Free Web Novel"The listening for the third song has ended. From this point, please each write down your thoughts on the third song for about ten minutes, and as soon as that is done, we’ll move on to the fourth song."
The moment CEO Kim Sanghyeok finished speaking, everyone began talking among themselves and writing their impressions of the song that had just played into their notebooks.
'This one was a little safe.'
Lucas, too, was discussing the song with Raon, who was sitting beside him, while honestly writing down exactly how it had felt to him.
The meeting to choose the title track for Iam’s third mini album.
In truth, when he first heard that they would be choosing the title track through a meeting, Lucas had been somewhat dissatisfied.
And that made sense, because with Raon and himself there as producers, not only were they taking a song from member Geum Shinyu, they were even accepting songs from outside composers and selecting the title track through a meeting. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ
At first, he had been angry enough to think they simply did not trust his abilities.
But—
-That’s just how the K-pop system works. It’s not only idols who are pushed into brutal competition. Even if someone’s an unknown composer, if the talent is there, they’ll entrust that person with producing. Because it’s rational.
after hearing Raon’s explanation, he had been able to understand it to some degree.
After all, KJ Entertainment had boldly entrusted the production of the second mini album to Lucas himself even though, apart from the career he was keeping secret, he was just an unknown composer with nothing to his name.
'I think I’m starting to understand now.'
Lucas had realized that the Korean music market and the Western music market ran on completely different systems.
If the Western system centered on the artist, with the singer personally participating in making the songs or leading the style so that individuality was emphasized, K-pop was the exact opposite.
Starting from composition and going all the way to choreography and styling, teams of specialists worked together to create a single finished piece.
Like a real industry, finely constructed gears meshed together to produce an idol.
Because of that process, there were people who criticized K-pop as an industry baby, a singer made by the system, but Lucas actually found that part appealing.
'What’s wrong with each person doing what they’re best at?'
There were people who sang well, and people who danced well.
There were people born beautiful, and people born with a gift for composition and lyric-writing.
And it would be nice if all those talents were given to a single person, but God was fair enough not to pour every one of those gifts into one person.
That was why the K-pop system was about gathering people who possessed top-tier talent in each field and creating a perfect group.
Like the Tower of Babel that people long ago had supposedly built in defiance of God’s authority.
If God would not grant all talents to one human being, then they would challenge perfection through a system instead—a conceit as arrogant as it was reckless.
Because of that, K-pop producers were given far more authority than Western producers.
'The fact that there’s a singer who can perfectly bring to life what I imagine—from the song itself to the choreography, outfits, and performance—is appealing enough on its own.'
And that was exactly why Lucas had remained at KJ Entertainment, even extending what had originally been a one-time contract.
Unlike the West, where the artist came first and the producer followed behind, Lucas liked that Korea felt like they were walking side by side more than anything.
"Next, we’ll listen to the fourth song, working title 'Tulip.'"
Lucas, who had been briefly writing down his impressions while thinking over his feelings about KJ Entertainment, refocused at Sanghyeok’s announcement that it was time to listen to the next song.
♬
Soon, the melody of the song filled the conference room.
'It’s Raon’s song.'
The intro was very short, so humming from the vocal came in almost immediately, and Lucas instantly recognized that the owner of that sound was Raon.
The title track selection meeting was being conducted as a blind test, with the composer’s identity hidden for fair evaluation.
But there was no way Lucas, who had been working with Raon in the studio almost every day for the past several months, would fail to notice Raon’s music.
If it had been a song by someone he did not know at all, that would have been one thing, but composers naturally tended to have their own habits and quirks seep into their work.
Still, since he could not make it obvious that he knew, Lucas only gave Raon beside him a quick glance before focusing back on the music.
"Tulip," which began with Raon’s light humming, was quite impressive.
You could say it grabbed the ear far more than the three songs they had heard before.
As expected of someone who was living proof of K-pop, she had matched the multiple electronic instruments in such a clever way that even a complex melody could still sound light.
The fast tempo throughout the song already made Lucas picture clearly how much more it would shine once choreography was added.
'She’s definitely better than me in this kind of area.'
Lucas thought that, in terms of overall compositional skill, he was better than Raon, but when it came to this kind of structure that took an active singer’s stage into account, he felt he could not keep up.
Like—
-Sion! Why are you so good at go-stop?!
