The female lead “Song Woohee” in High School in Melody, played by An Jia, wasn’t a character known for her singing skills.
Song Woohee had a genius-level talent for acting, and she’d grown up as an actress under the expectations of her agency and parents, who recognized that talent early on.
High School in Melody began with the story of how such a girl became captivated by musicals.
“There’s a scene in episode 4 where Song Woohee opens her eyes to singing. I want to ask Prefer to create the song for that.”
At Min Heeyoung’s words, Seon-ho asked,
“What exactly do you mean by ‘opens her eyes’?”
“Originally, it was literally a scene where she suddenly becomes good at singing. That’s easier to manage in sound mixing or directing.”
“So it’s changed now?”
“Yes. Watching Idol Wars made me realize something about An Jia—what kind of feeling she gives off.”
Originally, Min Heeyoung had another actress in mind for the lead role in High School in Melody.
But after seeing An Jia sing during the casting auditions, she changed her mind.
“When An Jia sings, there’s this strangely intense sense of focus. It’s not that your gaze goes to her—it’s that your gaze is stolen by her. Even though she’s not particularly good at singing.”
“I know what you mean.”
“She acts while singing—she interprets the lyrics through acting. And she does it with this incredible level of immersion.”
“Yes.”
“And the composer Prefer knew that?”
“Well, something like that.”
“There’s not much time before shooting starts, so we need the song within two weeks, no matter what. We’re scrapping the originally prepared track for this, so we can’t afford delays. Is it possible?”
At Min Heeyoung’s question, Seon-ho readily replied,
“Yes.”
He had already confirmed Jia’s potential while working on Vivid.
There was a song he had always wanted to try writing—for her.
Two weeks was tight, but doable.
“If the song turns out well, I’ll strongly push for it to be the main OST. Please tell the Prefer I’m counting on him.”
“Writer-nim, could I possibly get a copy of the script? I’d like to understand the exact context of the scene where the song appears.”
“You can get the script from An Jia or MOK, can’t you?”
“No, I mean the draft version. The raw script—not the one that’s been compromised by reality.”
TV dramas, unlike films, are often crushed by budget and time constraints.
Even if a writer wants to show a scene at ‘100’, it often only comes out at ‘80’—a compromise with reality.
But Seon-ho wanted to see the ‘100’ version.
At his request, Min Heeyoung asked in an odd tone,
“I’ve heard the stories… You really are Prefer’s doorman, aren’t you?”
“Doorman?”
“The one who opens doors.”
Min Heeyoung smiled and said,
“I’ll send you the script by courier right away. I would email it, but I have scribbled too many notes on it with a pen.”
“Thank you.”
“Once you’ve got a draft of the song, let’s set up a meeting with An Jia. It’d be great if Prefer could come too.”
“Understood. I’ll confirm the cameo appearance first, then contact you again.”
Just as Seon-ho hung up, a voice called out from behind him.
“Cameo? What cameo?”
“Oh, Team Leader.”
It was Choi Ki-seok, head of the PR team.
“The High School in Melody team wants to cast Personal Color for a cameo.”
“A cameo? In which episode?”
“The first one.”
“Was that the drama’s PD on the phone just now?”
“No, it was the writer.”
“For High School in Melody, that would be… Writer Min?”
“Yes.”
Choi Ki-seok looked at Seon-ho with suspicion.
“What are you, some kind of connection vacuum? You suck up everyone? Since when were you close with Writer Min?”
“I’m not, really. It just kind of happened…”
Bzzzz.
Just then, Seon-ho’s phone buzzed with an incoming call.
Choi Ki-seok, standing to his right, caught sight of the caller ID and was shocked.
[CEO Kim Donghan]
“The CEO? That’s his private number, isn’t it?”
“Team Leader, I need to take this…”
“Yeah, sure. Take it in the meeting room next door—it’s free today.”
Leaving behind a cheeky “Let’s be close friends,” Choi Ki-seok stepped aside.
Seon-ho went into the meeting room next door and answered the call.
“Yes, sir.”
—“Right. You said you had something to say?”
The calm voice on the other end didn’t sound irritated by the sudden call.
Seon-ho’s next move would depend entirely on how that voice changed now.
He began.
“I’m not sure if this is appropriate to ask, but… I was wondering if the reason you’re sending me to Hye-mi is because of her contract renewal.”
—“Hmm.”
It wasn’t a yes, but the tone could be interpreted as an affirmation.
So Seon-ho pressed further.
“Then if Hye-mi does renew her contract, would you allow me to continue managing Personal Color?”
