Chapter 938: I’m going to buy New Black at the supermarket (9)

There were two departments related to music at Lemon Entertainment.

One was the producing team, made up of professional composers who focused solely on creating music. The other was the A&R team, responsible for everything from sourcing songs and recruiting composers to overseeing overall album production.

If the producing team were chefs who cooked the dishes themselves, then the A&R team were the ones designing the menu and decorating the restaurant.

Of course, Lemon Entertainment had its own unique twist.

While the producing team still suffered under the rule of a tyrannical composing demon, the A&R team no longer did.

“How relaxed. This is so relaxed.”

Assistant Manager Seo Pilgeun of the A&R team smiled.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this relaxed.”

“Relaxed?”

A rookie in a hoodie, sprawled out on the sofa, asked back,

“This... is a relaxed schedule?”

“It is.”

“Haven’t we been pulling all-nighters for two days straight? And we’re still not done—we still have to recruit composers for Yoon Chanhyuk’s album and—”

“Even so, this is relaxed.”

Another senior A&R staff member chimed in.

“You wouldn’t know. A few years ago, there wasn’t even a producing team, so we were the main targets.”

“...Targets?”

“Targets of a composing demon who would creep toward us with innocent eyes....”

“Oh, you mean Wooju?”

The rookie’s eyes lit up.

“Come to think of it, I’m curious. I’ve only ever seen him from afar.”

“Really?”

“You must’ve seen him every day. That’s nice.”

“Yeah... but Wooju is best admired from a distance.”

The veterans all nodded.

The rookie, however, only tilted her head in confusion.

Sounds great to me!

A handsome celebrity dropping by every day to talk about music?

Just imagining it felt exhilarating.

Especially if that idol had now become a national icon and one of Korea’s top stars.

“Still, I guess it’s a fond memory now.”

“It is.”

The veterans laughed.

“It feels like graduating from school.”

“Exactly.”

“Once you graduate, you don’t go back, so it becomes a memory. Something like that. Haha!”

Just as the room filled with warm laughter—

Bang!

The door burst open.

“Gasp!”

The casually dressed staff jumped up, straightening their clothes.

It’s the director!

Director’s here!

It was Jo Gyuhwan, the third most powerful figure in the company.

Right below Wooju and CEO Park Gyuho, he was effectively Lemon Entertainment’s top executive.

The acquisition of the NBS channel, the establishment of a content production company, the development of the idol fan platform app—nearly every major project stemmed from him.

“Does everyone have time?”

“We’ll make time even if we don’t. What’s the matter, Director?”

“Let’s have a meeting. It’s urgent.”

Despite the A&R team leader’s light joke, Jo Gyuhwan looked rushed—his neatly combed hair slightly disheveled.

“What’s going on?”

Seated at the table, he took a breath.

“There’s a song I want you to hear.”

“...?”

“I found something incredible. I think everyone here needs to listen to it. I want to see if you feel the same way I do.”

The A&R staff exchanged excited glances.

What kind of song is it?

Most of them were composers themselves. Not quite industry top-tier like the producing team, but experienced nonetheless.

And Jo Gyuhwan was someone they deeply respected.

If he was this excited—

There’s definitely something here.

“Please play it.”

“Yes, what kind of track is it...?”

The song started.

Hop, hop, bunny dance!

Where are you going?

Sparkling sunlight

It’s dazzling

“...A children’s song?”

“Director, this is—”

“Shh. Let’s listen a bit more.”

They focused.

The intro is good.

Bright. Hopeful.

But as the song progressed—

“!”

“!!”

Their expressions changed in unison.

What is this?

This is really well-written.

I’ve never heard a children’s song like this.

Normally, children’s songs relied on simple repetition—something adults often found dull.

But this one subtly varied its repeated melodies, keeping it fresh.

And the chorus—

“Wow....”

“This is insane.”

It was addictive, like a hook song.

Even after one listen, the melody lingered.

This will blow up on MyTube.

I can see the money.

This is big.

“This is a real find,” one said. “I don’t know much about children’s music, but kids will love this.”

“Adults might like it too.”

