Chapter 58

Ever since it dropped, 'To You I Declare' had held the top spot on every 'songs women sing after a breakup' list.

There were a few reasons this song wasn't welcome news.

"Whoa, but isn't this really high, though?"

"Dropping it to a male key would be a little…."

For starters, it's high. Not just high — high the whole way through. The verses at least are a bit lower, but drop those to a male key and it doesn't just go low, it burrows straight into the basement.

In short, vocal difficulty: max.

'And that's not even all of it.'

"Hm… the tempo's a bit awkward too."

"It's weird to just sing it, and weird to dance to it."

There are many types of ballads, but 'To You I Declare' opened with very slow, understated verses, then built into a steadily surging highlight and an exploding high-note climax.

Crank the tempo up and turn it into a dance track, and the back half gets frantic. Leave the tempo alone, and there's a hard ceiling on what you can pull off performance-wise. So arrangement difficulty: also max.

Of course, the biggest problem was—

"I mean, that's one thing, but how are we supposed to beat Sarin-sunbaenim?"

—the original was on a whole other level.

'There's a reason Sarin's nickname is "the funeral director."'

- but why is Sarin's nickname the funeral director? she's not literally her agency's director right? > because she buries every artist who covers her songs > started as "if you want to get buried, sing a Sarin song," pretty sure - Sarin-funeral-director origin story tl;dr: at the year-end stage the year before last, a junior artist covered a Sarin song and bombed hard ▶ every previous cover artist who'd tried a Sarin song and flopped got dragged back up ▶ we thought unnie was so sweet but actually she's out here burying every singer with her own tracks ▶ ever since, every time someone covers a Sarin song, "there goes another one, funeral director's on the job" — meme born - summary of ^ appreciated > Sarin fans doing that thing again lmaooooo yeah yeah good for you your girl's songs are so high and hard~ > what's with the sudden fit; I was just stating facts > leave it, some idol fan whose fave covered a Sarin song and bombed > you guys always talk trash like this lol first pretending to be curious, then going "so which idol covered it? drop a name" to keep the thread rolling, aren't you tired of it - so who covered a Sarin song? recommend the good ones! > what is this one saying??

The original's image was already so firmly built up it was practically towering. Sing it faithful to the original and you'd get flak; don't sing it faithful and you'd get flak. Public-satisfaction difficulty: maxxxxxxxxx.

'I can't even imagine how badly they'd rip us apart if we botched this.'

Since I'd already caused that whole scene in the first mission, the attention on me this round wasn't small either. Case in point — check out that camera.

'Been following only me for a while now.'

First mission: leader, center, hogging all the parts. Steering the team to a win off of that, but losing the individual battle. And still muscling into Wings class anyway — the rookie trainee. Cheer for him and you feel like you're backing a greedy little bastard; try to hate him and the results get in the way.

Which meant the odds were high that people would use this stage to lock in how they felt about me. In other words, I had no choice but to nail it.

'Anywhere near the original and it's a one-way ticket to the graveyard. We have to rearrange, no question.'

If we were getting compared to the original either way, the smart move was to give them as little to compare against as possible. Even if it meant cranking the BPM up by a few dozen and doing marionette choreo over these tragic lyrics, the one thing I had to shut down was the insane play of running it straight-original. Before the other guys could speak up, I grabbed the floor.

"Let's start with arrangement direction. What about jazz? The rhythm's got real character built in, and it wouldn't be bad for slotting in performance."

"Whoa. Isn't that too out there?"

"The verse and chorus have a big gap in pitch, right? With a jazz arrangement, that wouldn't feel jarring."

"I like that…!"

"M-me too. Honestly, I was worried the other teams are all going to bring hard performance and if we stay ballad, we'd fall flat."

'Thank god I'm on a team with kids I can actually talk to.'

The two Feather-class guys had seen what I could do last mission, so they'd mostly go along with my ideas, and Dan Haru looked like he was in a state of 'all good' as long as he got to be on a stage with his close hyungs. Seo Taehyun would think it through and land in the right place on his own without me having to spell it out.

"……"

"Seo Taehyun, what do you think?"

"Ah, huh? Yeah, yeah. …I think it's — good too. Let's do this, team."

"Yeah. Then let's knock out part distribution fast too."

The meeting rolled on in a pretty warm mood. First time in a while it'd felt this easy — I could've cried. Now we just needed to make the stage come out decent. Setting the concept as 'the opposite of the original on everything' actually made it easier to come up with ideas!

"Okay, so we go with this. Taehyun's smooth with this kind of expression, so if he anchors it at center, we're good."

"Sounds great!"

"Taehyun-hyung, we're counting on you!"

"Okay, done! Then me and Taehyun'll rough out the choreo first, and we'll try it together after lunch?"

"Yes!"

'Wait. This is easy?'

I flung my notebook up for showmanship, playing it big, and the guys rode the wave and broke into applause. The PD watching us apparently decided there was nothing more to milk here — a few cameras cut off and rolled over to another team's spot.

Basking in the amazingly warm mood, I made up my mind.

'Right. We free-pass this all the way to the stage and lock in the trust-me trainee image!'

---

"Guys."

"……"

Hajin's grand ambition would collapse in a matter of hours.

"……"

"You're telling me this is what you're bringing to the stage?"

"……"

"I'm honestly really disappointed right now."

'…Huh?'

At the hands of none other than Seo Taeil — the copyright holder of the song!

---

'Where did this go wrong?'

Up until this midpoint check, Hajin's team had been sailing smoothly.

Arrangement?

