Chapter 8: An Unexpected Opportunity (3)
In just six hours, I finished rearranging the first verse of ‘Sending My Love’. My vision was blurry, and my mind felt hazy. It was as if I’d been in a trance.
“…Ugh.”
Stretching like a zombie, I glanced to the side. Yoon Hyeok-pil was snoring softly on a small couch. I’m pretty sure I’d told him to go home and wait about five hours ago.
Did I not even notice him there while I was working? I suddenly felt like a genius. Chuckling, I stood up.
I considered putting a blanket over him but instead I just nudged him awake.
“Groar—”
With his hair all over the place, Yoon Hyeok-pil let out a lion’s roar as he got up.
“I’ve finished the arrangement for the first verse. Come and listen.”
“…”
He just stared blankly at me for a moment, then he glanced at the clock and back at me.
He seemed to be questioning if rearranging a song could be done this quickly, his slightly furrowed brow saying as much.
“Just give it a listen.”
It’s easier to let him hear it than to explain a hundred times. I simply handed him the headset. Still half-asleep, Yoon Hyeok-pil put the headset on.
“Here we go.”
I played the DAW up to the completed first verse. Now, the first verse of ‘Sending My Love’ would flow into his ears.
I used richer colors and deeper emotions than the original, employing heavier instruments. I did my best, but the most important thing was the evaluation of the singer who will sing this song.
I watched Yoon Hyeok-pil anxiously.
At first, he had a half-skeptical look on his face. But as the song played on, the expressions on his face began to shift dramatically. His eyes widened, his mouth hung open, and even his nostrils flared.
I couldn’t help but laugh and stopped the music as the first verse ended.
Then I asked.
“What do you think, can you feel it?”
“…Pardon?”
Yoon Hyeok-pil responded, looking bewildered.
“Can you feel the empty space where your voice will fit in?”
He stared at me like someone lost, then suddenly nodded his head vigorously.
“Yes. Yes yes, yes.”
“Good. Now, practice on your own for a bit.”
“Yes?”
As soon as the tension was released, the sleep I’d been putting off finally hit me hard.
“I’m about to collapse. I’ve been awake for almost 16 hours now.”
I said as I waved my hand in front of his face. He seemed to realize what I mean and then stepped aside. I lay down on the sofa.
“I’m going to take a nap…”
“Okay. I’ll practice for a bit.”
Sleep quickly overtook me and enveloping my exhausted mind.
……
……
– If the scent of the wind we felt together still remains with you
A line of the song pierced through my ears. It seemed like sound was leaking through the slightly open booth door.
– That we might see each other again…
No, this isn’t right.
It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on my head, jolting me awake. I scrambled to my feet and stormed into the booth.
“No, Hyeok-pil-ssi!”
“Aaah!”
Contrary to my intention, Yoon Hyeok-pil was singing the song with the original optimistic tone of hopeful waiting. That won’t do. It wasn’t supposed to sound so bright. The color of his voice needed to be heavier.
“Y-You’re awake?”
“No, you can’t sing it that way.”
“Yes?”
“Your voice needs to be darker, more somber. Think of a deeper navy blue—sadder, more sadly. As if you’re trying to hold back tears! Got it!”
He nodded, looking a bit scared by my red-eyed intensity.
“Oh, oh, y-yes… I understand.”
“Good. Now, sing that verse again,”
I said that and stepped out of the booth.
This time, I didn’t lie back on the couch. I put on my headset and turned on the microphone.
“Alright, let’s go. Just like I told you. It absolutely can’t get any lighter.”
[5 days until recording, Tuesday, November 14th, 3 PM.]
I was practically living in the studio at Letter Entertainment.
Fortunately, I didn’t get caught or kicked out, but I literally stayed confined to the studio because I knew it would be awkward if I ran into anyone from the company.
Being almost forced to focus solely on work, the progress was lightning-fast. I had finished rearranging ‘Sending My Love’ in just two days.
