Chapter 12: Taeyoon’s Savior
Gathering around a new project and everyone gossiping and grinding away at it was an age‑old tradition in Korean companies.
Even in the entertainment industry it wasn’t different.
Coffee time served as a front for backtalk.
It was the only comfort and the lone pleasure in their office lives.
Like birds pecking at feed, they attacked without mercy.
Today’s “feed,” sadly, was Han Yujin.
“Yujin’s recording today, right?”
A woman wearing red lipstick slurped her coffee and broke the silence.
What she really meant was, “You all probably have so much to say about Yujin’s new song too, right?” It didn’t matter – if she pretended, they’d follow suit.
“Yeah, that’s right. But did you hear it yet?”
Exactly like that.
“What? What is it?”
Then one by one they chimed in, as if they had been waiting.
“They’re doing another rookie this time, right?”
“Even though they got burned last time, they’re doing it again?”
“CEO is so harsh. Are they hoarding songs or something? I didn’t think that of them.”
“Yujin is surprisingly stubborn, you know. What did A&R say?”
“Well, I heard the song was picked well? I really wanted to hear it. They say the beat’s art. Yujin should do well this time.”
“But a rookie’s still a rookie.”
The red‑lipstick woman, who had been nodding quietly, summed up the employee chatter in one line.
So……. they’re saying Yujin is releasing another album with a rookie composer’s song?
She made a forlorn expression as she drove the point home.
“I feel so sorry for our Yujin. If this goes wrong, it’s going to be a real mess. Last song was sloppy, and this one will be too. Rookies are way too risky, right?”
Then she took another slurp of coffee. Louder than before.
Criticism disguised as concern.
A familiar form of hypocrisy.
Everyone smirked awkwardly, though they all knew.
In the art team, ranking was determined by lipstick color, and hers was the reddest.
No need to draw attention or add comments—only to invite sharp stares.
Just as the backtalk session was winding down with the desired remarks, it collapsed…
“Thank you for your concern.”
A crisp voice came from the side.
It was Han Yujin.
Skillfully filling ice and pouring coffee, she continued.
“I didn’t expect Director Jung to worry about me so much—what an honor. You never care about other people’s business.”
Oh dear, this isn’t a K‑drama cliché.
The subject herself was in the lounge, hearing and grinding her teeth?
This is the time you dodge out.
Those not yet on her radar quietly slipped away.
If you get caught trash‑talking an artist, you won’t look good.
They could dismiss it as concern at this point… but it’s too awkward when the person is right there.
“But just one thing.”
Han Yujin’s cool voice cut in.
I could endure insults directed at me.
Being told I can’t sing, or I lack variety sense, or I can’t dance—that’s bearable. Acceptance, even.
But….
“Aren’t people who haven’t even heard the song making overly wild guesses? The A&R team wouldn’t have leaked the new song demo, right?”
You can’t insult my song!
After writing one myself, I learned.
How fiercely composers and lyricists agonize when working.
And this piece… Taeyoon had written it solely for me.
It wasn’t some trendy, half‑hearted tune thrown together to chase a fad.
To speak nonsense to this custom‑made song? Absolutely unacceptable.
“The song doesn’t deserve blame. It’s the singer who failed to deliver properly. Though I think… that singer might have changed a little?”
Toward the employees who fell silent as if honey had been poured over their mouths, Han Yujin delivered her final blow and departed.
With her back straightened, she exited the lounge; the red‑lipstick director just stared blankly at her retreating figure.
Han Yujin… she really grew up, didn’t she?
“How does it feel to record for the first time?”
“Feels like a dream becoming reality.”
Ah. Was that line too cheesy?
Still, no regrets—because it was the truth.
I need to banish the word “cheesy.”
That word kills all emotion.
Luckily, Team Leader Park seemed sentimental enough. He nodded along and empathized.
“That’s great. Having your dream become reality—never easy. Congrats.”
“If you’re congratulating me already…”
“Because beginnings are always special. The longer you work, the more you lose it. Sometimes I can’t even remember what I was like—I find that a bit frustrating.”
I sat in a corner of the recording studio where the producer hadn’t arrived yet.
Team Leader Park and I chatted about this and that.
Hyung said that the A&R team leader was a master who knew everything.
Having experienced it, that was right.
Even now, I felt it.
“So I brought this,”
He produced a box.
“What’s this?”
“Nothing special. A diary and a pen.”
“Uh…”
My face warmed.
I’d been the type to scribble notes in any random notebook, tearing pages out and bringing them.
Even before this, I’d done it.
I grabbed some pen lying around—but since it didn’t write well, Team Leader Park subtly lent me his pen.
“Open it. The diary belongs to the company so no cost to you. The pen isn’t expensive, so feel free to use it.”
“But, team leader…”
I peered into the shopping bag.
TO ME Entertainment.
Inside was an impressive diary with the company name in gold foil—and also…
“Why did you give me so many pens?”
It was a whole box of pens.
“Pens get lost all the time, right? No matter how minor the meeting, always bring your diary and pen. You don’t want to appear flustered over something trivial.”
What can I say?
Providing for someone without awkwardness—this is a high‑level skill.
Showing through action, not nagging, is truly team‑leader style.
I’d seen him many times, but nervousness kept me from really knowing him.
But now… he was someone with so much to learn from.
He was sharp enough to almost read my mind sometimes.
“You seem less nervous than expected?”
“Surprisingly calm.”
“Try giving me your hand.”
“Why my hand?”
Yet I instinctively extended my palm.
