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The song of Lee Kang-jun resonating in the lobby was a ballad.

“Umm.”

It sounded nice.

The lyrics evoked memories of a lost lover, with parts clearly divided between low and high notes, plus a highlight that unleashed a powerful sound.

I now understood why it topped the karaoke charts.

It was exactly the kind of song one would want to sing.

Though… honestly, it wasn’t quite to my taste.

My preference lay in the band songs I had continuously listened to earlier in Hyeon-su’s Workshop.

“What’s the title of the song?”

“It’s called ‘Meeting You.'”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Oh… did you like it?”

Hearing that I would remember it brightened Lee Kang-jun’s expression noticeably.

Is he the type to wear his feelings on his face?

“To be honest, it seems like a song that’s easy to sing along with. I might try it at karaoke with my friend.”

“Ahaha, right? I actually aimed for that while making it.”

“Huh?”

You aimed for it? Puzzled by what he meant, I watched him shyly affirm.

“The thing is, nowadays, it’s not easy for ballad songs to climb the popularity charts…”

…That’s true.

These days, being on the charts feels like a fight within fandoms.

The more famous you are or the bigger your loyal fanbase, the easier it is to rank higher.

For ballad singers with relatively lesser recognition or smaller fandoms, it’s understandable they struggle to make it.

“And so! I targeted the karaoke market.”

He said this proudly and pulled out his phone to show me the rankings on a music site.

His energy suddenly surged—was he always like this?

“Look… wow.”

“With everything I poured into advertising, it’s managed to enter the top 10!”

Lee Kang-jun proudly showed me the chart, and indeed, his song had successfully secured the 9th spot.

That’s impressive.

After all, the top 8 were all idols… oh wait? Hyeon-su’s song was also in 7th.

Hasn’t it been a while since he released an album? That’s quite amazing.

Anyway, he really should be proud.

There are countless singers who can’t even make it into the top 100, after all.

This surely means he’s surpassed the top 1%.

“That’s really impressive.”

Not that I’d look up to him or anything.

Maybe I’m just more composed about it?

Conversely, Lee Kang-jun’s excitement seemed to deflate, returning to a more subdued state.

“Anyway, now that I’ve gained some popularity, I’ve had the chance to collaborate with composer Kang Woo-hyeon.”

Oh, so that’s how it happened? By the way, when will the song come out?

“If the collaboration goes well, when can we expect the song to be released?”

“Um… I’m aiming for early next year.”

“Really?”

He seemed to mind the music rankings…

I glanced briefly at the composer.

Isn’t my song supposed to come out early next year too? Is it okay if we release them together?

No, isn’t Hyeon-su’s album coming out early next year?

Originally, I wasn’t worried… but could my song get overshadowed?

Besides, the composer doesn’t even know when Hyeon-su’s album is releasing…

“I know Slim Gold is on your mind.”

“Are you reading my thoughts?”

How did he know what I was thinking? More importantly, how did he know about Hyeon-su’s schedule?

“The industry is buzzing about the new album. Plus, didn’t you mention that Slim Gold dropped by just before coming here?”

“Ah… so you just made an educated guess?”

“It’s a deduction.”

Yet, Hyeon-su has some guts.

Despite the industry buzzing with rumors, he was so confident!

Wait, is that high school kid I met at the café actually him? My heart swells with excitement.

“Wait, Slim Gold? Is he releasing a new song?”

At that moment, Lee Kang-jun, who had been listening to our conversation, looked flustered.

“Oh, Kang-jun, you didn’t know?”

“Really? Ah…”

Looks like he genuinely had no idea.

I mean, it’s understandable he could feel that way.

Given I just heard Hyeon-su’s recent song, he seems to be on fire right now, and any industry person would instinctively want to steer clear…

“…I’m really looking forward to it.”

However, what came out of Lee Kang-jun’s mouth was opposite of what I expected.

“Honestly, I really like Slim Gold’s songs. Even though I’m just a high schooler, doesn’t he seem ridiculously talented? I’m so envious.”

That kind of one-sided admiration makes it hard to see him as a competitor in the same industry.

Hyeon-su… how far has he gone? Is he receiving even more recognition than I thought?

I might have just hopped on a rising star.

“By the way, may I ask what you do, Soo-hyun?”

At that moment, Lee Kang-jun’s attention shifted toward me.

Perhaps hearing that I visited Hyeon-su’s workshop piqued his curiosity.

“Oh, me? I’m just a friend of Hyeon-su.”

Well, I didn’t feel the need to explain what I did; just saying that much should satisfy Lee Kang-jun’s curiosity.

“A friend? Are you close?”

