The Double Life of a Genius Musician

Chapter 13: A Dependable Ally

When we shook hands, I felt the texture of the other person’s skin.

In my first experience with working in society, I found it fascinating that even a handshake could give me a sense of the person’s character.

Mr. Kwak Youngho’s hand was thick, contrary to how he looked, and Team Leader Park’s was so warm it was hot.

But this person I was shaking hands with now was a bit unusual.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Please take care of me.”

He looked sharp and sensitive on the outside, but his palm was incredibly soft.

Like a fader used in music work.

I felt he would respond delicately if I even touched him lightly.

At the same time, the hand he grasped mine with was firm.

I thought it was strange.

Was he thinking something similar to me?

“Oh, what’s this?”

He quickly let go of my hand and scanned me.

We had only shaken hands, but suddenly he was making a fuss.

Writer Oh Jisoo teased.

“Why, did it tingle? PD Sunghyun, did you feel something?”

Even though it was playful, PD Nam answered seriously, as if intrigued.

“Wow… I was startled.”

“Why, what is it? Should I try shaking hands with Writer Seo too? Are her hands soft?”

“No, that’s not it.”

He shifted his gaze to me and asked.

“Are you left-handed by any chance?”

“Oh, how did you know?”

“Look at your fingers. You’ve played guitar a bit.”

“Oh, I’ve been touching various instruments… I thought I might need it for composing.”

“Oh really? That’s unexpected.”

He spread out my fingers and examined the tips.

Ah, that was why.

I had played electric guitar for some time.

I even went to lessons with my older brother.

But I was by no means at a professional level.

The calluses on my fingertips weren’t very thick.

He noticed just from a slight brush.

PD Nam was more perceptive than I thought.

He had been watching with interest, then put on a new expression and clapped his hands “clap!”

Everyone’s attention was focused in an instant.

“But anyways. This needs to be done within one pro, right? I heard the demo was done in one take.”

“Yes.”

“Well, just because it was one take doesn’t mean it’s all good. You can get carried away in the flow. Isn’t that right?”

His speech shifted between informal and formal language, which felt awkward.

Writer Oh used a similar style, but somehow it was different.

If Oh Jisoo was like a friendly aunt at a regular eatery, PD Nam felt like the awkward boutique owner trying to be pals.

“That’s not to say it’s bad.”

“Right. A newcomer’s ears might hear it that way. Sit still today and learn a lot. This seat is nice. When will you get to see directing like this, right?”

PD Nam’s expression turned cynical again.

He had a point. There was still much to learn, and seeing Producer The Green do the producing in person was a rare moment worth money.

But…

If I was going to sit there sloppily holding my bag like a sack of barley, I shouldn’t have come.

If that were the case, I wouldn’t have made a directing note.

Even if there was a producer, it was my song and my lyrics.

I wanted to make my stance clear.

“I’m not here just to observe.”

“Huh?”

PD Nam looked bewildered and asked again.

“If I’m not here to learn… did I come just to watch? Today it’s okay though, right? If you dip in awkwardly, only Yujin will get confused, right? Yujin?”

Suddenly the target shifted to Han Yujin.

His tone was strangely provoking.

Yet he maintained a smiling face in a way that was anything but ordinary.

Han Yujin looked bewildered.

This was clearly between me and PD Nam.

I didn’t want to drag the singer in just by staying quiet.

Besides, I didn’t feel like wasting energy on petty emotional conflict.

We should be laughing and enjoying the work.

So I responded with the same bright smile.

“As a composer I am confidently here earning songwriting pay. I don’t think the owner gave me that pay just to sit quietly and clap, so I’m saying this.”

“...What?”

Everyone’s gaze shifted.

Just as Han Yujin was about to respond, Writer Oh gently grabbed her arm.

I ignored that and continued answering.

“I know PD Nam is a remarkable producer, and I know that Top Idol was made under his production. And I really like PD Nam’s songs too. But today, regardless of being a rookie or professional… I hope you see me simply as a composer doing my utmost sincerely.”

I wished I had more fluency, but this was the best way I could convey my resolve.

A brief silence followed.

Team Leader Park nodded.

Writer Oh gave a gentle smile.

Han Yujin secretly gave a thumbs‑up.

Thankfully it didn’t seem too strange.

“Hah… your speech is silver‑tongued. Like Writer Seo or something…”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

“…?”

Well, being silver‑tongued wasn’t bad, was it?

