Chapter 879: You’ve waited a long time, haven’t you? (8)

“Say that again.”

“I was wrong.”

“Phew.”

“I made a serious mistake. While Ri Hyuk was organizing everything, I let my attention wander and immersed myself in composing music. I should have helped with the work, and I sincerely reflect on that.”

“No, no.”

The arrogant triangle flicked his finger.

“The most important requirement of a reflection statement is ‘why.’ You need to analyze why this happened first.”

“I see.”

I replied with a smile.

“I’m sorry. While thinking about my mother, I couldn’t overcome my longing and ended up writing a song instead—”

“Ahhh! Stop! That makes me sound like total trash!”

“That’s correct. Please head into that trash can right away, Ri Hyuk.”

At my joking remark as I pointed to the trash can, Ri Hyuk smacked my back repeatedly.

I’m wearing a thick hoodie, you know.

Ri Hyuk rubbed his hand and grumbled.

“Ugh! Since it’s a song about your mother, I can’t even say anything.”

“Hehe.”

“If you weren’t my older brother, I’d seriously punish you. Do you know how scary I am...?”

A trait of someone who isn’t scary: they say they are.

“Hmm!”

A second trait of someone who isn’t scary: when that doesn’t work, they glare.

“There you go again! That disrespectful look.”

“I’m sorry.”

I simply bowed my head politely with both hands together.

Honestly, I was in the wrong.

I wrote a song while he handled all the organizing.

Pouting as he went on for a while about “using your younger brother like a servant” and “I’m a busy person,” Ri Hyuk finally asked,

“So, did the song turn out well?”

“Yeah.”

I turned the laptop toward him.

“I gave it a title for now. Here I Am.”

“Here I Am. That’s nice.”

“It’s a song that shows what kind of person my mom was. Someone firmly rooted, unshaken by anything, and able to share her sense of stability with others.”

“Oh....”

“Want to hear it?”

I played it for Ri Hyuk as he nodded.

A melody blending jazz and pop.

It flows gently, then bursts powerfully in the chorus. Ri Hyuk hummed along, nodding his head.

With his eyes closed, he seemed to be imagining something, a faint smile forming on his lips.

“...What do you think?”

At my careful question, Ri Hyuk gave a slightly shy smile.

“I’ve never met your mother, but she must have been an amazing person. I can feel it from the song.”

“...Is that so.”

“It’s a good song.”

Though his personality had softened compared to before, Ri Hyuk was still razor-sharp in professional matters.

When it came to music, he never gave empty praise and always spoke his mind.

Hearing him say it was good reassured me.

“That’s a relief.”

“I think you could send it to Frank Chau as it is. Well... if he has a good ear, he’ll probably like it too.”

“I hope so.”

Soon after, I sent the email to Frank Chau, my heart fluttering slightly.

I might be doing quite well as a composer in pop, but in the musical industry, I was still basically a beginner.

Sending my work to a legendary figure in the field made me feel a bit self-conscious.

“Press send for me.”

A slender finger tapped the button.

While checking if the email had gone through properly, a reply arrived almost immediately.

[Thank you]

I just checked the email you sent. I’ll discuss it with Travis, so let’s meet soon.

by F. Chau

He meant we’d meet after he spoke with Travis, the music director.

After replying to that—

I was about to look through the records my parents had left behind, which Ri Hyuk had organized.

“Alright, I’ll head out now.”

Ri Hyuk stood up.

“Where are you going? Do you have a schedule?”

“No, not really, but these are personal records. It feels a bit inappropriate for me to look at them...”

“What are you talking about?”

I tapped the seat next to me.

“Come sit here. Let’s look at them together.”

“Is that really okay?”

All I did was suggest we look at what my parents left behind together.

Ri Hyuk immediately sat down with a delighted expression.

“Let’s go through them one by one.”

Neatly organized records and photos.

Among them, my father’s journal—organized almost like a historical chronicle—made Ri Hyuk gasp in admiration.

“Your father and I would’ve gotten along really well. Even the data analysis records from back then... wow, seriously...”

