WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Potter
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ My Fired Uncle Is a Genius Guitarist? ◈
Chapter 44: I Can't Choose
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“Mr. Lee Han Yong?”
Kang Taeo was waiting for my answer on the other end.
Three days. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.
I quickly ran the numbers in my head. I had used so little annual leave this year that taking three days in a row would not leave me short. That was not the problem.
I could get through this time with annual leave. But what about next time?
My thoughts naturally turned to the four songs I had sent After Rain on Sunday night. If they took the songs, they might ask me to sit in on recording sessions or revise the arrangements. Once Black Rabbit released official tracks, there would be more things to handle there too. And there was no guarantee Muri would be done with these five songs.
‘...Can I really keep doing this alongside my job?’
For the first time, a practical question rose right to my throat.
That did not mean I was about to throw in my resignation letter. But it was clear that the time to make a decision, one way or another, was drawing near.
“Understood. I’ll clear three days from my schedule. But I’ll charge separately for the fees. It wasn’t in the contract.”
“Ah, of course. We’ll discuss that with our CEO and make sure you’re properly compensated. I’ll text you the studio address. We’ll begin at ten on Wednesday morning.”
“Okay. See you Wednesday.”
When I returned to my desk after ending the call, Assistant Manager Kim was waiting with their neck craned out.
“Manager, what kind of call had you looking so serious?”
“Let’s go eat. I’ll tell you there.”
#
At a gukbap restaurant near the office, Assistant Manager Kim sat there with a spoon in hand and their mouth hanging open for quite some time.
“You’re directing Muri’s recording?”
“Not exactly directing. They just want the person who wrote the songs to come by and take a look.”
“That is directing! Wow, that’s incredible. Could you get me Muri’s autographs if you go?”
“I’ll see how things are when I get there. Also, I’ll be out for three days starting Wednesday, so handle any urgent client calls for me.”
“Leave it to me.”
After lunch, I went straight back to my desk and logged into the company intranet. In the annual leave request form, I entered three days from Wednesday through Friday and submitted it.
Late that afternoon, the department head called me over. Looking at the approval window open on their monitor, their brow furrowed.
“Manager Lee.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Three days? Why are you suddenly taking three days of annual leave?”
“There’s a family matter I need to handle.”
“What family matter takes three days?”
“I’m sorry. There are some circumstances.”
The department head stared at me for a moment. Their eyes were clearly searching for something to criticize.
“What about your clients? Who’s going to handle your accounts while you’re gone for three days?”
“I’ll sort out everything I can by tomorrow. I’ll hand any urgent matters over to Assistant Manager Kim.”
“I’ll take any calls that come in, sir.”
Assistant Manager Kim raised a hand from beyond the partition and spoke up for me. The department head clicked their mouse a few times with a dissatisfied look before pressing the approval button.
“Manager Lee, you’ve been acting a little suspicious lately.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll take care of the backed-up work first thing when I return.”
As I sat back down, I felt strange.
In the past, this would have felt normal. Watching people’s reactions while using annual leave, making excuses, and adding an extra apology or two. That was how I had lived until now. It was simply part of Lee Han Yong’s ordinary life as an office worker.
‘Do I really have to watch everyone’s mood just to use one day of leave?’
But to rocker Lee Han Yong, those ordinary things felt suffocating.
Tuesday passed in a blur as I organized the handover all day. By the time I had called every client and stuck the order schedule on Assistant Manager Kim’s desk, it was already time to leave work.
#
Wednesday morning, I stood in front of the recording studio at the address I had received by text.
When I pushed open the door, several familiar faces were gathered inside. Vocalist Kang Taeo, bassist Jo Wonwoo, drummer Baek Gibeom, and Jeong Wooseok, who played guitar for Muri in this life.
Hwang Insoo, CEO of Loop Sound, sat on the sofa behind the console. It looked like they had come to personally check the first day’s progress.
“Thank you for coming.”
“It’s my song, after all.”
“I’m Jeong Wooseok, the guitarist. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Jo Wonwoo.”
“Baek Gibeom. Nice to meet you.”
“Lee Han Yong.”
As we shook hands in turn, I nearly let out a laugh.
Jo Wonwoo and Baek Gibeom. The guys I had spent half my previous life rolling around with were standing right in front of me. Of course, to the two of them in this world, I was just some stranger who had practiced with them for a week before disappearing. It would not have been strange if they had forgotten me entirely.
‘Those are faces I saw for a long time.’
Sixteen years of memories from my previous life passed before my eyes. We had struggled up from the bottom together, laughing, crying, raging, and grieving.