This time Han Yujin gave a double thumbs‑up.

I planned to move on without further confrontation.

Because I thought I understood why PD Nam was giving me a hard time.

If that was the reason, I could let this one slide silently.

Anyway, the fact I was the winner didn’t change.

He pulled an e‑cigarette from his pants pocket and threw it toward Writer Oh Jisoo.

“Want to go to the rooftop?”

“Sure.”

“We’ll start recording in five minutes.”

The two of them left the room.

I quietly approached Team Leader Park and asked.

“Excuse me… Team Leader Park?”

“Yeah yeah. Seo Writer, was it uncomfortable? I understand that bastard… I mean, PD Nam is kind of picky.”

I wondered how best to phrase it.

Still, since I was asking anyway, I wanted a more refined expression.

After thinking, I found the wording:

“Did PD Nam have a song he submitted for Han Yujin’s second album title track but get rejected? If that’s the case… I can understand his reaction.”

After all, I couldn’t ask with crude words like ‘he got his song ripped apart, is that why he’s acting like that?’

Up on the rooftop, Writer Oh Jisoo stretched lazily against the wall, looking out over Seoul, while PD Nam nervously exhaled dense smoke.

“What is that? Wow, going crazy.”

“Our PD Nam got quite the blow, huh? Today’s recording is going to be interesting.”

“Oh no, what is this. He’s got inspiration lodged in him.”

“Isn’t it cute?”

“Cute? Seriously? Him? He’s flipping people’s lungs inside out.”

When dealing with a rookie composer, PD Nam’s method was to crush their spirit early.

Especially when they snagged the title track on their debut? His pride and shoulders would soar up to the sky.

At times like that, no feedback would penetrate.

He’d just get drunk on it and spout plausible‑sounding lines he’d heard somewhere, without even knowing what they meant.

Memories of the difficult days he’d suffered with newbies flickered through his mind.

“I wasn’t like that from the start either.”

Stubbornly obstinate and annoying to people was his usual pattern.

If someone wouldn’t listen, he’d force them into being unpleasant.

And if he accepted it halfheartedly? Even worse chaos chased him.

They go around blaming everything on “Ah, my song was fire but that PD ruined it by not listening to me,” making excuses everywhere.

“PD Nam, try to loosen up a bit.”

“Do I look like I can loosen up right now? I'm confused to death.”

“Confused about what?”

“I mean, seriously—does she talk so innocently because she really doesn’t know, or is she pretending to be naive while trying to get under my skin?”

“Either way, I just think it’s cute.”

PD Nam looked like he was about to explode inside, but Oh Jisoo just sat there throwing winks.

Ha, I must be the fool for venting to this noona… thought PD Nam as he took another hit from his e-cigarette.

“Did you know?”

“It’s clear to me you’re totally whipped by that little squirt.”

Oh Jisoo let out a small laugh.

Then she pulled out a cigarette, put it in her mouth, and murmured as if to herself.

“I’m in the same situation as you.”

“Excuse me? What are you talking about?”

“I got rejected too.”

“Wait, hold on. Did I understand that right? Your lyrics got rejected?”

“You didn’t hear?”

“I just came back from England yesterday. I only received the track. Wow, what is going on? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Oh right. You’re basically the outcast.”

“Ever heard of ‘solo mode’?”

“How was the track?”

PD Nam said nothing and brought his e-cigarette to his lips.

He couldn’t bring himself to say it was bad.

He had at least that much decency.

“Well… it was decent enough to listen to.”

“This is why I like you, PD Nam. You might be jealous, but you don’t bash a solid track.”

“Who's jealous.”

Where were we again? At ToMe Entertainment.

Everyone here has ears and a sense of taste.

Among all the top-notch composers, even PD Nam himself submitted a track.

For someone to beat out hundreds of songs and grab the title track, there must be some kind of charm.

That was true, but…

Was this just a nasty pride issue?

I couldn’t help but envy talent that burst out at such a young age.

But that didn’t mean I could sabotage it.

The producer is responsible for the album.

Let’s just focus on making this album great. I’ll never work with her again.

That’s what I told myself.

And yet…

‘I’ll probably be begging her later.’

That ridiculous thought flashed across my mind.

“Let’s head back. It’s been a while. Cool it down.”

“What do you mean, ‘cool it’? I didn’t even get heated.”

“It’s obvious. You’re too old to be dragging down rookies. At least don’t look pathetic.”

