Chapter 145: Seo Ji Woo in Seoul, Part 4

What kind of debut song would suit Seo Ji-woo? It was a question Hayoon had pondered for a while.

Fans loved backstories, so she decided to connect Lucy’s new music to her previous work.

The result was…

“Bright Night.”

“Please play the MR for ‘Bright Night.’ I’ll give it a try.”

“Okay.”

The Forest Sound studio owner started the MR, and the synth-based melody filled the room. City pop.

“Let’s do this, Ji-woo.”

“I’ll do my best…!”

Inside the recording booth, Seo Ji-woo gripped her headset and nodded.

Hayoon watched nervously, arms crossed. She wasn’t sure what to expect.

She was confident in Seo Ji-woo’s abilities, but…

“Why so nervous? It’s just a song.”

“I’m worried about the reception, even if she sings well. It’s a new style for her.”

“New style?”

“Yeah, Ji-woo hasn’t sung city pop before…”

Seo Ji-woo, or rather, Lucy, had never attempted the genre.

While city pop often had repetitive choruses, capturing the bouncy, synth-driven feel required experience.

Hayoon worried she might have given Seo Ji-woo, who needed to outperform the less experienced Baek-seol and Jo A-yeong, too challenging a song.

“I thought they were stars, those countless lights.”

“Huh?”

The moment Seo Ji-woo’s voice filled the recording booth, Hayoon felt a jolt.

This was it.

It felt right.

“Countless people sweeping over me like waves.”

Her voice was surprisingly stable. It wasn’t the style Hayoon had expected, but…

“Wow, this is new.”

Seo Ji-woo’s husky voice, delivering the opening lines in a near-whisper, created a captivating atmosphere.

It felt closer to a sing-rap than city pop, and she sounded incredibly comfortable.

“Sounds good.”

“She has a great voice. Very catchy. Where do you find these people?”

The studio owner was impressed by Seo Ji-woo’s skill and unique vocal tone.

“Music echoing at the end of the alley, a café where someone is laughing…”

The song built towards the climax, or at least, it was supposed to…

“That unfamiliar scenery… cough, cough……”

Seo Ji-woo, seemingly short of breath, coughed and signaled for a break.

“Are you okay?”

“This is harder than I thought. Maybe because city pop has a lot of short phrases?”

“Hmm, like what?”

“Well, ballads have that big, powerful moment in the highlight, right?”

“Right.”

“But city pop requires a consistent output, like a constant level 6 intensity, so I’m running out of breath.”

“Ahh…?”

While city pop had repetitive elements, it wasn’t an easy genre.

“Bright Night,” in particular, had simple melodies but a fast tempo and complex lyrics.

“I’ll need to practice this a lot for the debut stage. I can’t mess up during the live performance.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine on stage.”

“No, you really need to be fine.”

Seo Ji-woo brushed it off, but Hayoon shook her head. If Seo Ji-woo faltered, the entire concert could fall apart.

“The other two have easier songs, less impactful songs for a concert…”

Seo Ji-woo’s role was crucial in setting the mood with her city pop song and powerful cover.

“The plan is to energize the crowd with ‘Bright Night’ and the ‘Waiting For You’ cover, then transition to the group song. Your role is very important, Ji-woo. I’ll give you enough time, so let’s perfect it by December. Can you do it?”

Hayoon knew this added pressure, but it was necessary.

One member had joined through the “I-cup” special admission, and another through the “19+ ASMR” special admission.

Seo Ji-woo was the only reliable vocalist, and Hayoon had high expectations.

“Hmm… so…”

Surprisingly, Seo Ji-woo…

“You’re saying I need to do well? Or you’ll be in trouble?”

“More than just ‘in trouble.’ I’ve invested over 30 million won in this concert.”

“Hmm… is that so…?”

Seo Ji-woo felt a thrill.

Hayoon, her beautiful, big-breasted friend, was watching her from the other side of the glass, anxiously cheering her on.

“I can’t let Hayoon down! She needs me! I have to give it my all!”

She felt a surge of excitement.

She had been trapped in a cycle of envy and insecurity towards Hayoon, but now she had a chance to prove her worth.

“Trust me!”

From today until the concert, she would perfect “Bright Night.”

Day 1 of recording.

Seo Ji-woo’s performance was far from perfect, but she steadily improved with each take, becoming more comfortable with the song.

“Good work, Ji-woo. Let’s keep this up. We have over a month left. Take care of your throat, don’t overexert yourself, and even if you feel like screaming, hold it in.”

Seo Ji-woo was undoubtedly Trinity’s main vocalist.

Hayoon was grateful for her past self, who had wisely recruited Lucy.

“Want some honey water for your throat on the way home?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“How about a drink, then?”

“Really, I’m okay. Why are you like this?”

“Just proud of you for doing so well.”

Hayoon, as a reward, began grooming Seo Ji-woo.

“Haha, ‘proud’… Hehe, you think I’ll… be happy about this? Heh. Hehehe…”

Seo Ji-woo, enjoying the attention, couldn’t stop smiling.

Her mood swings, triggered by seemingly insignificant things, were a hallmark of her personality.

But her emotional outbursts weren’t severe, and she readily accepted praise.

She wasn’t working out now, so there was no risk of her mood souring from seeing Hayoon’s bouncing breasts.

“I would have practiced hard even without your praise. Because I’m a professional! Professionals always give their best!”

“Of course, I knew you would. Ji-woo is a pro.”

“Hehehe…”

Hayoon, understanding how to handle Seo Ji-woo, played along and continued grooming her.

‘Why… are all the people around me like this?’

They were all so easily swayed by praise and affection.

Seo Ji-woo seemed particularly susceptible to emotional fluctuations, but…

“Ji-woo, I’m really, really counting on you.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll do well, just stop it already.”

Hayoon was starting to understand how to manage Seo Ji-woo.

She felt a thrill of anticipation, imagining the spectacular performance that would close out the year.

The day after Seo Ji-woo’s first recording, Hayoon went to the recording studio with Baek-seol.

“I’ll do my best today, CEO.”

“Let’s do this.”

“Baek-seol, you can go inside the booth.”

“Okay.”

Baek-seol’s song was “Poison Apple,” based on Snow White’s iconic poisoned apple.

It followed a typical J-Pop melody but with Korean lyrics, taking full advantage of the creative freedom offered by writing in their native language.

“It’s within reach!”

Baek-seol belted out the lyrics powerfully.

“Sweet red fruit, that fatal temptation.”

“Hmm…”

Hearing J-Pop-style lyrics in Korean felt… slightly cringeworthy, like something out of a musical, but it was too late to change them now.

Hayoon made a mental note to adapt the lyrics better for the Korean market next time and focused on Baek-seol’s powerful vocals.

“She’s good too, right? Her technique is a bit lacking, but she has great volume.”

Baek-seol’s first recording session earned praise from the studio owner.

“But the lyrics… Are these okay? The song sounds great, but the lyrics… the more I listen, the less sense they make…”

To the average listener, the lyrics of “Poison Apple” were a definite barrier to entry.

Hayoon decided to make Baek-seol’s next song more accessible.

“Thank you for your hard work!”

“Good job, Baek-seol. You can go.”

“Okay.”

The second day, Baek-seol’s first recording, concluded successfully.

However, on the third day, during Jo A-yeong’s first recording session…

“Hmm…”

“Hmm…”

Red flags.

“Was… it… bad…?”

This could be a problem.