-Haha, the experience I built up in harsh places where your wrist gets chopped off if you pull any funny business is on a different level.
-You gamble too?
-No. I just used to play a lot at home with my parents, betting fried chicken. My dad was a devil, and my mom was a card shark who hunted devils.
just as Lucas, who had recently gotten deeply into Korea’s traditional folk games and found them fascinating, had kept losing over and over to Lee Sion, a genuine native hustler, and had already gotten shaken down for hundreds of thousands of won worth of snacks.
A particular kind of vibe that could not come out unless someone had actually experienced the field.
That was what Raon’s song contained.
"What did you think?"
"Are you not even trying to hide that it’s your song?"
"You were obviously going to know anyway."
"When did you even make a song like this?"
"I may not look like it, but I’m the original producer, you know? I’ve been making songs all along. Lately people keep looking at me like I’m Lee Sion’s trainer!"
As soon as the song finished playing, Raon immediately asked for his reaction, and Lucas,
'Isn’t she Lee Sion’s trainer, though?'
briefly thought that, but kept it to himself, knowing that if he said it out loud he would be on the receiving end of Raon’s hands, which had been getting much harsher lately, so he returned to the main point.
"This one was good. The melody mixing a fantasy feel with world music is unique, and the way the song develops isn’t typical—it keeps changing and surging forward? It definitely doesn’t feel unfamiliar, but it feels fresh."
"I mixed in a little Middle Eastern-style melody. At first I thought it might come out sounding playful, but it actually worked better than I expected."
"Ah! Arabian? So that’s what it was. I kept listening and wondering, and it really was Arabian."
Only then did Lucas realize, at Raon’s answer, what that feeling of being both familiar and new had been while listening to the song.
To think she had mixed an Arabian-style melody into K-pop.
'This really is the appeal of K-pop.'
Raon’s song felt completely different from existing K-pop, but Lucas thought that this was K-pop more than anything.
Mainly American music, sometimes European and Japanese music, and sometimes even Korean traditional music mixed in as well.
Because of that, it had a complex structure and could feel unfamiliar on first listen, but the power to keep changing by accepting new things instead of being fixed to a single genre—that was the driving force behind K-pop’s evolution.
In fact, if you compared K-pop from a few years ago with recent K-pop, the difference was so great that it made you wonder whether it was even fair to call them the same genre of music.
"The next song is coming on."
While he and Raon were briefly exchanging impressions of the song, the fifth track was being prepared.
♬
"This is···."
As soon as the fifth song began playing, unlike before, this time Raon glanced sideways at Lucas.
And Lucas, seeing that, let the corner of his lips lift slightly into a smile.
Because this time it was his own song, "Trace."
***
"This is good, though?"
"Wow··· what is this song? It’s making my heart race."
Listening to the members speaking beside her, Shinyu did not show it, but inside she nodded in agreement.
'It’s Lucas oppa’s song.'
The fifth song that had been put up as a title-track candidate, working title "Trace."
It had not been revealed who made it, but Shinyu knew that this song playing right now had been made by Lucas.
Lucas.
The new KJ Entertainment producer who had come over from Sweden was practically Shinyu’s teacher.
-Can I touch up this arrangement a little more?
-Of course!
-Good. Let’s surprise SY.
-Yes!
She was learning composition from Raon too, but since Raon had to pay attention to many other kinds of detailed management as well, the person who mainly taught Shinyu composition was Lucas.
Of course, since Shinyu had also learned a lot by now, it was not simply a matter of receiving instruction all the time, but had become something closer to discussions where they exchanged opinions and talked over what could be improved. Even so, Shinyu still thought of Lucas as her teacher.
'How can he make a song this simple and still bring it so fully to life?'
Even "Trace," Lucas’s song, was the kind of song Shinyu, as she was now, could not even begin to grasp how to create.
Drums, bass, chords.
Compared to "Tulip," which had played just before, the progression was made up of only the most basic instrument sounds to a degree that could not even be compared, so it was a song structure that could easily have become monotonous.
But Lucas, instead, boldly exposed those elements and used them to create a repeated structure that produced a sense of space within the song.
A song that first made you think, What is this?, and then before you knew it had you nodding your head along.
It sounded easy when described in words, but drawing that kind of reaction out of people was extremely difficult.