“This is amazing. I’ve never heard anything like it.”

Jo Gyuhwan nodded.

“There’s a lot to do. The rabbit puppet came from a small factory—we should contact them. Refine the track, prepare a music video—”

“Wait—what?”

“Depending on audience response—”

“Director, hold on.”

The team leader stopped him.

“Sorry, but what exactly are you talking about...?”

“Oh.”

He looked sheepish.

“I guess I didn’t explain.”

“Director, one question.”

Seo Pilgeun raised his hand.

“Why do I hear NewBlack’s voices in a children’s song?”

Everyone nodded.

“...Because I wrote it.”

“Gah!”

They flinched.

Turning around—

A handsome man in a hoodie stood there.

“Ta-da. Cute entrance.”

“....”

“....”

“Wow, that’s harsh. It’s been a while!”

Laughter broke out.

“Come sit, Wooju.”

“I feel left out discussing my own song.”

He sat, joking, instantly brightening the room.

“You wrote this?”

“Yes.”

He explained—he’d made Uncle Bunny on the spot for a childcare variety show.

“It turned out better than expected.”

“Wait.”

“How long did it take?”

“Not hours. Minutes. Thirty.”

“....”

The former composers stared into space.

What kind of world is this...

A song they couldn’t create in 30 hours—done in 30 minutes.

“Anyway,” Wooju continued, holding a camera,

“I figured someone might nitpick this.”

“Nitpick?”

“Like saying we went on a kids’ show just to promote it. So this is proof—it was made on the spot.”

“Ah....”

That made sense.

The song was good enough to raise suspicion.

“Shall we continue the meeting?”

They discussed ideas—collaborating with children’s music specialists, promotions, everything.

Finally—

“How will you approach the production?” Seo Pilgeun asked.

“Hmm.”

Wooju thought, then answered,

“I’ll keep my style. Maybe get help for the sound design, but if we go too traditional, we might lose what makes this unique.”

“Got it.”

“...Though I’ll need help.”

His gaze swept the room.

For some reason, goosebumps rose.

“The producing team is in the U.S. right now...”

“...Yes?”

“So the people I work best with... are you.”

“....”

“Are you busy?”

“....”

They couldn’t say yes.

They couldn’t say no.

“Not busy, right?”

“...Right.”

“Great! Let’s work together!”

As Wooju beamed—

They turned to Jo Gyuhwan.

Help us.

He looked away.

“Oh, the CEO’s calling. I should go.”

He fled.

“....”

“....”

Only Wooju smiled brightly.

Except one person—

“Working with Wooju...!”

The rookie, Yeominji, sparkled with excitement.

“Let’s work together?”

“Yes!”

Seven hours later, her phone wallpaper changed from Sun Wooju to Wang Jiho.

“Happiness is simple.”

Eating good food.

Talking music with good people.

That was enough.

“Hyung, your face is glowing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You look like the CEO when you smile.”

Maybe it was because I hadn’t composed in a while.

“Anyway, what about your break?”

Ri Hyuk turned his tablet.

[Mission Singer]

“Whoa.”

“You’re going on that?”

A famous program on TBC.

A concept battle show where singers competed purely with vocals, often disguised.

“Are you sure?” we asked.

There was risk.

Expectations were already high.

But Ri Hyuk smiled.

“Unless about six or seven specific people show up, I’ll probably win.”

“...Wow.”

“Confidence much?”

“Hey! Support me!”

We laughed.

But honestly—

He wasn’t wrong.

“I’ve trained for three years straight. I want to test myself.”

“...Fair.”

“And I want to be recognized again—for singing.”

“What nickname will you use?”

Ri Hyuk grinned.

“One where I won’t take damage even if I lose.”

“...That exists?”

“It does.”

Inside the Mission Singer office—

“Ri Hyuk is joining?!”

Cheers erupted.

Then—

“His nickname is here.”

They looked.

[Nickname: King of Singers Sun Wooju]

“....”

The room burst into laughter.

And beneath it—

[A note: Obtained portrait rights in exchange for cleaning the original owner’s studio daily.]

A cheeky, adorable detail.