Episode 74: Producer (3)
In Mysty, Kitano Sora’s assigned parts are four:
- Verse 1: The low-tone opening.
- Verse 2:
- Chorus: The first half of Verse 1 and the second half of Verse 2.
- Bridge to the final chorus: Leading the entire section.
“Okay, Kitano-ssi. Let’s start with the verse—warm up your voice lightly.”
“Yes!”
Her eager response kicks off the recording.
But—
“Wait a moment.”
Despite the promising start, she halts after one word.
“Kitano-ssi? Could you read the lyrics clearly, syllable by syllable?”
“Yes.”
Her round eyes show panic, yet she follows, reciting deliberately.
“Eoreobeorin sigani Tik Tok umkyeo.”
Her issue is pronunciation.
Specifically, the “ㄹ 받침” (final ‘r’ sound) and “ㅓ” (eo) vowel challenges common among Japanese speakers.
“OK. Keep that pronunciation in mind and try again.”
Scoring her deliberate delivery, I’d give it a 95 out of 100.
Among Japanese I’ve heard, her “ㅓ” is near flawless.
Yet—
“Eorobeorin sigani Tik Tok umkyeo.”
“Stop, please.”
When singing, that perfection crumbles under pressure.
The first “eo” and final “yeo” hover between “ㅓ” and “ㅗ,” but the second “ㅓ” after “ㄹ” shifts to a clear “ro.”
‘This is tricky.’
Pronunciation is critical.
Intuitive lyric understanding from voice alone is key—lack thereof tires listeners.
A strong melody, like Mysty’s, can offset this, but—
‘Starting with this pronunciation will cool things fast…’
Hylliy fans aware of Sora’s tendency might overlook it.
For the broader audience new to Hylliy via this song, it’s a dealbreaker.
The simplest fix? Swap parts.
With six members, surely someone can handle it?
Instead, I type a new line into the prompter.
“Kitano-ssi, try singing this version of the first lyric?”
“Huh?”
After a brief shock, she fluently delivers—
“Kōreru jikan ga TikTok ugoku.”
Hearing her native tongue, a vision forms:
Blue lights cutting through dry-ice mist, her eyes opening to signal a new beginning.
‘As expected. This part’s hers.’
Her flawless rendition of a lyric matching the original’s meaning and syllables cements it.
My critique is unnecessary—her peak, as I’ve seen, is here.
Only she and Choi Eunwoo can nail this low-range verse, starting with a dotted quarter rest and an offbeat eighth.
Eunwoo can’t handle this range, leaving Sora.
Thus, I must tackle the tough task of correcting her pronunciation now.
‘In that sense, Hylliy’s lucky.’
Does she know?
The producer before her has turned several Japanese into honorary Koreans.
First, a precise diagnosis.
I sip the pale green liquid, the fizz sharpening my focus.
I retype words reflecting her language into the prompter.
“Kitano-ssi, read this slowly. Don’t overthink—just flow naturally.”
Then—
“Producer Han Yujin-ssi?”
A crisp voice snags me from behind.
“I need to speak with you. Could we step out?”
Her polite words clash with her icy stare.
My first thought:
‘Can’t even last 10 minutes?’
I asked Ailee for an hour, expecting challenges after 30.
‘By then, I’d be fired up.’
Ten minutes in, this reaction?
Did I overrate her, or am I that underestimated?
“Sure, let’s.”
This works out.
No anger now.
Smashing her stance early might spare the Hylliy members fallout.
“Take a break. Kitano-ssi, keep reading that slowly.”
Her eyebrow twitches at my parting order.
Does she realize?
Her reaction only strengthens my resolve to oust her for a smoother process.
“Yujin-ssi.”
“No, it’s fine.”
I stop Ailee from following.
‘My calm’s holding, barely.’
With this, Ailee’s presence isn’t needed.
Better she comforts the anxious Eunwoo.
Sora, thankfully, missed the exchange.
“I’ll wrap this quick. Call Junior Manager Ju then, and Ailee, you can go.”
I step out, curious what she’ll throw at me.
***
Park Jiseon started her career as a road manager for a debut-bound girl group.
After four years of shared struggles, her first charge—now inseparable—became Hylliy.
Once navigating dark tunnels toward a distant light, Hylliy now nears a tangible goal.
This made the newly assigned producer an unbearable thorn for Park Jiseon.
‘Some nobody rolling in from who-knows-where…’
The producer, an album’s commander, was a 24-year-old rookie.
Sure, some idols produce young, but—
‘Those kids proved themselves.’
At this critical juncture for Hylliy, an untested leader felt unjust to her.
His achievements? A first-place audition win and a music show victory with AZ and Hylliy’s fandom support—hardly impressive.
Fueling her sky-high discontent were internal MyWay rumors.
“Heard they’re prepping a boy group launch?”
“Kang Tae-oh’s slated as the main vocalist.”
“And Han Yujin’s the producer pick?”
Though rumors, they rang true.
But a derivative stung deeper.
“So, is Hylliy just a career stepping stone?”
To Park Jiseon, it was a thunderbolt.
With the fruits of the girls’ efforts so close, MyWay’s refusal to wait felt deliberate.
“Wait a moment.”
“Stop, please.”
Her already skewed view couldn’t fairly judge him halting Sora mid-line.
The knockout blow came next.
“Read this slowly.”
Seeing the prompter’s words—[Seoul], [Baekseolgi], [Jukku], [Strawberry Syrup], [Marriage]—she had to act.
‘He doesn’t even know her!’
Sora’s “ㄹ” issue, a charm point for fans, hindered singing.
She’d urged Sora to mind it during performances.
Fixing it would improve the song but dim Sora’s allure.
‘I have to protect her.’
Luckily, she’d gained leverage.
Her flawless Hylliy care and their looming first win justified her promotion to manager.
The youngest among managers, but still a manager.
“Sure, let’s. Take a break, everyone. Kitano-ssi, keep reading slowly.”
Nothing pleased her.
The kids denied drinks while he slurped ice Bacchus.
His formal “-ssi” to Sora, drawing lines.
His casual stride out, as if expecting this.
Even risking resignation, she’d oust him from Hylliy’s producing.
In the hallway, she steeled herself:
‘Discipline the kids? A power play? He’s a senior—too disrespectful? No, stay calm, speak straight.’
“Kids…”
“Wait. Introduce yourself first. I don’t even know your name or role.”
“Huh?”
“I proved myself to the CEO to sit here. If you’ve got something to say, prove yourself too.”
He was right.
She’d never introduced herself.
“Management Manager Park Jiseon.”
“Oh, yes. Manager Park Jiseon. So, what’s so urgent you’d halt work?”
Her icy tone hit, and she realized her blunder.
Career stepping stone or not, he held this album’s helm.
But the water was spilled.
“Discipline? A power play? Hylliy’s senior—too disrespectful?”
Clenching her eyes, she unleashed her prepared lines.
‘Damn, wrong order…’
Realizing her mistake, she opened her eyes to—
“I wonder if this is why I did… Feels pathetic.”
—Han Yujin muttering bitterly, staring out the window.
Not a power play or discipline response, just hollow defeat.
‘Did I… mess up?’
Before that sank in—
“Come along. See if this was a power play, discipline, or real producing. Decide after.”
He shook his head and returned to the studio.
His passing glance seemed to say, ‘You tried. I’ll let this slide.’
Amid her spiraling confusion, Park Jiseon clung to that thought.