Chapter 7: A Countdown That Won’t Stop

It had been a while since we last came to the recording studio.

I used to drop by even when we didn’t have sessions, but for the others, it had easily been two years. With military service and breaks, there was no reason for them to come here.

We each came on our own schedules, and in the end, we all arrived on time—but we didn’t get to listen to the track together.

Hyung, the leader, showed up an hour earlier than us and then disappeared somewhere. Said he already listened and was busy. What could we do?

Even as he complained like that, our manager let out a sigh.

Watching his back as he left, I muttered a greeting under my breath.

This is such a mess. Seriously.

At this point, there was no way the CEO would go out of his way to get us a song from some famous composer. If there were good songs, they’d go to the rookies the company was pushing now.

Still, luckily, a composer hyung we were close with agreed to take on our title track. And he was flexible—someone who actually listened to what we wanted.

The guy practically lived on delivery food, day and night flipped, carrying a heavy presence to match. He often complained that his name, “Black,” was too simple—so simple that searching it online barely brought anything up.

After splashing his face to wake himself up, he sat in front of the console, spun his chair around, and looked at us.

“Do you know how many nights I’ve stayed up because of your title track?”

“So you still haven’t even finished the beat?”

At my dry reply, his voice shot up.

“Hey, just wait. I told you—it just hasn’t come to me yet. You guys don’t even have a fixed comeback date anyway.”

“But you still need to give us something so we can do something with it. Are you crazy, hyung? You’re not working on someone else’s track first, right?”

“Jaehyuk, what do you take me for? That hurts.”

“Yeah. I take you for someone who composes based on popularity rankings.”

“Hey, seriously, you’re gonna keep this up?”

“You’re saying you don’t?”

“I don’t, you punk.”

“Those albums on your shelf. They’re arranged in order of popularity, right?”

At my glance, Hwan and Wooseong—who were lazily playing a game—along with Jungwon, who had been quietly tapping the armrest, all lifted their gazes toward the shelf.

Black hyung followed our eyes and shook his head frantically, like we’d hit a nerve.

“No! I just put them there! You’re killing me here!”

“Sure.”

He turned away, and Wooseong frowned slightly like he wanted to say something but didn’t.

There was no way it was coincidence—the albums were perfectly arranged by popularity.

There really isn’t a single trustworthy person in this world.

Jungwon glanced at it, let out a small laugh, then looked at me.

At that moment, the main speakers started playing a beat.

It sounded both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Wooseong tapped his knee and spoke up.

“Hyung, I think I’ve heard something like this from Nordic tracks.”

“Whose song?”

“You know… that rookie from this year—ah, you know who I mean.”

“What do I know? Listen first, then talk.”

I was listening when the conversation broke my focus.

Without thinking, I looked up—and next to the speaker, on a small whiteboard, there was a countdown written.

D-7.

The day the title track was supposed to be completed.

For me, it felt like a number counting down to retirement.

As I stared at it, I drifted into my own thoughts—

—and noticed Jungwon sitting there, more focused than expected.

A few days ago, Jungwon had uploaded “D-3” on his SNS.

Fans were already buzzing, wondering if it was some event or teaser.

That day, I’d been lying in bed all day, but curiosity got the better of me, so I checked his SNS—and saw that number.

It had been exactly three days since he insisted I take responsibility.

Since then, my heart hadn’t felt right.

Jungwon really seemed intent on pushing that “responsibility” thing. He even dragged me out to eat sundae soup once, then went back.

After that, he just checked in regularly.

That was it.

For someone who made such a huge deal about “dating,” I expected something dramatic—but nothing really changed.

So I just settled into this weird state.

I thought maybe it’d just fade out.

But the countdown kept ticking.

He’s seriously weird. What the hell is he thinking?

Sitting at the edge of the sofa, leaning back in the dim light, Jungwon looked—today, for some reason—like a classic kind of handsome.

Looking at his face reminded me of an old movie I’d once buried in my memory.

Just like that movie’s title, it felt like time for us was running backward.

Suddenly, the beat cut off.

My drifting thoughts snapped back.

The composer scratched his unwashed hair and asked proudly,

“So? What do you think?”

“What do you mean what do I think? Go burn your brain a bit more and try again. When can you give it to us?”

I knew deadlines were flexible for creative types, but we still needed a rough idea to do anything.

The concept wasn’t even that hard—why was this taking so long?

Scratching his head again, he finally admitted with a sigh,

“Jaehyuk, you know I’m not ignoring this track. It just… won’t come together. I’m going crazy too.”

“Then stay here until it does.”

“I am! But you know how composing works. I’ve tried everything you asked—money code, melody, everything—but it just doesn’t click.”

Then he looked at me.

“Don’t you have anything? A guide recording or something you sketched out?”

“Why mine?”

“If nothing works, we’ll combine yours and mine.”

“You want to make it like that?”

I didn’t like how the atmosphere always shifted toward me in moments like this.

It was my fault for trying composing in the past.

Avoiding everyone’s gaze, I looked at Black hyung’s swollen face.

“What else would I even have?”

“You were good at it. Don’t you have anything?”

“Not really.”

These days, I just recorded sounds I liked. That was it.

After my lukewarm answer, the room fell silent.

Everyone seemed to be waiting—for me to say something more.

Black hyung.

Jungwon, sitting at the far end, looking straight at me.

I cleared my throat and spoke again.

“That’s really all.”

“Alright. Then I’ll keep working on it, and since Wooseong mentioned something…”

“Hyung.”

Jungwon cut in smoothly.

Everyone turned toward him.

Black hyung straightened up.

“Yeah, Jungwon.”

“That loop and bass Jaehyuk hyung recorded last month—you still have it, right?”

“Yeah… I do. He came in saying he had an idea and made me record it. Guess he’s emotional from all those breakups.”

“Shut up, hyung.”

“Oh? Telling your hyung to shut up now? You’ve grown.”

Black hyung smacked my shoulder playfully.

I glanced sideways—then instinctively checked Jungwon’s face.

But his expression hadn’t changed much.

That somehow made me feel even more awkward, so I looked away.

Before I could stop it, the conversation continued.

“Last month? Ah, that one. Yeah, I liked the melody, so I already added chords and arranged it.”

“That’s not arrangement. You just reversed the bass source and stuck it on.”

“But it sounded good.”

“If we’re doing it, we need to redo everything.”

“Then… should I redo it?”

At his tone—like he’d do it immediately if I said yes—I hesitated.

That… I mean…

This is always how it goes.

Unable to refuse outright, I stammered,

“Then… we’d have to redo the chord progression too.”

“I can’t think of anything anyway. That melody was good. I remembered it a few times, but I haven’t been sleeping, so I forgot again.”

He tapped his thigh and hummed.

The humming filled the small studio.

Listening like this… it didn’t sound bad.

But even if we reworked it… what would it become?

Wouldn’t it just end up like everything else?

We were supposed to finalize the song soon and start serious practice.

We still had to divide vocal parts, record again…

While I hesitated, it somehow got decided that we’d revise my old composition together with Black hyung.

The manager, who had been leaning against the wall, stepped out to call the leader and the department head for approval.

Since the company had basically let go of us at this stage, there was some freedom.

We could do things our way.

Still… were they really just going to leave us completely like this?

I couldn’t even remember the last time I saw the department head.

Pouting slightly, I suddenly found something strange and nudged Jungwon.

“How did you know I was composing?”

“You posted it.”

“That was… I mean…”

I’d only shared it in a really limited place.

All I did was set up a tripod in the corner of my officetel and casually play guitar on an Instagram live.