Chapter 51: The Sixth Member

The kids who escaped the cage.

‘Uri’ had two meanings.

The first-person plural uri, “We.”

And the cage that imprisons animals.

From the perspective of the band Cheongseong, it was “We.”

It meant breaking away from the old mold and starting anew.

Hadn’t they also removed their masks and shed their old identity?

But in the public’s eyes, it would be “Cage.”

The animals have escaped the cage!

It carried a rebellious yet pure nuance.

Most decisively—

The last word, “kids,” was intended to cause confusion.

Who on earth would guess it was a band of men in their 60s?

Of course, the sixth member was actually a kid.

Contrary to my worries that the team name would spark heated debates—

“I like it.”

“Uri-tal-ah! Sounds good.”

“Let’s really escape for once.”

“Does this mean I can pretend to be in my 20s?”

The team name was decided unanimously.

Unlike me, who was happy and excited every day—

Hyung seemed more and more worn out with each passing day.

His eyes were sunken, he looked like he’d lost some weight… and he came home late, too.

It had been almost a week since I last sat down with him.

“Phew… life.”

Hyung muttered a line worthy of a drama protagonist lost in deep thought, staring into empty space.

What’s with him?

Is work that busy?

I picked up one of the ridiculously expensive and rare white strawberries I’d bought and shoved it into his mouth.

I’d splurged to buy them, but he chewed like he was biting into bitter medicine.

“Something wrong?”

“There’s always something.”

“Is your job that hard?”

“Earning money is always hard. What about you? Is work going well these days? Han Yujin lately… never mind. The strawberry’s good.”

Hmm. I could more or less guess.

“Work atmosphere not good?”

“No, it’s fine. You eat too.”

We awkwardly poked at our salads.

The fact that Han Yujin’s name came up meant his company was really paying close attention to her.

Han Yujin was currently charging ahead like a truck with broken brakes.

Music show wins were a given.

She was appearing on all sorts of variety programs and was actively promoting.

Whenever I had time, I’d search for Han Yujin’s videos on YouTube.

She was still cool, still giving her all.

On the other hand, Lee Hyoeun, whom his company had ambitiously prepared, was getting a lukewarm response.

I’d heard she was a rival, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.

The music community was always buzzing with “Han Yujin vs. Lee Hyoeun” talk.

From what I saw, it felt like they were deliberately stoking the fire.

Yesterday, on my way back from the backstage, I remembered a post I’d seen in a community forum.

[ What if Super Ride went to Lee Hyoeun instead? ]

Would it still have been able to get first place?

↳ What do you mean, “would it”? Lee Hyoeun would’ve crushed it.

↳ I don’t think so. That song was perfect for Han Yujin.

↳ Super Ride would’ve hit number one no matter who sang it.

↳↳ Go watch the cover first.

↳↳↳ Seriously, no one else can pull it off.

↳ How did they even find that song?

↳ Impressive, right? I heard it was from a rookie composer, must’ve been a total gamble.

↳↳ Rookie my ass, lol. How is that a rookie’s song?

[ Is Lee Hyoeun the card Tomorrow Entertainment threw away? ]

Isn’t the song total garbage? Tomorrow Ent’s screwed;;

↳ She’s practically half-naked on stage, but Han Yujin’s still sexier, right? Guess you gotta strip to compete?

↳↳ Hey, Han Yujin is fa-tal!

↳↳↳ Fatal or not, the song itself is OP.

↳ The song’s trash and predictable. Time for Tomorrow Ent to change producers.

↳ Sick of the sexy concept…

↳ The song isn’t fun, it’s just all over the place, lol.

↳ It’s not bad? It’s just that Han Yujin’s is on another level.

And that wasn’t all.

It was like people were desperate for Lee Hyoeun to fail, tearing her apart at every turn.

Was Lee Hyoeun’s album a total flop?

No. It just couldn’t quite match Han Yujin, but she was promoting diligently in her own way. Did people really have to talk about it like that?

Still, I couldn’t show my thoughts on my face.

I wasn’t completely oblivious to social cues.

