Clay was overjoyed to see me after so long.

“Hey—how have you been?”

“Had a fantastic time. Until I saw you, that is.”

We joked and laughed, sharing a light hug, and I greeted Joy as well. Clay said, “I don’t think there’s anyone in Korea who doesn’t know your name. I was stunned when I saw how the area around the company has changed. What used to feel like a Wild West settlement now feels almost like LA...”

“A lot has happened,” I agreed.

We chatted briefly, then Clay got down to business: the theme and vibe of Scarlet’s new single. He listened attentively, nodding as I explained. I smiled and said, “I’ll hang back and watch for a bit—just focus on your choreography coaching.”

“Sounds good.”

“Later, if you’re free, want to grab a bite? Biju’s been dying to meet you.”

“Sure... that’d be nice.”

Immediately, Clay slipped into professional mode, approached Scarlet, and gave me a wink and wave.

“Our seniors, fighting!”

“Fighting!”

Scarlet cheered and clapped like athletes, and every time they did, a crack of applause rang out in the air—so loud it made Clay and Joy flinch.

Moments later, Clay climbed onto a chair to survey the full choreography. The four-person girl group rose gracefully from their opening formation and scattered. The intro choreography followed, their arms lifting in the classic girl-group style, their bodies moving with powerful precision.

“Definitely strong. That’s an enormous advantage,” Joy murmured beside me. I couldn’t help but agree—their suspiciously powerful strength set them apart. While some might say muscles don’t matter in dance, having that core power expands the moves you can pull off. Even Biju, who looks slim, must have every fine muscle honed.

“How do you build such core strength?” Clay asked.

“Meat,” I answered.

He blinked at me in astonishment—had this slender girl group really consumed more meat than an American? He’d soon find out. In any case, their strength made the choreography truly spectacular: beyond any boy-group or girl-group distinction, it felt like watching a masterful stage performance. Their defined movements and seamless transitions between precise and flowing made them look exquisitely elegant.

“So good,” I murmured, smiling at choreography that perfectly matched my song. As the third verse approached, main dancer Rina swept her long hair aside and struck a gunshot pose, drawing enthusiastic applause.

“Waaaah!” I gave them a seal clap, and Scarlet burst into laughter.

Wiping sweat from her brow, Ara asked, “Well? How was it, our producer?”

“Amazing. You’ve practiced so much.”

“I ground my teeth and practiced. Who wrote the song anyway?” Ara teased, bumping my shoulder so hard I almost flew off the chair—did she eat some sort of ginseng mushroom?

I nodded to say I was fine, then looked at the other three members and smiled. I felt a joy similar to when I worked on Taehyun’s solo “Survivor”—the happiness of seeing people pour their all into a project I’d planned.

“You really put in the work.”

Ara took a sip of water. “Of course.”

Her single word carried so much meaning. I offered a slight bow of respect to Scarlet’s leader and prepared to leave. Scarlet swarmed Clay with questions like a pride of lions discovering fresh prey.

“I’m glad,” I thought, loving how completely focused Scarlet was on their practice—because...

I quietly closed the door and checked my phone.

Jiho: [Hyung, did you see this?]

Jiho: [This week’s broadcast]

Jiho: [http://www.metube.com/AtQe..]

Jiho: [Try not to get noticed by the sisters]

The link led to last week’s episode of —the Scarlet special. It was a murder-mystery set in a grand mansion, filled with ominous scenes:

[Kyaaah!]

The butler’s neck snapped in mid-greeting.

A decayed corpse shuffling down a distant hallway like a mummy.

Hundreds of hands bursting from a wall to grab the Scarlet members.

“....”

I exhaled in relief as I glanced back at Clay and Joy—eyes shining like predators ready to feast.

“Good thing I wrote some songs,” I thought with a grin, feeling ten years younger.

From the NetPlus Launch Documentary “The New Black: Making Waves”

Documentary title: Making Waves. Just as the title suggests, it showcases the members making waves in various fields. We see Jiho in a script reading with other actors in a conference room; Junhyun wearing a baseball cap, chewing jelly, operating a loop station; Ri Hyuk singing “500 won~ 500 won~” in the recording booth; our main dancer studying light and shadow in the practice room; and finally it cuts to me—Wooju—in the recording studio.

The screen splits into five. The first shot is of me in the recording studio, a bit tense, then cuts to me in the interview room.

Wooju: “This is a new challenge for me. It’s my first time producing for an idol group that isn’t mine. I did work on Senior Taehyun’s track, but we’re old friends.”

I laughed and said:

Wooju: “When it came time to record, I was really nervous. With my own members, I know every detail—from their voices to their gestures. I can read their expressions on stage.”

But directing singers I didn’t know that well felt awkward.

Interviewer: “What about ATEN?”

Wooju: “Ah, for that, Team Leader Na Sangyun gave me huge help. ‘Attention’ was a co-compose, after all.”

No sooner had I finished that sentence than Team Leader Na Sangyun slid into the interview chair. An English title card appeared: [Creative Director] Na Sangyun.

Na Sangyun: “Wooju seemed to struggle a bit. Girl-group songs differ from boy-group ones... so I thought, as someone with experience, I’d help him.”

Then with a sly grin:

Na Sangyun: “It’s not often I get to play senior, you know? Ha ha ha!”

It was the first—and last—laugh we saw from Producer Na in the documentary.

After finishing the Hong Kong tour, it was finally the day of the NetPlus launch. I rubbed my tense neck and felt the producers around me narrow their eyes.

“You nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

Team Leader Na beamed, throwing his arm around me.

“It’s almost your first time directing another artist’s recording, Wooju, right?”

“Yes.”

