TPWDS Chapter 30

Chapter 30: New Album (3)

 

As Lee Ha-yeon was reviewing the music video script, the sound of murmuring caught her attention, and she glanced up.  

“…What are they doing?”  

A nearby staff member, who had also been watching, replied, 

“Oh, um, they’re having… some sort of drawing battle?”  

“What?”  

Lee Ha-yeon narrowed her eyes. 

Sure enough, it seemed that, with Yoo Ah-ra sitting between them, the two guys were indeed competing to draw her portrait.  

“I told them to shoot a music video, not a comedy…”  

Clicking her tongue, she walked over, intending to break up the nonsense. 

But when she arrived, she was struck by the unexpectedly serious atmosphere surrounding them, so she decided to watch, positioning herself behind Chan-hyeok.  

Oh.  

He was actually pretty good. Clearly, there was a reason he was known as the ‘art guy’ in Romeo. Impressed, she then moved to stand behind Heli to see his work.  

“….”  

For a moment, she was speechless.  

This was on another level. No, it wasn’t even comparable. While she wasn’t an art expert, it was clear that his skill stood out with an overwhelming finesse, realistic yet breathtaking detail, and a calm fluidity in his strokes.  

Lee Ha-yeon found herself captivated as she watched him. His pencil danced across the page, bringing Yoo Ah-ra’s flowing hair and sparkling eyes to life. The portrait, more beautiful than reality, was completed in no time.  

However, after noticing that Chan-hyeok was still drawing, Heli began adding touches in the air, as if out of respect for his opponent, he was giving him extra time.  

“All done~”

After about ten more minutes, Chan-hyeok finally set down his pencil.  

“Uh, I’m done too.”  

Heli put his pencil down at the same time. Chan-hyeok stood up and walked over to Heli’s drawing, full of confidence. But the moment he saw it, his entire body froze, as if he’d turned to stone. Only his pupils quivered, as if shaken by a sudden earthquake.  

“…Did you… just draw this now?”  

After a long silence, Chan-hyeok mumbled in disbelief. Heli replied casually. 

“Of course.”  

“Oh…”  

Slowly, Chan-hyeok backed away, snatching his own drawing from the easel before bolting out of the set.  

“Everyone! Shooting time! Let’s get going! No time to waste, people!”  

He suddenly yelled, rallying the staff to hurry up and prepare.  

“…What’s with him? Why is he acting like that?”  

Curious, Yoo Ah-ra walked over to Heli to see what Chan-hyeok had seen.  

“Let me see… What did you draw that—”  

Her words trailed off when she saw it. Her portrait, beautiful, serene, and delicate, filled the canvas. It captured her likeness, yet somehow it was different—more ethereal, almost otherworldly in its beauty. Yoo Ah-ra stood there, mesmerized, gazing at it for a long time.  

In the bottom right corner of the canvas, two small words were inscribed:  

‘Ah-ra. By So-ha.’  

“This is…”  

She pointed numbly at the portrait. Heli, or Kim So-ha, simply patted her shoulder and said, nonchalantly,  

“Take it. It’s yours. A gift.”

Lee Ha-yeon simply watched the two of them in silence.  

 

---

 

January 17, 6:00 PM.  

I’m still at the Letter headquarters. Not because I’m here to see Ji Ah-young like before. Ever since that last rejection, I haven’t gone looking for her. 

I suppose it’s partly my lack of persistence in relationships, but more than that, I’ve found other things to focus on.  

“This is great. I think it matches the album concept perfectly.”  

For the first time in ages, I’ve taken on an art project, designing the cover for Lilac’s mini album. 

When I dropped by the music video set, Lee Ha-yeon approached me and asked if I’d consider doing the album cover art. 

I accepted without hesitation, not only because the pay was good, but because it felt meaningful to create the cover for an artist I’d produced.  

Over the next two days, I threw myself into painting the three members of Lilac in oils. 

Lee Ha-yeon had requested an artwork concept of ‘three women blooming from lilac buds like an ethereal vision’. 

I think I managed to capture that essence in the final piece.  

“Did you say you’ve been drawing for a long time?”  

Thankfully, Lee Ha-yeon seems quite satisfied with the work.  

“Up until high school.”  

“Hmm…”  

She keeps turning the painting, admiring it from every angle, murmuring little sounds of amazement.  

“Wow…”  

“Do you like it that much?”  

“Huh? Oh, yes, I just… I’ve never seen an album cover like this before. It’s like real art.”  

