Free Web NovelKim Bi-ju, standing in the living room, asked me.
“Can I dance any dance I want?”
“It doesn’t matter. Think of it as making choreography to the song in your head.”
“Just a moment, I need to think.”
Bi-ju plunged into deep thought.
Meanwhile, I opened the smartphone camera app to check that the living room was in frame.
Okay. Confirmed.
All that remained was to wait for our dancer’s signal.
Bi-ju, who had been bowing his head as if in silent prayer, lifted his head and spoke calmly.
“I’m ready, hyung.”
As I started filming, Bi-ju gently extended his leg.
At first it was a light step.
Bare feet softly brushing the carpet as if moving on an actual stage.
In the dimly lit living room, a slender silhouette began to trace languid curves.
“Wow......”
I let out an involuntary exclamation.
So this is possible with just improvised choreography.
No matter how much feeling you have in your head, what I was seeing was clearly choreography made on the spot.
It was amazing.
I have to think left three times, right once in my head to move, but he was dancing instinctively.
Of course, it wasn’t overly difficult.
But the feeling was different.
There was a mysterious aura that you catch from people born with innate talent for dance.
Everything around was dancing with him.
Like gentle waves forming when the wind blows over calm water, every time he moved his limbs, surrounding objects rippled along.
Whenever he flicked his fingers in the air or moved his neck and empty space appeared, his hair and shadows fluttered to fill that void.
It was as if he were melting into the dark living room.
It was incredible.
Before I knew it, I was staring at those movements in a trance.
But the daze lasted only a moment.
Watching Bi-ju’s improvised choreography, I began to think about the song.
At first I wondered if this method would work, but it was extremely effective.
It was easier to understand than spending nearly hours inputting notes into the MIDI program and explaining.
The moment I saw the choreography, I immediately knew what he wanted to do.
Like a canon variation.
A beautiful melody repeating and evolving, warmly embracing the listener.
A song as warm as spring sunlight.
Following the gently moving silhouette, a song in my head was instantly completed.
After finishing his dance, Kim Bi-ju blinked his eyes wide.
“......hyung?”
Sun Woo-joo sat frozen on the sofa.
Still holding the phone in filming mode, but without any reaction.
“Hyung, can you hear me?”
“......”
“If you can hear me, blink your eyes.”
“......”
But there was no answer.
I thought about saying something more, but he seemed lost in serious thought.
From experience, when Sun Woo-joo is like that, it’s best to leave him be.
In about five minutes, he’d return to reality and, with an excited face, say “Bi-ju! Bi-ju! I did it!” and grab him to talk about what he’d created.
‘I should peel an apple.’
While his partner was spacing out, Kim Bi-ju busily peeled an apple.
As expected, before long Sun Woo-joo returned to the real world.
“How was it, hyung?”
“I think I know what you want to do.”
“Really?”
Even he wasn’t sure.
He did have some feeling for a song he wanted to try in his head.
The dance he’d just done was imagining what choreography based on that song would look like.
But could making a song just by watching choreography be possible?
Even after nearly five hours of conversation, communication had been difficult.
He knew his partner had talent for composing, but he doubted this was possible.
Tap. Tap tap. Tap.
Sun Woo-joo’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the table.
“The beat should go like this.”
Immediately he began to hum softly.
He sang naturally as if singing the chorus of an existing song, but I’d never heard it before.
“......”
Kim Bi-ju was speechless.
‘What kind of person is this?’
Could someone really create a melody this quickly in just over five minutes?
And this song perfectly recreated the feeling he’d wanted.
It was as if a skilled surgeon had opened his head, removed only that feeling, and handed it to his partner unchanged.
Sun Woo-joo’s eyes sparkled as he asked.
“How is it, isn’t this right?”
“Yes.”
Still dazed, he soon smiled and answered.
“This is exactly the feeling I wanted.”
The two, looking at each other and smiling brightly, burst into animated chatter.
“Wow.”
Kim Bi-ju covered his mouth and said.
“Amazing, hyung. This is exactly the feeling I wanted.”
“Right? I knew it.”
“How could you nail it so perfectly? It’s unbelievable.”
“Because you danced with feeling. Do you think I did it all by myself?”
“No, hyung did it.”
“No way. It was possible thanks to our dancing god.”
Thus, for nearly ten minutes praising each other as the best hyung and best dongsaeng, the two left to get to work.
“......”
On the second-floor railing, Director Jo Gyu-hwan, sipping coffee and watching the whole scene, scratched beneath his chin.
‘What on earth just happened?’
Suddenly one of them danced alone in the living room as if it were the choreography for their next title track.