—Ah, pulling just the chords out? …Yeah, that kind of approach works. It feels like a full reworking.

Vocals?

—Nice, clever part distribution. Cut the high notes entirely through the arrangement, huh? Smart thinking.

Choreo?

—With no original choreo to reference, working out the performance must have been hard. That's a lot to pull off in a short window.

Team vibe on top of that!

—Should we run it one more time and monitor?

—Haru-ya, I think you need to step back about two paces. You bumped into me.

—Hm, then I'll just stand right here to hit my part and slide in from there!

'Good. Cruising.'

System detects a peaceful atmosphere. Bonus 777 cash deposited! (Reason: inner peace)

Even the System, moved by the peaceful mood, was tossing bonuses around. This was easily the smoothest stretch since regression.

—Taehyun-hyung? You listening?

—…Ah, sorry. Sorry. What was that?

Taehyun kept zoning out a little, but it wasn't disruptive enough to actually hurt practice, so I let it slide. He's also the type who snaps sharp the second cameras roll.

So anyway, when Hajin got word that the midpoint check was being pushed back because of the mentor's schedule, he didn't think a single thing of it.

We were going to pass anyway!

There was nothing wrong!

The new 'To You I Declare' they'd built was so unobjectionably solid that no one, from any angle, could find much to nitpick!

The one thing Hajin hadn't factored in was that the 'no one' happened to be Seo Taeil — the song's composer and producer.

"Did you guys actually think this song through? Did you break the lyrics down properly?"

"……"

"Then how do you end up with a result like this?"

Taeil rapped his folder in irritation. The mood was bleak enough that even the hum of the cameras rolling to catch a one-shot cut through loud and clear.

"Whose idea was this? Do all of you actually agree with this stage? Well?"

"……"

"It's not that the stage itself is bad. But when you get a mission to reinterpret an original, at the very least, there should be some sign that you thought about what the original song's strength actually is."

Taeil let out a deep sigh. There was more than one or two things to call out.

"Is it right to sing this song with these big bright smiles, throwing every ounce of charm you've got? Right now, I don't know what emotion I'm supposed to be watching your song with. Am I meant to be sad? Meant to laugh? Is breaking up something funny?"

"……"

"Honestly, I'd have been less disappointed if you'd just stood there and sung it straight over the MR."

Watching Taeil ride them hard, Writer Ko thought,

'Oof, Taeil-i sharpened his knives for today. What's with him.'

Watching the unexpected roasting unfold, Writer Ko quickly scanned the trainees' faces. In her head, a rough edit of this scene was already running.

'Well, this team was so bland I was already wondering how to make it work. Better this way, actually.'

The team had Taehyun — on his second survival run — and Hajin, who'd absorbed all the aggro from the first mission. From the moment those two landed on the same team, production had already decided to build a segment around their dynamic and their result.

'But Seo Taehyun's turned out to be way more deferential to Kang Hajin than expected. Same with the other kids.'

The prep had been going so smoothly it had tipped into predictable and dull, and she'd been chewing on how to salvage it. And now, out of nowhere — a takedown like this.

She wasn't the only one thinking it — PD Kwon, next to her, quietly whispered:

"We should switch these kids' angle. Something like: crisis for the team we thought was strong."

"Yes. I'll have the crew pull proper emotional interviews from them right now."

"Kang Hajin basically led the concept on this, right? Ask about that too. Whether he had any complaints, that kind of thing."

"Okay."

Either way, thanks to Taeil, they had an editing angle. Of course, how much the read on this team swung would depend on how dramatic the final product came out — night-and-day difference either way.

Writer Ko looked at the trainees — never failing to hand her good drama — with a fond sort of affection.

"Haaa…. You guys, re-do the meeting. Practice again. I'm coming back tomorrow afternoon, and you're going to show it to me again then. As the person who wrote this song, I can't sign off on a stage with this little understanding of it."

"……"

"No answer? Can't do it? Kang Hajin, is it too much?"

"…No. We'll practice it properly and show you again."

"The rest of you?"

"We can do it!"

"We'll give it a shot!"

Having driven the nail in, Taeil sighed and propped his chin on his hand. His gaze slid past Hajin and landed on someone else.

"Taehyun-ah."

"Yes."

"Do you remember what we talked about when you first came to Miro?"

"…Yes."

"You didn't come here to do… this kind of thing. Right? Or am I wrong."

At that, Taehyun started to bite his lip out of habit, caught himself, and lowered his head. Writer Ko, who'd watched Taehyun since his Boys of the World days, didn't miss that small gesture.

'…Yikes, Taehyun's mental's going to take a real hit.'

The performance was only a day away — how was this team supposed to build a whole new concept by tomorrow?

'But somehow, I'm not that worried.'

Her gaze slid to someone else.

Even in this high-tension moment, there was Hajin, watching Taehyun with a composed expression — like the whole thing had barely fazed him. PD Kwon, too, was fixing Hajin with a meaningful look.

'Somehow… feels like that kid'll pull something out of the hat.'

He'd shown he could work broadcast angles, and his stage-building looked solid. Bound to come up with something, right? With that light thought, she kept watching the trainees.

And a little while later.

The second Taeil stepped out of the practice room, the Sad Ending team scrambled into a huddle at the center of the floor.

Bleak mood. Sunken feelings.

In a situation flooded with every kind of worry and thought, the trainees, by instinct, all turned their eyes to one person.

"…Hajin-hyung. What do we do?"

And Kang Hajin — suddenly on the hook for the whole thing — thought,

'…Didn't line up a Plan B.'

Fucked. Fuck.