Ch.5555. The Necklace

# Spirit 23rd Generation’s First Original Song

The original song, still untitled, with Hana as the main producer, was nearing the end of its band practice.

The technical aspects were all resolved.

None of the members were reading sheet music anymore.

They had agreed to revise the lyrics, but since some parts weren’t finalized yet, Juyeon was humming through certain sections with nasal sounds.

Today, they needed to fill in those gaps as a finishing touch.

They also needed to come up with a title for the song they would introduce to the audience.

It was Suhyeok’s second time at the café.

Seo-eun began a rapid-fire Q&A session with Suhyeok, the lyricist, and Juyeon.

“Did you write these lyrics with a specific situation or background in mind?”

“Well… I just wrote them while lamenting with Juyeon in a room…”

“Wait a minute. Lee Suhyeok. You were alone in a room with Juyeon?”

Yoon Hana. Shocked!

She had been gulping down her drink and suddenly broke into a dry cough.

“Ah. No?”

Before Suhyeok could answer, Juyeon cut off the controversy with a sharp denial.

If this fact became known, forget about broadcasting—the other members would drop bombs of disappointment on them.

“Juyeon, how could you do this and that with Suhyeok before us…”

Imagining the torment she would face from Seo-eun, Juyeon’s remaining semester might become days of suffering.

It might even continue into the second semester!

Juyeon knew.

That Seo-eun was narrower-minded than one might think.

“What Suhyeok meant was that he imagined the speaker of the song being alone in a room when he wrote it.”

Juyeon corrected his meaning as if she were an interpreter.

“…Is that so?”

Hana flicked her chin toward Suhyeok, seeking confirmation.

“Yeah. Why would I go to Juyeon’s place…”

Suhyeok successfully defended the secret of his loner comrade.

A trickle of cold sweat ran down his spine.

Feeling awkward, Suhyeok began earnestly scribbling with his pen.

“This feels kind of like… someone having an existential crisis… writing at dawn…”

“You mean cringy middle school syndrome vibes?”

“Hana. Be nice with your words.”

Suhyeok and Juyeon were not the type to benefit from being intimidated.

“Then for the final chorus, it would be good to incorporate that background.”

Korean Education major Lee Seo-eun.

Working hard as always.

Seo-eun hummed along with the melody and presented various options to Suhyeok and Juyeon.

“Dawn. Dawn is quite an attractive setting.”

“It gives the feeling of morning breaking, of a beginning, and it’s also when everyone else is asleep.”

“It appears frequently in literary works with various metaphorical expressions.”

“Isn’t there something unique that can only be felt at dawn?”

Seeing Seo-eun working so diligently, both Suhyeok and Juyeon felt they should say something.

“I don’t know if this will help…”

Suhyeok began sharing his personal experience.

“Speak comfortably, Suhyeok. It’s not like we’re taking an exam.”

“Well… when I was living at my parents’ house, I stayed up all night and opened the window at dawn.”

Seo-eun’s eyes sparkled brightly.

She expected some inspiring story that would spark creativity.

“And then?”

“I went out to the balcony and leaned on my arms like this…”

Both Juyeon and Hana perked up their ears to listen to his words.

“…the wind was cool.”

Juyeon chuckled, and Hana looked at him as if she couldn’t believe it.

Deflated, Seo-eun touched her forehead and sucked on her drink instead of responding.

“…I see.”

Right…

The wind could be cool…

Dawn breeze is nice, isn’t it…?

“I have something like that too.”

Juyeon, with a solemn face, came to the rescue.

“Oh! What is it, Juyeon?”

“The sky was blue!”

By this point, Seo-eun seriously felt like she was doing teaching practice.

No, even middle schoolers might be better than this…

Still, since they had offered their opinions, Seo-eun made brief notes.

[The wind is cool]

[The sky is blue]

Alright.

Let’s just include these and I’ll finish the rest myself.

The chorus that Seo-eun had already revised once went like this:

[Spring that hasn’t come yet]

[In these hazy days]

[The night that falls asleep faintly]

[Waiting for tomorrow’s you]

[Like a flower]

[For that time when you’ll bloom clearly]

She tried substituting new content within the same structure.

Korean SAT score 97, Lee Seo-eun.

In truth, what did SAT scores have to do with lyric writing? But she tended to hypnotize herself this way when attempting creative writing.

[Opening the window to face]

[That dawn so blue]

[A cool breeze blows in]

Seo-eun, matching the syllable count as if babbling, tilted her notebook.

“How about going with this?”

“Wow… Unnie. That’s amazing! You turned that into this?”

Hana’s sincere admiration burst forth.

Was this what they meant by making gold out of garbage?

“Noona. You’re incredible…”

“Unnie. Sugoi…”

Even in the eyes of the loner party, Seo-eun looked like a magician.

“But then does the rest stay the same?”

“No. We should add a slight variation to the rest too.”

[Waiting for tomorrow’s me]

In the first and second verses, it was all about waiting for “you.”

Seo-eun changed the final point from “you” to “me.”

‘You’ and ‘Me’

In Korean, the position of a single dot always provides the magic of changing many meanings.

