Chapter 26: So Secretive
When I was little.
That is to say… back in my childhood, which was now starting to fade a little.
I always acted like a good kid.
I had to be mature and composed.
No matter what I heard, I pretended not to have heard it, wearing a naïve expression that said, “I don’t know anything.”
One day, noises started coming from the master bedroom.
It was a tone I had never heard before—raised, agitated—and rather than fear, curiosity came first.
I sat on the living room sofa, pretending to read a book, and eavesdropped on my parents’ conversation.
Guarantee, record company, investment, practice…
Difficult words I had never been taught at school leaked out through the crack in the door.
Even if I sprawled across the sofa like a long rice cake and thought hard, I couldn’t find a clear answer.
Of course I couldn’t.
I was only seven years old back then.
My Hyung, noticing me perking up my ears, said,
“It’s bad stuff. You wouldn’t understand even if you heard.”
He went on muttering to himself like he was nagging.
“I don’t even get it, so how would you? Oh, there’s one thing I do know. We might end up living with just Mom soon, you know?”
“Why?”
“’Cause Dad keeps doing stuff Mom told him not to? She’s really mad. She says she can’t live with him anymore.”
“But Hyung, you made Mom mad too. You didn’t study and just went to karaoke all the time. Doesn’t that mean you can’t live with her either?”
That was about all I could come up with to say.
When that happened, Hyung would click his tongue, fetch a headset bigger than my head, and place it on me.
“Here, listen to this.”
“No, it’s heavy.”
“Then you won’t hear the sound coming from the bedroom.”
“I’m fine hearing… huh?”
Was that when it began?
When I started listening closely to the sound of instruments from the headphones.
At the bright blare of a horn filling my ears, I probably gaped.
The sharp voice of my mom coming from the bedroom faded under the music in the headphones.
“So you know what’s good too.”
Stevie Wonder’s Sir Duke.
A seven-year-old kid couldn’t possibly have caught on to things like the bass line or the tricky chords.
But that’s how music is.
That pure joy toward music that the singer wanted to express—
That cheerful voice blending into it seeped purely into my young heart.
The bouncy bass rhythm soon overlapped with the beat of my own heart.
While the music played, I wasn’t myself.
I wasn’t the child curious about the difficult words leaking from the crack in the bedroom door, nor the child worried about what would happen if I really couldn’t live with Dad anymore.
I was just…
Crouched safely inside the small world this song showed me.
“There are even better songs. Wanna hear one?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you hear the one that went ‘wooong’ and then ‘da-da-da-dan’ earlier?”
“Yeah, I really liked it.”
“That’s called the bass…”
How great would it have been if the whole world turned gently like this song.
But when I took off the headphones, my world became reality again.
Like Cinderella losing her glass slipper and finding herself back in ashes.
Sometimes, I even dreamed a hazy dream that the fairy tale could go on forever.
“Hey, Seo Taeyoon. What’s with your application? Are you sure you filled it out right?”
“Huh? I heard the economics department has good job prospects. With the single-parent quota, I can even aim higher.”
On the dizzying boundary between dreams and reality—
I chose reality without hesitation.
There’s no need to dress something you like up as a dream.
And there’s even less reason why a dream must become a job.
I just…
Picked the answer sheet that looked the clearest out of all the choices in front of me.
A dream like music was too abstract.
Major in it, study it—
What could I do then? How would I make money?
The path called music looked terribly faint to me back then.
It was just this vague image that you could barely reach only by throwing everything else away.
No, maybe I even had the childish thought that dreams were more valuable if they were hard to achieve…
“Weren’t you going to an arts college? Or at least a practical music department. Taeyoon, you wouldn’t be too late to think about jobs after you graduate. You’re still only nineteen…”
“How can I do that on my own?”
It was clear that the good kid inside me had grown up faster than I had.
“Why do you care about that stuff? Just trust me. I’ve got a job now and my salary’s good.”
“I just want music as a hobby. If a hobby turns into work, it becomes no fun right away. Hyung, you’re doomed now.”
“…”
Back in middle and high school, I had to be a good student.
Even now, after entering college, finishing the army, and waiting to return to school—
I always had to be a good adult.
Curious but hiding it, angry but hiding it, unwilling but hiding it, struggling but hiding it.
One thing.
