Chapter 18: Psychological Warfare (2)
“Phew, I almost died back there.”
In the end, I couldn’t hold it in and rushed out. Plop, plop. My stomach churned violently, and everything I was holding back at work started to pour out.
I nearly died trying to hold it in. Stress really does mess with your stomach.
“…Ugh. I haven’t even done anything yet.”
I still don’t have any results ready to show Lilac. Sure, I didn’t have much time, but I’ve only managed to scrape together a few scraps while trying to tailor the arrangement to fit Lilac’s voice.
After three whole days and nights of work, I barely managed to complete about 20 seconds.
I’m stuck at the very beginning, trying to figure out what concept would suit Lilac best—basically, I’m still struggling with the theme selection.
“…Maybe I should’ve just been friendlier.”
Regret crept up on me. I thought I shouldn’t judge people based on rumors, but my nerves got the best of me and I might have messed up my first impression.
“Sigh.”
Well, it’s not too late. I can still turn things around if I handle it well from here on.
After finishing up the rest, I got up from the toilet and washed my hands thoroughly. I stood once more in front of the studio door.
With a more relaxed mindset than before, I reached for the doorknob.
—“He looks like a half-baked fish bun. Seriously, how ridiculous.”
—“What’s so great about his looks? He’s just a chubby guy with a big belly. I hated him the moment I saw him. He’s totally repulsive.”
From inside the studio, Yoo Ah-ra’s voice floated out, brimming with irritation.
—“And who does he think he is? How good could his music be anyway? All he did was rearrange one song. Seriously, how ridiculous.”
—“…Yeah. I get it.”
So that’s how you want to play.
I wasn’t particularly angry, but I clenched my teeth.
—“Let’s see how good his song is. I swear, if it’s terrible…”
I gripped the doorknob tightly.
The lively gossip that had been filling the room suddenly came to an abrupt halt.
I flung the door open and pretended not to have heard anything, casually sat down in front of the synthesizer.
Yoo Ah-ra, who had been the ringleader of the gossip, clamped her mouth shut and just stared at me.
“I just stepped out to use the restroom. Let’s continue. Shall we, Ah-ra-ssi?”
“…”
She only glared at me in response, not saying a word. I could tell she wasn’t happy with me. Well, it’s understandable since I criticized her original songs from the get-go.
But if I hadn’t, she might have thrown a fit, insisting on putting them in the album.
“Yoo Ah-ra-ssi?”
“…I got it.”
Only after I called her again did she finally stand up and walk into the booth, stomping her feet deliberately with every step.
“What’s your favorite song?”
I was curious to know what she’d choose as her favorite…
“I’ll go with Ravine’s ‘Toxic.’”
Ravine, the world-famous female rock star. But her style doesn’t suit Yoo Ah-ra’s voice at all.
Just as I thought. It’s clear now. This girl is actively trying to erase her own identity.
I clicked my tongue and started the backing track.
As the intense electronic sounds and electric guitar riffs blended into a rock beat, Yoo Ah-ra’s delicate, bird-like voice tried to match the rhythm.
“—Tears come at night…”
Yoo Ah-ra sang her heart out, veins popping out of her neck. But there was no trace of her unique color in this music. It was completely overshadowed by the heavy beat.
She even tried to mix a metallic edge into her voice, as if mimicking Ravine, but it only worked against her. Yoo Ah-ra was erasing her distinctive personality on her own.
Even her high notes were shaky.
At this point, she definitely deserved a score of zero.
—“…you just like a toxic to me.”
Only the last line was good. As the overall beat faded away, only the piano remained, softly whispering an emotional verse. That was the only redeeming part.
Yet, after finishing the song, Yoo Ah-ra emerged with a satisfied expression. Could she really think she sang well?
“Come out.”
As soon as Yoo Ah-ra stepped out of the booth, Lee Yeon-ji raised her hand.
“Um, I have a question~”
“Yes?”
“What did you write in that notebook?”
“Oh, this is to measure how well you know yourself… Yoo-jeong-ssi scored 70, Yeon-ji-ssi scored 100, and Yoo Ah-ra-ssi, you scored zero.”
“Wait, why did I get a zero?”
Yoo Ah-ra was taken aback, her earlier confidence vanishing in an instant.
Her eyes narrowed into a glare, clearly angry. I shrugged it off indifferently.
“Is your role model Ravine? That’s a weird influence you’ve got there.”
“What? What do you mean…”
“Rock music doesn’t suit you. Your vocal volume is too weak to stand out against the band’s sound…”
“How would you know that?”