I glanced at Hyung.

He still barely touched his breakfast.

When was he going to finish off that pile of chicken breast he’d bought for dieting?

I didn’t like the awkward atmosphere, so I turned on the TV.

[Live voting is now closed! Who will take first place today? Let’s see the results. Show, Music Train! Yes, this week’s first place goes to Han Yujin! Congratulations! Super Ride has now been number one for four consecutive weeks…]

Beep—

Naturally, I changed the channel.

But then—

[Yujin, is there anything you can’t do?]

[No, Hyung, you don’t get it. She turned premium beef into coal.]

[You don’t know Maillard?]

[Isn’t it enough for a singer to just sing well?]

It was a variety show hosted by the national MC, and the guest was Han Yujin.

Ah… what the…

Was she on every channel I turned to?

And it was a good show, too.

I wanted to watch more, but I couldn’t.

I switched to the smart TV and played YouTube Shorts.

[Super Ride dance cover!]

[A cover that needs no words! @SuperRide]

[SUPER RIDE – (Original: Han Yujin)]

…One Super Ride cover after another played.

“Super Ride… Super Ride…”

…Even Hyung started singing along in resignation.

I hurriedly turned off the TV and spoke casually.

“I thought Lee Hyoeun’s song was pretty good.”

Hyung replied,

“Yeah. All the in-house producers worked on it.”

“Aha! As expected, top-tier artists have multiple producers writing their songs…”

“A textbook case of too many cooks spoiling the broth.”

“…”

I’d barely been holding back, trying to comfort him, but he went and said it himself.

Come to think of it… I had felt the beat was a little messy.

Lacking in consistency.

Hyung smiled faintly.

“We all know. You don’t need to try to comfort me.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I should get going. Take care. Fighting.”

Seeing him mutter to himself like he was trying to encourage himself, I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him.

As he slumped his shoulders and put on his shoes, I called out,

“Hyung, you can tell them you know the STaY composer. I wouldn’t mind checking out Tomorrow Entertainment either. Who knows? I might even get one of my songs on a top idol’s album. Just mention it without feeling pressured. I’m serious. Even if I have a night shift, I’ll try to adjust my schedule. Got it?”

I just wanted to give my brother a boost.

Of course, if I said it too seriously, he’d brush me off, so I said it playfully.

That way, he’d answer like a brother talking to his younger sibling.

But he just replied with a flat, “Okay,” and walked straight out the door.

Hmm… guess that wasn’t it?

Bang.

The front door closed.

The moment he heard it shut, Seo Dongyun slumped down on the spot.

Leaning his back against the door, he slowly slid to the floor.

‘What was that?’

He mulled over his younger brother’s words for a long time.

Taeyoon’s words had sent a little jolt to his chest.

He felt sorry, grateful… and proud.

When had it happened?

The little brother who used to pester him, calling “Hyung, hyung” all the time, had grown into a man with depth.

“How much does he actually know?”

Dongyun muttered to himself.

These days, the atmosphere at the company was downright brutal.

And it was all because of STaY.

Because of Taeyoon.

The signed artists were hounding them to hurry up and find the composer, to the point his hair felt like it was falling out.

Even the team leader, who never acted that way before, was now threatening to have it reflected in performance reviews.

Unfortunately, that was all Tomorrow Entertainment could do.

Heaven and earth both knew it—

Unless ToMe Entertainment told them, finding out STaY’s whereabouts was impossible.

‘I know, of course I know… but…’

Seo Dongyun was different.

The STaY composer was his own younger brother who lived under the same roof.

But he couldn’t sell out his brother’s identity just for his own gain without permission.

There had been close calls.

When Lee Hyoeun caused trouble, or when the chairman came down himself and demanded they find STaY.

He’d almost blurted, “I know, I know very well, just bring him in then!” but barely held back.

‘Good thing I did.’

What was this, a detective agency?

If they were so capable, they could go to ToMe and find out themselves…

Not that he could say it out loud.

There was a bounty—no, a bonus—on the line.

This had never happened before.