And to my delight, as soon as the rearrangement was completed, I got some good news. The company had managed to secure a haegeum player.
So, do I just need to follow and play along with the pre-recorded haegeum?”
Yoon Yeon, the haegeum player we had a hard time inviting, looked at the two of us with a slightly skeptical look.
“Yes, we already decided how the haegeum melody line will go. But since we’re not very familiar with the haegeum, could you add some nuances? It’ll be a bit stiff because we’ve only worked with MIDI.”
“You decided to use the haegeum without really knowing much about it?”
“Well, it just happened that way.”
The haegeum would play alongside the piano at the beginning and in the middle, and in the latter part, it would subtly blend with the vocals during the climax.
I believed it to be the perfect combination, but the expert’s opinion was crucial.
“…but where are the other session players?”
She asked suddenly, catching me off guard.
“We don’t have any.”
“Yes?”
“…Not yet.”
“Why not? Isn’t the performance in five days?”
“Yes, but, well, what can we do? The broadcasting station people told us to wait.”
It seemed like they just wanted us to come in last place today and never see us again. Rumor had it that the main PD had a strong dislike for Yoon Hyeok-pil.
“How are we supposed to manage that? We’re going to be pressed for time.”
Yoon Yeon said, narrowing her eyes slightly.
“For now, just play the haegeum according to our arrangement. You can improvise and add ad-libs as long as it doesn’t ruin the song’s atmosphere.”
“…”
Yoon Yeon glared back and forth between me and Yoon Hyeok-pil alternately, pouting her lips. This could go badly if she decides to walk out on us.
This isn’t good. We need to act quickly.
“Oh, right~ My bad! Here, listen to the song first, the song first.”
“Whoa!”
I pulled the chair she was sitting on and placed her directly in front of the computer. Then I placed the headphones on her head before she could even protest.
“Wait, hold on—”
“No time.”
I started the song before she could say anything more. Despite grumbling, Yoon Yeon displayed her professional side as the music began playing, focusing intently.
Yoon Hyeok-pil and I nervously pursed our dry lips, focusing on her reaction.
“……”
“……”
“……”
After an uncomfortable four minutes or so of silence, she finally looked at me and said.
“…Are you sure you don’t know much about haegeum?”
[Tuesday, November 14th, 6 PM]
At NBC’s new Sinsa-dong headquarters, the production team of ‘Singing Through the Times’ under the second entertainment department was deeply immersed in the final editing of episode 218, which will be aired this Thursday.
However, since there was still plenty of time before the broadcast on the 16th, there were quite a few staff members who were slacking off, and Park Jung-woo, a PD in his second year, was one of them.
‘I wonder why he’s so grumpy again today…….’
With a click, Park Jung-woo navigated through the online community, his eyes carefully scanning for any indication of his unusually irritable main PD’s mood.
“Wow. So these two are dating too. No wonder they were sticking together during the shoot…”
Park Jung-woo chuckled to himself as he scrolled through some accumulated gossip and humor. Just then, a notification popped up in the lower right corner of his screen.
[You’ve received an email.]
“Hmm?”
Park Jung-woo opened the email without much thought. The sender was from Yoon Hyeok-pil of Letter Entertainment. Despite feeling a bit sorry for the situation he was in, Park Jung-woo knew that Yoon Hyeok-pil was a major source of the main PD’s constant bad mood.
After reading the contents, he sighed and walked over to the main PD, Kim Tae-joo.
“Senior, the arrangement for Yoon Hyeok-pil’s song is done. Would you like to listen to it?”
Kim Tae-joo frowned at the mention of the assistant director’s words.
“So what?”
“…Yes?”
“Hey. Didn’t I tell you to handle those bastards on your own? Why can’t you remember what I told you? Are you a goldfish?”
“…I’m sorry.”
Park Jung-woo bowed his head, swallowing his rising frustration.
He’s talented but lacks flexibility. He’s too obsessed with the show’s success and ratings. He’s stubborn.
