As soon as I climbed into the van, Manager Hwang Hyeonman, sitting in the driver’s seat, turned around to greet me.
“Dohee, how were your classes today? Did you have fun?”
Hansung Arts High School was far from both the Top East headquarters and our new dorm, so we had to use public transportation or private vehicles.
“Come on, what student actually thinks class is fun? It only gets romanticized later.”
Naturally, since my face was far too well-known for me to use public transportation safely, Manager Hyeonman took responsibility for driving me to and from school.
It was something I was grateful for.
“Haha, that’s true. So, did you make any friends? You’re not still going around alone, are you?”
“…A reasonable amount. At least I eat lunch with Chiyo unni and Ua unni.”
“What do you mean, ‘a reasonable amount’? You have to eat with your friends, too. So, should we stop by a café on the way today? You said you wanted some bread.”
“No, I started managing my diet the day before yesterday… If Minyeong teacher finds out, I’m seriously dead…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Just don’t get caught. Dohee, kids your age are still growing, so you’re supposed to exercise to lose weight, not starve yourself, right?”
“…Is that really how it works?”
Manager Hyeonman burst into laughter.
“Yeah, but you still have to watch what you eat, so we’ll just buy one piece of bread and share it. Got it?”
“Okay, deal!”
Manager Hyeonman had also watched over me since I was an elementary-school trainee, so by now he was practically like an uncle to me.
Most of the Top East employees were like that.
Thanks to them, my trips to and from school were always comfortable.
If we added some classical music to the mix, I’d be asleep in no time…
“Tussy! Tussy!”
Ah.
“Chiyo, you’re here?”
“Jab! Jab!”
—Pyo! Pyo!
As Chiyo unni climbed into the car, she extended her cotton fists with exaggerated popping sound effects and lightly poked me in the stomach.
“Ah, when are you going to stop doing this?”
It was surprisingly annoying after a while.
“Japanese people are naturally very interested in the UFC. Tussy! Tussy!”
“Agh!”
The reason Chiyo unni had gotten in was simple.
After our vacation ended and we began living together again,
everyone started going to and from school together.
“Hello~ Chiyo, you should greet him first.”
Ua unni climbed into the car right after her and pressed down on Chiyo unni’s head.
“Ah, gomen nasai~ Chiyo here! Nice to meet you!”
“Okay, okay. Everyone put on your seat belts~”
Since Ua unni had attended the same school as Chiyo unni and spent several years with her, she seemed to have gained a certain degree of control over Chiyo.
“Why are you looking at me like that~? Do you like unni that much?”
“Tussy! Tussy!”
I sat in the middle and stared at Chiyo unni, who was pestering me.
“No. Unni, sit in the middle here.”
“Swish! Swish!”
Someone stop this unni.
“Swish! Swish-swish-swish!”
“Ah, I said stop!”
“Swish…”
* * *
Composer Jeon Yosep sat in the production room, clicking away at the computer in front of him.
As a major composer who had produced numerous hit songs, he no longer felt any excitement from the act.
Sometimes, he would listen to masterpieces created by others, enjoying and becoming fascinated by them, but in the end, they only became a source of frustration.
The truth was, he had stopped composing quite a long time ago.
All he did now was arrange songs.
Adding mechanical arrangements to melody lines and basic beats composed and prepared by other people required no creative inspiration whatsoever.
It was merely the physical skill of clicking a mouse.
In fact, that skill—which everyone else found difficult—was the easiest thing in the world for him, and his finished work was excellent.
In other words, his ability remained,
but he was completely devoid of passion, creativity, and inspiration.
That was what happened when one had already spent more than twenty years as a composer.
Of course, if he continued sitting down and fiddling with this and that, he could still write songs, but he felt no impression from those songs at all. He was still yearning for the experience of a sudden flash of brilliance.
In truth, this was a symptom of burnout that most composers experienced.
When that happened, the solution composers generally sought was—
establishing a company and creating their own girl group, boy group, or singer.
The thought that went, ‘If we can write hit songs like these, why give them to other people? I’ll produce them myself and raise them myself.’
It was a conclusion they reached while searching for intense motivation and an intense sense of accomplishment.
But he did not do that.
There was no shortage of people who had squandered their entire fortunes that way.
Being a practical person, he already lived comfortably and had no desire to take unnecessary risks.
Perhaps that practicality was a sign that his life as a composer had already run its course.
So recently, he had come up with an alternative.
Lessons. He hoped that teaching others might help him discover some inspiration or realize something new.
The door to the production room opened shortly after.
A girl entered—her features so delicate and harmonious, with such exquisite proportions, that even someone who had seen countless idols might feel inspired simply by looking at her.
“Are you here?”
She was the reason he had decided to start teaching lessons.
The “Rhapsody” that Lee Dohee had arranged in her head and brought to him as a draft that day was not, from a technical standpoint, an especially polished song.
Without his help with the mixing and mastering, the song might have sounded messy and disorganized.
But even taking that into account, it would still have been a sufficiently good song.
What mattered was whether it sounded good and whether it was addictive.
That was where the song’s charm lay.
Securing the volume, adjusting the frequencies, balancing the timbre—none of that mattered.
If it had been him, he would not have been able to completely transform the song through an arrangement that was practically composition in itself.
That belonged to the realm of inspiration and creation.
“Ah, is the composer himself going to teach me?”
That was why he had accepted her as a student, hoping that by drawing closer to the sun, his own wick might catch fire again.
