Free Web NovelThat evening, in the Yeouido PBS waiting room,
Having finished makeup, I checked my reflection.
“Aigoo. Looking good~”
Ignoring my juniors teasing that it sounded like an old man’s phrase, I studied my face in the mirror. The makeup really took. I shot my siblings a “what?” glance, then bowed to the makeup artist.
“Thank you, ssaem.”
“Your makeup came out so pretty today.”
“Right?”
Pointing under my right eye at the little beauty mark, I said,
“Thank you for putting that dot there, ssaem.”
“It really suits you, Uju.”
Since the cast had joked about drawing on a beauty mark, I’d actually had one applied. It felt like I’d become the very personification of revenge from some famous drama back in my trainee dorm at TJ. I’d sent selfies to Grandmother Kim Deok-soon, but she still hadn’t replied.
“No response yet.”
“She must still be sulking.”
“It seems so.”
Explaining the whole backstory to our curious company staff, I said,
“The other day I bought a blue outfit and bragged with a photo.”
“And?”
“I replied that I looked like Yubaba...”
“Yubaba?”
“This one.”
Everyone who saw the picture burst out laughing—it was that big-headed old witch from the popular anime. On advice that I absolutely must apologize, I nodded sadly, then stretched.
“Hoo...”
Maybe because it was our first studio recording since Seol, I felt tense. Chatting nonsense to loosen up, I noticed the seat beside me.
Daldaldaldal.
“...”
Daldaldaldaldal.
PD Na Sang-yun was trembling like someone in a fever chill. Seeing him shake so badly made the tension drain from my body.
“Wow.”
Ji-ho, peeking from behind, asked,
“You that nervous?”
“Uh, yeah...”
“Something like this happened with Ri-hyuk hyung the night before his first music show appearance.”
From behind came a reply,
“W-what ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) are you saying? I wasn’t that nervous.”
At that moment, everyone who had been there then chimed in together,
“You were.”
“....”
Ri-hyuk, pulling his face into his clothes like a turtle, grumbled.
Then the waiting-room door opened and a MiF staff member called in,
“Please get ready, you two!”
“Yes!”
We answered loudly, and I reached out a hand to the trembling PD.
“Shall we go, PD-nim?”
“Y-yes.”
“Don’t worry so much.”
I said to the composer, who was about to be on camera and shaking terribly.
“It’s nothing special. Just introduce the selected song and say hello, then we’re done.”
“Ordinary...?”
“Yes.”
Blinking, the composer said,
“Uju.”
“Yes.”
“There’s nothing convincing about an ordinary song when the person under the eye dot says so...”
I just laughed at him wondering what could be ordinary.
“They’re here!”
The MiF members, doing a sketch in the studio, greeted the two of us onstage. MC Kim Ui-ji called out,
“Viewers, please welcome our title-track composers: Ujuseon and Na Sang-yun!”
With the gaudy dotted mark under his eye, the skinny, extremely nervous composer and NewBlack’s leader appeared, smiling. After seating them, Ui-ji said,
“And we last saw our PD-nim in that video letter to his mother, right?”
“Ah, yes...”
“Composer Ujuseon, is this our first time meeting?”
“Yes, first time. Nice to meet you.”
Feigning ignorance with a confident smile, the composer drew giggles from the entertainers. Ui-ji asked,
“I heard you’re a rookie composer.”
“Ah, yes. This is my debut with ‘Attention.’”
“The song is really good.”
The MiF members said,
“Uju-ssaem said that top composers and hidden masters across the country would send songs—and that he himself was nothing compared to them.”
“....”
“At first we thought it was Uju-ssaem, but surely he wouldn’t refuse so firmly and send it under another name.”
The entertainers beamed,
“So Ujuseon-composer was that hidden master!”
“Well, yes.”
On Uju’s embarrassed reaction, they cheered. It was satisfying—after being on the receiving end so long, now it was a counterattack. Chu Gi-seok, excited, asked,
“You look a lot like Sun Woo-ju—any relation?”