“Once it’s shrunk down to CD size, it’ll all start to look the same anyway.”

Unless it’s an LP cover, staring at it too closely just strains the eyes. 

That’s why so many album covers look similar these days.  

“So, is the work done now?”  

“Yes. But actually, Heli-ssi, I didn’t call you here just for this. There’s another, more important matter.”  

Lee Ha-yeon set the painting down, her tone suddenly serious as she continued, sensing my curiosity.  

“Heli-ssi, have you considered joining Letter?”  

 

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With all the recent deposits from the album cover work, appearance fees for ‘Travel Log’, and royalties from ‘Mountain Scenery’ and ‘Alleyway’, my bank account was looking pretty healthy. 

With that, I bought myself a knit sweater and a winter coat. Thanks to regular exercise, they fit just right, not too snug. I even got a nice pair of dress shoes.  

And that was the extent of my indulgence.  

I sent half the remaining money to my father and used the other half to upgrade my equipment. Now, with a much better speaker system, I could finally enjoy listening to music at home.  

After some well-deserved spending, time passed quickly, and it was suddenly January 20, twelve days before Lilac’s album release.  

In the media, press releases about Lilac’s upcoming album, ‘Lonely Flower’, are everywhere. Fan sites and forums are buzzing more than ever, and the members’ social media activity and variety show appearances are ramping up.  

Meanwhile, I didn’t have much to do. I’d occasionally glance at the Rommel Chart. 

‘Mountain Scenery’ couldn’t climb past 5th place and had dropped down to 7th, while ‘Alleyway’ was still lingering in the top ten.  

Though it showed no sign of climbing higher, both Yoon Hyeok-pil and I were content. 

He’d also received an offer for a new project: a Lunar New Year special pilot directed by PD Park Jung-woo. The show’s concept is a duet variety program pairing singers with everyday people, and it’s titled ‘Together Duo’.  

“…Hmm.”  

And here I am, mulling over things. It’s been a while since I’ve felt the need to light a cigarette, but this time, the deliberation is serious.

Oh, no, I’m not mulling over whether Yoon Hyeok-pil should appear on the variety show. That’s not my decision to make.

It’s this:  

[Exclusive Producer Contract with Letter]  

That contract is currently my biggest concern.  

Since I figured my own judgment might be lacking, I gave a copy to Yoon Seong-woo for a second opinion. He said it’s a well-structured contract. 

I’d still be able to provide tracks even if the artist wasn’t under the same label; the only catch was a bit of priority restriction. The short contract term was especially advantageous.  

So, it probably makes sense to go for it. I’ll need a solid foundation until I have enough equipment and connections to stand on my own as an independent producer. There aren’t many companies as clean as Letter, either.  

“…I don’t know.”  

Still torn, I finally decided to call Lee Ha-yeon. She picked up before the phone even rang three times.  

-Yes. Have you made a decision?

Right to the point, without preamble.  

“…Ahem. Not yet, but I think I’ll be able to decide soon. Right now, I just have a few questions about the contract.” 

-What would you like to know?  

“Well, it mentions something about obligations as an exclusive producer… What exactly does that entail?”  

– “Oh, that’s nothing major. As stated in the contract, it’s mostly observing the trainee training survival program from time to time.”  

Wait, a trainee survival program? Ji Ah-young suddenly came to mind.  

“…Observing a survival program?”  

– “Yes. Oh, speaking of which, would you like to sit in on it tomorrow?”  

I swallowed hard.  

To be clear, I am absolutely not interested in Ji Ah-young. I decided to stop the foolishness of seeing Jeong Ha-yeon in her.  

But… There is one thing I’m curious about.

Who, exactly, is spouting nonsense about her lack of vocal talent? That’s what I want to know.

 

---

 

The next day, I arrived at Letter’s headquarters. Standing in front of the large mirror in the lobby, I did a final check of my outfit.

Coat? Check.

Sweater? No lint.

Hair? Decently tidy.

“Hm.”  

I ran a hand through my hair for good measure and headed downstairs.

The trainee evaluation was set to take place in the largest practice room on the basement level: Studio 1. Just as I was about to enter, I ran into another producer in the hallway.

“Oh?”

Slicked-back hair, a trimmed goatee, stocky build, and taller than average, though not quite taller than me. I’d heard about him in advance—Letter’s exclusive producer, Kim Yo-han. He gave me a curious look.

“What’s an outsider doing here?”