Then the other, after spacing out, created a melody that could only be the title track.
What happened in ten minutes was enough to astonish anyone.
Meanwhile, Director Jo was flustered for another reason.
‘How do I spin this story?’
I thought the kid was stuck on the song, so I gave advice over samgyeopsal.
Suddenly they struck drums and made a song.
‘...I can’t tell the media that.’
If I told the truth, they’d just say he was obsessed with the concept.
My head hurt.
Worrying how to package what had just happened, he headed toward his study.
‘Samgyeopsal.’
He stopped in his tracks, then nodded.
‘Leave out the samgyeopsal.’
No matter what else, that had to go.
The week spent at Director Jo’s house was truly golden time.
I was happy.
It had been a long time since I slept so soundly from one day to the next after debut, and it felt great to do something with a clear mind.
Maybe thanks to that condition.
On the morning of the sixth day.
Coming out of the underground studio, Bi-ju let out a gloomy laugh as we looked at the finally completed result.
“Keuheuheu.”
“Heuhehi.”
Staring at ‘Untitled No.2’ saved on the laptop desktop, I asked Bi-ju.
“Shall we listen to it once more?”
“Yes yes, let’s listen again, us.”
“Here we go.”
As I pressed play, the first-draft song began to resonate through the speakers.
“Keeu. This is it.”
“Uah. It’s so good even hearing it again.”
I asked brightly.
“Good, right?”
“It’s amazing.”
“Keuheuheu.”
“Heuhehi.”
Cackling with delight at our own excitement, Ri-hyuk clicked his tongue.
“You two look like something.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like Dr. Frankenstein and his assistant, grinning because their creation came to life.”
“What are you talking about, we’re not like that...”
Our faces reflected in the recording booth glass.
Two faces twitching and grinning.
Clearing his throat and regaining composure, I asked Ri-hyuk.
“So what’s your opinion?”
“It’s good.”
Ri-hyuk said as he pointed to what he’d jotted in his phone’s notes.
“Just a few things I want to mention.”
“Tell me everything.”
“There’s that part before the chorus where I hit the high note. Can you lower it a bit?”
Ri-hyuk pointed at the monitor.
“When it climbs up there. It’s not that I can’t reach it, but on music shows we perform at about eighty percent of our normal condition. Even with AR, there’s choreography. Considering that, the note could be unstable.”
“Got it, I’ll fix that part. What else?”
“I think the chorus could be a bit longer. Considering we want to add harmonies among ourselves...”
After listening to Ri-hyuk’s feedback in that way, it was finally time for evaluation.
“Surprisingly... it’s good.”
Ri-hyuk scratched his cheek and stared into the distance as he spoke.
“Last time I said let’s focus on vocals, so I said I liked that, but honestly I didn’t think this quality would come out.”
“You like it?”
“Well, yes. It’s more than just not bad... it gives that kind of feeling.”
Bi-ju and I smiled brightly.
He usually says “not bad” even when something’s great, but he said “good” in a positive sense.
Even at this unfinished stage before mixing and mastering, to receive such praise...
I had a good feeling.
Clinking paper cups of juice in a toast, Ri-hyuk asked.
“So what will we do now?”
“I’ll call Jung-hyun and Ji-ho to get their opinions, gather everything, then go through revisions.”
And then.
“Director said he wants to hear it later. I can’t promise, but there’s a high chance he’ll push for it as the title. After that I’ll talk with the A&R team...”
But the plan I shared wasn’t what Ri-hyuk had hoped.
He asked cautiously.
“So there’s no plan for lyrics yet, right?”
“Right. I’m thinking of outsourcing to a lyricist.”
“Can I write the lyrics? For this song.”
Although he didn’t say it outright, Ri-hyuk seemed to really like the song Bi-ju and I had made.
I teased him.
“You sure you can write them well?”
“I usually don’t make firm promises about things like this...but to some extent, yes.”
Ri-hyuk said, staring at the monitor.
“I got a feeling for what kind of lyrics to write.”
That evening.
“Director, are you home?”
“Yes, I am.”
Like little kids greeting their parents, we stood in the entrance and welcomed Director Jo Gyu-hwan as he took off his shoes.
“Have you eaten? We’re preparing dinner now.”
“I’m fine. I already ate. You two help yourselves.”
He looked hollow-eyed and tired, as if he’d had a hard day at work.
Feeling it might be best not to bother him, we exchanged glances.
‘He looks exhausted.’
‘Director seems really tired.’
Watching Director Jo trudge up to the second floor, we wore sympathetic expressions.
“He must be having a hard time.”
“Oh dear... who made the director so tired, I wonder. They must be very bad people.”