“Um, somewhat?”

I’d say we’re on good enough terms.

“Wow… that’s really enviable.”

“Is it really?”

Well, considering Hyeon-su’s stature, he might indeed be a valuable connection in this industry.

“How did you become friends?”

“Huh?”

“He’s quite famous, you know? Known for being polite and drawing clear lines.”

“Hyeon-su?”

That was a completely stunning remark.

As I briefly turned to glance at the composer, he nodded without any noticeable change in his expression.

“In fact, I also proposed working on a song together, but I got turned down once.”

“Huh?”

“He suggested we work together next time, but it was still a rejection.”

What does that even mean?

“He was praising your work to me! Talking about the depth of your songs and how I’m just an ordinary person…”

Wasn’t there a moment he worried about how I’d view him somewhat negatively? Yet, he cut off the possibility of collaborating completely? Isn’t this a slight disrespect towards his senior in the industry…?

“Really? That’s an honor to hear.”

Nonetheless, the composer chuckled as if pleased.

It was akin to how someone would smile after hearing praises from another they recognized.

Moreover, Lee Kang-jun was casting envious glances at the composer, which left me feeling a little dizzy.

What’s going on? Isn’t the composer at a higher tier than him?

Am I misreading reality?

“Um, so… is Hyeon-su really that great?”

To satiate my curiosity, I posed the question, but…

“…?”

“What did you just say?”

It feels like I just took another hit.

No, Hyeon-su is impressive, but isn’t this a bit overboard?

“I mean, he hasn’t been debuted for that long, right?”

“Exactly; that’s what makes it more impressive.”

The composer pointed toward Lee Kang-jun.

“Lee Kang-jun has been in the industry for six years, starting from when he became famous through an audition program at 18.”

He started at 18 and gained recognition from an audition program? Now that I think about it, that’s not a bad starting point after all.

“Oh, so you know about me?”

“Of course, I have to familiarize myself with those I collaborate with.”

“Such an honor.”

To casually say he prepares himself to know his collaborators—that’s an excellent professional attitude.

I thought I should learn from that as I attentively listened to more from the composer.

“Anyway, how many times do you think Kang-jun has made it onto the charts since the end of his audition program?”

“The charts? Umm…”

Charts.

He must be referring to instances when he made it to the top 100.

I’d guess maybe… two or three times? Back then, the audition program’s influence must have been stronger.

“Uh… around three times?”

At my answer, Lee Kang-jun forced a bittersweet smile.

“I wish that were the case.”

“Oops.”

Looks like that’s not the case.

“I’m aware he had a song that became mildly popular during the audition but then kind of faded into obscurity.”

Oh dear, hearing that…

Casting a sideways glance, I saw Lee Kang-jun’s expression shift from bittersweet to near-dejection.

However, the composer seemed unfazed, diving deeper into Kang-jun’s past.

“Afterward, he released an album with connections he made during the program, but it only saw trivial success and failed to make it onto the charts?”

“…That was a real shame.”

“In any case, after that, while he contributed to writing and composing for other songs, this is the first time his personal song has been released in the past six years.”

Now it makes sense.

There was a reason he was so eager and proud.

He’d been virtually unknown for six years after that audition program before finally bringing himself into the public eye.

It’s no wonder he’d be overjoyed.

Despite the fact that now the composer was unearthing the painful memories of his unnamed years, his expression resembled more of a sorrowful mask.

“But then, here’s a 19-year-old creating, writing lyrics, and singing all by himself, releasing a popular album—without an audition, no less.”

As he spoke, the composer added one more remark.

“And now, it’s with band music, which is often considered non-mainstream in Korea.”

Hearing that made Hyeon-su’s journey to creating and succeeding on his own feel all the more impressive.

And I think I finally understood why the greats of band music hold Hyeon-su in such high regard.

Hadn’t he released his album “Fantasy” that time we met for drinks? Those people recognized his exceptional talent long before.

Totally a superhuman!

“In any case, on top of that, being so young and yet still polite, and with no controversies—he’s a total rising star.”

With that, the composer slightly raised the corners of his mouth.

“So, what do you think? Does he look pretty impressive now?”

“Yeah, and um… it feels a bit burdensome.”

“In what way?”

What could that even mean?

“I’m supposed to be featured in Hyeon-su’s album, but I never expected it to be to this degree.”

My shoulders felt excessively heavy.

Why is he putting this kind of pressure on someone like me, who’s practically a nobody next to him?

While I expressed that genuine burden, the composer’s eyes widened in admiration, and Lee Kang-jun…

“Uh… uh.”

Stared at me with his mouth agape.

Such an honest expression he has!

 

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