At first, he fumbled on the piano as if he wasn’t very skilled, but after a few repetitions, his playing quickly became more refined.
“Uh…?”
“Ah…!”
Jeong Su-rim’s puzzlement and Cha Hye-mi’s astonishment.
Su-rim, who still lacked a deep understanding of music, was confused by the ticklish sensation the melody evoked, whereas Hye-mi immediately admired.
She could already envision how this melody would blend into Autumn Leaves.
“Oh! Is this melody for the intersection? The part where the two vocals overlap?”
After a few more rounds of playing, Su-rim finally grasped Han Seon-ho’s intent.
Seon-ho momentarily paused his performance and nodded.
“Yes. From the intersection up to just before the climax, this is the feeling I’m aiming for. A sense of longing, but coexisting with the happiness shared with that person. Creating a contrast in time.”
At that moment, Hye-mi asked,
“Oppa, do you have someone like that?”
Caught off guard by her question, Seon-ho hesitated briefly.
Then, after a moment, he gave a short answer.
“Maybe.”
Su-rim interjected.
“But, manager oppa, did you come up with that melody on the spot? It seemed like you did.”
“It wasn’t completely improvised.”
“Then how did you play it?”
“Well, during the arrangement meeting with Prefer, we discussed various things. I think I vaguely remembered hearing something like this then.”
“Oh, so that’s why you hesitated at first! But still, to recall something after just hearing it once…”
“I was in the meeting, after all. More importantly, how did it feel? Instead of making the singers fit the song, I want the song to fit the singers.”
Hye-mi, who had been lost in thought, suddenly asked,
“How long will it take to rearrange?”
“If short, a day. If long, two days.”
“I’m all for it.”
“Me too!”
“Hye-mi, Hye-mi.”
The engineer’s voice pulled Hye-mi out of her memories from a few days ago.
She belatedly responded.
“Oh, yes?”
“Is something wrong? You took a while to answer.”
“No, I was just thinking about something.”
“I see. Do you have any feedback?”
“Hmm… It’s already good, but what if we layer the harmonies more?”
“Hmm. I think it’s fine as it is… But should we try adding more and then decide?”
“Yes.”
And so, the recording resumed.
Whether she realized it or not, Hye-mi found her gaze constantly drifting toward the engineer’s booth as she focused on singing.
Time passed quickly.
Before he knew it, two weeks had flown by since he had been assigned to Hye-mi.
That also meant that today was the live broadcast of Tomorrow K-Star Season 3’s main competition.
“First.”
Han Seon-ho found the word standing out to him more than ever today.
His first assigned singer.
His first experience in broadcasting.
His first composed song.
His first moment sharing his work with the public.
All of these firsts came together on this day.
“Ah, wait. The song isn’t exactly my first. I worked on AT’s track before.”
Seon-ho felt grateful to Hye-mi.
The circumstances had been complicated, but thanks to her, he had been able to join MOK.
He was now experiencing the role of a producer, something he had always dreamed of.
Normally, countless experts would be involved in a singer’s performance, each handling their respective fields.
But for this stage, almost everything had Han Seon-ho’s touch.
Composing the music.
Preparing the styling to match the song.
Planning the stage for the performance.
A process that no rookie manager would normally dare attempt—yet, thanks to Hye-mi, he had been able to go through it all.
Of course, within the company, most people expected her stage to fail.
A rookie composer had replaced a veteran producer’s song.
Most of the direction had been decided through casual back-and-forths between Cha Hye-mi and a newbie manager.
By all accounts, it was a setup for disaster.
Show business was ruthless, and stage production was one of the most specialized tasks within it.
Yet, Seon-ho was confident.
Because preparing for this had been nothing but fun.
Because this was something he had dreamed of doing, even in his sleep.
“Final camera rehearsal standby!”
A staff member’s voice snapped Han Seon-ho out of his thoughts.
An hour had passed since the dry rehearsal, and now, the camera rehearsal was about to begin.
“FD! Is the first team ready?”
“We’re running in the exact order and manner of the live show, so be mindful of the stage directions.”
“EFP 1 and 2 are focusing on reaction shots of the singers, so the Jimmy Jib operator, please ease up on zoom-ins!”
With in-ear monitors in, staff members were busily muttering instructions while moving around the venue.
During the dry rehearsal, only the camera operators had seemed busy, but now, the entire venue was buzzing with activity.
And this was just the rehearsal.
Seon-ho couldn’t even imagine what it would be like once the audience filled the seats.
He stood beneath the stage, observing everything.
For now, it all still felt unfamiliar.
But it can’t remain unfamiliar forever.
He wanted to grasp as quickly as possible how the broadcasting station operated and what elements were at play within it.
ENG is a mobile camera, EFP is a fixed one? And a Jimmy Jib is a camera with a long neck.
As Han Seon-ho was focusing on understanding his surroundings, there were people observing him.
To be precise, they weren’t exactly watching him—he just happened to be in their line of sight.
A considerable number of entertainment industry personnel had gathered near the stage where Seon-ho stood.
Among them were road managers, casting managers, and engineers tasked with monitoring the broadcast.
There was even a representative from a small entertainment agency.
Most of them were seasoned figures who had been in the show business industry for a long time, and many were already acquainted with each other.
That’s why, aside from Han Seon-ho, they had naturally grouped up, forming clusters of three to five, or even up to six people.