With a light high‑five, Team Leader Park smiled and answered.
“You really aren’t nervous.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your palm is utterly dry… good…”
Expectation outweighed nervousness.
They say the first button is key.
I wanted to show my resolve to Team Leader Park.
“I’ve prepared like this—how is it?”
I shared the directing notes I’d stayed up to organize last night.
Someone said…
The most important thing in making a song was directing.
ToMe had assigned an excellent producer.
I only saw him briefly during the guide recording, but he was calm and meticulous.
I thought he might give me a hard time since I was a beginner, but he didn’t.
So I tried preparing something.
Since the composer knows the song’s direction best.
I was the one who translated the beats and melodies that came to mind from looking at Han Yujin into a track.
This much should help with the directing.
“You’re thorough. I like it.”
Team Leader Park read through the paper with curious eyes.
He didn’t forget to add some reactions like “Oh?” and “Hmm.”
Then he looked up from the paper and asked me.
“Who taught you this?”
Who else? I just picked it up here and there.
It’s not something you have to be taught to know, is it?
We’re all here to do well together.
I just wanted to prepare something that would help with the recording, as a composer.
And I organized it into a visible document.
“I had various thoughts, but once I got into the real thing, I couldn’t remember well. So I just organized it.”
“I like this kind of attitude. Looking at you, Writer Seo, I’m really hopeful. But, well…”
Team Leader Park hesitated a moment before speaking again.
“The Owner has high expectations. That’s why our main producer has changed too.”
“In a good way?”
“In terms of career, yes. You know The Green, right?”
Of course I do.
They’re the top idol group at ToMe.
“Of course. I like their songs too.”
“He’s The Green’s main producer.”
“Oh, what an honor.”
To think such a famous producer would be handling my song.
I was lucky. I had to learn a lot, I thought as I looked around the recording studio.
“Is it really an honor, though?”
“Sorry?”
“There’s… well.”
Just a moment ago, he looked at me like hearts were about to fly out of his eyes.
But now, his gaze had drooped.
What’s up with that?
Shouldn’t we be happy about a famous producer?
“I’m fine with whoever comes.”
“Oh, confidence?”
“In the end, it’s Han Yujin who performs it. I’m not worried. No matter who comes.”
When the scheduled time arrived,
People started appearing in the recording studio one by one.
The first to arrive was Han Yujin.
She saw Taeyoon and greeted him cheerfully.
“Oh, Writer Seo. Nice to see you. I practiced a lot before coming.”
Her determined expression was a bonus.
She clenched her fist to her face and pursed her lips.
Taeyoon greeted her with the same pose.
It really gave me energy.
And then the next person to appear…
“Huh?”
An unexpected figure—it was Lyricist Oh Jisoo.
Taeyoon sprang up from his seat and bowed deeply.
The table scraped forward with a clatter.
“Hi, Writer Seo? It’s even nicer to see you after so long.”
“Hello.”
He hadn’t done anything wrong, but seeing Writer Oh made Taeyoon feel awkward for some reason.
Noticing the vibe, Han Yujin trotted over.
She gave a bunny-like smile and whispered.
“Do you know?”
“Know what?”
“That Lyricist Oh really looked out for you.”
“Excuse me?”
“I also overheard in the Owner’s office. Apparently, she insisted you be properly paid for your song. Said she wouldn’t tolerate anyone treating you poorly just because you’re a rookie lyricist. She really looks after her juniors.”
“Ah…”
Taeyoon looked at Oh Jisoo.
Noticing his gaze, Oh Jisoo met his eyes and winked before slowly walking over.
“I thought you’d be trembling like a leaf, but you seem calm.”
“It’s thanks to your care.”
“Care, huh. Curious why I’m here today?”
Taeyoon nodded quickly.
It’s unusual for a lyricist who lost the pitch to show up at the recording site.
People might worry she came to cause a scene and flip the table.
But this was Oh Jisoo.
She’d long moved on from those antics.
Today…
“I came to direct the lyrics.”
She declared herself Taeyoon’s savior.
“Ah…”
“Dance songs are like that. No matter how good the lyrics are, they can feel off when sung. Yujin’s great at expressing them, but after hearing the demo, there were some awkward parts. With a few tweaks, it could really come alive.”
Oh Jisoo smiled gently and continued.
“Even just a particle or an ending can change the flavor. You’re my first student, so I figured I’d drop some golden tips. Do well today. Can’t let people say the lyrics that got picked are sloppy, right? What’s with that look? I’m not asking for credit. Today’s just a favor for a junior.”
Even as Oh Jisoo spoke casually,
Taeyoon just listened with a serious expression.
“Um… I’m so honored that I don’t know what to say.”
He meant it.
Team Leader Park, Writer Oh—
These incredibly busy people came all this way just to help him… It was deeply touching.
“At times like this, just say thank you and be happy. I don’t show up just anywhere. Right, Yujin?”
“Totally right. Our Writer Oh doesn’t care about others’ business, so I was surprised she came today.”
“What, did you think I’d cause trouble?”
“Oh no, unnie. Don’t say such upsetting things.”
Thanks to their warm exchange, the studio atmosphere softened.
“Thank you. Really. I’ll do my best.”
Taeyoon’s first recording.
He thought it would unfold in this warm, encouraging mood.
He was sure of it.
“Oh, Producer Nam’s here.”
But the moment the producer arrived yawning like his jaw would split, a strange chill filled the air.
“Newbie?”
Instead of greeting, Producer Nam just held out his hand, and Taeyoon shook it thinking—
This won’t be easy…