Schedules pouring in all at once.

“Hahahahaha!”

Seeing us laugh from pure joy, Seokhwan hyung did a little shoulder dance.

“How’s that—happy?”

“Yeah. So happy.”

My eyes kept welling, but they were probably happy tears.

We’d just started to think we could finally spend some time on individual schedules, and then the heavens dumped a bucket of bookings with a “not a chance,” and we nodded at fate.

After a long stretch of laughing and crying all together as one blob, we wiped our eyes.

“Hyungs, what’s the VMA?”

Ri Hyuk answered the maknae.

“You’re aiming for America and don’t even know that? It’s a hot music award show there.”

“Really?”

He asked why our reaction felt so muted if it was such a show, and I smiled.

“It just doesn’t feel real.”

Honestly, it was so massive it barely felt real.

VMA.

The Video Music Awards—VMA—is a high-buzz awards show in the States. Back in the early 2000s, the famous dance singer who came out with a snake on her shoulders and shocked everyone—that was the VMA.

Sure, it doesn’t have the prestige of the Grammys, but year after year it’s the show with the highest buzz.

They value buzz that much, and the fact they invited us as performers this time means—

“Your buzz is that strong.”

Seokhwan hyung beamed.

“People say the ratings keep dropping and it’s not what it was—but people have said that for ten years. It’s still a buzz magnet.”

The kids nodded.

From the perspective of prepping an English single, a new opportunity was great.

At our steady nods, Seokhwan hyung asked:

“Still, you’re not as excited as I expected.”

“Well, Blue Moon was that popular, you know.”

“Blue Moon?”

Our TF team lead looked puzzled, and now we blinked.

“The joint stage with Hailey.”

“Huh?”

Our TF lead shot back like he had no idea what we were saying.

“It’s solo.”

“......?”

“I didn’t tell you, did I. It’s not a joint stage with Hailey—it’s your own stage.”

We’d just assumed we were doing a Blue Moon stage.

“Our own stage?”

“Yep.”

Junhyun swallowed and asked again.

“Team lead. So you mean it’s not a joint stage with Hailey—it’s our solo stage? With a song like ‘Coin’?”

“Yeah. They requested ‘Coin.’”

“......!”

“No wonder your reaction was weird. Guys. It’s your solo.”

“......!”

We traded looks, sitting still.

“Solo......”

“Stage......?”

Meaning we’d stand on that stage with our song.

“......!”

“......!”

The kids who’d been sagging under the schedule straightened, shoulders slowly rising.

Before I knew it I’d leapt to my feet.

Our TF lead hesitated at the sudden blast-furnace vibe.

“Hyung.”

It felt like my eyes flipped back.

“So when exactly is that VMA?”

“Mmm-hmm-hmm~”

Ever since hearing the VMA news, my heart was going Deoksun Deoksun.

The Video Music Awards take place next month, August 28.

It felt great that, here in early July, we had two months to rehearse—and that we’d stand on an American awards stage with “Coin.”

Above all, the fact we’d go up there with our song made me happiest.

“You look extra cheerful today.”

“Yeah. I’m really happy.”

Director Cho Kyuhwan smiled.

“Because of the awards?”

“Yes.”

“Congrats. That’s huge.”

I smiled back at Director Cho as he clapped my shoulder and congratulated me.

Then we welcomed the four members of the girl group into the conference room, chattering happily.

“Composer Deokchun~!”

“Deokchun~”

They grinned and went, “Deokchun-ssi~,” and somehow the ring of it was... not great.

It felt like they were tossing around my favorite person’s name too freely.

Only I should get to say it like that.

“......Maybe I picked the wrong alias.”

“Huh?”

“It’s nothing. How’ve you been?”

“Great~!”

They answered brightly.

But despite that, their eyes were rimmed with dark circles. Maybe noticing my glance, main vocalist Bom joked:

“Survival shows really wring you out. Wring you dry.”

“Every week the best performers in the country grind their teeth and hit the stage—ugh, it drains you.”

“We went up against High Color. Maybe because they’re young, their stamina’s crazy~”

I asked the ones saying it had been brutal:

“Did the result go well?”

“Smashed it.”

“We took first place.”

I smiled and held up a hand for a high-five to the Scarlet members nodding along.

[smack!]

“Ahh......”

“Oh, sorry!”

“Composer Deokchun, are you okay? Your hand turned the color of Ri Hyuk’s ear.”

“I-I’m fine.”

I decided never to high-five these people again.

The senior girl group, saying our Composer Deokchun mustn’t be hurt, pressed a cold drink can into my hand and set up a neck pillow.

I thanked them and started the meeting.

“Okay.”

I clapped and smiled.

“Let’s hear the concept ideas you brought.”

“Right.”

Leader Ara pulled a thick file binder from her bag—the kind you slip each handout into a plastic sleeve for in school.

It was full of outfits and images.

“The image we’re thinking this time is a flashy pop-star style. Stage outfits using leather jackets or hip materials, and we dance.”

“oho.”

“For the background, think near-future scenery. You know the vibe? A neon-soaked megacity, and every screen is playing our stage as pop stars. Kinda like a dictator broadcast.”