It wasn’t even a contract—just bringing in the composer would get someone promoted, and they’d announced it publicly.

He had to admit, it was tempting.

But such temptations were nothing to Seo Dongyun.

‘Even if I sometimes want to just blurt it out…’

Hold it in, hold it in, hold it in for another day.

He’d barely steadied himself and gone to work when—

“Good morni…ng?”

Today, they’d really gone too far.

What was this, a sports university?

The A&R Executive Director stormed downstairs, looking ready to whip everyone into shape.

“You know, right? Even the Chairman’s in an uproar right now.”

In the dead-silent atmosphere,

the staff sat frozen in their seats, doing nothing but reading the room.

Once the fuming Director went back upstairs—

A&R’s Team Leader Bang gathered all the team members into the conference room.

“This is too much.”

“What’s going on?”

“What do you think? They want us to find the STaY composer.”

“How are we supposed to do that?”

“Exactly.”

As the complaint session disguised as a meeting dragged on, Seo Dongyun gathered the courage to ask,

“Is this because of Lee Hyoeun?”

The Team Leader answered bitterly,

“Pfft… pretty much. You’ve all seen it, right? She says she won’t work on the next album unless we bring in STaY.”

Since Han Yujin had suddenly appeared with a sensational track, not just smashing the music charts but practically making herself a fixture there—

From the jealous Lee Hyoeun’s perspective, it must’ve been enough to drive her up the wall.

Dongyun replied calmly,

“The track from the Netherlands was good. The one from that Billboard producer’s side was fresh too. Busan Goblin’s worth contacting as well. We could smooth things over and get her to check those songs first…”

It was a realistic proposal, but there was no stopping Lee Hyoeun once she was fixated on something.

Once her eyes were set above everyone’s heads, they had to come up with a plan—

Either bring in an even more groundbreaking track, or really get STaY.

The Team Leader spoke firmly,

“Sigh… You think I haven’t tried saying that? Forget it. She’s lumping us all together and criticizing A&R for losing its touch—I couldn’t stand to hear any more. And that’s not all. Haa… never mind.”

Dongyun made up his mind.

Even if Taeyoon offered the song, he’d stop it.

Absolutely not Lee Hyoeun.

Why would he hand it over for her benefit? How dare she…

He hid his thoughts and steadied himself.

The meaningless chatter continued for a while,

and as the meeting was wrapping up—

“By the way…”

The Team Leader hesitated before continuing.

“No, I mean… never mind Hyoeun for a second… but I didn’t expect Legacy to make a move like that.”

“Legacy?”

At that, even Dongyun was surprised.

Legacy—

One of the so-called first-tier idol groups.

A team with absolutely no reason to cling to a rookie composer.

Didn’t they already have truckloads of composers waiting to give them songs, both domestic and overseas?

But Legacy had sought out STaY first? Seriously?

“The beat’s unique, you know. And it’s about time Legacy changed up their style.”

“They did use it well. It’s fresh.”

As if worried someone might overhear,

the Team Leader lowered his voice.

“Why do you think the Chairman came down himself? Hyoeun we could placate, but Legacy’s different. If they can, I think they’ll even go for a publishing contract. The treatment would be exceptional.”

If they had strong conviction in a concept, idols sometimes directly requested a specific composer from the agency.

Of course, whether it happened depended on the company’s decision and the composer’s situation.

Dongyun asked casually,

“Treatment? How so?”

In a publishing contract, part of a composer’s music revenue goes to the publisher—their affiliated company.

In exchange, the publisher supports the songwriting process, connects them with artists, handles legal matters—a kind of management service.

The terms could vary greatly depending on the agreement.

The Team Leader whispered,

“80:20.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah. The Chairman said to offer that if it meant securing them. But that’s only if it’s possible.”

“Hm?”

They were talking about profit distribution.

When a song was sold or earned revenue from physical or digital sales, the publisher deducted a commission and gave the rest to the creator.

For rookies, a generous split was 70:30 at best.

“80:20?”

Now that was a different story.

The calculator in Dongyun’s head started running at full speed.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.