Chapter 48: Work That Came Walking In (2)
“So? Not bad, right? They’re pretty good, right?”
All five members of Cloud had stepped into the booth and each sang a song they were confident in.
There weren’t any glaring flaws.
Even the member brought in as a rapper turned out to sing better than he rapped.
“Hey, I’m asking you here. What do you think?”
If you’re asking about my impression of Cloud right now, I’d say this—their tone clarity is worlds apart from what you hear in their released tracks.
It has much sharper colors and has excellent expression.
However, the songs they’ve been promoting don’t reflect any of that liveliness.
They’re sloppy.
Dull.
Damp.
Which means—up until now, the music Cloud’s been performing hasn’t suited them at all.
This is why there’s such a vast difference between recorded tracks and a live impression.
“Not bad. For a boy group, they’ve got solid skills.”
“Right? We didn’t hit No. 33 for nothing. Sure, we dropped back down to the 70s in three hours, but still.”
By age: Baek-chan is a ‘95-liner, Jae, Se-hyun, and Yoo-jin are ‘96, and Ho-su’s the youngest, born in ‘97.
Five names already feel like too many to memorize.
Roughly speaking, Ho-su’s got the best looks, and Baek-chan’s the strongest vocalist.
“They’ve got good personalities too. All of them came from the bottom, training day in and day out. If they couldn’t debut, they just moved from one agency to another. Except for the maknae, they’ve probably all spent close to eight years as trainees.”
“Yeah, it shows.”
“…But what’s with that expression? The moment they walked in and saw your face, they all looked like deer in headlights. Him included.”
Yoon Seong-woo gestured toward the road manager, who had just entered.
“N-not at all, sir. I’m fine.”
“Hmm…”
My face.
Right.
There’s no way I look particularly cheerful.
I can’t even afford a proper meal right now.
Though I’d die of embarrassment before I ever admit I’m starving because of a stupid impulse purchase.
“Commanding respect matters. Back when I was So-ha, I bent over backward trying to cater to the artists too much.”
But I’m different now.
Even if I can’t always give them the best song, I’m confident I can map out the right path for each singer.
So from now on, I won’t let myself get swayed by artists’ opinions.
Singers don’t need to decide the direction—they just need to follow the road I draw.
“Is that so? More importantly, do you have a concept in mind yet?”
Cloud has five colors.
If I had to assign each of their tonalities a shade, I’d say: teal, pastel blue, violet, grayish white, and a warm reddish-yellow.
That’s one achromatic tone, two green-blue tones, one violet, and one yellow tone.
The balance among their tonal groups is solid, and the color saturation and texture are excellent.
They may not have the same brilliance I sensed from Yoon Hyeok-pil or Ji Ah-yeong, but still.
I began to mentally blend their distinct tones.
As the colors and timbres of the instruments swirled together in my mind… a vivid landscape surfaced.
A crisp wind, a frost-colored sky tinged with sunset hues, and snowflakes drifting in the air.
“…Winter.”
Spring might be on the way, but reminiscing about snow flowers while looking at fresh buds isn’t such a bad concept.
“Huh? Winter?”
“Yeah. I think winter fits them best.”
I immediately opened my DAW and began building a new session.
Into that blank slate, I dropped in a VST.
Idol songs typically have layers upon layers of instruments.
They kind of have to.
But for now, I’ll start with a single element to sketch out the foundation.
A rose-tinted sunset bleeding into a cold winter sky.
That potentially monotonous but hauntingly beautiful image—carried by a wind that tastes faintly of snow…
“Hey. Hey.”
Just as I was deep in it, Yoon Seong-woo tapped me lightly on the shoulder.
“…Huh?”
“You got a text, a text.”
“Ah. Right.”
I picked up my phone.
It was a message from the Together Duo production team.
—Casting for non-celeb participants is complete. Partner selection recording scheduled for March 10, 1 PM
—Notice of format change: Number of performing singers increased from 5 to 6.
“What is it?”
“Schedule.”
I slipped my phone back into my pocket, then glared at Yoon Seong-woo with a sideways glance.
I had just been on the verge of catching a wave of inspiration—damn this guy.
“…Wh-what?”
“Tell the kids to come out.”
“Got it.”
Yoon Seong-woo opened the booth door and brought the members out.
Five fully grown men stood in a line, their faces noticeably tense as they looked at me.
I pointed to Baek-chan first.
“Nice tone, but your breath control is crap. The color comes out, then cuts off, then comes out again. It’s jarring. What’s up with that? Do you smoke?”
“…Excuse me?”
“Yes or no. Just answer that.”
“Uh, I-I don’t smoke.”
“So, you do smoke. And you lie on top of that?”
“Uh, I, uh…”
“And you. Blondie.”
Jae flinched at my words, having stayed quiet until now.
“Now’s not the time to be messing around on your phone, is it? Out of everyone here, you’re the weakest. At this rate, you’ll get one line and that’s it. And what’s with that vibrato? Sounds like a damn goat—”
Late at night.
Inside the van heading back to Cloud’s dorm, Yoon Seong-woo spoke.
“So, what do you think of your first meeting?”
“How is your first meeting?”
There is no response, even after waiting a while.
Glancing at the rearview mirror, their faces all looked wrecked.
“What can I say? If his song becomes the title track, you guys are in for one hell of a ride.”
“Still, if the song’s good… I think I can endure… even the punishment.”
As the leader, Baek-chan was the only one who sounded even remotely upbeat.