“Yeah, you probably would have.”

“This could honestly be used as historical material on the music industry of the ’80s and ’90s.”

It was that extensive.

Which meant it was impossible to go through all of my father’s records right now.

I planned to skim through them eventually, but today, I wanted to look at my mother’s materials first.

“This is Mom’s, right?”

“Yes.”

While Ri Hyuk excitedly browsed through my father’s detailed records, I looked at the sparse materials left behind by my mother.

“....”

Mom? The records...?

In this regard, I might take after my mother more than my father.

Unlike my father, who wrote daily journals, my mother had left very few records.

Among the scattered materials, the thickest one was—

[Parenting Journal]

A parenting diary with the name “Sun Wooju” written for the baby.

After my parents passed away, rumors spread about my father’s unpublished scores, and thieves often broke in when I was young.

It was the first time seeing this since important materials had been transferred to the Sun Myungju Foundation.

I hadn’t been able to look at it because it stirred my emotions, but after this year’s performance, it felt like some of that weight had lifted.

I opened the first page.

[A miracle came into my life.]

Could there be a more beautiful way to say a child was born?

I stared at the sentence for a moment, then turned the pages.

Records of my weight, health condition, vaccinations.

My mother’s lively handwriting, smudges, and ink stains caught my eye.

[The baby cries at all hours. My mom says I didn’t cry much as a baby, which is why I cry more now... If that’s true, maybe our Wooju won’t have many reasons to cry when he grows up.]

I thought babies were supposed to cry, but it seemed I cried quite a lot.

Each page painted images of my parents laughing and crying.

[The baby grows incredibly fast. I can already see signs of him being handsome. A great success.]

[The baby has a fever. Even the doctor doesn’t know why. I cried while trying to soothe him. I’m sorry I can’t do anything for you, my baby...]

[The fever finally went down! He’s smiling like nothing happened. It’s both annoying and adorable.]

The detailed records made me smile as I read.

[The baby’s head is so round. Our Wooju will definitely become something great someday.]

[The baby’s fingers got longer than yesterday. I told my older brother this, but he laughed and said that’s impossible. I got upset and smacked his back. Like he’s so smart.]

[Childcare is hard. Son, if you read this later, you better be good to your mom.]

I gave a wry smile and turned the page.

I had thought the entries would become repetitive as I grew older, but—

My mother seemed to be someone who discovered new good things every single day.

Seeing signs of a musician in my babbling.

Noticing how strong my grip was and thinking I could learn an instrument.

I admired her optimistic nature, always finding something positive. I didn’t think I could be like that.

Still, among the ever-changing entries, there was something that appeared often.

[I think the baby is sensitive and can’t sleep well. I hope he sleeps well.]

[I hope Wooju sleeps well.]

[He tossed and turned all night and finally fell asleep. I want to see Wooju sleep peacefully...]

Every day, at least once, there was a wish for me to eat well and sleep well.

I paused, staring at the open diary.

Come to think of it...

Our current full album also came from these memories of my mother.

“Sleep well, my baby.”

The memory of my mother patting me to sleep.

That’s why I wanted to capture insomnia and sleep as themes in the album.

Then another thought crossed my mind.

“Ri Hyuk.”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever thought something like this? That you hope your parents or your sibling sleep well?”

“Uh... no?”

It struck me.

My mother thought every day that I should sleep well.

But had I ever thought that about my parents?

“Well... honestly, I’ve never even heard a lullaby. As you know, my mom isn’t the type to sing one.”

“......”

“They say when I cried, my parents played Mozart.”

“Did it work?”

“Now whenever I hear Mozart, I start crying. Oh, for Yein, they changed it, so she cries when she hears Brahms.”

I laughed at that unusual upbringing.

Anyway, I had a thought.

The words “sleep well” that you can say to the people you love most.

But there aren’t lullabies for adults.

Wouldn’t it be nice if there were songs like lullabies for them?

With that thought, I opened my laptop.

“You’re composing?”

“There’s a track I was debating whether to include in this album. I’m thinking of adding it as a bonus.”

