He came to a stop before the nameless nameplate.

In that instant, one scene flashed through Woo Jiyeon's mind.

—Don't tell me... that song was one your chief manager picked? With fortune-telling?

—...Something like that?

Something like that? Don't tell me. Don't-don't-don't...

"Yes."

Lee Mishin settled into the seat and continued. "I'll be composing."

"......"

"......"

Silence flowed through the hall. And within it—

Click.

The pen rolled out of Woo Jiyeon's fingers. The PR team lead froze solid, tablet still in hand.

"......"

And last of all, Cha Eunseong's head began slowly turning. The man was sitting in the seat directly beside him.

Getting hauled from the showcase hall to the CEO's office took less than five minutes. And I don't mean "hauled" as a figure of speech — I was genuinely dragged there. The moment I sat down in the composer's chair, the hall had erupted into chaos, and Cha Eunseong had declared amid the uproar:

—CEO's office. Now.

And so here we were, facing each other across the sofa. A teacup slid its way toward me. Once again, it was ssanghwa tea.

......

This is a disaster. It's just starting to taste good.

I quietly took a few sips, and the question came flying. "How long have you been writing songs?"

"Three years."

"On your own, I assume."

"Yes."

"While doing ascetic training in the mountains."

"......"

Self-taught is accurate. The mountain part is not.

"They say shamans and artists are separated by a single hair's breadth. I suppose you're one of those cases. That would explain composing while you trained."

"......"

That is also entirely not what happened.

"Where did that hook come from? According to Team Woo, even if you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hired the hottest topliners in the industry right now, they couldn't guarantee you a hook like that."

The praise was excessive. And I couldn't exactly tell the truth, either. If I said I'd overheard it from a future stage... no, hold on.

Come to think of it, I can say that, can't I?

"I saw it."

"Saw what?"

"A future where Ms. Park Songhwa performs this song on stage. All I did was transcribe what I heard there."

Image is a terrifying thing. Everything I said was true, yet somehow, phrased this way, it became a testimony of spirit possession.

"...I'm losing my mind."

Cha Eunseong pressed a hand to his forehead. "The biggest problem right now is that it actually sounds plausible."

"......"

"So, what now? As of today, you're a composer. At this point, you can't keep juggling the chief manager work too. You've only got one body."

Cha Eunseong folded his hands. "I'm asking whether you intend to change positions."

"......"

I had two futures ahead of me. One was CEO. The other was composer.

Ordinarily, choosing one means folding the other — that's how a normal life works.

But if mine had been a normal life, I never would have heard the sound of phantom bells in the first place.

Of course, my dream had been to be a composer since long ago. But nothing I'd seen in the future guaranteed that AG would succeed, whereas the CEO-track future came with rock-solid evidence in the form of a company worth one trillion won in market cap.

So, to summarize: I didn't want to let go of either.

Right. There's no guarantee AG will even take off, and I'm supposed to give up a fixed monthly salary right now? That's the kind of decision that makes your parents' jaws drop to the floor.

Composer income was a lottery ticket; a salary arrived faithfully, month after month. Having starved for three years, I understood that difference better than anyone.

"I'll stay on as chief manager."

Cha Eunseong's eyebrows rose.

"I'll compose on the side."

"Greedy for a shaman, aren't you."

"......"

"Just like me."

The instant the CEO said something like that about himself, goosebumps rippled up my arms. For some reason, it felt exactly like he was telling me I had the makings of a CEO.

"Side work approval just needs my signature and it's done. Per-track contracts, royalty rates — we'll go over that again with legal. It'll come out in your favor regardless. Nobody else can bring in what you bring in, after all."

I gave a nod and left the CEO's office. The moment I opened the door and stepped into the corridor, I found myself eye to eye with a group of people standing right in front of me. Four familiar faces, sharing the load of instrument cases between them.

They were so close that we all startled at once.

"Hiiiiek...!"

"Uwaaaagh!"

...Apparently they're no different. Though their level of shock does seem a bit excessive.

The four of them sat huddled together on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the sofa, the afterimage of that long-haired man they'd just crossed paths with in the corridor still lingering in their eyes.

"...Unnie."

Kim Bom, the drummer, poked Nam Green in the side and whispered. "That man just now... that was the shaman, right...?"

"Shh."

The leader, Nam Green, pressed a finger to her lips. Baek Iseo murmured flatly, "Even death's messenger shows up at your door first, before he comes for you."

"Unnie?!"