If you were talking purely in terms of difficulty, it would actually be much easier to use a variety of instruments and create a complicated composition.
In that sense, it was precisely this kind of ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ simple song that fully revealed a composer’s skill.
If made well, it became a compelling song that could work anytime regardless of era or trend.
But it was also the kind of song many composers attempted, only to repeatedly swallow bitter defeat and give up.
And yet Lucas’s song now was different.
Sweep.
When Shinyu looked around the conference room, what came into view were the people listening to the music with the greatest concentration they had shown all meeting.
The earlier songs had certainly been good too, but while they had split people’s likes and dislikes depending on personal taste, "Trace," made by Lucas, was a sophisticated, emotionally stylish song with no such divide, the kind anyone could like.
There were no vocals in it yet, so it could look a little bare, but it seemed everyone understood that once it went through arrangement and mastering, it would become an incredible song.
"Hoo···. Now that we’ve listened to the fifth song, working title 'Trace,' please once again evaluate the songs individually before we listen to the final track."
At last, when Lucas’s song ended, Sanghyeok, sounding as though he had let out a sigh of admiration, continued the meeting.
"Shinyu."
Squeeze.
While everyone was busy evaluating the songs, Shinyu felt someone take hold of her hand under the table.
"Sion···."
"As a memorial for today’s title-track selection meeting, decide what you want to eat for dinner tonight."
"···You really don’t have to comfort me like that. All the songs that came up in today’s meeting are such good songs."
As always, Lee Sion seemed to be trying to comfort her by taking her side, so Shinyu lowered her head and quietly refused.
And it was not only Lucas’s song.
There was Tulip, which she was not completely certain about but thought had probably been Raon’s song, and also the other songs that had likely been from outside composers.
Every single one of them had shown high completion and outstanding mass appeal.
Until before entering today’s meeting, Shinyu had still thought that maybe the song she had submitted had some chance this time, but now, if she could turn back time, she felt like she would want to refuse Raon’s suggestion that she submit a song for the title-track selection at all.
But—
"That’s no-no."
"What?"
Lee Sion was shaking her head with a pout as she looked at Shinyu’s downcast face.
"Did you have fun making this song, Shinyu?"
"That···."
At the sudden question, Shinyu could not answer right away.
'It was fun.'
She had definitely been exhausted, barely sleeping and spending all day thinking of nothing but the song, but even so, it had been so enjoyable that she could not stop working.
Unlike before, when composing had always meant facing other people’s snide looks, this time someone had believed in her and given her a chance, and that had made her so happy.
Especially since this song had been made while thinking of the members—of Lee Sion most of all—Shinyu had found herself smiling without realizing it even while composing it.
"Straighten your shoulders and lift your head. If you’re not confident in the song you made, then how can other people listen to it and be persuaded by it?"
"···I don’t know if I’m really allowed to be this greedy."
"Shinyu, I like the song you made."
"Sion, you say you like it every time."
Flick.
"Ow!"
At Shinyu’s response, Lee Sion’s finger flick flew in without the slightest delay.
Shocked by the pain in her forehead, Shinyu let out a little cry, and the eyes of the people in the conference room briefly gathered on her. But as soon as they saw Lee Sion beside her, they all simply thought, Of course, and turned their heads back to focus on their evaluations.
And once people’s eyes had moved away, Lee Sion began speaking again.
"I said I like it because I like it. I’m an extremely cold-blooded person, so if I don’t like something, I won’t even look at it."
"···."
Pat.
This time, it was Lee Sion’s palm on her back.
Unlike before, it felt like a hand patting her in encouragement, and as soon as Shinyu felt it, for some reason she felt confidence starting to rise inside her.
"You can’t get discouraged over something as small as a title-track selection meeting."
"A title-track selection is something as small as that?"
"Of course. You’re the person who’s going to be put in charge of the OST for the remake version of Kongming of the Three Kingdoms ten years from now, so if you’re trembling over something this small, how could anyone trust you with such a great undertaking?"
Pfft.
A laugh escaped Shinyu without her realizing it.
Sure enough, the moment she imagined making a drama OST that matched Lee Sion’s tastes, what was happening now felt endlessly light by comparison.
"Now we’ll listen to the final song of today, working title 'Pirate.'"
And at the same time, the turn for "Pirate," the final song of the meeting and the song Shinyu had composed, began.
