Chapter 47: Work That Came Walking In (1)
Beep-beep.
Sliiide.
A card tapped against the sensor, and the door slid open with a soft mechanical sound.
The noise stirred me awake.
‘Who is it? It’s probably not a robber…’
Just as I was about to close my eyes again, a voice called out from above.
“Producer-nim, what are you doing?”
That voice, like the drop of a water bead, made me slowly crack open my eyes.
Delicate eyes, half-lidded with a sleepy air.
Dark, well-shaped eyebrows. A slightly curved nose like a half-moon blade.
That finely balanced combination could only belong to Kim Yoo-jung.
“…I was sleeping until just now.”
At my perfectly reasonable reply, her eyebrows creased slightly.
“I figured that much. But why are you sleeping here?”
“Ah, well, my studio’s under renovation right now…”
Ten days ago, I’d sunk nearly all the money I’d earned so far into finally starting construction.
The plan was to rebuild the soundproof booth from scratch and rearrange the furniture to make the cramped space look a little more open.
Which meant that until the work was completely finished, crashing here was my only option.
“…Hmph. But why are you here all of a sudden?”
I sat up and asked, my voice still hoarse from sleep.
Kim Yoo-jung pouted slightly, her expression prim and tidy as ever.
“We were supposed to have our concept meeting, remember? Or wait—was that just in my head?”
“Ah, crap. You’re right. Totally slipped my mind. Sorry, sorry.”
Normally, in a company the size of Letter, concept meetings were held by team units—staffers gathering and brainstorming in small groups.
But that didn’t apply to Yoo-jung and me.
Since it was just a single release at best, Lee Ha-yeon had entrusted the entire project to me.
Putting it nicely, we were given full autonomy.
Putting it bluntly, it meant: “No one else cares.”
The rest of the staff were probably focused on Ha Ye-ri.
“Huaaaah.”
I stretched with a loud yawn.
My whole body felt stiff.
I was also starting to worry I might stink from not washing up.
“Let me just wash my face first.”
“Okay.”
I shuffled to the bathroom, gave myself a cat wash (just splashing water haphazardly), and returned.
Settling into my work chair, I turned on the computer.
“So, what’s the current schedule looking like?”
No answer from Kim Yoo-jung.
“…You don’t know?”
She gave a tiny nod.
“Well, in that case, we’d better start with the song. Come sit.”
I opened YouTube—my own channel.
There was a track I’d uploaded a while back, a folk ballad I had composed.
It was a half-finished piece I’d tried tailoring to Kim Yoo-jung’s taste but ended up shelving halfway through.
“What do you think of this style?”
I hit play.
The melody flowed—calm, laced with the gentle charm of folk guitar.
It was close to the genre she liked.
As the 2 minute and 30 second track ended, Kim Yoo-jung recited three words without changing her facial expression.
“I like it.”
“…Do you really like it?”
“Yes.”
She nodded, but her voice was hollow, devoid of conviction.
Like hell I wouldn’t notice.
“Don’t lie.”
“I really do like it.”
“C’mon. We’re not using this for your song anyway, so just be honest. It’s for my YouTube.”
“…Your YouTube?”
“Yeah.”
I showed her the channel—3,377 subscribers.
Growth had stalled, probably because of the genre’s niche, but the views were steady.
“I’ll subscribe too.”
Kim Yoo-jung suddenly started rummaging through her bag for her phone.
“No, that’s not the point. I’m asking how the song is. Be honest.”
“……”
She tucked her phone away again and looked at me.
Well, at least she got what she needed to do out of the way.
Gaining one more subscriber wouldn’t hurt.
“Uhm… the vibe is nice. But… I don’t see a place for my voice in it.”
She was right.
Even before she finished, I snapped my fingers with a click!
“Exactly. You’re spot on. Directing you will be so much easier than it was with Yoo Ah-ra. Yoo-jung-ah, you’ve got real musical sense.”
“…Wh-what? No way…”
Kim Yoo-jung shook her head quickly, flustered.
Her cheeks were glowing, unsure if it was embarrassment or secret pride.
“Anyway, let’s move on to the discussion. Using this as a foundation, let’s figure out what kind of picture we want to paint—and how to make the most of your pink-toned voice.”
“Okay.”
She replied with a smile.
That doll-like smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes.
Ever since Lilac hit number one on the charts, I’d been gradually fixing up my small, 13-pyeong officetel.
I figured I’d be recording songs for a decent number of artists going forward, and heading over to the Letter building every single time just seemed… way too inconvenient.
…To be honest, the biggest reason was embarrassment.
There’s no way I could invite an artist into a crappy studio with laundry racks cluttering the place.
