Director Kim Gibaek, clad in a long padded coat, was walking down the corridor with several A&R team employees. The Japanese lyrics for Vanguard’s debut songs had been completed, so Director Kim Gibaek had summoned the A&R team.
“We have to hand them over to A&R anyway, so going together will save us the trip.”
It was to handle in one go what would otherwise be done twice. Soon, the A&R team employees began asking about Rojun.
“The Vanguard members have started intensive choreography training. How is Rojun doing?”
“Mm—he’s doing well.”
“The choreography team seemed a bit worried.”
“You all know Mr. Rojun’s energy, don’t you? I think there won’t be any problem this time either.”
“Well, that’s true, but…”
It seemed the A&R team and the in-house choreography team still weren’t used to a disruptive species like Kang Rojun, since he was their first. Had there ever been an idol at GN Entertainment who worked so independently and handled everything on his own?
‘Of course there hadn’t.’
Kim Gibaek himself was a transfer student to GN Entertainment, but it was easy to guess. Even looking across the entire entertainment industry, there wasn’t a member quite like Kang Rojun.
It was then.
When they drew near one of the workrooms.
-♬♪
A faint keyboard sound could be heard. Director Kim Gibaek, of course, and even the A&R team employees heard it. Kim Gibaek tilted his head first, and behind him, the A&R team employees exchanged glances and voiced their question marks.
“What is that? Do you hear a keyboard?”
“I do. It sounds like it’s coming from the workroom.”
“The workroom? Is there another member besides Rojun? Mr. Sihu?”
“Probably not. Mr. Sihu is in choreography practice right now.”
That was only natural, because the place they were headed was the workroom Kang Rojun frequently used. The keyboard sound became even clearer right in front of the workroom. Director Kim Gibaek looked as if he were wondering what was going on.
‘…They’re good.’
From the melody brushing past his ears, it wasn’t someone just playing around, but someone with quite a high level of keyboard skill. At that point, Director Kim Gibaek became convinced that someone else was in the workroom with Kang Rojun.
‘Did Mr. Rojun call someone over?’
The production team? Or was it really Mr. Sihu? I didn’t hear anything about that. He wasn’t flustered so much as puzzled. Rojun had never asked anyone for help when he was working. Then Director Kim Gibaek recalled the conversations he’d had with the producer that morning. Roughly, that if Kang Rojun started composing and so on, he would eventually need a keyboard too.
‘No way—did he start learning keyboard in the middle of all this?’
Director Kim Gibaek glanced back at the A&R team employees and slowly brought his index finger to his lips. It meant to reduce their presence as much as possible. Then he opened the workroom door very slowly.
A gap the size of a fist appeared. Immediately, the sound of the keyboard struck their ears sharply.
-♬♪
The song was “Greenbi.” Since it was being played on a keyboard, or piano, it felt a little unfamiliar, but as they listened, it was definitely “Greenbi.” Soon, Director Kim Gibaek, rolling his eyes through the crack in the door, slightly opened his mouth. He looked utterly shocked. The A&R team employees behind him were the same.
The reason was simple.
There was no one inside except Kang Rojun, and the person playing the keyboard attached to the workroom was none other than—
‘Mr. Rojun?’
Kang Rojun. Black-haired Rojun was playing the keyboard with an unruffled expression. The flawless performance combined with that absurd visual was enough to make—
“…”
“…”
“…”
Kim Gibaek and the employees, their gazes fixed on Kang Rojun beyond the crack in the door, completely lose their wits. Everyone had unknowingly been captivated by Rojun’s performance. Questions arose roughly a minute later. Even as Director Kim Gibaek witnessed Rojun’s high-level keyboard performance, he found it somewhat hard to believe.
‘What, what is this? He can play piano too? It wasn’t just the guitar?’
For a brief moment, he wondered if Rojun was merely pretending, but that made no sense.
‘He’s good. Then why hasn’t he used a keyboard until now?’
The A&R team employees also had expressions like their thoughts were tangled up.
At that moment.
“Ah.”
Director Kim Gibaek let out a short word. The keyboard sound had stopped, and Rojun was looking back at them. Meeting his eyes, Kim Gibaek opened the workroom door and apologized first.
“…Sorry, Mr. Rojun. I heard a keyboard from the workroom and before I knew it…”
Kang Rojun, rising from in front of the keyboard, smiled faintly.
“It’s all right. You’re here because of the Japanese lyrics, right?”
