A moment later, after the tuning was complete, a gentle guitar melody and a soft voice began to fill the waiting room.
After listening to the song for a while, the main director, PD Chae Seong-un, spoke up.
“CP, the song is really good.”
“Yeah. It feels completely different from Kim Dong-han’s version or Cha Hye-mi’s version…”
“The vibe is definitely distinct, but I like that it still retains the essence of the original song.”
“Essence of the original song? What do you even know about music to be acting all high and mighty?”
“Come on, after directing an audition program for three years, I’m practically at the level of an agency CEO. I’ve probably seen more trainees than most of them.”
At the CP’s remark, PD Chae Seong-un grumbled.
“Anyway, I think we can make this the main focus of the episode by alternating between Cha Hye-mi’s and Jung Su-rim’s versions. It should be easy to get good footage from it.”
“You want to push it as the main?”
“I’ll have to think it over a bit, but it seems like a good idea. Last year, ‘Autumn Leaves’ did well as a digital release, too.”
“Did that song make it to number one?”
“Yeah. It didn’t hold the top spot for long, but it stayed in the top ten for quite a while. And since autumn is coming, this theme should work well.”
The CP stroked his chin.
“Hmm… The song is good, but should we really push it when the MOK guys aren’t even showing any appreciation?”
“It’s a little annoying, sure, but we need to focus on ratings first. We can always deal with them later.”
“Deal with them? Let’s call it justice instead.”
At the CP’s words, PD Chae grinned and nodded once more as he looked at Jung Su-rim.
“The song really is great.”
“We can’t be sure yet. There have been plenty of songs that seemed good at first but ended up falling flat on a big stage.”
“Still, with this level, it won’t flop.”
“Well, it’ll get a proper arrangement, too.”
Han Seon-ho had sharp ears, so he could hear the conversation between the PD and the CP.
The distance wasn’t that far, but they also weren’t being particularly cautious about what they were saying.
‘Maybe they want me to hear it. To pass it up the chain.’
Han Seon-ho fell into thought.
The conversation between the PD and CP was rather surprising to him.
He had no interest in the sponsorship power struggles between MBN and MOK Entertainment, nor was he in a position to care.
What caught him off guard was purely Jung Su-rim’s song.
Han Seon-ho turned his head to observe the reactions of others.
Among those on set were entertainment industry representatives who were interested in Jung Su-rim, as well as broadcast staff.
And their reactions were equally positive.
Many were nodding along to the rhythm, and some even said outright that they really liked it.
That’s why he was puzzled.
‘They think this is good?’
He wasn’t questioning Jung Su-rim’s skill.
She was quite a good singer—her voice had a lovely tone, and her solid fundamentals made her a promising vocalist.
Han Seon-ho’s doubt lay with the song itself.
Jung Su-rim could sing well, but this song wasn’t good.
To be precise, it might sound good now, but it had too many flaws that would be exposed on a big stage.
The reason the song sounded nice at the moment was because she was singing it softly and delicately.
A good voice and a pleasant melody naturally blended well in a small space, making it seem better than it actually was.
It was like gaining confidence from singing a song quietly at home, only to be disappointed when trying to belt it out.
This song was exactly like that.
A song with fundamental limitations.
The bigger and grander the stage, the more its strengths would disappear, leaving only its weaknesses behind.
“Hmm…”
Han Seon-ho wasn’t entirely confident in his own creative abilities.
He thought he might have talent, but talent was something that could easily be an illusion.
However, when it came to “listening,” he had absolute confidence.
And that confidence was screaming at him.
The moment Jung Su-rim took this song to the stage, it would inevitably fail.
‘Am I overthinking this? If it sounds good now, it should do decently as a digital release…’
That thought crossed his mind briefly, but Tomorrow K-Star was a competition show.
If a song didn’t hold up on stage, it was simply a bad song.
‘Then how should I fix it?’
First, the melody needed to change.
Since it was a duet stage, it would be best to have a delicate melody in the front, backed by a powerful melody.
Another approach could be to play around with the soft melody.
A gentle tune that suddenly shifts into an unexpectedly high range—something like Gallant’s Weight in Gold.
As Han Seon-ho got lost in his own world of ideas, Jung Su-rim’s song came to an end.
“Unnie, what do you think?”
Jung Su-rim asked, her face red with excitement.
Hye-mi beamed.
“It’s really good. You sing so well.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. For real.”
“Ahh, that’s a relief. I was kind of nervous because I liked your version so much.”
“But have you ever sung this song on a big stage before?”
“A big stage? How big…?”
Hye-mi thought for a moment before replying.
“Like, when the MR volume gets way louder than usual?”
Even with good audio equipment, the bigger the stage and the larger the audience, the more the MR volume naturally had to be increased.
There was a limit to how much the sound system could compensate.
And when the MR volume went up, the singer’s voice had to increase in proportion.
Cha Hye-mi was asking if she had experience handling that kind of situation.
“I don’t know exactly what scale you mean, but I have sung at local festivals before.”
“Did you have any trouble increasing your vocal power?”
At Cha Hye-mi’s question, Han Seon-ho focused.
‘Is she thinking the same thing as me?’
However, as he listened to their conversation, he realized that Hye-mi wasn’t as certain as he was.
She only seemed to feel an instinctive unease.
Unfortunately, Hye-mi’s doubts were quickly dismissed by Jung Su-rim’s confident response.
Just then, an assistant director held up a sketchbook with the words “Hye-mi, sing a song too!” written on it.