“Like 1984.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

I must’ve been hanging around Ri Hyuk—book titles slipped out of my mouth unbidden.

While Bom filled Ara in that 1984 was a book title, Scarlet’s rundown continued:

“There’s strong dance, and since it’s a song sending a message to fans, we chose the ‘pop star’ image.”

“That’s really good.”

The outfits looked a bit iffy to me, but......

—Hyung. Lemme teach you a trick. If you don’t love the outfits—what do you do?

—What?

—Sit still and say nothing. You’ll land in the middle.

I remembered our maknae fashionista’s lesson and shut my mouth.

Listening on, I took a moment to check if the concept and song matched in my head.

What I’d prepped was a moombahton track packed with strong dance.

Moombahton, the fusion of house and reggaeton, pairs well with a bold image because of its dramatic flow. Imagining Scarlet’s stylish pop-star outfits and the background they’d shown, I nodded.

“Sounds good. I can feel what to tweak.”

I turned to Director Cho.

“What do you think, sir?”

“If the composer’s good, I’m good.”

For this project, Director Cho nodded easily, like he meant to guarantee our autonomy.

With Scarlet’s dedicated producer’s okay, we continued.

As I listened to Scarlet toss out excited ideas about the theme and concept, I studied each member.

If you’re going to write a song, you have to know the singers well.

That’s how you spotlight them dramatically.

For example, Biju—who seems mild day to day, but onstage explodes in bursts.

So you put Biju on the parts where the song’s tension blows up.

“For now, if unnie detonates the chorus here, it’ll be killer.”

Kim Nayun—mochi-soft looks with a peppy personality.

Known for a cute face, but when she raps, she seizes the stage more powerfully than anyone.

Also the most vocal with ideas.

“Mm, but maybe we keep that a bit lighter?”

Leader Ara plays the gentle mediator, harmonizing the kids’ opinions.

If Nayun pitches something a bit off, Ara soothes and steers it to a better take.

In NewBlack terms, she’s like me—covers both vocal and dance. Also can act.

“I think it all works.”

Rina answered evenly.

Famous as Scarlet’s visual, her delicate features are striking—but what stands out most is her dance.

She’s strong enough to stand next to Biju in a two-shot without awkwardness—the core of Scarlet’s performance.

Quiet most of the time, then when she drops a line, all eyes snap to her; onstage she moves quietly, then bang absorbs the focus at the pop.

“Hmm......”

While mentally dividing parts, I looked to main vocalist Bom.

She sipped Americano, smiling softly now and then as she slid her ideas in.

Then the ideas would be adopted immediately.

“As expected, I have too many ideas.”

She makes people—like Nayun now—think they came up with them.

She looks low-profile at a glance, but she’s the real power.

Onstage, she doesn’t try to stick out; she blends and sings smoothly with the members. Which made me think it’d be fun to craft a part where the main vocal pops.

“Mmmmmm......”

We were supposedly meeting with the top visual girl group.

So why did I keep seeing other things?

“Grr-haha. Unnie, these snacks are so good. Oh. We were in a meeting. Refocusing now~”

Zhang Fei, twintails swinging like a beard, guffawing.

“Take your time.”

Liu Bei, full of benevolence, soothing Zhang Fei kindly.

“......”

Guan Yu, silently sipping tea.

“But that idea just now—Nayun’s was so good~”

“Really?”

“The group dance in the B-part.”

“Huh? Did I say that?”

“Mm-hmm. Loved it.”

“So it was my idea......!”

And Zhuge Liang, quietly sipping Americano while dealing in soft stratagems.

Somewhere, I could hear the Peach Garden Oath—and the video my uncle played me as a kid came back:

“Liu Bei, Guan Yu, Zhang Fei~ invincible under heaven~♬”

I shook my head at the weird shadows swelling behind Scarlet.

Director Cho tilted his head at me.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just keep feeling like I’m seeing something behind Scarlet......”

“Ah.”

Director Cho gave me a look of deep empathy.

“You feel that too. I’ve been there....”

“.......”

Sir?

Then why are you gazing at me so wistfully?

“Great work, everyone.”

“See you again, Composer Kim Deokchun~”

I waved and bobbed my head, saying goodbye to Scarlet.

Forget Liu Bei, Guan Yu, Zhang Fei.

Thinking that, I stood—met the handsome director’s eyes.

“Hm?”

I asked:

“Where are you off to, sir?”

“Meeting’s over, so I’ll rest a bit. Gotta prep for tomorrow’s meeting with Netplus Korea, too.”

Our director had been very busy lately.

I kept tabs on A&R and producing flows, but up at the higher level, it felt like huge things were happening.

Director Cho was sketching the big picture, scaling the company up.

Jiho’s web drama moving to Netplus probably came out of that.

“You must be swamped these days.”

“Busy, sure... but happy. Having a lot of work is happiness.”

He grinned and picked up his coffee cup.

“And I’m grateful to you guys, too.”

“......?”

“I’ve got a lot of money coming in, so I’m investing hard—but none of it would’ve happened without you.”