“That’s true, but—Mr. Rojun, you can play piano too?”
The other employees also stuck close to either side of Kim Gibaek, their eyes wide. This is a little burdensome. Rojun muttered inwardly and, for the moment, pretended it was nothing special.
“Yes. Decently. It’s been a while since I tried, but it wasn’t bad.”
That comment was pretty good, right? While Rojun was praising himself, Director Kim Gibaek let out a drained chuckle.
“It wasn’t bad? No, it was more than that. You were good. Amazingly good.”
“Thank you.”
At Rojun’s simpler-than-expected reaction, Director Kim Gibaek was at a loss for words. That lasted roughly a few seconds. Then he opened his mouth again.
“The song you just played on the keyboard was ‘Greenbi,’ right?”
“Yes.”
“By any chance—can you play Vanguard’s other songs too?”
“I can.”
“Could we hear them once?”
“No?”
“Ah.”
Kang Rojun smiled with his eyes and sat in front of the keyboard.
“I’m kidding.”
Then he moved his fingers without hesitation. After that, Kang Rojun played the first verse each of Vanguard’s debut songs, “Windveil” and “Flying Bell,” on the keyboard. Once again, Director Kim Gibaek and the employees were busy listening with dazed expressions.
‘What the hell is with this kid’s talent?!’
‘Wow—it’s not just that he’s moderately good… He’s on an insane level.’
‘With that face, and now he even plays piano? The destructive power is ridiculous…’
By the time the souls of the A&R team employees were gradually melting into it, Kang Rojun’s performance came to an end. Rojun turned his head while still seated, and suddenly Director Kim Gibaek said,
“Mr. Rojun, this skill is too good to be used only for composing.”
He placed a hand on Kang Rojun’s shoulder.
“How about showing it at Vanguard’s show-con?”
Afterward.
At Director Kim Gibaek’s idea, the A&R team employees made a fuss, and although it was a situation Kang Rojun hadn’t expected, it wasn’t bad.
‘Well, I already played guitar with Sihu hyung during Geubaekpeu. This seems like it could be pretty fun too.’
Thanks to that, Kang Rojun’s answer came quickly.
“Yes. I’m fine with doing it.”
Director Kim Gibaek gave him a double thumbs-up.
“I’ll add it to the cue sheet.”
Then Director Kim Gibaek held a serious discussion with the A&R team. Only after checking the Japanese lyrics Rojun had written did he leave the workroom. Now Rojun’s keyboard skills would likely spread quickly throughout the entire company.
Meanwhile, Kang Rojun—
“A piano performance at the show-con, huh.”
He imagined the vast stage of Gocheok Dome. Along with a thrill, a sense of tension brushed past him. Rojun, for no reason, repeatedly opened and clenched both hands before changing the subject of his thoughts. He took out his phone. Before Director Kim Gibaek arrived, the AI Simulation app had sent many notifications.
First.
-[User: Kang Rojun / Age: 24 / Height: 186 / Desired Occupation: Idol / Coins Held: 1,193]
-[Passive: Intimidation / Limit Break]
-[Title: (Awakened) All-Round Entertainer / (Awakened) World Star / Global Genius +2 / Instrument Master +2]
-[Side Jobs: [1] Screenwriter, [2] Actor, [3] Lyricist, [4] Composer, [5] Producer]
-[Global Languages: [1] Japanese, [2] English]
-[Instruments: [1] Acoustic Guitar, [2] Piano]
Because he had learned piano, the title “Instrument Master” had risen by +1. Piano had been added to his instruments as well. From now on, the coins Kang Rojun received upon completing his daily mission would be 19.
‘Twenty is right around the corner.’
In addition, there had been a fairly large change to Kang Rojun’s “Composition” stat.
-[Composition (60.1/150)]
It had shot up by about 15 points in one go. This was absolutely because of learning piano. After looking at his status for a moment, Rojun gave a small laugh.
‘Come to think of it, a lot of things have really increased.’
Once again, he placed his hands on the keyboard. It had been the same when he learned guitar, but the situation of suddenly being able to handle an instrument at a high level—one he couldn’t even touch just a few minutes ago—felt newly fascinating. After spending a few minutes absorbed in playing the keyboard like that, Rojun said,
“Time to get to Song No. 3.”
He started composing “Song No. 3,” which he had put on hold.