“Ah, why? Am I not allowed to?”
“No, no… It’s not that.”
“Haha, I wasn’t trying to make you nervous. The truth is, I was already taking a sabbatical. The timing just worked out. I can earn some money here and there while I’m taking a break. So don’t feel too pressured—just relax and take the lessons comfortably.”
Lee Dohee nodded.
“Then I don’t think we need to introduce ourselves…”
Jeon Yosep booted up the computer.
“Shall we start learning right away?”
He was overflowing with the desire to teach her.
* * *
“Composing with MIDI is, in some ways, a different matter from composing with analog sound.”
The composer’s lessons were more systematic than I had expected.
In a sense, it was technical theory.
“To explain it using fundamental tones and overtones: this is a piano C.”
A jagged graph appeared on the screen.
“See how the waveform is irregular? Even so, there are several strong waves in the middle. Each of these waveforms has a frequency that is an integer multiple of the piano’s C frequency, and they’re called ‘overtones.’ You understand, right?”
“Yes.”
“But the C produced by a synthesizer…”
This time, the graph showed only perfectly precise overtones, with all the intermediate values completely removed.
“It’s perfectly regular, isn’t it? That’s why the sound feels mechanical. That’s the charm of synth sounds that can’t be created with analog instruments, right? Now, let’s put in a waveform that isn’t an integer multiple.”
A dissonant sound rang out.
“Yes, it became a noisy sound.”
“So it works on the same principle as chords?”
“Oh, exactly. Chords originate from the overtone effect in the first place. Look at this again. When you press C on an analog piano… it doesn’t just produce the C note itself. Frequencies of one-half, one-third, and so on, all the way down to one-sixteenth, ring out as well, right? If we pick out the notes from one to one-fifth…”
“C and… C, G, C, E.”
“Exactly! That’s a C chord. Do, Mi, Sol—the notes everyone knows. Naturally, if you add F, Fa, to a C chord, what happens?”
“It becomes dissonant.”
“Right? The same principle applies to all the other chords.”
In this way, Composer Jeon Yosep’s lessons covered not only how to operate MIDI equipment,
but also the basic theory and overall analysis of synthesizers connected to it.
“Of course, you can write songs without knowing any of this. You can compose with analog instruments, too, and you can just find samples and paste them together for the beat. But understanding these things helps you better grasp the charm and color of other instruments, got it? Ah, and sometimes there’s a charm that comes from irregularity, but we’ll get to that later… First, let’s use Serum to create fundamental tones and overtones. Like I said before… Oh, exactly. You’re really smart, aren’t you? Then we’ll start with the envelope… The LFO is… Now, let’s try placing one ourselves.”
And that was perhaps exactly what I needed most.
I had been playing the piano by moving only my fingers and imagining notes in my head, without ever developing a proper theoretical system of harmony.
* * *
That evening, after the lesson ended,
the members gathered in the fifth-floor cafeteria of the headquarters, sat around the table, and began eating.
Of course, for me, it was less a meal than nutritional intake.
After finishing all my salad and only picking at the remaining mushrooms, kind-hearted Naeun unni tried to comfort me.
“Dohee, let’s just suffer for exactly two weeks. Then you’ll lose weight, okay?”
She didn’t know.
I felt as if the genes responsible for the fat in my chest were affecting my entire body.
I put down my chopsticks, lay my head on the table, and pretended to cry.
“Sniff, sniff…”
Give me one piece of meat.
“Pretending to cry won’t work. I’m not giving you any today.”
“I miss the kind Naeun unni…”
“She’s dead.”
“Whimper…”
She was being rather cold today.
At least Kim Seoyun picked up a piece of pork cutlet.
“Hey, want one?”
I nodded enthusiastically, but—
“Kim Seoyun.”
Naeun unni glared at her.
“Come on, one piece is fine. Just let her eat it. This won’t make her gain weight.”
“It’s a matter of attitude. I told you yesterday was the last time, too.”
And at Naeun unni’s firm words, Kim Seoyun… put the pork cutlet back down.
“…R-right?”
“Whimper…”
When I lowered my head again, Ua unni and Chiyo unni ate in a way that seemed designed to tease me even more.
“Wow, this pork cutlet is crispy and insanely delicious.”
“Agreed. It’s freaking amazing. So yummy!”
Seriously, why was I the only one who had to diet?
“But why am I so hungry?”
“Maybe because you’re exercising more than you did during Seven?”
“Is that it? Or maybe I’m genuinely still growing.”
I couldn’t understand being this hungry unless some part of me was growing.
Could I possibly be getting taller…!?
“If you’re still growing… you need more nutrition…”
“She’s making such an obvious appeal, so just give her one, unni. They say you shouldn’t be stingy with food.”
“Good grief… Fine, but you’re eating exactly one piece, okay?”
I nodded enthusiastically,
and Kim Seoyun moved her fork.
“Here comes the pork cutlet~”
She mimicked an airplane flying through the air.
It was annoying, but I opened my mouth wide.
“Ah~”
“Whoooosh~ Oh, look at our youngest eating so well~”
Ah, it was delicious.
Carbohydrates. Meat.
“Oh? I’ll do it too!”
Thankfully, Chiyo unni loved imitating people and picked up a piece of pork cutlet with her hand.
“Here comes Dohee! Whoooosh…”
I opened my mouth happily, defeated by my appetite.
“Whoooosh… swish! Swish-swish-swish!”
Ah, fuck.