“But I’ve been curious for a while now—who is that guy? He’s seriously good-looking.”
A conversation about Han Seon-ho sparked among a group of women.
“Right? I was thinking the same thing. Maybe he’s a rookie or a trainee from some entertainment company?”
“Why would a rookie be here?”
“Who knows? Maybe to introduce himself to the producer? Or maybe he’s just here for a field visit?”
Just then, a male engineer standing nearby chimed in.
“Oh, that guy? He’s Cha Hye-mi’s manager.”
“Her manager? You mean from MOK Entertainment?”
“Yeah, I heard he’s a new recruit who just joined recently.”
At the engineer’s words, the entertainment employees exchanged incredulous looks.
“That guy is a manager? With a face like that? What a waste.”
“He must be terrible at acting and singing. Or maybe his voice is just awful.”
“Then he could just push forward with dancing and rapping. With a face like that, even a four-line rap verse would be enough to put him in the center.”
“Maybe he’s a terrible dancer.”
“Then he should model.”
“But he might be awkward in front of the camera. People who can’t act usually are.”
“Ugh, then what job would suit him, according to you?”
“My boyfriend.”
“…….”
“Or, my husband?”
Laughter spread among the group.
Meanwhile, Seon-ho remained oblivious to the conversation about him, focusing intently on observing his surroundings.
Then, suddenly, he felt a light tap on his shoulder.
Turning around, his eyes landed on a woman with a sophisticated urban appearance, dressed in an elegant suit.
A familiar face.
“Oh? Manager Yoo.”
The one who had tapped his shoulder was Y00 Ayeon, the casting director of (UU) Entertainment—the same person who had followed him into the men’s restroom to inform him about Hye-mi’s situation.
“We meet again, Manager Han Seon-ho.”
“Looks like it. Have you been well?”
“I have. Were you watching the rehearsal?”
“Yes, I wanted to monitor Hye-mi and Su-rim’s stage. What about you?”
“Obviously, I’m here for work. Casting.”
Yoo Ayeon made a gesture as if she were drawing something from the air.
One of the things Seon-ho had noticed after joining MOK was that high-ranking figures in the industry rarely wore suits.
In an entertainment industry where people were either excessively free during downtime or overwhelmingly busy when working, suits were one of the most impractical outfits.
However, every time he saw Yoo Ayeon, she was dressed in formal attire.
Moreover, for someone holding the position of casting director at a giant agency like UU Entertainment, she seemed quite young.
She looked around thirty.
Perhaps even younger.
He knew it was rude to assume, but she gave off the impression of someone with powerful connections.
Maybe even the daughter of UU Entertainment’s CEO.
“So, have you found any contestants that caught your eye?”
“Of course.”
“Would it be alright if I asked who?”
“Of course. Hmm… First, I like Kang Mireu the most.”
“Kang Mireu? Isn’t she already signed with TPA Entertainment?”
“She is. That’s the problem.”
Yoo Ayeon shrugged.
Even though UU Entertainment held a dominant position in the Korean showbiz industry, recruiting an artist still under contract wasn’t easy.
“And?”
“I’m also keeping an eye on Jung Su-rim. But she’s the type who can’t fully showcase herself when she’s nervous, so today’s stage will be crucial. Not just for me, but for the other casting directors from different agencies as well.”
“I see.”
Seon-ho had once made a similar assessment of Jung Su-rim.
She sang well, but she tended to freeze up on stage.
She was the kind of performer who shone more on smaller stages, like those in small theaters.
But today, he had a feeling that Jung Su-rim would be different.
“She’ll need to perform on the live broadcast before I can properly evaluate her. But actually, there’s someone else I like even more after Kang Mireu.”
“Who?”
“Cha Hye-mi.”
“Hye-mi?”
“Yes. I like her. It’s honestly a shame that she’s signed with a great company like MOK.”
There was something off about Yoo Ayeon’s tone.
Rather than genuinely expressing regret, it felt more like she was investigating—How will you react if I say this?
Perhaps it was just his imagination, but it seemed like she had emphasized great company deliberately.
Does UU Entertainment know everything happening in this industry? Or is she just fishing for information based on rumors about the company’s internal issues?
Seon-ho had many words lingering on the tip of his tongue, but in the end, he swallowed them down.
He wasn’t in a position to determine Hye-mi’s future just yet.
All he wanted was to elevate her to greater heights now that they were a team.
Between the short but weighty silence, Yoo Ayeon’s voice turned lighter.
“Are the stage preparations going well?”
“We’ve been working hard.”
“Did the visit last time help you?”
“Of course. I really appreciated it.”
Seon-ho had visited a music broadcast set not long ago.
He had wanted to learn how stages were put together while preparing for Hye-mi’s performance.
But when he arrived, the set was too hectic and complex.
Thanks to Park Cha-myung, he had been able to enter, but that was about it.
That’s when he had run into Yoo Ayeon by chance.
She had been a great help.
The stage production team, who had ignored the questions of a mere road manager, had responded kindly when approached by a UU Entertainment executive.
So when Seon-ho said he was grateful, he genuinely meant it.
“Well then, shall we look forward to the rehearsal?”
“You’re staying to watch?”
“Yes. Let’s watch together. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, not at a—”
“Hello, Director Yoo!”
Just then, someone cut him off, calling out to Yoo Ayeon.
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