Kim Dong-han didn’t respond for several long seconds.
The silence felt unusually heavy.
And when he finally spoke…
—“That won’t be possible.”
A clear no.
Seon-ho didn’t try to argue.
He simply acknowledged it, apologized for the sudden call, and ended the conversation.
Now it was clear.
Just as Team Leader Park Cha-myung suspected, CEO Kim Dong-han hadn’t assigned him based solely on Hye-mi’s contract renewal.
Of course, that played a significant part.
But it wasn’t everything.
There was something more.
As for what the CEO was really thinking…
I don’t really care.
He wasn’t interested in what the CEO wanted.
What mattered was what he and his artists needed to be happy.
And what actions he would take to make that happen.
So Seon-ho picked up his phone again.
—“Hye-mi. Can you talk right now?”
—“I can’t at the moment. Why?”
—“Do you remember the favour I asked on the train?”
—“Yes. Of course.”
—“Can you do it now?”
The reply came quickly.
—“So I’m working with you on the same team now?”
Seon-ho finished most of his office work and headed to the second-floor choreography studio of the company building.
As soon as he got off the elevator, he could see Personal Color through the window of the largest practice room.
On the broadcast, Idol War would make it seem like the concept for each stage was decided weekly, but in reality, the singers were already preparing for three stages even before the first episode aired.
- Preliminary Round: Team Introduction Mission
- Round 1: Theme Selection Mission
- Round 2: Cover Song Mission
The preliminary round was already over. Now came the theme selection mission—where the first eliminations would begin.
This mission’s theme was “Singing a Different Song.”
Personal Color was scheduled to perform Role Model, a hit song by Jesco.
Seon-ho hadn’t been involved much in the preparation of Role Model. MOK had already done such an excellent arrangement that there was no need to interfere further.
On the other hand, Vivid was honestly a risky song.
If the members couldn’t convey emotion, it would be a zero. If they could, it was a perfect hundred. A song of extremes—make or break.
By comparison, MOK’s arrangement of Role Model was an 85-point song.
As long as they didn’t make mistakes, they could comfortably score 85. If Personal Color performed well, they might even aim higher.
It didn’t quite align with Seon-ho’s usual approach of pushing artists to reach 100% of their potential, but it was still a song worth learning from.
“Hm?”
Seon-ho tilted his head as he watched Personal Color’s practice through the studio window.
He wasn’t an expert in dance, but even he could tell the members’ arms and legs were moving awkwardly.
“This is more than just awkward.”
Even Woochan was extending the same hand and foot while dancing.
“What’s going on? Is there a problem?”
Unable to bear it any longer, Seon-ho opened the door and walked in, drawing all the members’ attention at once.
They all had somewhat dazed and surreal expressions.
“Oppa!”
Baek Songyi ran up to him.
“What happened? Your face is pale.”
“Oppa, did you not see the article?”
“Article? What article?”
“The Idol War article!”
“I saw it. I monitored almost everything from the major media outlets. Why? Did someone write nonsense?”
“No, it’s not that. Our name is showing up way too much. And Personal Color is currently number one on real-time search rankings!”
Seon-ho tilted his head.
“I know. So? Didn’t we check that this morning with the manager?”
Baek Songyi replied in a frustrated tone.
“I said we’re number one! Number one! We hit number one in the search rankings for the first time in three years!”
“Mm, congrats.”
“I’m not saying I want congratulations…”
“You’re saying it feels unreal?”
“Yes!”
“But didn’t you expect it at least a little after the first performance?”
“Well… yeah, but…”
Baek Songyi and the rest of Personal Color seemed dazed, as if they couldn’t understand why they were receiving this much attention.
That’s when Seon-ho said,
“You’ll have to get used to it. Seeing your names in articles, being number one in search rankings. This isn’t going to be a one-time thing.”
Personal Color had only ever known failure over the past three years.
Three years was a deceptively short phrase for what it really felt like.
Longer than military service, and full three years was even longer than an actual high school career.
That’s why it felt so surreal.
After three years of nothing but failure, to suddenly taste success—while their minds might understand it, their bodies couldn’t accept it yet.
You could say they were having trouble adjusting to the situation.
There was no way Seon-ho, who was perceptive, hadn’t noticed.
But Idol War was just getting started.
If they became too intoxicated with this early success, that lingering aftertaste might interfere with the next stage, stopping them from giving their best.
So he deliberately put on a composed front.
Just then, An Jia—who had somehow ended up beside him—asked,
“Then oppa, aren’t you happy?”