She needed to find a line to replace “Like a flower.”

Something to replace flower.

Sun, star, moon, fire, water, night, snow.

Snow…

‘Like a snowflake’ sounds good?

Seo-eun closed her eyes.

In her imagination, it was 4 AM.

She was standing on a balcony on a winter day with the wind blowing.

In the cold air, her breath formed mist, and on the railing, snowflakes about to disappear remained faintly.

“Decided!”

-Scribble scribble scribble

[Waiting for tomorrow’s me]

[Like a snowflake]

[Even if I melt and disappear]

Seo-eun presented the final draft to the members.

The response was three thumbs up.

None of them were capable of coming up with anything better than Seo-eun.

“So now we just need to decide on a title?”

Hana, with her arms crossed, read through the lyrics from the beginning.

“Suhyeok and Juyeon should decide.”

The two loners looked at each other.

The moment their eyes met, they could guess what the other wanted to say.

‘No. You choose.’

‘You led this. You do it.’

Since they were at an impasse, Seo-eun asked each of them to write down one candidate.

Juyeon preferred titles consisting of a single word.

It was intuitive and simple.

And she thought it aligned with the current trend in popular music.

Titles like “Something Something” were long out of style.

After much deliberation, the result was [Hyunta] (Existential Crisis).

But the one who actually had an existential crisis upon seeing it was Hana.

After making such a beautiful sound…

And even the lyrics seemed so pretty, but this…

“Hey… Park Juyeon… I worked so hard on this, and you want to call it ‘Existential Crisis’…?”

“…Sorry.”

“No… isn’t that too much! Seriously…”

It seemed there was a lack of consideration for the composer.

On the other hand, Suhyeok quite liked the lyrics that Seo-eun had finalized.

Perhaps because it was his own experience, he could visualize it.

“How about ‘Dawn is Blue’?”

“Dawn is Blue?”

Seo-eun, who was pondering together, rolled the words around in her mouth.

[Dawn is Blue] seemed quite good.

Adding a spoonful of exaggeration, it was a title that could even evoke an album cover.

“I like it.”

Perhaps because the impact of ‘Existential Crisis’ had been so strong, Hana readily gave the okay sign, as if this was acceptable.

“I… think it’s good too.”

Juyeon, who had been shrinking back, also agreed.

If the president’s permission was granted, today’s mission would be completely cleared.

“Hmm… okay. Let’s go with this as a working title for now. But if anyone thinks of something better, feel free to speak up without hesitation. Everyone.”

The meeting was adjourned.

Seo-eun would separately relay the message to Choegang.

“Is everyone going home now?”

“I guess so.”

“Yeah.”

“Ah… I need to do laundry.”

Since they all lived near the school or not far away, everyone ended up taking the same bus.

“Let’s go! See you on Monday!”

As Seo-eun waved goodbye and disappeared, Suhyeok was about to head home with Juyeon.

“Lee Suhyeok.”

Hana grabbed the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah?”

“Stay for a moment.”

Juyeon, who had stopped, gazed at the two of them.

“Will it take long?”

Suhyeok glanced at Juyeon and then asked Hana.

“Um… a bit. Juyeon, you go ahead. I have something to tell him.”

“Okay. See you, Hana.”

As Juyeon entered the alley with her paper bag, Hana began rummaging through her own bag.

“Damn it. Where did it go?”

“What’s wrong?”

Suhyeok was ready to help if needed.

“Ah! Here it is!”

Inside a thin plastic bag.

A slender chain necklace gleamed brilliantly.

Hanging on the chain was a thin silver ring.

Hana placed the necklace in Suhyeok’s hand.

“This. It goes really well with the clothes I picked out for you today. So wear it when you go on stage for the performance.”

A gift?

Hana giving me a gift?

Suhyeok couldn’t take his eyes off the necklace.

“What? Don’t you like it?”

“No? No. But are you just buying this for me…?”

Unaccustomed to kindness, Suhyeok needed to find a reason.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought you wouldn’t like spending money on things like this.”

Rather than not liking it, it was more like it seemed unnecessary…

Anyway, if she had said it looked good earlier, he would have just bought it together back then.

“Give it to me.”

Hana took back the necklace and opened the packaging.

“Come here.”

It wasn’t what you’d call an exciting height difference.

Suhyeok wasn’t particularly tall, and Hana was quite tall for a woman.

After undoing the clasp, Hana wrapped her arms around Suhyeok’s neck.

The distance between them narrowed.

Hana had a sweet spring scent.

From a third person’s perspective, the two would undoubtedly look like a couple right now.

Hana’s eyes were focused on the necklace, but Suhyeok’s eyes could only see Hana’s face.

Hana…

Giving me a gift…

“Ah. Done!”

Stepping back, Hana scanned Suhyeok as if examining him.

She thought she had chosen well.

Ha. Yoon Hana. You’re amazing.

The necklace filled in the 2% that was missing from Suhyeok’s outfit.

“Do you like it?”

Looking at Suhyeok with his face bright red, Hana felt a thrilling sense of satisfaction.