An album centered on insomnia and sleep.

I wrote a song with the wish that my loved ones would sleep well, and gave it a title.

[Lullaby]

A lullaby for my mother.

...I’m sorry it’s so late, Mom.

Sometimes there are moments when composing goes incredibly well.

Moments that arrive perfectly—and this was one of them.

“You seem to be in a good mood, Sunny.”

“The composition went well.”

Two good songs in a short time put me in a great mood.

Frank Chau nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, that happens sometimes. You’re completely stuck, then suddenly it clicks. That’s how it was when I worked on Nostalgia. I was on the New York subway heading to Brooklyn, heard the train roar, and it just came to me...”

It seemed moments of inspiration were similar for composers.

I smiled as I listened to the legendary musical composer reminisce.

“So, Sunny, what was your inspiration?”

“My mother’s diary.”

“Ah! A mother’s love!”

He recited something, which he said was a poem by Edgar Allan Poe.

Frank Chau grinned.

“Parental love is a genuine emotion. And genuine emotions are always a source of inspiration.”

“I agree.”

“In that sense, genuine emotion is crucial for this musical too. Songs that can truly move people.”

The heavyset Asian American gestured, and a man in his forties with streaks of gray opened his laptop.

It was Travis Wolcott, a composer under Frank Chau and the music director for Sound of Sun.

“There are a lot of challenges. For one, turning jazz into something that can work in a musical performance...”

I smiled and replied,

“That’s actually something I’m a bit worried about. I’m not sure jazz naturally fits with musicals...”

“No need to worry. There’s already a precedent with Chicago, and quite a few musicals incorporate jazz.”

“Oh, really?”

The two composers explained things to me, an outsider to the field.

Frank Chau said,

“Genre isn’t that important. Have you heard of Hamilton, Sunny?”

“I’ve heard the name.”

“It’s about one of the Founding Fathers. When they first said they’d tell his story through hip-hop, everyone laughed. But it was a massive success.”

I smiled and said,

“I don’t know much about musicals, as you can see. I’ll be relying on you.”

“Haha! Just trust us.”

At my respectful attitude, the two men smiled warmly.

“Alright, then...”

Frank Chau looked at the laptop.

“Let’s start by selecting the songs.”

A preliminary list of twenty songs.

Now we had to narrow it down to ten.

“By the way, I listened to the twenty-one tracks you sent.”

“Yes.”

“There were so many excellent ones, it was hard to choose.”

Then he grinned.

“And this one—this is something special.”

“Really?”

“It’s the work of a genius ahead of his time.”

“...Pardon?”

Something felt off.

“I heard it’s an early piece by Sun Myungju. It’s rough, but an excellent jazz composition.”

“I agree. Truly brilliant.”

“...That’s actually a song I wrote.”

“....”

I explained the situation.

Silence fell.

Then Frank Chau asked,

“How old are you again, Sunny?”

“Twenty-four.”

He held his forehead.

“If that’s the case, why did you even bring me here?”

“Because I lack knowledge and you have plenty?”

“...That was a good attempt if you were trying to annoy me.”

“I’m serious...”

He shook his head.

“I understand now why Sun Myungju suffered from jealousy.”

I burst out laughing.

“Hyung, how was it?”

“I got praised.”

As I told them the story, the younger members laughed.

But something felt off.

“Hyung, go play with your underling number one.”

“With Biju?”

“No. With Ri Hyuk hyung.”

“...Since when was he number one?”

As I realized what was going on, I laughed.

They were jealous.

“Alright, everyone.”

I sat down in the lounge with them.

“Popcorn?”

“Ready.”

“Drinks?”

“Ready.”

“Cheers?”

“Waaaah!”

“And our youngest?”

“Ready!”

Jiho, sitting proudly in the center, was today’s main character.

“1 minute left.”

I opened NetPlus.

“10... 9... 8...”

Refresh.

A thumbnail appeared.

Jiho wearing a traditional hat.

Title:

Divine

Today was the release day of the NetPlus drama starring our youngest.