“And the feedback he gave us was fair. He pointed out our weak spots with real specifics.”
Even the maknae, Ho-su, chimed in.
“Yeah. Just keep at it, all of you. And Baek-chan—quit smoking.”
“…Yes.”
Baek-chan answered, crestfallen.
As the heavy silence settled, Yoon Seong-woo turned his eyes to the window.
The dark scenery blurred past.
Somehow, watching it made him feel bitter.
The passing night outside mirrored the kids’ current state too well.
Truthfully, confiscating the members’ phones hadn’t just been about protecting their privacy.
The more they kept up with the outside world, the more likely they were to run into that inevitable venom—damn inferiority.
Yoon Seong-woo had wanted to keep Cloud as far away from that poison as possible.
Inferiority complexes drive people mad.
Especially when someone you used to call a friend, someone you trained with, is now flying higher than you ever have…
Even if it were just about envy, maybe that’d still be bearable.
But long-term trainees carry deeper wounds than that.
If two trainees were dating, it wasn’t uncommon for some outside bastard who debuted first to swoop in and steal one’s partner.
Even after debuting, those kinds of problems don’t go away.
This industry’s smaller than it looks, and the hierarchy of the food chain is decided by only one thing: popularity.
And out of Cloud’s five members, two had gone through something like that.
They’d lost their lovers to guys who used to be their friends.
Baek Chan and Jae were the ones.
I’d nearly killed myself trying to talk them out of quitting the industry back then.
Shaking off the lingering thoughts, Yoon Seong-woo forced a bit of energy into his voice.
“Let’s crush it this time. Push our way up. Let’s pay back every bit of humiliation we’ve gone through. Do way better than those bastards who looked down on you. Let’s get revenge. Revenge, I tell you. They say even if it takes a thousand years, a gentleman’s revenge is never too late.”
At that, Ho-su chimed in.
“…But still, isn’t a thousand years a bit too late, manager-nim?”
“You, shut it.”
3 A.M.
I got up from my work chair after six hours.
“Damn, since when was working on two songs this exhausting?”
Stretching out my stiff neck and wrists, I muttered complaints.
Kim Yoo-jung and Cloud.
Somehow, I’d ended up working on both tracks at the same time, and the two concepts couldn’t be more different, which made the transition jarring.
Kim Yoo-jung’s folk ballad needed to evoke a soft, romantic melancholy that tugs at your heartstrings.
Meanwhile, Cloud needed something bold, with colors so vivid they’d stick in people’s minds.
Because of that, every time I shifted from Yoo-jung’s piece to Cloud’s, the emotional momentum and inspiration I’d built up shattered.
I should’ve just finished one completely before switching over…
Bzzz—
Just as I was massaging my foggy head, my phone rang.
“…Hello?”
—”Producer-nim. It’s Kim Yoo-jung.”
A voice I knew all too well.
She was loving the idea of going solo so much that lately, she’d been calling me nearly once a day.
“Yeah. What is it this time?”
I feigned ignorance as I asked.
—”…I was just curious.”
“About what? Oh—the song?”
—”Yes.”
“Wanna hear it?”
—”Yes! Please!”
I let out a small chuckle and played the track.
The melody spilled from my speaker through the phone, still rough and unpolished, with no lyrics yet.
I’d finished about a minute and ten seconds of the song, but I only played her thirty seconds.
I wanted to leave her wanting more.
Call it mean, but I couldn’t help it.
Letting someone hear an unfinished track… It’s embarrassing.
—”Ah, I can’t hear it well. I wanna listen more closely.”
“I’m not sending you the file.”
—”…Do you not trust me?”
Her voice practically dripped with disappointment.
“No—it’s just that I’d be ashamed. I need to keep the rough cut to myself.”
—”…”
She stayed silent for a while, clearly unhappy.
“You can hear it properly when you come next time?”
Finally, Kim Yoo-jung opened her mouth again.
—”…Right. Oh, and Ah-ra-unnie wanted me to ask—can we all get together sometime soon?”
“Huh? Doesn’t Letter already have that summer thing? Vacation or party or something?”
Mid-sized agencies usually take their staff and artists on group trips.
I’d heard Letter does the same.
Team Leader Lee Ha-yeon had even said they were debating between Guam and Bali.
—”This is different though.”
However, Kim Yoo-jung remained adamant.
“…Fine. Do what you want. It’s up to your schedules anyway.”
—“Okay. I’ll contact you again later. I need to sleep now.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
—“Good night, Producer-nim.”
Her voice was so polite, I could almost picture her bowing at the waist while still holding her phone.
It made me chuckle without meaning to.
“Sleep well.”
No sooner had the call ended than another one came in.
This time, it was Kim Ji-in.
—“Hello?”
Even though it was the middle of the night, her voice was full of energy.
“Did you just wake up?”
— “No~ But why did you contact me?”
Between her words, I could hear smacking sounds—yep, sounded like Kim Ji-in was having a late-night snack.
“Ah, I was thinking of asking you to write some lyrics. How about we set up a meeting sometime?”
—”Hmm~ I’ve gotten expensive, you know.”
“Then forget it if you’re busy.”
I hung up right away.
Almost instantly, my phone rang again.
—“Seriously? What’s with you? So impatient.”
“So, are you doing it or not?”
—”What is it? Another girl group? You really like girl groups, Producer-nim…”
She was about to start guessing, so I cut her off.
“No. This time, it’s a boy group—”
—”I’m in. 100%. I’m doing it.”