This was something I really couldn’t give up.
Music eventually took that good kid inside me and made him its ally.
I wanted to reveal it.
I wanted to express it.
I wanted to show it.
“Taeyoon. Are you okay? Why are you suddenly sweating like this…?”
The voice of CEO Kim Minsoo broke my thoughts.
I looked up, met his eyes, and said,
“I wanted to tell my story… Is that how it sounded?”
“Whether it sounded that way or another—does it matter? Hey, hey, Taeyoon, you’re not okay, are you? Manager Yoon, call Dr. Kim.”
“Ah, no. Really, it’s nothing. I was just lost in thought for a moment.”
That’s right.
Just like CEO Kim Minsoo said—
Maybe I had wanted to use his story as a chance to tell mine.
A man passionate and dazzling, yet with a secret no one knew.
Maybe that was…
The person I wanted to become.
Someone passionate about their work, dazzling enough that everyone was drawn to them.
A club DJ who handled flashy beats.
Now, a composer writing songs for someone else.
Inside that, a quiet, unremarkable college student with no presence.
Which one was the real me?
How should I live?
And…
I wanted to listen. I wanted to empathize.
To say, You’re not the only one.
That everyone lives with at least one secret they can’t tell.
That now, it’s okay to share it comfortably.
Kim Minsoo looked at Taeyoon with eyes full of concern.
What story does he have?
Just moments ago, he’d been sitting there looking perfectly fine.
And suddenly, he broke into a cold sweat, showing signs of strain.
As if he had pulled out a past he didn’t want to remember.
A dull ache throbbed deep in one corner of Kim Minsoo’s chest.
Why… was it that when he looked at Taeyoon, he saw his own younger self?
“What’s this, you’re going to put a hole in Taeyoon’s face. Stop staring.”
Even at Manager Yoon’s scolding—
Kim Minsoo slowly looked Taeyoon over again.
He might have had a quirky side, but—
He was the most upright and steady young man Kim Minsoo had ever met.
For over a year, working night shifts, he had never once been late or shirked his duties to cause trouble for the staff.
Sometimes a cool, distant expression crossed his face—
But when talking about music, he was pure and passionate.
That’s why Kim Minsoo was curious.
What story could lead him to create such a secretive song?
“Taeyoon. If you really don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. I just—”
“No.”
Taeyoon answered firmly.
When Kim Minsoo nodded as if to tell him to continue, Taeyoon spoke calmly.
“That’s right. I was really surprised by how perceptive you were, sir.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Rather than a compliment… it made me proud to realize our CEO was such a detailed person, that I didn’t think of the opening riff for no reason after seeing you. Long live KIM Entertainment.”
“…You’re praising me too much.”
Kim Minsoo’s shoulders rose and fell—
Practically ready to soar right up to the ceiling.
Angkora—this song’s highlight was, without a doubt, the riff layered over the dry electronic sound at the intro.
Step, step.
The sound of shoe heels walking down a dark corridor.
Click.
The sound of a doorknob turning and the door opening.
Waaaah—
Even the muffled cheers underneath.
It was a meticulously crafted track.
The footsteps represented a man’s resolve, the door opening represented entry into another world, and the faint cheers indirectly expressed that he had broken his secret and stepped into the world to finally seize what he wanted.
Maybe that’s why—
The moment Kim Minsoo heard this song, a chill ran down his spine.
With each sound layer peeled away, more meaning appeared.
Eight bars.
Not even twenty seconds—yet in that short time, Taeyoon described a long narrative without making it boring.
It felt like witnessing the very moment someone’s fate changed.
Who could it be?
Was it Taeyoon? Or himself?
He didn’t know.
But one thing was certain.
“Taeyoon.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s make a promise.”
“What…?”
“This song—don’t give it to just anyone. Don’t hang it on some petty thing like the song fee or a big-name entertainment label.”
That the vocalist was the most important thing—
Someone who fit the song perfectly, who would make it even more vivid.
“That’s not petty, though…”
Without understanding Kim Minsoo’s intentions—
Taeyoon just had a question mark over his head.
“I’m telling you, not just anyone can pull this off.”
“But it’s not such a hard melody. No high notes either.”
“Exactly. That’s what makes it hard.”
“Oh, really?”
Writing a good song and producing it were two different matters.
