The Recording Session with Gaeul

“Hey, wake up.”

A voice, strangely modulated as if by a program, tickled my ears.

“I said, wake up.”

It was a rough, hoarse voice, mixed with a grating sound like metal scraping, making it difficult to discern. Yet, the manner of speech felt familiar.

“…What?”

Opening my eyes, I saw Lee Seon. His hair stood on end as if he’d been hit by an explosion, and his face was so swollen, like a steamed bun, that it was quite a sight.

“We need to get ready to go.”

Ready? Oh, right.

With all the commotion at the company and dorm yesterday because of Han Doyoung’s situation, I had completely forgotten. Today was the day we were scheduled to record a track for a school-themed web drama, set to be released in the fourth quarter by D-NET.

“What time is it that we’re already getting ready?”

“It’s past ten. Ugh…”

Lee Seon, clutching his forehead and groaning, was clearly suffering from a hangover. More importantly, wasn’t his voice terribly strained? Was he really going to record like that?

“Eat… on the way, and take some medicine. Medicine.”

“We’re running late, so we’ll have to skip breakfast.”

“Really? Then hurry up, shower, and come out.”

Perhaps woken by our conversation, Yoon Jihyuk, who had been sleeping nearby, stirred and got up. Despite having consumed the same snacks and alcohol, his face was perfectly fine, with only his hair slightly disheveled.

“Schedule?”

“Yes, we’re going to a recording session.”

Yoon Jihyuk checked his watch once, then stated he also had an appointment, and left the room.

After a quick shower, I stepped into the living room to find Lee Seon and Han Doyoung, already prepared, seated on the sofa and looking my way. Upon asking if they were ready, they immediately rose.

“Hold on a second.”

“Why?”

They both asked in unison.

“First, Lee Seon, are you really going like that?”

“…Is something wrong?”

Lee Seon turned in a circle, his face slightly crestfallen. He seemed to think my brief remark was a criticism of his fashion. ‘How amusing; I’d never nagged him about such things.’

“Not your clothes. Your voice is so strained.”

“Well, low-tone rappers sometimes intentionally strain their voices for their work.”

“Are you a low-tone rapper?”

“No, not exactly.”

Leaving him to clear his throat awkwardly and scratch his cheek in embarrassment, I headed into the kitchen. In the cupboard, Choi Seung-beom kept a generous stock of honey, individually packaged portions he often gave us, claiming it was good for our throats.

While I didn’t expect a miraculous cure, it might serve as a minor emergency remedy.

“Take this, and you’ll need to keep warming up your voice on the way.”

As long as I was getting one out, I unwrapped one for myself and popped it into my mouth. After all, the better the quality, the better.

“And why are you coming along, hyung? You don’t have a schedule.”

Han Doyoung wrinkled his nose, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

Considering the drama’s atmosphere, they wanted a fresh, clean, boyish vocal style, so Lee Seon and I had been chosen for the track early on. Moreover, it was unlikely that any schedules canceled after the recent controversy would have returned so soon, so there was no reason for him to accompany us.

“I’m going to make sure this one behaves. Why?”

He gripped Lee Seon’s shoulder firmly as he spoke.

While Han Doyoung was a decent all-rounder beyond just dancing, he wasn’t skilled enough to coach a main rapper.

‘It seemed he had been cooped up in the dorm alone for quite some time and was desperately craving to go out.’

****

With little time to spare, we hastily satisfied our hunger with food bought on the go. Normally, a convenience store would have sufficed, but because of me, we had to stop at a sandwich shop.

Lee Seon, claiming his stomach was too upset to swallow bread, had chosen a salad. He was now eating it, sighing heavily all the while. He couldn’t believe the reality of having to eat brunch with a salad, especially when it wasn’t even a period of intense diet management.

Chewing his lettuce with a subtle expression, much like a cow ruminating, Lee Seon suddenly spoke.

“You know, you slept with Jihyuk hyung.”

“He came in drunk.”

“Huh?”

“Why, do you want to sleep with me too?”

“What?”

Han Doyoung scoffed at Lee Seon, implying he wouldn’t get anything out of such a remark. Lee Seon huffed, spearing an olive with his fork and flicking it at Han Doyoung.

“It’s just surprising. You, and Jihyuk hyung too, are both types who value their personal space greatly.”

“…But he said he used to sleep close to others in the old dorm?”

“Huh?”

Lee Seon rolled his eyes, as if searching his memory.

“No way. Our mom’s dorm is big, sure, but our old dorm wasn’t small either. We’re not some ten-member group. We all had separate beds, so where would we even sleep together?”

He emphasized his point, raising his fork.