Wearing a picture-perfect smile, Director Cho thanked me—and then added:

“It’s all just so much to be thankful for. I’m grateful for what you did for our girls, too.”

“Scarlet?”

“They’re like nieces to me. We trained together when we had nothing, debuted them... we’ve been through everything.”

He stared off, recalling memories.

“You probably didn’t realize, but Scarlet’s been a bit down lately. Meat sort of kept them going. I think if it had gone a little further, they might’ve hit a slump......”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but I heard the rest.

Thanks to the new song I brought, they’d found spark again.

As he offered heartfelt thanks and turned to leave, I smiled.

“Sir.”

“Yeah, Wooju.”

“So where are you going?”

“......Huh?”

I smiled and asked:

“Didn’t you say you had no schedule today?”

“R-right.”

“And the person who knows Scarlet best is you.”

“That’s true, too....”

“In that case, there’s no better candidate to help refine my track, right? Sir, if you’re free today, how about a two-person song camp with me.......”

Director Cho backpedaled, hand groping for the doorknob.

But—

“Hello, sir~”

Junhyun and the other minions came in with warm voices, and his pupils trembled.

Director Cho smiled weakly.

“For this new song, it’s probably best if the existing composer’s color steps out......”

“It can’t step out completely. Having the existing color in there makes the new more natural, right? There’s a saying: study the old to know the new.”

“Come to think of it, I was supposed to have a meal with the CEO......”

“The CEO just texted. Says it’s fine.”

As the kids behind slowly closed in on him, I, too, approached with ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) a smile.

“Eat with us, sir.”

“Eat with us~!”

“.......”

He started to cry happy tears.

Around the same time.

Lemon Entertainment’s producing team was buzzing.

“Oh my, Composer Yoo Ung! Welcome~!”

“So glad you all made it!”

Like soldiers who’d gone ages without replacements and finally got fresh recruits, the Lemon Ent composers grinned with all gums.

“Great to see you again. I’m Yoo Ung, joining as a new composer at Lemon Ent starting today.”

“Waaaaa!”

“Welcome.”

With Composer Yoo Ung as the representative, a round of intros and greetings—Lemon Ent welcomed the new family.

“Alright, alright.”

Team Lead Na Sangyun smiled with solemn gravity.

“This isn’t the time to stand around. We should give our new composers a tour.”

“Right.”

“Shall we?”

The new composers smiled awkwardly.

They’d visited a few times, but thinking “I work here now” made their scalp tingle.

“Before, you only saw the visitor areas, right? Today we’ll show you the internal spaces staff use.”

“Team lead!”

“Yeah?”

“Before that, a bit of recon......”

“Ah.”

Second floor, where the studios cluster.

One staffer crept near the rare spawn—the composing yokai’s lair—and peeked in. Then whispered, “It’s empty!”

The veterans, chewing gum like seasoned warriors, told the newbies, who cocked their heads:

“You’ll get captured.”

“.......”

“Many have lost their zeal for composing while passing through that narrow ‘Valley of Death.’”

“Ah.......”

“Always check whether the yokai is there or not.”

The new composers nodded.

Soon, as Team Lead Na Sangyun pointed out rooms one by one, he saw the [On Air] light deep inside and smiled.

“Looks like the director’s working today.”

“The director?”

“You all know Director Cho Kyuhwan, right?”

Every head snapped up, eyes wide.

Before Ujuseon, there was Cho Kyuhwan. Until Ujuseon appeared, “Lemon” was famous as “the place with Cho Kyuhwan.”

Thrilled at the chance to glimpse another genius composer at work, the existing staff beckoned the newbies closer.

“Alright, look in there.”

Whose song would it be?

Yoon Chanhyuk, the famous balladeer? Scarlet?

Holding those hopes, they craned toward the window in the door—when the voice that had given them nightmares for days after song camp drifted out.

“Uh, team lead.”

“Yeah.”

“I hear Mr. Wooju.”

“Huh?”

Startled, the Lemon Ent composers looked through the glass—and recoiled.

This isn’t what we wanted.

It was day one; they’d hoped to show only the best side of the company, and the worst scene had appeared.

While the in-house composers fretted, faint voices filtered out from inside.

—Sir.

—Mm.

—Here. I’ll play them again—tell me which is better.

—...Haven’t you played them, like, ninety-nine times?

—There’s a saying: water doesn’t boil at ninety-nine degrees, it boils at a hundred. Maybe the hundredth will be different.

The maxim of someone skilled at handling servants.

And—

The minions, giggling and cheering, stuck to Director Cho’s side.

One composer, staring blankly, opened his mouth in a whisper.

“Uh... Director Cho Kyuhwan is pretty high up here, right?”

“...Second in command after the CEO.”

As they stared, the external composers started carving the power ranking into their brains.

How does Lemon Ent’s power ladder go?

Sun Wooju is number one, Ujuseon is number two, Ju Sunwoo is number three......

“Yes.”

Team Lead Na Sangyun smiled, resigned.

“That’s our company.”

“Ah.......”

And so, the new composers finally, perfectly grasped Lemon Ent’s structure.