Chapter 187

Lee Doha's most powerful way of asserting himself in Kairos had just vanished.

And the fallout was bigger than I'd imagined.

"Doha-hyung! That's foam cleanser! Not toothpaste—!"

"Ah."

Lee Doha had lost the plot entirely.

His own song getting eliminated must have been more of a shock than any of us realized.

If they'd at least kept it as a candidate track, it might've been less bad….

Once the truth — that 'Deon' was Lee Doha — came out belatedly, the company staff, and the members too, couldn't get their jaws off the floor.

The song Lee Doha had submitted under the name 'Deon' had been dropped from final consideration on the grounds that it was 'too hard to bring out the members' strengths.'

Which meant, going forward, there was zero chance we'd ever be singing that song. The company had gone so far as to float handing the track over to Enderway, whose comeback was up right after ours — that alone said it all.

And I felt the same way, so I couldn't say anything either.

Given how much Lee Doha had poured into it, the song's polish itself was flawless — but no matter what section of it you listened to, you just couldn't picture the members singing it.

Speaking for myself, I couldn't even figure out which part of it I'd hum.

"Don't — don't swallow it! Ack, hyung, spit it out!"

…things were a mess.

Listening to Ju Eunchan's screams-that-weren't-quite-screams from the bathroom, Jung Siwoo and I locked eyes across the living room at the exact same moment.

What do we do?

I don't know either.

We understood the severity of the situation, but had no way to fix it!

Damn it, this was my first debut too. On top of that, having a member's own song blow up right before debut and take his mental with it — that was a first across every timeline I'd ever lived!

What are we gonna do?

There wasn't much time left before the debut-track recording, and the schedule from here on was a mountain and a half. On top of that, the moment the debut choreo dropped, Lee Doha's mental was going to sink deeper into a pit he wouldn't be climbing out of — anyone could see it coming. We had to yank this punk's mental back up, and fast.

Sitting side by side on the living-room couch, I put on a suitably grave face and quietly asked Jung Siwoo:

"Hyung, got any ideas? I don't think we can leave Lee Doha like this."

"It's already a shock his song got rejected — and on top of that, it got dropped for not showcasing the members at all. Doha's never gotten a review like that…. since coming to Miro, it's been nothing but praise on the composing side."

"Kind of like a kid who's had A+s all semester suddenly getting an F in their major?"

"Something like that…. and with a one-liner review saying they didn't understand the course content at all."

I guess even at least an F means you can retake it, unlike a D wouldn't fly as a counter-argument, huh.

"No choice."

Jung Siwoo stood up with grim resolve. Hand planted on his hip, he looked practically like an imperial crown prince who'd struck upon the master stroke that would save the earth from a cosmic-demon invasion….

Ugh, cut it out with the moe-fying.

That PD-self who used to edit idol vlogs was surfacing again….

Anyway — with that suitably grim, momentous look, Jung Siwoo nodded and looked down at me.

"Let's call in help."

"…from who?"

"An expert."

"An expert?"

Which expert?

Even at my baffled follow-up, Jung Siwoo just gave me a bright, clear-eyed sparkle.

---

"So — I'm the 'expert'?"

There you go. There was an expert.

Toward the precious expert who was going to solve our woes, I unleashed a storm of frantic nodding.

"Save us, sunbaenim. No — sensei. Our kid's completely lost it from heartbreak."

"Sunbaenim, you have way more producer experience than us, so we figured you'd know how to get through something like Doha's situation."

"Hmm. Cute problem."

Our expert, Seo Taeil — who'd dismissed a situation dire enough that mental-titan stone-Buddha Lee Doha was brushing his teeth with foam cleanser as a mere 'cute problem' — just smiled and spun his chair.

Yeah. That was the kind of poise it took to run a group of borderline-wild-animal members for thirteen years without a scandal. Top idol leader stuff. Cool as hell.

"So to sum it up: Doha thinks he's dragging the group down because he can't dance, so he wanted to help out on the composing side at least — and he's just spectacularly blown that in the blind test and now he's floundering?"