“I’m thrilled. But being happy and being surprised are two different things.”
“You mean you’re not surprised?”
“Yup. I expected this.”
At Seon-ho’s words, the Personal Color members let out awkward chuckles.
Because their manager seemed to take it so naturally, it started to feel like maybe it really was natural.
Even though it was no easy feat, he made it look like it wasn’t hard at all.
Then Woochan spoke.
“Listen to this guy. Acting all high and mighty when he’s only been our manager for three months!”
Seon-ho opened his mouth to respond to the joke, then paused, noticing something.
“Did you cry?”
“What? What are you talking about? Who cried?”
“No, it’s just… your eyes…”
Seon-ho tilted his head.
Woochan’s eyes looked a little swollen.
That’s when Teiji spoke up.
“Manager hyung, didn’t you know? Do you know why Woochan hyung got his stage name?”
“Huh? I don’t know either,” Riha said, curiously.
As Teiji began to explain, Woochan quickly tried to stop him.
“Sangho! I’ll buy you jokbal!”
“Just jokbal…?”
“I’ll buy bossam too!”
“I don’t even like bossam. That’s your favourite.”
But Teiji went ahead and revealed it anyway.
“Woochan hyung’s always been a cry baby. He tears up at the drop of a hat.”
“Come to think of it, he was the first one crying on stage, wasn’t he…” Baek Songyi added.
Teiji nodded.
“Anyway, when we were with our previous company, the director who named him said, ‘Your eyes always look gloomy,’ and named him Woochan because of that.”
An Jia, who had been quietly listening, said to Woochan,
“I saw in a movie once, when men age, their testosterone levels drop and they get more emotional. They cry more too. So it’s natural—you don’t have to be embarrassed.”
“That’s something that happens in middle age! I’m not that old!”
Woochan protested, but it didn’t seem to help.
“You need to cry more, Woochan oppa. I saw a comment under the article that said, ‘The more Woochan’s lashes fall, the more his popularity rises.’”
“Yeah. Since sweating until your lashes are soaked is hard, just cry. If you close your eyes and cry, they’ll get wet fast, right?”
With the triple combo from An Jia, Baek Songyi, and Riha, Woochan shut his mouth.
But strangely, his eyes turned red again.
“What, are you crying from a little teasing?”
“No, it’s just… I’m amazed that we’re joking around like this.”
At Woochan’s words, the other members couldn’t help but smile.
Seon-ho, seeing the moment, wanted to tell them about their potential cameo appearance, but he held back—since it wasn’t 100% confirmed yet.
That’s when Baek Songyi clapped her hands.
“Alright, let’s practice!”
“Let’s do it!”
“We have to do well in tomorrow’s recording. I want to be #1 in searches again!”
Practice resumed.
Thanks to Seon-ho’s calmness and Woochan’s “sacrifice,” the mood was better than ever.
Even when doing the same choreography, there was a noticeable difference between when everyone had different thoughts and when they were united.
When they were on the same page, it truly felt like they were one.
Seon-ho, confirming that Personal Color was no longer out of sync, so he called Jia over during a short break.
“Jia, come here for a second.”
“Um, okay.”
Drenched in sweat, Jia started to approach, then suddenly stopped.
“Say it from there.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Just because.”
When Seon-ho stepped closer, Jia stepped back.
Perplexed, Seon-ho asked,
“What’s wrong?”
“Just… I think I smell like sweat.”
“Oh, that’s all? It’s fine. Come here.”
But Jia wouldn’t budge.
Seon-ho made a mental note to keep deodorant stocked in the practice room and continued.
“Min Heeyoung the writer contacted me earlier.”
“Writer Min? Why?”
“You know there’s a singing scene in episode 4, right?”
“Ah, yeah. I know.”
“She wants to remake that song. She wants to give it to Prefer.”
“Oh… I’d like that. I really like Prefer’s songs.”
“So, I wanted to ask—have you read any novels or watched any movies lately that really stuck with you?”
“Yes. There’s a novel I liked.”
“Can you tell me the title?”
When Jia gave the name, Seon-ho tilted his head.
It was a strange title.
Then Jia asked,
“But why?”
“You’ve been singing while immersing yourself in fragmented lyrics, without knowing the full story, right?”
Seon-ho said.
“But I’m curious what would happen if you sang from the perspective of a character from a story you really enjoyed.”
Watching Jia practice Vivid, Seon-ho had started wondering—
Maybe the level of immersion she was currently showing wasn’t even half of her true potential.
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