“I got permission to observe. Nice to meet you.”

I extended my hand first, but instead of shaking it, he frowned and asked, 

“Observe? Who gave you permission?”

“Team Leader Lee Ha-yeon.”

“Oh, right. She did say you’d gotten a copy of the contract. I heard there’d be one more joining us. Guess you decided to sign?”

I started to shake my head to say, ‘Not yet’, but quickly stopped myself. From his unfriendly attitude, I figured denying it might just make things uncomfortable.

“Well, let’s say… something like that.”

“‘Something like that’? And what’s with the ‘let’s say’?”

He shot a quick, appraising glance up and down at me, sounding slightly annoyed.

“Dressed up, are we? Trying to impress the trainees?”

“Excuse me?”

I frowned slightly.

“No, of course not.”

“Hahaha, don’t take it the wrong way. Even if it’s not your fault, these kids these days are sharp. Being young and pretty? That’s a weapon, my friend.”

He gave my shoulder a couple of playful taps while spouting nonsense, and I just smiled. 

He seemed to appreciate my effort to keep the peace.

“Alright then, let’s head in. Heli-ssi, was it?”

“…Yes.”

I followed him, resisting the urge to smack the back of his wide head.

 

---

 

The practice room was large, with mirrors lining all four walls, like an auditorium. In this vast space, trainees would have to sing or dance alone before a panel of judges. 

Meanwhile, the producers’ seats were at the far right of the room. The four of us sat in our chairs, attempting to look stern as we evaluated the trainees from a distance.

This was a place where countless hours of practice were compressed into ten short minutes and summarized with just a few words—a place that could be called the pinnacle of unfairness.

“Oh, right. Heli-ssi, I heard there’s a little bump in the road for the Lilac album?”

I was already feeling uncomfortable in this setting, and Kim Yo-han suddenly struck up a conversation.

“A bump?”

“Yeah. Pluto’s dropping their album on February 6.”

“…What?”

Pluto is currently a hot girl group. They’ve got fans of every gender, and all six members are celebrated for their visuals—and rightly so. Their singing abilities aren’t lacking either; if anything, they’re better than average.

But I’d heard they were supposed to promote in early March. Moving up their release date deliberately? Sounds like they’re aiming to overshadow us.

“Well, it’s a common occurrence in this industry. A lot of people tangled up in grudges like a web… or, it could be something else.”

He gave me a sly look.

“Maybe they thought the Lilac album would be an easy target?”

…So, he thinks I’m an easy target, huh.

“Don’t take it personally. You’re a producer without much experience. Even if ‘Mountain Scenery’ and ‘Alleyway’ did decently, girl groups are in a whole different league. They’re unpredictable, you know?”

I kept my silence, letting Kim Yo-han’s discouraging words slide. Getting angry here would only backfire on me.

“Well then…”

“Producers-nim, we’re ready to start.”

Thankfully, the program began before Kim Yo-han could say more.

“Oh, and Heli-ssi—about the CEO’s niece… Just don’t say anything to that trainee unless I signal you, okay?”

“…Excuse me?”

“Don’t ask questions. Just focus up, here they come.”

The door opened, and a trainee walked in—a petite girl with an innocent look. To me, she really was just a kid.

“Hello! I’m Yoo-joo!”

I was curious about her age, but before I could dwell on it, she gave a quick bow and began singing. Her song choice? Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Because of You’.

–Because of you I never stray too far…

“Oh?”

I had been worried the song might be too powerful for her, but despite her appearance, her voice was strong and clear. There was a bold, deep crimson quality to her tone, and she handled the difficult song impressively.

Her follow-up dance and special skills were solid too; I even thought she had potential to debut. But…

“Alright, okay, but it’s a bit much. Trying to look cute is fine, but overdoing it can be a turn-off. Your singing did improve, but that expression while you’re singing… you need to work on that.”

The producers’ critiques were lukewarm. The song, which was her strongest point, received minimal feedback, while they focused on nitpicks—her personality was too much, her small frame didn’t suit the dancing style—things that could have easily crushed her confidence. It almost felt like they were trying to bring her down on purpose.

“Oh, Heli-ssi, do you have anything to add?”

When Kim Yo-han addressed me, I nodded and picked up the mic. The trainee looked at me with a tense face, which quickly drained of color. For a second, I felt a bit miffed. Do I look that intimidating?

Ah, right.

I’d been frowning this whole time because of Kim Yo-han.

 

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