“None at all.”
“Good to hear. He’s really awful.”
At Chu Gi-seok’s innocent laugh, staff and NewBlack members applauded. While self-proclaimed Ujuseon pouted, the ajusshis guffawed.
“I don’t like him either.”
“He nags so much. His mouth is smiling but his eyes shoot lasers.”
“Ujuseon-composer, how about Sun Woo-ju? Have you met him?”
The composer smiled,
“Yes, he’s really a great person.”
“Since you’re not close, maybe he didn’t show his true colors.”
“No, we’re quite close. His gaze is so kind.”
“Not easy to say that oneself—no wonder top idols aren’t made overnight.”
At An Jae-hee’s admiration, they laughed and teased. Uju forced a smile and shifted topics,
“For now, let’s move on from talking about Sun Woo-ju and discuss the song.”
“No.”
Ui-ji, smiling, asked,
“First time on variety, right?”
“Yes, that’s true, but...”
“You don’t know variety. You need these small-talk greasers to make recording flow.”
“Ah, yes...”
“Nowadays composers do YouTube a lot, right? See, you’ll do great on TV.”
“....”
Uju’s moist eyes gazed into space. While everyone clapped and laughed, Mo Beom-ju quipped, “His subscriber count is in the millions...” The leader who’d topped Korea’s YouTube was under the entertainers’ playful barrage. Suddenly Hong-seok asked,
“By the way, where did you get those helium balloons during your call earlier?” freeweɓnovel.cøm
“No, it wasn’t that—I ran into Teenspirit-sunbaenims in front of our dorm and they gave them as gifts.”
“Teenspirit?”
“We’re neighbors.”
As the others marveled, Nam Do-hoon said,
“For a rookie composer, your network is impressive. But you said dorm—”
“You misheard. I said home.”
At his brazen reply, the entertainers broke into satisfied smiles. “They’re good,” I thought, impressed by NewBlack’s leader drawing out airtime so deftly. Then I focused on the trembling composer beside me.
“PD-nim Na Sang-yun. Did you tell your mother about the video letter?”
“Yes. But can we edit that out...?”
“Of course we’ll air it. It’s your letter to your mother, we have to show it.”
“....”
They asked the embarrassed Na Sang-yun,
“How was working with rookie composer Ujuseon?”
“Sigh...”
Everyone laughed at that unspoken sigh.
“Why? How was it?”
“It was so hard. I tried working on the song after everyone left.”
PD Na Sang-yun tearfully recounted the moving behind-the-scenes tale of how ‘Attention’ was born. Forgotten his on-camera jitters, he vented until gathering himself and saying,
“Still, thanks to composer Ujuseon, I’ve appeared on MiF. It’s an honor for my family.”
“Would you like to say hello to your mother again?”
“Mom! I’m on TV again!”
Everyone laughed at his greeting to the camera. Delighted to appear as a composer on TV, he continued,
“And to our composer Ujuseon who helped me with the song...”
“Okay, let’s leave the heartwarming stuff there.”
“No.”
Uju interjected urgently,
“Aren’t you going to hear more? I have so many good stories left.”
“Variety recordings can’t go on forever. Let’s leave the heartwarming and move on.”
“No...”
At Uju’s distress, the members grinned mischievously. Ui-ji, looking at the sketchbooks the writers had made, said,
“They say you even sent your recording-log videos?”
“Oh!”
“That self-cam PD Na Sang-yun set up to document the process—you stole all the airtime with it.”
“....”
Apparently it’s a video documenting every step of ‘Attention’ from one to ten. After telling viewers they can see it on Behind the Scenes or the main broadcast, Ui-ji said,
“Okay, enough chit-chat. Let’s talk about the song, shall we?”
“Yes!”
I saw NewBlack pull out notebooks as if taking notes. Jung-hyun strode over and handed me a notebook. The MiF members teased Uju,
“Wasn’t that person just now from NewBlack?”