She interrupted me sharply, her voice cutting through the air. I paused for a moment, contemplating my response.
How am I going to convince this girl?
What can I do to help her abandon unnecessary vocal tricks and embrace her true self…?
No matter how much I pondered, the answer eluded me.
“More importantly, why don’t you show us your song?”
Yoo Ah-ra’s sharp voice pierced my ears.
My work was only twenty seconds long, hardly at a level worthy of sharing.
“I don’t have anything yet.”
At my response, Yoo Ah-ra’s face scrunched up in displeasure.
“What do you mean by that…?”
“We need to create this together. If I don’t even know the singer’s voice, how can I make it.”
“……”
Her wide eyes bored into me, and I met her gaze without flinching. After a moment, Yoo Ah-ra cleared her throat and turned to Lee Yeon-ji.
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
Without a second thought, Lee Yeon-ji replied.
“Okay, go ahead.”
“…You come with me.”
“Why? I don’t need to go.”
“Come with me.”
Yoo Ah-ra insisted, pulling Lee Yeon-ji along.
Now, only Kim Yoo-jeong remained. With her black bob haircut, she had a strangely intellectual yet vacant expression. Kim Yoo-jeong was silently watching me.
Feeling a bit starstruck since I had only seen her on TV, I decided to ask something.
“…Um, how’s life as a celebrity?”
“A celebrity?”
“Yes. It’s been about two years since your debut.”
“It has its ups and downs.”
That makes sense. Everything has its good and bad sides.
“…Hmm. It seems especially intense for celebrities, doesn’t it?”
With their glamorous appearances and public adoration, it’s clear why being a celebrity is the number one dream job for children. Everyone desires and admires that profession.
Yet, the darker side is often recognized but seldom acknowledged by many. Instead, they point out the wealth and dazzling lifestyles that come with it.
“I think that’s true.”
Kim Yoo-jeong summed it up succinctly.
“Hmm…”
Her seemingly casual words pierced my thoughts.
I fell into a quiet reflection.
The dark shadows of stardom… this could be a compelling concept.
“Wait a moment.”
I booted up my computer and opened the DAW. The session track was empty. However, I began to get a sense of what I needed to fill this void.
Just then, Yoo Ah-ra walked in, crossing her arms.
“We’re leaving now. If there’s no song…”
I couldn’t catch the rest of her words. My focus was solely on the DAW. With each virtual instrument I interacted with, colors began to flash before my eyes.
First, let’s slowly sketch the outline. There are plenty of instruments needed. Luckily, I have an abundance of materials. Now, it’s just a matter of mixing the thoughts and colors swirling in my mind…
Someone tapped my shoulder.
“Excuse me.”
“…Yes?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“…What?”
“I said go.”
I brushed Yoo Ah-ra off and focused on the synthesizer again.
“Wow, I can’t believe this.”
With her voice fading into the background, the world seemed to shrink around me.
I gradually sank into that magical sensation where colors and sounds intertwined. I heard the colors with my ears and saw the sounds with my eyes.
In this way, I began to paint the picture I desired, in a far more intuitive and efficient manner than anyone else…
I stayed up all night. When I opened my eyes, it was 9 AM.
The DAW track was filled with sessions. I could no longer count the number of instruments on just my two fingers.
It seemed a bit sparse for idol music, but now my brain feels sluggish. I’ve burned it out and all that remained was a craving for sleep.
“…Oh, right.”
Suddenly, the impending catastrophe hit me:
Yoo Ah-ra’s OST recording.
That’s today—at noon. I only had three hours left.
And I didn’t have a car. Taking the subway to Director Yoon Seong-han’s studio would take at least an hour…
Ding!
Suddenly, my phone buzzed.
“…Comments? Oh, right.”
It was a comment on the YouTube channel I had been managing recently.
-The song is nice. I listened to it while I slept.”
So far, I’ve uploaded a total of two tracks, each garnering 239,137 views. Considering I’m just a beginner who started less than a week ago, that seems like a pretty good achievement.
-Thank you.
I replied briefly and then stretched.
“Let’s go.”
Now, It’s time I meet Yoo Ah-ra again.
But today, unlike yesterday, I felt completely confident. The reasons for that confidence were overflowing.
Before setting off, I played the song for which I had finished the first verse.
Although it was still a work in progress with some rough spots and only two minutes long…
“…Even I think it sounds good.”
She probably won’t dislike this.