But this was not the time to get sentimental. There was plenty to do.
“Let’s start right away. What’s the first song?”
“Under the Black Sun.”
I nodded at Kang Taeo’s answer.
The song that had put Muri on the Billboard charts for the first time in my previous life. There was no better song to begin with.
We decided to sort out the instrument tracks first.
The drum and bass tracks had already been recorded, so today we only needed to fix the parts that caught our attention. I sat in front of the control room console and monitored the tracks from the beginning.
They really were professionals. Their fundamentals and sense of rhythm were flawless.
And they were familiar. Familiar enough to give me chills.
‘Gibeom still makes the cymbals louder there whenever he gets excited.’
The drums swelled little by little each time the chorus repeated. It was the same habit I had heard until I was sick of it for sixteen years.
‘Wonwoo still drags every note out to the end.’
I turned toward Jo Wonwoo, who was sitting beside me.
“Wonwoo, could you cut the bass half a beat early in the measure leading into the second verse?”
“...Wouldn’t that leave the sound empty?”
“It needs to be empty for the guitar to stand out. A guitar riff comes in there.”
Jo Wonwoo tilted his head with a doubtful look before entering the booth. When we laid down the new take, the opening of the second verse came sharply to life.
Jo Wonwoo came out of the booth, removed his headphones, and muttered quietly.
“...You’re right.”
“Gibeom, take out just one crash from the second chorus. Save it for the final chorus.”
“Take it out? I thought it sounded better if I drove it harder as it went on.”
“If you want it to explode at the end, you need to hold it back once before that.”
Baek Gibeom shrugged and played it as instructed. His eyes widened when he heard the result. Holding the second chorus back by one level had doubled the impact of the final chorus.
I made one adjustment to Jeong Wooseok’s guitar as well. The second verse riff sounded tamer than the demo, so I asked them to move their picking closer to the bridge. They understood at once and fixed it immediately.
But unlike the other two, I had no prior data on them. I knew Jo Wonwoo and Baek Gibeom’s habits like the backs of my hands, but Jeong Wooseok was someone I had just met. They were the only member I needed to watch closely and figure out throughout the day.
‘Clean, accurate, safe.’
Exactly as I had judged from the video some time ago. And the solo they would tackle tomorrow in “Speed Demon” was a song where all three of those qualities would become poison.
That was all the feedback needed for the instrumental parts. They were good from the start. I was not teaching them how to play. I only needed to place each person’s sound where the song wanted it. That was enough.
I could feel the atmosphere in the control room gradually changing. At first, they had seemed to be politely listening to an outside composer’s opinions. Now, whenever I opened my mouth, they stopped what they were doing and looked my way.
#
After grabbing a quick lunch nearby and returning, we continued with vocal recording in the afternoon.
Kang Taeo entered the booth and put on his headphones. Soon, the first take began.
There was nothing to criticize about his singing. His pitch, timing, and breathing all reflected perfect professional fundamentals. It was not as though he was a bad singer to begin with.
But there were subtle points that caught my ear.
Kang Taeo was pushing through the song in the style he was accustomed to. It was excellent on its own, but it did not match the raw weight the song carried. I knew that difference better than anyone. I had watched this song come together from beginning to end in my previous life.
When the first take ended, the engineer nodded in satisfaction. They looked as though a few minor adjustments would be enough. It was not a wrong judgment. They could still produce a good track this way.
But I had not come all this way just to settle for a good track.
I pressed the talkback button.
“Kang Taeo.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t bear down on the first line of the chorus. Don’t scrape at the note, trying to force it loud. Just toss it out as though you’re speaking.”
“You mean I should ease up?”
“Yes. And don’t drag out the final note out of habit. Cut it half a beat earlier so there’s room for the guitar riff that follows.”
Kang Taeo blinked inside the booth for a moment. This was not merely feedback on vocalization. It was direction to complete the picture of the entire song.
“Understood. I’ll try it again.”
The second take.
Kang Taeo tossed out the first line just as instructed. The tension in the chorus immediately tightened. Without forcing strength into it, the natural texture of his voice came through even more clearly.
“Uh...”
The engineer at the console slightly raised a fader, eyes widening. Hwang Insoo, resting their chin on their hand, also glanced at me. Their expression seemed to say that, as expected of the composer, I knew the key points of my own song.
The problem came in the next take.
As he moved into the verse of the second verse, another of Kang Taeo’s habits surfaced. He had a tendency to bring in vibrato early to lead with emotion.