“No. That’s my secretary, Potato-kun.”
Jung-hyun beamed at the camera,
“Hello, Sweet Potato here.”
Everyone laughed uproariously.
“Man, they don’t even coordinate among themselves!”
“This is nuts.”
“Ahem... now, let’s talk about the song.”
Ignoring them resolutely, Uju began explaining ‘Attention,’ the title track. Gone was the playful look—he wore a serious expression, and the entertainers stopped their ad-libs and listened.
“First of all, I focused on your colors.”
“Colors?”
“Musical color. Like how you look best in clothes you normally wear.”
Everyone nodded.
“This is my first time making music for a group other than NewBlack, so I concentrated on grasping your color.”
“So you made us fill out a music-preference list...”
“Yes. From that, I saw most of you prefer songs from before 2010.”
The “old folks” smiled sheepishly.
“Common favorites were upbeat dance tracks, repetitive rhythms, simple chord progressions.”
“Oh—that’s what the contest requirements said.”
Realizing the wording in the submission notice. PD Na Sang-yun said,
“We also considered vocal timbre. Your range from 20-something Hong-seok to 40-something Kim Ui-ji is wide.”
I marveled at the attention to detail. Uju smiled,
“These are non-song details; may I explain the song more specifically?”
“Yes!”
“Please play the song.”
They played ‘Attention’ again. At the quick hand-clap intro and the powerful follow-up, Uju commented,
“One big image viewers have of ‘Mister Producer’ is its friendliness.”
“True.”
“To use that friendly image as a twist, I made the first part intense.”
He intended listeners to think, “Wait—this is a MiF song?” and perk up.
“The more unexpected something is, the more people focus.”
Uju smiled,
“And I want Hong-seok sunbaenim to center the intro.”
“Me...?”
“Yes. The ‘Attention’ intro is super trendy—very current.”
He and the team nodded—Hong-seok’s age and visuals fit the modern vibe. They resumed the song, then paused just before the chorus.
“The rhythm repeats, but the melody changes gradually—familiar yet fresh, right?”
“Oh...it is.”
“Still exciting, but edging toward a retro feel as it moves to the chorus.”
He’d intentionally designed it that way—drawing in the listener with novelty, then hooking them on a catchy, nostalgic chorus. Indeed, the chorus began looping in my head after just a few listens.
“If you listen closely, the sounds shift subtly—that’s PD Na Sang-yun’s work.”
“Yes. The intro references 2016’s latest trends, but by the chorus, it nods to past eras.”
“Really? It doesn’t feel dated at all...”
To An Jae-hee’s amazement, Uju added,
“And the chorus idea came from your ballad. I built in spaces so you could belt out high notes. It’ll suit your voice perfectly.”
As An Jae-hee shyly smiled, NewBlack’s leader continued,
“Despite my complicated explanation, the structure is actually simple: verses repeat rhythm while moving from present to past.”
In the third verse, the energy explodes. Uju bobbed his shoulder to the rising beat and laughed.
“The bridge mixes present and past sounds for a big climax. A dance break there would look awesome, right?”
PD Na Sang-yun and Uju added more technical details. The MiF cast gaped in wonder.
“Wow...”
They’d enjoyed it as a fun dance tune, but the depth of detail was incredible. Not just Na Sang-yun’s gaunt frame, but the person speaking with the world’s most energetic expression—that gleaming smile was unforgettable.
“He really loves music,” they thought, watching NewBlack’s leader. They asked themselves, “Why did his old agency let him go...?” The thought that his former company must be in pain filtered through.
To the endlessly joyful beat of ‘Attention’ playing once more, they said,
“Hearing it again, all these details come through.”
“So amazing.”
Looking at Uju smiling in front of them, Chu Gi-seok said with utmost respect,
“You guys really didn’t get here for free.”
“Ha-ha!”
“Hey, Gi-seok. Don’t say that on public broadcasting.”