“And hyung! Long before he officially became leader, he was the debut team’s leader, so he had privileges. Even during pre-debut, when the dorm was packed with the most members ever, hyung slept alone in the living room.”

Though I knew Lee Seon particularly admired Yoon Jihyuk, he recounted this tale with an exaggerated, almost heroic tone, as if boasting. He made it sound incredibly significant, but in reality, it was a trivial story.

It was just amusing that Yoon Jihyuk would bother to lie about such an insignificant detail.

“So, are you upset that your amazing hyung was ‘stolen’ from you?”

“Argh! I just said it was surprising!”

‘Can’t you say anything without being teased?’ I occasionally poked fun at the grumbling Lee Seon as I gazed out the car window. Autumn had fully enveloped the streets. The leaves, beginning to turn vibrant reds and yellows, were particularly striking.

Speaking of D-NET…

“Did Jung Sehan’s drama finish already?”

Han Doyoung, who had been fiddling with his phone, raised one corner of his mouth into a thoroughly malicious smile.

“They say it flopped.”

He then emphasized two syllables, enunciating them clearly.

“Com-pletely.”

Lee Seon, apparently already aware of this fact, burst into uproarious laughter. ‘I knew they disliked him, but it seemed their aversion was far deeper than I had imagined.’

On the way, Lee Seon added a few explanations. The drama itself hadn’t completely failed, but with the two main leads being so popular, the focus had shifted to them, leaving Jung Sehan largely unnoticed.

In that case, the variety show we filmed together previously truly had been a hard-to-come-by opportunity, which he had spectacularly ruined by needlessly provoking Yoon Jihyuk. It was all his own doing.

“If you don’t perform well for D-NET, they don’t give you another chance.”

Now, he’d just be stuck playing minor roles until his contract expired, then he’d be finished. Lee Seon gloated with evident pleasure.

And the place we were heading to was precisely the studio of a D-NET subsidiary label, known for not giving second chances to those who failed to deliver…

Well, if they were enjoying themselves, that was all that mattered.

****

The studio’s size wasn’t significantly different from UNI-Q’s, but having to work with unfamiliar people instead of our now accustomed crew members made it feel unusually larger. Though Lee Seon had been excited in the car, he couldn’t hide his nervousness, entering tentatively.

Indeed, this seemed to be Lee Seon’s first time working on a song not under the HEX name. Of course, the same applied to me; during my Red Moon days, there were no places looking for us, so I naturally hadn’t done external work. However, this wasn’t my first time doing external work in general.

Our tiny company lacked a proper recording studio for album production, so we always had to rent one.

“Aww! You’re just babies!”

An engineer, who appeared to be in his forties, greeted us with an exaggerated fuss.

And next to him was…

“Oh, wasn’t the composer Lee Hyunji?”

Despite his nervousness, Lee Seon couldn’t suppress his curiosity, asking precisely the question I wanted answered. The man, with a sturdy build and round horn-rimmed glasses, took off his beanie and grinned. Beneath the beanie, a shiny bald head gleamed.

“Hyunji’s busy preparing for a performance today. But it’s fine since I’m the arranger, right? Anyway, directing is pretty much the same whether it’s me or Hyunji.”

Well, there was no reason to refuse.

“Yes, well.”

It was just a bit awkward.

This composer, who always wore a collection of ill-fitting, outdated, and mismatched accessories as if they were his trademark, had been active for about ten years under the stage name ‘Gaeul.’

Though he had recently gained some recognition, he had endured about five years of obscurity. He was also one of the composers who contributed to some of Red Moon’s early album tracks.

This meant he had worked with us precisely during our unknown period.

“Alright! Shall we start with Kwon Yohan, then? Are you ready now?”

“Yes.”

While he now maintained a somewhat condescending yet outwardly sociable and cheerful demeanor, he had been a completely different person back then.

Even as an unknown artist himself, he had made it abundantly clear how annoyed he was to be working with us, who were also unknown.

“Wow, this song seems tailor-made for you, Kwon Yohan! How do you bring it to life so well? But could we try this part again, with just a little less force?”

His directing hadn’t been this gentle either. It was more like, ‘Are you even singers? Are you really going to put this kind of singing on streaming sites?’ or something to that effect.

‘How could the same person be so different?’

“Could we make this part feel a bit softer, like cotton candy, but still with a chewy texture?”

He was still spouting strange directives, like “vivid pastel colors.” Even the others waiting outside the booth seemed to realize something was off, staring at him with wide eyes.

Han Doyoung even raised his index finger and spun it near his head, openly questioning Gaeul’s sanity. Gaeul, absorbed in his own pretentious artistic spirit, failed to notice their reflections clearly visible in the glass.

Suppressing a snort of laughter was pure agony.