“Take out the vibrato in the second verse. Keep the emotion down and stay calm until the last measure. That way, it explodes in the bridge.”
“...Yes.”
Just before the third take, I pressed the talkback button again.
“Don’t push the chorus with force like before.”
Kang Taeo stared at me through the booth glass. His gaze lingered strangely long.
“What is it?”
“...Nothing. I’ll try it.”
A flicker of confusion passed through Kang Taeo’s eyes.
When the chorus began again, he pushed forward with the texture of his sound instead of force.
‘Yes. This is it.’
The exact chorus I had heard hundreds of times on stages in my previous life poured from the speakers.
The control room had fallen silent. The engineer sat with a hand on the console, staring only at the booth. On the sofa, Jeong Wooseok lightly nudged Jo Wonwoo in the side with their elbow and whispered something. Hwang Insoo sat with their arms crossed, silently looking back and forth between me and the booth.
#
We took a short break. As I got a coffee from the vending machine, Hwang Insoo quietly approached me.
“I heard you sent songs to Hyunwoo.”
“Yes. I sent them on Sunday.”
“You haven’t heard back yet, have you?”
“No. Not yet.”
Hwang Insoo got a coffee and continued.
“The kids liked them quite a bit. But I told them to wait.”
“...Did you?”
“I was the one who said we should see the results of Muri’s five songs before discussing anything else. Hyunwoo kept pestering me, so I did not stop them from receiving the demos, but a contract is another matter.”
I took a sip of coffee. Now I understood why I had heard nothing for three days after Sunday night.
“That’s why I came here in person today. At the very least, I wanted to see Muri’s recording for myself.”
Hwang Insoo glanced toward the booth, then added as if speaking to themself.
“...At this point, I suppose there’s no reason to wait any longer.”
They did not elaborate. They simply gave a faint smile and returned to the control room first.
#
The afternoon recording went more smoothly than expected.
Of course, there was no way the song would be finished in a single day. They still needed to add chorus parts, revise the guitar, and had not even touched mixing yet. Still, we had firmly secured the key parts we wanted to get today.
The members’ attitude toward me had also changed considerably from that morning. In the morning, they had politely listened to an outside composer’s opinions. Now, the moment I said anything, they immediately adjusted their instruments. Baek Gibeom even began glancing this way through the booth glass after every take.
After finishing the final take, Kang Taeo returned to the control room and listened to his vocals again from the beginning. He listened silently with his arms crossed, then stared at me for a long time when the playback ended.
‘Why is he staring at me like that?’
I cleared my throat lightly, and Jeong Wooseok awkwardly scratched their head before speaking.
“Um, how about we start with ‘Speed Demon’ tomorrow?”
“That would be better. Your solo is the biggest problem, Wooseok.”
A troubled look crossed Jeong Wooseok’s face at Kang Taeo’s words.
I remembered what Kang Taeo had said on the phone Monday. His fingers could play it, but it did not have the same feel as the demo.
‘I’ll have to hear it myself tomorrow.’
It would not be easy to bring out that rough, headlong momentum with Jeong Wooseok’s clean and safe playing style.
And so, the first day’s schedule came to an end.
#
By the time I left the studio, it was already dark outside.
I had spent the entire day sitting, listening, and talking, yet my body felt heavier than after a full day of outside appointments. Naturally. Throughout the recording, I had not let a single line pass without listening, judging, fixing, and setting the direction.
After experiencing today, one thing became clear. This was not a hobby I could fit in after work.
It was complete labor that required keeping my ears sharp between the booth and console all day. It was impossible to handle company order forms or client calls inside the studio.
‘I managed this time with three days of annual leave.’
But what if this happened again?
Could I take annual leave again, worry about the department head’s mood, and leave my desk? Not a chance. Music was demanding more and more of my time.
Bzz. Bzz.
My smartphone rang in my pocket. It was Moon Hyunwoo.
I remembered what CEO Hwang Insoo had said that afternoon. I steadied my breathing and pressed the call button.
“Hello.”
“Composer. This is Moon Hyunwoo. I listened to the songs.”
“Yes. What did you think?”
“We listened to them together with the members, and I just finished speaking with the CEO.”
So it had come. He must have called as soon as CEO Hwang Insoo gave their approval.
Judging by Hwang Insoo’s reaction that afternoon, they had surely selected two songs. I asked calmly.
“Which songs did you decide on?”
“At first, we were going to choose only the songs we needed.”
“Yes.”
I heard a short breath on the other end.
“We just can’t choose.”
“...What?”
“We’re just going to do all four songs.”
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