Oh Jisoo patted PD Nam’s back twice and led the way.

If composition was design, then producing was tailoring.

At least, that’s how I felt.

Designing was hard, but producing was even harder.

If we compared it to clothing…

It was like putting a beautifully designed outfit on a model and adjusting the fit with delicate care.

Even the best designs could look off if the shoulder line, sleeve length, or hem weren’t right—and producing was the same.

No matter how brilliant the design, if the model couldn’t pull it off, it was worthless.

“Yujin, when you sing ‘pray~’, don’t drag out the ‘ee~’. Cut it off cleanly.”

“Yes, I’ll try again.”

In that sense, PD Nam was a passionate tailor… no, producer.

He was different from the one I’d seen during the guide recording.

He didn’t say a single unnecessary word.

It was directing befitting the producer who made Top Idol, The Green.

He brought out Han Yujin’s charm well.

However…

“Hah, why isn’t this working? In the part ‘I’ll show you’, when you go ‘show~’, that ‘yo~’ needs to be slightly dragged out. Aand also. ‘Only I’. Let’s try whispering that part. What’s going on? Is the pronunciation tricky?”

It wasn’t quite what I had in mind.

I stayed quiet and observed for now.

“Writer Seo.”

“Yes.”

“Changing the word endings slightly might help too. For high notes, ‘a’ vowels work better than ‘o’ vowels.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Mind if I tweak it a bit?”

Writer Oh offered me advice that was like gold, passionately helping more than anyone.

“I think I mentioned this before, but if you spit when singing, the lyrics are too rough.”

“Yes. Got it.”

“If we change it like this, it might be better. What do you think?”

Even when making very fine adjustments, she asked for my input.

“That helped a lot. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. This is the least I can do for a student. Yujin sings well. This album’s going to be great.”

I stood beside Oh Jisoo quietly watching the session.

PD Nam was passionately directing, but progress was slow.

Where did the Han Yujin go who nailed the lyrics in one take…?

“Let’s take a ten-minute break.”

The once-quiet recording studio became somewhat noisy.

PD Nam called Han Yujin over and began explaining.

“Yujin. You said you’d show yourself, right? Be more confident. Right now, you’re lacking impact. Snap your head to the side. This is a game you can’t lose. This part should flow more loosely.”

…Is this right?

It was drifting from the points I had envisioned.

The overall feel was good, but the fine details were missing.

There was a clear feeling the designer intended, but the tailor was changing the fit on his own.

And then.

“Why are you hesitating in the bridge? Blow it up. That way, the energy carries all the way to the final chorus.”

This wasn’t right.

He had turned long sleeves into short ones.

That totally changed the vibe.

Even if I yielded on other parts, I couldn’t give this up.

“Excuse me, PD-nim.”

Instead of a reply, a cold glare pierced me.

That wasn’t important.

Han Yujin was stumbling because the direction was wrong.

I firmly voiced my opinion.

“I think the bridge should be whispered.”

“Why?”

“Han Yujin’s voice is already sharp. If we blast through the bridge too, the listener will get fatigued.”

“Pfft…”

Finally. A snort.

I’d heard how sensitive producers get during recording.

Still, I had to say it when something was off.

As logically and politely as I could, I said,

“I really paid attention to this part. I even made the beat extra flashy on purpose—to contrast with the whispering vocals.”

“So what?”

“Could we please go with my original vision, at least for the bridge?”

Thud—

PD Nam slammed down a bundle of paper.

He glanced at the clock, then swiveled his chair to look up at me.

“Can you take responsibility for that?”

Sharp.

If it struck, it would kill.

“Just suddenly, out of nowhere? Can you take responsibility for that one line? Ha… we’re already pressed for time. I knew it was too quiet for a reason.”

He pushed so harshly that the whole studio seemed frozen.

While PD Nam kept parroting the word “responsibility” like an angry parrot—

“Responsibility? Responsibility?”

A familiar voice cut in.

Everyone stood and bowed 90 degrees.

“Uh…”

PD Nam showed a flustered expression for the first time.

I turned my head and saw…

It was CEO Kwak Youngho.

“Why are you guys talking about responsibility? PD Nam. What are you going to do to take responsibility? Gonna pay up or something? You talk like you’re the one who can take responsibility here. You know, right? The only one in this company who can take responsibility is me?”

CEO Kwak looked at me and winked.

Ah, my reliable ally had appeared on the battlefield!