"Exactly right."

Watching him pick out the key points like that, I felt sure we'd come to the right place.

The truth was, this was normally a guy you couldn't get face time with — but he'd just wrapped Upia's 13th-anniversary concert, and since he'd be focused solely on our group's work for a while, he'd made time for us.

On top of that, Seo Taeil was partly to blame for how this had all played out!

"Mm…. yeah, sorry about that. Feels like this happened kind of because of me."

"…is now the time we're supposed to be clapping in gratitude that you gave us such a good song?"

"While you're at it, throw in some flattery."

The song that had pushed Lee Doha's track out and gotten final-picked as our debut song was this guy's.

"Well?"

"Well what…?"

"Applause and flattery. Consultation fee, pay up."

"Ah."

I'd thought he was joking, but Seo Taeil was in fact extracting applause and flattery from me and Jung Siwoo. Suddenly the two of us were serving up overkill flattery — 'Woo! Sunbaenim's the best! Blind test flipped upside down with an insane debut track!' — along with applause hard enough to set our palms on fire.

Yeah, this guy's an Upia through and through….

Somewhere around the point I was rubbing my stinging palms and feeling the blood rush back through, Seo Taeil lightly tapped the armrest of his chair.

"Right, anyway — I get the gist. …could you call Doha in now? Tell him he needs to swing by real quick for a debut-track demo recording."

"Ah. Yes."

At that, Jung Siwoo quickly pulled out his phone and messaged Lee Doha. Lee Doha, who was holed up in the company practice room again today drilling choreo, sent a reply not long after saying he'd be right there.

And a little while later.

"…hello, sunbaenim."

"Yeah. Doha, you here?"

Lee Doha opened the studio door and stepped in. He froze for a moment at the sight of me and Jung Siwoo, but soon — apparently assuming we were there for a similar reason — regained his composure.

Seo Taeil, without so much as a hint that anything was up, met Lee Doha with a natural smile.

"Figured we should get a rough take of your debut track down. Check the details too. Have you had a chance to practice yet?"

"Not much yet."

"Fair. The song was just decided. I'll listen with that in mind."

Lee Doha went and stood in front of the mic set up for scratch recording in Seo Taeil's studio. Scanning the lyric sheet he'd downloaded onto his phone, he cleared his throat, looking a little tense.

"Want some water? Have a sip first?"

"Ah. Yes, thank you."

"Hajin. Could you grab a bottle from the fridge over there for Doha?"

"Yep."

Seo Taeil's studio actually had a mini-fridge. Opened it up and inside, water and beer cans stood in tidy rows. I pulled out a bottle of water, brought it over to Lee Doha — and Lee Doha, gone haggard in just a few days, gave a small bow of thanks.

"This is just to check what direction you're going in, so don't get too nervous — just read off the lyric sheet and take it easy. Doesn't matter if you flub the lyrics."

"…yes."

For reference, on this debut track, Lee Doha wasn't writing the rap himself — we were going with Seo Taeil's lyrics, as-is. (I'm sure that had contributed to Lee Doha's mental collapse too.)

Which meant Lee Doha was about to perform the rap in front of the senior producer who'd written it — word for word. Even for Lee Doha, tension was inevitable.

"Alright, we'll get started."

The MR to our debut track — which I'd been hearing nonstop for days, sick of it by this point — poured out through the studio's high-end speakers. Worried we might throw Lee Doha off, Jung Siwoo and I sat plastered to our chairs, barely breathing.

Soon, Lee Doha's rap began.

"……."

"……?"

No — should have begun.

The stretch Lee Doha should have come in on passed by, hollow and untouched. The vocal track on the monitor showed no waveform.

About three seconds passed like that, and only then, realizing he'd missed it, Lee Doha bowed his head belatedly toward Seo Taeil.

"I'm sorry. One more time, please."

"Sure. I'll roll it again."

Seo Taeil, without a flicker of irritation, played the MR again.

And at the same section, Lee Doha, once again, couldn't get the words out.