Staff and NewBlack members laughed. Mo Beom-ju asked,
“When you do album work, do you always work this meticulously?”
“No.”
Na Sang-yun spoke for him,
“For album projects, we do this tenfold... more.”
“Whoa.”
“Not only Uju, but the members study composition too. These days we work like this for months—especially on this title, all five members participated...”
At that little album plug, NewBlack’s members waved appreciatively. Uju nodded,
“I get a lot of help from my juniors these days.”
“My juniors?”
Even in his joy, the entertainer instincts kicked in.
“My juniors? Aren’t you Ujuseon-composer?”
“Of course. I’m composer Ujuseon.”
The MiF members burst out laughing.
“Composer-nim, what’s your fee?”
“About ten times the going rate...”
“You’re ambitious.”
“I have many mouths to feed.”
As fifty-thousand won bills exchanged hands and the deal closed, the Mister Producer members beamed.
“It’s unbelievable.”
While the project is important, the real goal was generating buzz—and here was a song sure to carry them through activities. PD Shin Mu-rok and the writers wore grins from ear to ear.
With the song matters settled, the recording ended.
“Thank you for your hard work!”
Even after lights out, laughter echoed in the studio—charged by the sense of the hit they’d just created.
After handing the song to the MiF members, we entered the last week of April and began the music-video shoot.
“Hello, director!”
“Uwaaah...”
“The billion-view kids have arrived.”
Why do some people always moan when they see us? The director of the Jeju reality show ‘Nine,’ whom we’d recruited, laughed heartily.
“I heard your schedule’s been brutal, but you’re still so energetic.”
“We planned to have spicy pork for lunch.”
Jung-hyun grinned like a happy sweet potato. Since the MV shoot would be exhausting all day, the managers had promised to bring special lunchboxes.
As the director explained from a script full of notes,
“...?”
He paused at the BGM—a version of ‘Nakhwa.’
He clicked his tongue in admiration.
“It’s really good. Your song is so unique.”
“You like it?”
“It has traditional-instrument sounds and a theme of farewell—I thought, how will we film this? But the music is....”
“Different from what you expected?”
He nodded, then said it’d stuck in his mind like an earworm. Not only the director but the staff stopped what they were doing every time the song played. Jung-ho laughed,
“I made that song!”
“Oh. Right.”
We cracked up at the director’s textbook response. When Jung-ho pouted at the disbelief, the director flipped his script and said,
“Just like with ‘Nine,’ your ideas this time were amazing too.”
“Really?”
“But who’s going to perform it? Anyone could do it, I guess.”
“Just a second,” the juniors asked for a moment, then launched into heated discussion. Ri-hyuk raised his voice,
“It needs a sorrowful vibe, right? I have to do that part.”
“No way. If you do it, it’ll be pathetic.”
“Hey.”
“Should go like this~”
Jung-ho struck a wistful pose, hand reaching out. It looked so convincing that Bi-ju, feeling threatened, rushed forward, limbs moving gracefully in a Korean-style dance line.
“Ooh...”
As the director and I admired, the rival’s strong entrance prompted Jung-ho to intensify his expression and arm movements. Mid-twirl, the juniors decided,
“Rock-paper-scissors.”
“Same idea—let’s do rock-paper-scissors.”
Ri-hyuk and Bi-ju wanted to settle it by skill, not chance. After ten minutes of tugging, they called it:
“I did it!”
Jung-ho, with his fierce acting, won the director’s favor. The maknae, freshly made up in the dressing room, hopped over as the director asked,
“Why do you all want that part so badly?”
“I did that a few days ago during a variety recording.”
“A beauty mark under the eye...?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone stared so much, must’ve been jealous.”
Jung-ho, with a tear-dot under his eye, danced before the camera. His juniors watched in real time, casting envious glances.
“Hello~ I’m King Ji-ho~ Haha!”
“....”
“Oh, this is so fun!”
I laughed at my siblings trembling silently—they must have been deeply envious of Ujuseon’s makeup.