How should he put it? The musical ideas or sensations that came to mind were clearly different from before. To make a comparison, if until now the background had been about the size of a schoolyard, now it felt like he was running across a vast field. On top of that, Kang Rojun changed his workspace too. Originally, he had been quite far from the keyboard, but now the keyboard was right beside him, and in front of him were his laptop, tablet, and so on. Even the guitar was on his right.
It was, in every sense, a musician’s setup.
Rojun repeatedly played the keyboard, picked up the guitar, and placed his hands on the laptop.
It seemed he had gotten a feel for composing.
“Just adding one keyboard changes the quality of the work this much.”
Nothing makes time fly as fast as things going smoothly. Riding the flow, Kang Rojun became deeply absorbed in composing, and by the time he came to his senses, the time was already pointing to night.
As a result—
“…I finished it?”
He had completed “Song No. 3.”
And.
-[You have achieved the hidden mission, “Complete a composition by adding a new instrument!” 20 coins have been given as a gift.]
As expected, a gift arrived.
Two days later, the 5th. GN Entertainment.
The Vanguard members, who had arrived at work since morning, briefly gathered in the practice room to listen to Director Kim Gibaek’s briefing, and soon disappeared one by one for their respective practices. However, Kim Gibaek relayed a few more matters to Kang Rojun.
“Mr. Rojun. Mm—Netflix Japan contacted us.”
Because the weather was bitterly windy, Kang Rojun was wearing a black beanie as he asked back,
“Is it related to ‘Like a Kaleidoscope’?”
“That’s right. It’s about the script reading for ‘Like a Kaleidoscope.’ The location will naturally be Japan, and from what I hear, since there are so many cast actors, they’re dividing the script reading into the first and second sessions.”
A script reading. Kang Rojun naturally recalled the time of “Rental Lover.” How had it been back then? Since it was the first reading room he had ever gone to in his life, his mind had been scattered, and thanks to that, nothing in particular remained in his memory.
‘This time, I’ll be doing it with Japanese actors, right?’
Others might say he would be nervous because it was an unfamiliar environment, but Kang Rojun was surprisingly unfazed.
‘It’ll just feel like doing it with Japanese people I don’t know.’
He hadn’t known much about Korea’s entertainment industry either, so how much more so with Japan’s? Only a little awkwardness rose up; nothing more, nothing less. Around then, Director Kim Gibaek opened his mouth again.
“The script reading you’ll participate in is the first session, and the date is February 22. It could change, but unless something major happens, it won’t. If they change the date, they’ll have to reschedule all the actors over there too.”
“Yes, I’ve done it once before.”
“Right? During ‘Rental Lover.’ Mm—except for the actors being Japanese, the method should be similar. You’ll be attending as both the writer and an actor, and if possible, I’d like to schedule it as a two-day, one-night trip, but Vanguard’s current situation doesn’t have much leeway. We may have to cut it down to a single day.”
In other words, he might go to Japan in the morning, finish the script reading, and return straight to Korea. Since he could sleep even briefly on the plane, Rojun thought it was fine.
“Yes, that doesn’t matter.”
“Okay. I’ll handle the rest, so you just need to prepare for the script reading. Ah, and.”
Then Director Kim Gibaek held out a fairly thick stack of papers.
“These are the Japanese actors participating in the first script reading. Looks like Netflix Japan spent some money. The lineup is flashy.”
There were indeed many Japanese top stars in the stack of papers. However, in Kang Rojun’s eyes—
‘I’ve never seen any of them before.’
They simply looked like Japanese Person 1 and Japanese Person 2.
Meanwhile, in the large conference room.
Various executives, the managers of each team, and CEO Ha Seohwan, who oversaw those dozens of people, had all gathered. Currently, CEO Ha Seohwan was receiving reports related to Vanguard from each team. It was to check the progress of the work.
“Among Vanguard’s debut songs, ‘Greenbi’ has been completed, and the remaining songs are expected to be finished within next week.”
Songs, choreography, media play, jacket shoots, music videos, the members’ conditions, practice amounts, and so on and so forth. Countless topics surged through the large conference room, and CEO Ha Seohwan, sitting with his legs crossed, simply listened quietly.
“…”
At last, all the reports ended. A brief silence flowed through the large conference room. Everyone from the executives to the employees was looking at the head of GN Entertainment, and CEO Ha Seohwan slowly tapped the table with his index finger before speaking in a low, weighty voice.
“Then let’s confirm Vanguard’s show-con for April 5.”