“Right, who could have hurt such a kind person...”
Talking ill of whoever had worn out the director, we returned to the living room.
After showering, Jo Gyu-hwan immediately lay down on the bed. Then he reached out and grabbed the calendar.
January 2015.
From January 1st onward, X’s had been marked on each day.
Swallowing dryly, he marked an X on January 6th.
‘Finally...’
Only one day left and it would all be over.
‘Tomorrow morning I’ll be alone.’
Staring at the ceiling with hollow eyes, he recalled a week ago.
The morning after bringing in NewBlack, he couldn’t help smiling, thinking the week would be fun.
Of course, it was fun at first.
He liked the lively house after it had been quiet.
But before long, he realized how big a mistake that was.
“Huahaha!”
The sound was so loud that NewBlack’s maknae’s laughter followed him like an auditory hallucination wherever he went.
It seemed like they laughed every thirty seconds.
At that point, he wondered if a serious investigation was needed, but it wasn’t only Ji-ho.
“Hehehe!”
“Heuhehi!”
Even now, all kinds of laughter echoed from the first-floor living room.
He put his hands over his ears, but Ji-ho’s laughter pierced through as if some ultrasonic wave.
‘What’s so funny?’
Curious, he peeked and saw them pointing at bean sprouts on the table and laughing among themselves.
This morning they got excited and laughed at the forsythia blooming in the yard.
‘They’re insane.’
The youngest, laughing so innocently at any time, was bad enough, but the others were no joke.
Ri-hyuk murmured strange monologues while pushing the vacuum cleaner.
Even though he didn’t need to, he vacuumed almost every hour on weekends.
Whiiing.
Now he even hallucinated the vacuum cleaner’s sound.
Joined together in his ears, it sounded like kweiing.
But the sounds he feared didn’t end there.
Knock. Knock.
Whenever he heard that, the study door would open and Bi-ju would come in with a tray.
Yesterday for the first time he brought a drink, and smiling he asked.
Bi-ju smiled shyly.
That damn apple.
Director Jo’s cheeks trembled.
When laughter sounded in the living room again, he turned on classical music and closed his eyes.
But before him, apples spun around, and in his ears the combined hallucinations went kweiing knock kweiing knock.
‘At least Jung-hyun is quiet...’
Something felt off.
He had come out wanting to go to the bathroom and saw Jung-hyun standing on his hands in the hallway.
They made eye contact in that position.
He ignored him and went to the bathroom. freēwebnovel.com
‘And Woo-joo...’
He seemed the most normal, but he was the strangest.
Waking up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, he’d see the faint laptop glow from the living room.
He seemed to be watching some video.
Every time it ended, he’d dance the Bongsan mask dance alone in the living room or throw punches at the air.
When asked what he was doing, he gave a strange answer.
He wanted to ask if he was preparing for a bench-clearing brawl, but he decided not to ask further.
He didn’t want to be any more curious.
He could only swallow tears.
‘Is this what it feels like to be the owner scammed into buying a litter of puppies?’
The owner who foolishly took in five angelic beagle puppies.
The sofa was ripped to shreds, the puppies were tearing the place apart, the owner was disheveled and pouring soju straight from the bottle...
‘It’s worse because they’re good kids.’
If they ran wildly like nephews, he could at least scold them, but in manners they were more polite than anyone.
You could see they cared not to disturb the owner any more than necessary.
But even that consideration couldn’t ease his discomfort as a professional introvert.
He just wanted them to leave soon.
‘This house is supposed to be mine...’
It felt like the owner had been replaced.
“One more day.”
Muttering that, his throat went dry.
He went down to the first floor, parched, and saw the NewBlack members clustered in front of the TV.
Seeing the look on his face, Woo-joo quickly turned down the volume.
“Director, is the TV too loud for you?”
“No. I came to get water.”
The five members rushed over and offered him water, and he couldn’t help but smile.
‘They’re cute but something is...’
Lying back on the living room sofa watching TV, Director Jo suddenly froze.
‘Wait, I’ve seen this scene somewhere before.’
Ji-ho lying on someone’s forearm, sucking a Chupa Chups.
Jung-hyun on TV with a huge smile, Ri-hyuk’s white face in a mischievous expression, Bi-ju in a red shirt peeling an apple.
He counted them off on his fingers.
‘Heedong, Michael, Dochi, Douner...’
Even Dooly wearing a flower-print tee laughing gleefully.
Suddenly Jo Gyu-hwan turned to the mirror and blinked at the hollow face staring back.
He had aged drastically in a week.
‘Go Gil-dong?’
...Was I Go Gil-dong?