First, I built a brand-new recording booth—bigger, more comfortable.
That alone cost over ten million won.
Next came the interior.
And that’s where I made a mistake.
In a burst of impulsiveness, I threw out a bunch of furniture—including the bed.
I’d convinced myself I could just sleep on the sofa.
A completely deranged idea.
Sure, it gave me more space, but still.
Lastly, I upgraded the equipment.
A new synthesizer, various VST software, effect processors, a mixer… the works.
It was the first time I’d ever had that much cash in hand, so I didn’t think twice.
I just bought what I needed, and before I knew it, the money was gone.
I mean, I didn’t even have enough left to eat.
“I’m seriously gonna starve to death at this rate.”
My studio had transformed into something nearly indistinguishable from a professional space.
But my bank balance was circling the drain.
All I had left on me was 5,000 won in cash.
That’s barely enough for two meals at Letter’s cafeteria.
If I wanted to hold out until March 22nd when my copyright royalties hit…
Bzzzzzz—
My phone buzzed.
A call.
Yoon Seong-woo.
—”Hey. I’m almost at your place. Are you ready?”
“It’s not my place, it’s the studio.”
—”Huh? Did you already get your own place?”
“…Just call it the studio.”
How could I call a place with nothing but a sofa home?
—”Ah, so you didn’t move, right? Code’s still the same?”
“Yeah.”
—”Alright, be there soon.”
“Hey, wait.”
I stopped Yoon Seong-woo just as he was about to hang up.
—”What?”
“…Pick up some snacks on your way. Something to eat.”
The moment Yoon Seong-woo ended the call, inside JM’s company van sat seven people total: Yoon Seong-woo, the road manager, and the five members of Cloud.
“The Lilac song this time was really good. If it could be that good, I wouldn’t have any more wishes.”
That was from Baek-chan, the leader.
The maknae, Ho-su, chimed in right after.
“You think we’ll end up with some super girly song? Like—‘They say I should always smile~ I’m so beautiful I don’t even know sadness~’”
“Whatever works. Actually, do you think we could meet the Lilac sunbaenims if we ask? Maybe~?”
At Se-hyun’s hopeful jab, all the members turned red in the face.
From the front seat, Yoon Seong-woo watched them through the rearview mirror and clicked his tongue.
“Cut the crap, you brats. Heli’s seriously scary.”
“Ehh~ but he looked super chill in the Travel Log though.”
He’d made a brief splash on Travel Log, where his vibe had definitely come across as mellow.
But Yoon Seong-woo shook his head.
“God, you guys are too damn naïve. That was all image-making. I went to school with him, okay? His fight record is 13 wins, zero losses. He even beat four people at once. His nickname was Mad Dog. Mad Dog.”
Despite the intimidating warning, the members still have smiling faces.
“Aw come on, you’re just trying to scare us again, manager-nim.”
At Baek-chan’s cheerful deflection, Yoon Seong-woo let out a sigh.
“And you’re supposed to be the leader… Just wait till you see him. You’ll get it once you see that guy’s frame. In person, he’s like twice what he looks like on camera.”
“Manager-nim, is that the building?”
Just then, the road manager slowed the van and asked.
The chatter died down, and everyone turned to look out the window.
It was an ordinary officetel—not run-down, but not flashy and new either.
Just a clean, simple building.
Yoon Seong-woo nodded.
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Right. We’ll head up first, so park and come up. It’s Unit 1108.”
“Yes, sir.”
Yoon Seong-woo got out of the van first, and the members of Cloud followed behind.
Feeling a bit self-conscious under the gazes around them, the members stood awkwardly in front of the officetel’s intercom.
When Yoon Seong-woo punched in 1108, the door buzzed open moments later.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes, sir.”
They took the elevator to the 11th floor and stopped in front of Unit 1108.
Without hesitation, Yoon Seong-woo keyed in the passcode.
Beep beep beep beep.
The door unlocked, and Cloud’s members hesitantly trailed in behind him.
The studio was designed in a sleek, black aesthetic.
The first thing that caught their eye after stepping inside was a baseball bat leaning against the wall at an angle.
‘Why is that there?’
Baek-chan noticed it first and gave an involuntary shudder.
‘Look at that. Look.’
He nudged the others, gesturing toward the wall.
Se-hyun, Jae, Yoo-jin, and Ho-su—faces that had been smiling until moments ago—immediately tensed up.
“Hey. We’re here.”
Yoon Seong-woo said while looking toward the interior.
“Yeah, you’re here?”
A deep voice responded.
All five members turned their gaze toward the sound.