"Let's go again."

Seo Taeil played the MR one more time.

This time Lee Doha started the rap on cue, but anyone listening could tell the tone was drifting — never quite settling.

"Again."

This time the lyrics.

"Again."

This time the rhymes.

"Again. Really lock in this time."

This time the timing was off.

"……."

'Again' after 'again' after 'again' — I lost count.

Seo Taeil didn't stop calling 'again' until Lee Doha had drained his third bottle of water — and even that hadn't been enough, his voice starting to go hoarse.

And through all of that, Lee Doha never once landed a satisfactory —

no. Not even a passable result.

"Doha."

Seo Taeil called Lee Doha again, in that even tone that gave nothing away emotionally. Lee Doha, apparently well aware himself that he was falling short, turned to face Seo Taeil, unable to fully lift his head.

To Lee Doha — his face past pitiable now, all the way to standing-at-the-cliff-edge — Seo Taeil, in a voice unnervingly light, asked:

"Heard you've been off in your own head lately? Because you got dropped from the blind test."

Wait, sunbaenim—! You can't just rat him out like that?

Seo Taeil, folding up the very basics of counseling — confidentiality — and pitching them neatly in the trash, calmly swept a hand through his hair. Wearing an expression that gave zero away as to what he was thinking, he propped his chin on his hand and said gently to Lee Doha:

"Not trying to lecture you, just want to hear it from you. Reading an artist's condition is a basic part of being a producer."

"……."

"Can you tell me what's been the hardest?"

Along with a warm smile, Seo Taeil tapped the chair next to his — a come sit gesture. Lee Doha, who'd been standing at the mic like a defendant, slowly walked over and sat down beside Seo Taeil.

Now facing me and Jung Siwoo, Lee Doha slid his eyes away and spoke.

"It's true I've had a lot on my mind lately…. but it isn't because I got dropped from the blind test."

"Then?"

Not because of that?

Wasn't this supposed to be the Miro's the first place to reject me route?

At the unexpected answer, Jung Siwoo and I both looked up at Lee Doha at once. Lee Doha glanced at us briefly, then dropped his eyes back toward Seo Taeil and continued.

"When I first heard your song in the blind test, sunbaenim. …honestly, it was kind of a shock. I thought, of course that one's getting picked. Just listening to the guide track, I could already picture which parts each member would sing."

Seo Taeil, true to a working composer with thirteen years of unbroken activity, had stripped his own color out entirely and delivered a song focused purely on 'Kairos.' It was completely unlike the Upia-style stuff he'd worked on countless times, and — just as Lee Doha said — you could feel clearly how well he'd used each member's individual pieces.

"Then when I listened to my own track…. it was — a strange feeling. I know I made that song giving it my everything, but I couldn't stand to listen to it."

"Hmm…. mind if I ask, specifically, why you felt that way?"

"Like the other staff said — the first thing that hit me was that I hadn't taken the singer into account at all. I couldn't even wrap my head around making a rookie mistake like that on my own…. I just, I could see my shortcomings way too clearly."

Once he got started, the feelings he must have been sitting on started pouring out — Lee Doha opened up to Seo Taeil like a confession, letting everything he'd been carrying spill.

"I just… don't know. I wanted to make music we made together, and thinking I couldn't pull that off, maybe that's what's making me panic….."

Lee Doha's once-clear, once-sharp convictions were shaking, coming apart.

Like a water pot knocked over onto a watercolor. Lee Doha looked like he was walking through a hazy, murky fog.

"Yeah. I see."

Listening quietly the whole way through, Seo Taeil gave a small nod.

Still resting his chin on one hand, gaze steady on Lee Doha, Seo Taeil spoke to him in a level voice.

"Doha."

"Yes."

"Don't you think that's a pretty arrogant mindset?"

"…what?"

"That's how it sounds to me. What you're saying right now. From a rookie who hasn't even debuted yet."

Had our doctor lost his mind?

At the doctor's provocative prescription, everyone in the studio froze cold.