“Unnie, unnie.”
“Hm?”
“Could you sing your version too? I’ll play the support and harmonize. I really love this song, and I’d love to hear it.”
“Hmm, should I?”
At that moment, Han Seon-ho caught a fleeting hint of discomfort on Hye-mi’s face.
It was likely because Autumn Leaf was originally a song by Kim Dong-han.
But the discomfort quickly faded.
Cha Hye-mi began singing, accompanied by Jung Su-rim’s playing.
When Autumn Leaf was first released, it didn’t gain much popularity. However, through remakes by younger artists, it gradually became well-known.
Among those artists was Cha Hye-mi.
In the previous season, her performance of Autumn Leaf had earned high praise from the Tomorrow K-Star judges.
She had been considered the most likely female contestant to win.
That praise translated into public response.
As soon as the digital single was released, it topped multiple major streaming charts.
Though it didn’t hold the No. 1 spot for long, it remained in the Top 10 for over a month.
Around that time, Kim Dong-han personally offered Hye-mi an exclusive contract with MOK.
It was an unusually generous deal for a rookie singer.
To endure the winter,
Everything must fall away,
But for some reason—
I wish the leaves wouldn’t fall.
Listening to Hye-mi sing, Seon-ho understood why Kim Dong-han had offered her that contract.
She had potential.
A solid, undeniable potential.
She was like a seed, enduring the cold in its shell, waiting for the right time to bloom.
But…
Kim Dong-han had no intention of letting her bloom.
Instead of nurturing her growth, he wanted the frost around her to grow colder.
How cold, exactly? Seon-ho didn’t know.
But he was certain that Hye-mi wouldn’t be able to step into the spotlight for several years.
“What would it feel like to help that seed sprout?”
That thought struck Seon-ho as he listened to her sing.
Even if the leaves fall,
Winter won’t come just yet,
But for some reason—
I wish the leaves wouldn’t fall.
Perhaps it was because he saw a reflection of someone in the lyrics of the song.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
As soon as Hye-mi finished, Jung Su-rim threw down her guitar and applauded enthusiastically.
Her face was full of genuine admiration, while Hye-mi gave a small, shy smile.
“Was it okay?”
“Yes! It was amazing. I can’t wait to perform with you.”
“Thanks. So, should we go with Autumn Leaf?”
“Yes! No question about it!”
Su-rim’s voice sounded even more excited than before.
And so, Cha Hye-mi and Jung Su-rim decided to use Autumn Leaf for the competition.
Everyone at the shoot agreed with their choice.
Everyone—except for Han Seon-ho.
Hye-mi and Su-rim spent the day eating together, visiting a music show, and even doing an unplanned busking performance, all for their first meeting footage.
For a segment that would be just 3–5 minutes long, they had filmed nonstop from 1 PM to 1 AM.
But just because the TV shoot was over didn’t mean their work was done.
In fact, the most important part was still ahead.
Back at the broadcast station, they met with MOK’s producer, Joo Min-hwan, to discuss the song arrangement.
With the live performance just two weeks away, there wasn’t much time.
“This is really good.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I don’t think we need to change much.”
Hearing this, Jung Su-rim’s face brightened.
“If we keep the original structure but adapt it for a duet that suits Hye-mi’s style, it should work. How do you plan to split the parts?”
“I was thinking fifty-fifty.”
At that, Cha Hye-mi shook her head.
“This is your competition. You should take the lead. I’m just here to support you. Maybe a 70-30 split? What do you think, Producer Joo?”
“Hmm. Hye-mi, you sang this before, right? In a blues style?”
“Yes.”
“Then how about this? Su-rim takes the intro and the highlight. Hye-mi sings the interlude. And for the ending, you sing together. How does that sound?”
Both of them nodded.
“That works for me.”
“Same here.”
“For the highlight, Su-rim will lead, and Hye-mi will do backup vocals.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
“As long as we finalize the details, the arrangement shouldn’t take too long. The song is already great.”
Joo Min-hwan kept repeating how good the song was as he gathered input from the singers.
Jung Su-rim and Cha Hye-mi both seemed satisfied with his arrangement proposal.
From off-camera, Han Seon-ho quietly observed them.
“Let’s take a quick break,” Joo Min-hwan said, getting up with a cigarette in hand.
The mounted cameras were still rolling, but technical discussions like this rarely made it into the broadcast, so no one paid much attention.
When Min-hwan reached the smoking terrace, he lit his cigarette.
“This should be fine, right?”
His thoughts drifted along with the smoke.
Just then, someone else entered the terrace.
“Hello, Producer Joo.”
Min-hwan turned to see a face he had briefly noticed during filming.
“Oh, you. You’re the new guy working with Hye-mi, right?”
“Yes. I’m Han Seon-ho. I was out getting snacks when the meeting started, so I didn’t get to introduce myself.”
“Right.”
Min-hwan gave a brief nod and exhaled a puff of smoke.
“You’ll have an easy time with PR. There are plenty of old spinsters among the station staff. Flash a smile or two, and they’ll be all over you.”
“Is that so?”
Seon-ho remained unfazed despite the offhand remark. He simply nodded.
“If you came here to smoke, go ahead. Why are you just standing there?”
“I didn’t come to smoke. I had something to ask you, Producer Joo.”
“Oh? What is it?”
Seon-ho hesitated for a moment.
Would bringing this up just stir up trouble?
At the same time, he recalled something Team Leader Park Cha-myung had told him during his hiring interview.
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