MDQ Ch 7

* * *

Dawn was breaking outside the window.

I hadn’t slept a wink, weighed down by an inexplicable emptiness and a queasy stomach.

Still, I hadn’t just lain there doing nothing.

Since my father had cleared out the furniture in my room, there wasn’t even a bed, and I also had work piled up.

Hence, I blinked my tired eyes at the laptop screen. On it was a set of lyrics I had written overnight, like a rough sketch but complete.

‘This turned out better than I thought.’

‘Of course, the gloomy lyrics didn’t really suit Given, who hardly ever sang calm songs.’

But aside from the fact that it didn’t match the team’s style, the quality of the lyrics alone wasn’t bad.

I smiled in satisfaction and stretched my arms wide.

Pouring all the gloomy emotions I’d felt yesterday into lyrics had made me feel lighter.

‘Come to think of it, that’s why I first started writing lyrics….’

My father, who only saw me as a tool to meet Jung Yohan, my father’s verbal abuse telling me I was incapable of anything, Given members who were never satisfied, my heart leaning toward Jung Yohan, whom I must never love…

Because nothing ever went the way I wanted, I often felt frustrated.

Then, by chance, I had read an interview with a famous lyricist, and that’s what pushed me to start pouring my own frustration into lyrics.

That lyricist, someone everyone in the industry knew, had also begun writing lyrics to escape a sad, stifling reality.

…I couldn’t accept the early death of a very close friend. So I first tried writing lyrics as a way of honoring him.
And that became the song ‘We Regret Yesterday.’
Only after writing that did my heart feel a little lighter. Not completely, of course. Even now, my chest still aches from time to time.

That song had been born from the grief and regret of breaking a promise with a friend who might die the very next day.

Reading it, I thought of my brother.

If I had known we would part so soon, I would have treasured our time together more…

Like that lyricist, I hoped to ease my pain even just a little by turning my frustration into lyrics.

And then Park Chungrim, a famous composer under the same company, happened to see my lyrics.

Park Chungrim loved them. Enough to put them in Given’s title tracks.

I was glad my lyrics became songs, and even more glad that emptying my emotions into words made my heart lighter.

Having even one outlet to pour myself into might be the reason why I’m still alive.

When Given’s title track became a hit, even the company, which had been uncertain, began entrusting me fully with lyric-writing. By now, I’d written over five songs.

I didn’t know when the next album would be released, but I sent last night’s lyrics to Park Chungrim, then finally stood up after sitting too long.

“I should head back to the dorm now.”

Only then did drowsiness wash over me, but I couldn’t sleep. If I returned late, the Given members would scold me endlessly.

* * *

The first thing I did upon reaching the dorm was check Given’s schedule. Since album promotions were over, their schedules weren’t packed.

‘Today Seoho has a photoshoot.’

I would have to put in a lot of effort coaxing Seo Seoho through it, given how sensitive he was about clothing.

And today’s photoshoot concept was “A Man More Beautiful Than Flowers.” I had a bad feeling the outfits would be full of embellishments.

Seoho hated flashy outfits, so I suspected he’d be prickly. I figured I’d better bring plenty of chocolate and candy he liked.

After organizing the schedule, I began waking up the Given members, still fast asleep.

“Ugh, damn it! Don’t wake me! Get lost.”

Seo Seoho yelled harshly, spewing every curse in the book. I’d grown used to it—it happened every time I woke him.

“Hyungggg, carry me up.”

With Park Saebit, I had to put up with his endless whining to get him up.

Lifting someone a head taller than me out of bed wasn’t easy.

But there was no choice—Park Saebit would never get up unless I cajoled him.

I hugged him and grunted, pulling him up.

He would then bury his face in my shoulder and nibble at it with a sly smile.

It was a truly bad habit.

Thankfully, Kang Junhyuk and Jung Yohan were easier to wake. Especially Jung Yohan, who hardly ever overslept—he was usually the first one up.

“Whew, finally got them all awake.”

It had taken a full hour just to rouse everyone. After making sure they ate breakfast, I headed to the company.

“Seoho, I’ll see you at the shoot later. Minsoo will pick you up. I need to stop by the office first.”

“Hyung, if you’re late, you’ll regret it.”

And what exactly would you do if I am late… Seoho’s threats were ridiculous, but I didn’t show it. I only replied, “Got it.”

* * *

The moment I arrived at the company, I had to sit through a meeting. It was a strategy meeting about Given, one I couldn’t skip since I was the head manager.

Only after it ended and I returned to my desk could I breathe.

Leaning back in my chair, the drowsiness I’d felt since morning came rushing in. I pressed my heavy eyelids with my fingers.

Tired or not, I had to work. I turned to Minsoo across from me.

“Minsoo, make sure Seoho gets to the photoshoot later.”

“Yes, Chief.”

Minsoo was another manager who helped with pickups, like Chulmin.

When Given had group activities, I usually handled pickups myself, but for individual schedules, other managers often helped. After all, I couldn’t cover everything alone.

“By the way, Chief Lee, are you still feeling sick? You look really pale.”

Chulmin, who had struggled a lot yesterday, approached warmly and handed me coffee.

“Thanks for the coffee. And thanks for worrying. I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

I thought I looked better, but maybe not.

“Chief Lee… if it’s too much, you really should take a break. Just don’t you dare quit. We could never be Given’s main manager.”

“Don’t worry, Chulmin. I won’t quit.”

At least not yet.

But if I could, I’d quit right this second. If only my father weren’t weighing on me…

I let out a sigh before I realized it. Then I heard someone tapping on my desk.

“Hyunseok-ssi, I saw the lyrics you sent at dawn.”

I looked up and met eyes with a beautiful man.

His smiling eyes were striking, and his clean-cut looks could easily rival an actor’s. In the drab manager’s office, he seemed to shine alone.

With his movie-star looks, he drew the attention of everyone in the room.

He was Park Chungrim, a composer from Archon Entertainment, with whom I was on good terms.

“So? Do you think my lyrics fit your style, Mr. Composer?”

Park Chungrim smiled gently as he replied, “Don’t call me ‘Mr. Composer.’ Just Chungrim-ssi. Or even better—hyung.”