Recording direction can sometimes feel tougher than composing. You have to convey your exact vision: “Sing thinner—no, not too thin—just a bit softer...” It’s hard to explain nuances. I remembered advice from that legendary balladist Cha Woohyun:

“Sing as if you’re sending your voice out on a breeze. That’ll do it.”

It was five lines of advice about vocal cords and tongue position—like a world-class coach telling a player, “Just run and score a goal!”

Then there’s the psychological pressure. In the booth, if the singer looks to you for direction and you hesitate, trust plummets. Although we’re all in the same company, those little nerves still surface.

Na laughed, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this tense, Wooju.”

“...I’m worried I’ll slow things down.”

I feared that if my inexperience wasted the singers’ limited time, I’d be the one wasting it. On my shoulder, producers placed reassuring hands.

“Don’t worry. We’ve got you.”

“There’s no separate directing for male or female tracks. Just do what you always do.”

“If it gets hard, SOS us anytime!”

As the “ha ha ha!” of the older producers echoed, the door suddenly burst open with enough force to rip the hinge.

“Hello!”

With vibrant laughter, today’s singers arrived in the booth.

“Cute,” I thought, smiling as the producers looked on. Now I seemed more their peer than a legendary composer.

The tension melted when we greeted each other and the members filed in. They each took turns stepping into the booth for their first parts.

Ara, the lead vocal, delivered her section with emphasis. The composers nodded appreciatively. Having written the lyrics themselves, Scarlet had perfect interpretive insight—though there was a subtle 3% that felt off. Team Leader Na, reading his lyrics, nodded:

“There’s a bit too much force. I should ask her to soften it just slightly...”

While I formulated my words, a delicate finger pressed the talk-back button. I brightened and told Ara:

“That was great—just a bit strong. Remember in ‘Humpty Dumpty,’ your second verse where you sang ‘I am an unknown existence’? Sing this part like that.”

“Ah... yes.”

“It’s on our album—just once like that.”

“Yes.”

Simple. We searched for ‘Humpty Dumpty’ on the music site and listened together.

“Perfect...”

It had the right balance of strength and softness. And that was just the start.

“Na-yoon, like on your ‘BallooN’ mixtape, scrape your throat at the end of your rap.”

“Rina, remember your solo on the album—‘Look’? Sing that tone one more time, just once.”

“Bom, that was beautiful. Let’s keep going exactly like that, but...”

Stepping out of character, I even sang parts over the talk-back:

“Not stopping~ at all~~”

My soft voice filled the booth. They listened as if they wanted me to record the full version myself. It was exactly the gentle purity you'd expect from someone who once led TNT’s debut vocals and now ranks second only to Ri Hyuk among Korea’s idols.

The senior composers, primed to project gravitas, found their jaws slack in awe.

During a break, Scarlet members piled meat topping onto their cup noodles and cheered, “Wooju!”

I glanced up. Na Sangyun asked, “Do you... really know all Scarlet’s songs?”

“Yes.”

The young genius grinned.

“It was tricky directing vocals for songs I didn’t know, so I memorized every video and performance in advance.”

“...”

“I already knew every song.”

I recalled teasing producers: “Don’t you know this? It was a hit in your era...” Tears glistened in the composers’ eyes. Who else would memorize every song like that? No wonder the recording moved so swiftly and with such quality.

They clasped their waists with pride as they watched me.

“Why so serious?” I °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° asked.

“It’s nothing, our executive producer...”

They respected their young boss automatically.

After Scarlet’s recording, we had a rare break before our Singapore, Thailand, and Jakarta tours: preparing for Ri Hyuk’s birthday. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

“Everything set?”

It was almost 11 PM. In the practice room we’d hung a banner:

[Ri Hyuk=Love You]

I checked meticulously that everything was ready.

Biju said, “We’ve prepared his favorite late-night feast.”

“Well done.”

A royal hot-pot steamed on the table. We smiled, imagining Ri Hyuk upstairs doing OST recordings.

“How should we trick him downstairs?”

“Text him that we need to talk—leave out the reason.”

“He’ll stress if someone says ‘Let’s chat.’”

Junhyun piped up, “He knows it’s his birthday, right?”

“True.”

By now I knew November 9 was his birthday—no way he’d fall for a surprise. I’d noticed the hints even when I was younger. So I texted him honestly: “Come downstairs for a birthday celebration.”

Ri Hyuk: [Zero mood here]

Ri Hyuk: [I’ll come down]

While he wondered if “ㅛ” was a typo or something else, Junhyun whispered, “He’s coming down.”

“Okay.”

For our tech-savvy Ri Hyuk, we each grabbed a remote.

“You ready?”

“Yes!”

“Turn on the Y-App and let’s go.”

‘People with zero mood, I swear.’

Does anyone need to hide it on their birthday? Just pretend and call him downstairs.

Ri Hyuk pouted but headed down the dark corridor to the underground practice room. At that moment:

Ziiiiing...

In the darkness, machines flickered red.

“What—what’s that?”

Something shot toward him—he stumbled backward, fleeing.

“Gyaaaah!”

“-Ri Hyuk~!”

“Damn, what is this?!”

“-Ri Hyuk~ I love you~!”

At the same time, at 11:59 PM, Souffle members poised to type “Happy Birthday, Ri Hyuk!” on the Y-App received an alert:

[Surprise Live Start!]

NewBlack: Please love Seori Hyuk

Fans flooded in like a tidal wave.

“Hm?”

They blinked at their screens:

“-Ri Hyuk~!”

“I love you~ I love you~”

“Damn, what is this?!”

The perspective raced like a drone tracking a fleeing target—every red stamp on Ri Hyuk’s shirt looking like a bullseye.

‘An FPS game concept...?’

Fans joked: “Should upload to the forum.”

It was a bizarre birthday live right from the start.