Standing in front of a synthesizer was a large man with a tightly furrowed brow.
The look on his face was enough to put anyone on edge.
Gulp.
Five grown men audibly swallowed in unison.
Yoon Seong-woo glanced around, taking in the space.
“You changed a lot, huh? All the equipment looks brand new.”
Kim So-ha leaned in and whispered in Yoon
Seong-woo’s ear.
“…I went all in and broked myself. More importantly, did you bring food like I asked?”
“What nonsense—”
“Ah, fuck, I told you to bring foods!”
“The road manager’s still parking. I’ll have him get something. Sit down first.”
“…Tch.”
Only then did Kim So-ha take a seat in the work chair.
He turned his attention to the Cloud members, who were still lingering at a distance.
Their expressions were stiff, to say the least.
“Cloud, was it? Come closer.”
“Hey, don’t you have any more chairs?”
Seong-woo, who’d snagged the only spare chair, asked while glancing around.
“Ah, sorry. Just finished construction, I don’t have extras yet.”
“Well, they can stand. Right, guys?”
“Y-yes. Of course. That’s totally fine.”
Baek-chan, the leader, nodded rapidly, though he couldn’t stop himself from sneaking glances at the bat propped against the wall.
‘That’s not… for discipline or anything, right? ‘
“That’s them—Cloud. You know them, right? Half a year since debut. Their best chart rank was 33. Not mainstream yet, but they’ve got a solid fanbase. Each member’s got their own color.”
“Yeah, I know. I looked them up. Their fandom name is Rain’, right?”
Cloud and Rain.
Naturally, as in rain falling from the clouds.
“You’re well-informed. So, you haven’t made the track yet?”
When agencies request a song, it usually falls into one of two categories.
Either they choose from tracks the composer has already prepared, or they scout a composer first and commission a custom track.
The latter definitely requires more trust.
“Nah, haven’t even drafted anything yet.”
“Oh? Then can I hear a bit now…? Wait, why do you sound like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”
“Wait a minute. Before that.”
Kim So-ha’s gaze shifted toward the members of Cloud.
His eyes were razor-sharp.
All five of them instinctively flinched.
“Do any of you happen to have your phones on you?”
“Nope. We haven’t even debuted a year yet. Our agency’s strict as hell about that.”
Even so, Kim So-ha didn’t look away.
His eyes slowly swept across the members’ faces. Baek-chan, Se-hyun, Jae, Yoo-jin, Ho-su.
…Jae.
“That one doesn’t look so sure.”
Kim So-ha pointed at one of them.
The guy with the cute face and dyed yellow hair—Jae.
“H-huh?”
“Come here for a sec.”
“Uh—I swear, I don’t have a phone or anything like that.”
Jae shook his head quickly, trying to deny it, but cold sweat had already begun forming at his temple.
Even Yoon Seong-woo eyed him suspiciously.
“Why are you reacting like that?”
“N-no, it’s just… you’re saying I have one, but I don’t…”
“Guys, grab him.”
At Yoon Seong-woo’s signal, the other four members lunged in unison.
“Aah! That tickles! It tickles—ehehe! Ehehehe! Ahahaha!”
Oddly enough, the members looked more delighted than anything—like they were glad he got caught.
‘Nooo!’
With a shriek, a phone popped out.
Ho-su, the maknae, proudly stepped forward and presented it like a loyal soldier.
“Here it is!”
“Hey. Explain this?”
Yoon Seong-woo waved the phone in Jae’s face, glaring.
Jae stammered, trying to explain.
“I just… I just wanted to keep in touch with my parents back home…”
Ho-su cut him off with a mocking tone.
“What a load of crap. Didn’t you say they moved to Seoul just last week?”
“You little sh—”
Jae’s face twisted into a scowl aimed at Ho-su.
“This is confiscated.”
“Ah! But, Manager-nim, it’s really not a big deal. I just wanted to play some mobile games…”
“Then unlock it. I’ll check and decide for myself.”
Once again, Ho-su chimed in.
“…You are so dead—ow.”
Yoon Seong-woo gave him a light flick to the forehead.
“You gonna unlock it, or do I just take it and keep it?”
“…I’ll unlock it. But can I just send one quick text?”
“It’s just two years without a phone. Can’t you survive that long?”
Despite the scolding, Yoon Seong-woo handed the phone back temporarily.
“Thank you!”
With lightning-fast fingers, Jae fired off a few texts, then handed the phone back without fuss.
And with that, the brief chaos came to an end.
“Alright then, no need for introductions at this point.”
Kim So-ha casually pointed toward the recording booth.
“Let’s hear your voices, shall we?”