In short, his personality is as shitty as his square, blunt face.
These are the common descriptions junior staff use when talking about ‘Main PD Kim Tae-joo’.
“They’re not going to be around after next week anyway. Just handle it however you want.”
However, Kim Tae-joo was not someone who could be accused of being irresponsible. If he were, he wouldn’t have taken the time to discuss each stage concept and arrangement with the performers—sometimes starting three weeks before recording.
Therefore, seeing him being so dismissive about Yoon Hyeok-pil now seemed uncharacteristic to the rest of the production team.
“Still, shouldn’t we at least ask about how they plan to stage the performance…?”
“Fu*k off.”
Park Jung-woo, who had endured his boss’s grumbling over drinks, knew the real reason all too well. The reason is simple.
Yoon Hyeok-pil was a parachute with poor stage presence.
The rumors were true—Yoon Hyeok-pil’s casting was entirely due to pressure from the CP. The CP, who had some sort of deal with the head of Letter Entertainment, agreed to get Yoon Hyeok-pil on the show ‘Singing Through the Times’ in exchange for securing popular celebrities for other variety shows.
“Damn it, Park Jung-woo.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Are you out of your mind? If you want to handle it so badly, do it yourself. I hate even racking my brains thinking about those bastards!”
However, Kim Tae-joo hadn’t hated Yoon Hyeok-pil from the beginning. After all, Yoon Hyeok-pil was the winner of an NBC audition program ‘Birth of A Singer’, so Kim Tae-joo had swallowed his pride and tried to make the most of this parachute work.
The transformation from ugly duckling to swan is rare, but not impossible.
But everything went wrong during the first week’s performance. The arrangement was terrible, and the singer was stumbling. The disastrous scene was the worst Park Jung-woo had ever witnessed.
“Damn it. The strike messed up the schedule, and now the ratings are dropping like crazy.”
Leaving the red-faced, fuming Kim Tae-joo behind, Park Jung-woo returned to his seat.
And then, as he was about to slack off again… he suddenly became curious.
“Hmm.”
They had recklessly chosen ‘Sending My Love’.
Well, it’s not like his arrangement would be anything special, but it wouldn’t be longer than three or four minutes anyway. Glancing around to ensure Kim Tae-joo wasn’t watching, Park Jung-woo plugged his earphones into his laptop.
“Hoaaam.”
「Sending My Love – Yoon Hyeok-pil.MP3」
He played the file with a wide yawn.
“Hmm. The intro is pretty good.”
Until the intro played, Park Jung-woo continued surfing the web.
But at some point, his hands stopped moving. The monitor screen remained on the rather uninteresting news page.
Exactly 4 minutes and 17 seconds passed.
Park Jung-woo suddenly closed his laptop and stood up.
His face was noticeably more serious than before. Swallowing hard, he cautiously approached Kim Tae-joo again.
“Um, senior.”
“…What now. Why, why.”
However, Kim Tae-joo’s expression was even harsher than before. He looked ready to slap him if he mentioned the song.
“You probably don’t want to hear the song they sent over… Yes. But just in case, maybe we should at least check on their progress?”
“Progress?”
“Yes, yes. We might be able to use it for a teaser. Since the schedule is messed up and we can’t release the stage preview, maybe we could shoot their progress instead…”
“Haaaahh.”
A long, exasperated sigh cut off the middle of the sentence. Kim Tae-joo did not give any response. Only his reddened face and glaring eyes, as if about to burst, were threatening Park Jung-woo to the fullest.
Nevertheless, Park Jung-woo mustered his courage to speak again.
“So, I could go over there to check… then you won’t have to…”
“Yeah, fine! Go! Go, damn it, go right now! Go, you bastard! Get lost!”
“Yes, sir! Understood!”
Finally exploding, a furious Kim Tae-joo got to his feet and mimicked a kick at him and Park Jung-woo hurriedly scrambled away.