"You all know why we've been called here today."

Hong Yena forced the corners of her mouth upward. "Oh come on, no way. It could be for something good! You know, a comeback! Or a unit project! Or maybe a commercial..."

Just then, Cha Eunseong returned from sorting out the paperwork and set the file folder down on the table.

Thud.

Four spines went rigid at the same time.

"I'm not good at talking around things."

Cha Eunseong looked at each of their faces in turn. "Let's end Youth Girls here."

"......"

They had come here braced for it. Still, actually hearing the words made their chests feel stuffed to bursting.

Hong Yena bit her lip, head bowed. "What about... our penalty fee?"

"There isn't one."

"...?"

Cha Eunseong slid the papers across. "We'll process it as a mutual contract termination. The company will settle out whatever remains of your pay."

"...Why?"

Kim Bom asked, carefully. "We're the ones who failed. We're the ones who didn't sell. Why would the company..."

"The planning fell short. Let this be recorded as the company's failure — not yours."

"Mr. CEO, siiir..."

As tears welled up in Kim Bom's eyes, Hong Yena asked, "...So, hypothetically, what day does the settlement money come in?"

Nam Green swallowed an audible gasp beside her, but Cha Eunseong didn't blink. "The twenty-fifth. ...But, Bom."

"Hic... I-I'm sorry... I said I wouldn't cry..."

Nam Green stroked the maknae's back. Then she rose from her seat and bowed deeply at the waist. "Thank you for everything."

The leader's voice never wavered, right up to the end. That was her final duty as leader.

"...Thank you."

This time, all four bowed together.

Clearing out the practice room didn't take long. Kim Bom was sliding her sticks into her bag when she came to a dead stop in front of the whiteboard in the corner.

It was the board where only the circle drawn around [1. Debut] remained, faded and ghostly. She picked up the eraser... and set it right back down.

"Bom, let's go."

"......"

"Bom?"

"Ah, yes!"

As Baek Iseo passed by, she raised her phone and snapped a single photo of the board.

"Unnie, why'd you take a picture of that?"

"Memories."

"......"

When the four of them stepped out the back entrance, each hugging a box—

Tssssshaaaaa—

Rain was coming down in sheets.

"...You've got to be kidding me."

Nam Green looked up at the sky. "You really had to do this through today, of all days?"

Under the eaves of the company building, the four of them stared blankly upward. Hong Yena let out a hollow laugh. "If it rains on the day you disband, what is this, a drama?"

"I wish it were a drama."

Nam Green opened her umbrella. "Dramas at least get a plot twist at the end."

Nam Green with Kim Bom, and Baek Iseo with Hong Yena. Pairing off two by two under their umbrellas, they started walking toward the bus stop.

"So what's everyone going to do now?"

In answer to the leader's question, only footsteps and the sound of rain followed for a while.

"I have to... find a part-time job first. I don't even have next month's rent," Hong Yena sighed.

"Money talk again, Yena, money talk."

"But it's true, what am I supposed to do...!"

"I, I'm..."

Kim Bom spoke up small beneath her umbrella. "I still... want to keep playing drums."

Next came Baek Iseo's turn, naturally, and everyone looked her way.

"Honestly, you're the one with nothing to worry about." Hong Yena studied the sharp line of her profile, that high-bridged nose. "With that face, you could just film vlogs and make it big. No, you could literally just sit in front of a camera and do nothing? Or ask a friend for help and properly get into..."

"...You guys are the only friends I have."

"......"

"......"

The mood turned heavy. Nam Green hastily raised her voice. "A-anyway! Me, I'm..."

Nothing. She had no plan.

"You could look into teaching at a vocal academy. Worst case, work at a coin karaoke booth or something. It's still singing, so it's at least the same industry."

"Did you just say coin karaoke?"

The roof of the bus stop was just coming into view when Kim Bom's steps began to slow.

"...You know. If I'd known that was the last time."

She gazed out through the curtain of rain. "I would've played one more song in the practice room before we left. The four of us."

"......"

No one answered. Because answering would have made it truly, finally over.

That was when it happened.

SPLASH, SPLASH, SPLASH!

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The sound of someone stamping through puddles. The sound grew louder and louder, and all four of them turned around at once.

A long-haired man in a business suit was running toward them, without even an umbrella. His rain-soaked hair whipped and streamed behind him, and then he came to a dead stop right in front of the four of them.

"...!"

"S-shaman-nim? No, no — Chief Manager-nim?"