Taeyoon sat politely, ears perked.
It never hurt to listen to a professional.
His Hyung always said the same thing—there’s real gold hidden in the casual words of a pro.
“Think about it. Between a plain soup and a stir-fry overloaded with spicy, sweet, and salty flavors—which is harder to season just right?”
“Well, obviously… ah? I see. Once the vocal part starts, only the bass is left. Now I get what you mean. Everyone’s attention will be on the voice.”
At that, Taeyoon’s eyes lit up.
Right—that was the point. This song was written with the vocalist’s delicate breathing in mind.
The plan was for the frenzied intro to end, and then for everything to fall silent as if nothing had happened.
Hearing is sensitive—
More than most people think.
A beat that rushed forward without a break, dazzling effects—
All of it was a buildup for the verse that followed.
The moment the ears began to tire, every instrument vanished.
In the music, only the bass and the vocals remained.
Just the two of them, telling the story plainly.
So of course the vocalist was important.
He knew it, but still…
Taeyoon began recalling several singers.
There were plenty of singers that came to mind.
But whether those singers would choose his song was another question.
A clean, understated vocal was a double-edged sword.
Because the singer had to rely entirely on their voice, it would be a burden for most.
On top of that, it was a song by a fresh rookie composer.
His only work experience had been with Han Yujin, just once—
And since that track hadn’t even been released yet, it wasn’t like he could go around saying, “I worked with this person!”
Sensing the conflict on Taeyoon’s face, Kim Minsoo asked carefully.
“Do you have any singers in mind?”
“I do have quite a few.”
“For me—ah, don’t get me wrong here, just hear me out.”
For some reason, Kim Minsoo even adjusted his tone before continuing.
“You’re going to rewrite the lyrics, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Then you’ll redo the guide track too.”
“Weeell… yes?”
“The current guide is already good enough. You didn’t tune it, right? Hey, but it’s got charm. Your voice is weighty. A twist compared to your looks! So, I think…”
Before he could finish, Taeyoon shouted.
“No way!”
“Whoa, you startled me.”
“I can’t sing.”
No.
Not that.
Definitely not that.
Taeyoon added sternly.
“My voice isn’t good. It doesn’t match the vocal I had in mind. It’s too heavy.”
“It’s weighty.”
“…Or maybe a bit murky, don’t you think?”
“It’s husky.”
“No, more than anything—I’ve never even sung this song before.”
“You think anyone sang from birth? If we just refine it a bit… huh? Taeyoon, where are you going?”
While hurriedly gathering his belongings, Seo Taeyoon replied.
“I have to get ready for tonight’s performance. I don’t have time to mess around.”
Seeing this, Kim Minsoo barely managed to suppress the twitching at the corners of his lips.
At times like this, he really did look like nothing more than an innocent college student.
“There’s still plenty of time.”
“I always come early to get ready, you know? Have to greet the hyungs too…”
“Don’t tell me, our DJ Teacher—you’re not running away because I told you to sing, right? Like you’re embarrassed, or—what? Just imagining it makes you want to kick your blankets? Huh? Ah, no, I’m kidding. Even if you do it after dinner, it’s not too late. Hey! Where are you going!”
Taeyoon didn’t even answer, bolting straight for the door.
Maybe it was because of CEO Kim Minsoo’s advice.
The lyrics flowed right out.
Whether they were good or bad was a problem for later.
Angkora.
Anchor.
Based on the keywords I had thought of at the start, I matched lyrics and sang them however I wanted.
“Like the anchor I had to cast at night… ah, that’s kind of hard to pronounce.”
“My real self tied up somewhere… let’s keep that part.”
“Wanted to show someone… is that too plain?”
And just like that, I ended up staying up all night again.
Writing lyrics was just as fun as composing.
I stretched, got up, and opened the door—
“Ugh! How long have you been standing there?”
My Hyung was standing there in front of the door, looking vacant.
I waved a hand in front of his face and asked again.
“Hyung? What? What’s wrong?”
He shook his head a few times before saying,
“If you sing at dawn, snakes come out, you punk. Stop staying up all night and go to bed early.”
Then he mouthed something a few times.
What was that? What was he trying to say?
“And about that song… never mind. I’m going to wash up.”
What the heck.
Why start saying something and then stop like that?