Fang Zi’s information-packed science lesson hit Liang Yun like a heavy hammer, leaving him dizzy for a while.
He sat in front of his computer, the MV for “Secret Story of the Swan” (hereafter referred to as “Fantasy Fairytale”) looping on the screen.
The magnificent scenes, exquisite styling, and powerful choreography seemed to silently mock his previous ignorance and slowness.
“National girl group… first and fifth place in the survival show… Starship Entertainment’s darlings…” These phrases swirled in his mind, grotesquely overlapping with the image of the boisterous “dog-like girl” who forcefully fed him in the practice room, and the quiet, sweetly smiling “cat-like girl.” This feeling was so strange, like the neighbor downstairs who always wore slippers and shorts, and fought you for the last bottle of cola at the convenience store, suddenly telling you one day that he was actually a king on an incognito visit.
“Brother, do you realize how important the work in your hands is now?” Fang Zi leaned over, patting his stiff shoulder, a hint of schadenfreude mixed with sympathy in his tone.
“This isn’t writing songs for trainees; this is planning the second spring of two already top-tier idols’ careers! If this song flops, do you think Ahn Yujin and Jang Wonyoung’s fans won’t dig up your home address?”
Liang Yun shivered.
He imagined the scene and instantly felt a chill down his neck.
He took a deep breath, closed the MV, and his gaze returned to the project file named “ELEVEN.” Before, he simply wanted to create a good song, one that could showcase the girls’ charm.
But now, this song was imbued with a completely different meaning.
It was not just a debut song; it was a declaration, a crucial key to whether Ahn Yujin and Jang Wonyoung could conquer the market again with new identities, free from the halo of IZ*ONE.
This song had to be perfect.
No, perfect wasn’t enough; it had to be beyond perfect, it had to be “eleven out of ten.”
Just then, his phone screen lit up with a new message from KakaoTalk.
The sender was Ahn Yujin, her profile picture a sweet yet fierce close-up of her winking on stage.
The message was simple: “Ya, Producer-nim! Homework check! Did you watch it? Did you watch it? How did it feel? Give me a score? Out of a hundred points!”
It was followed by a string of playful dog emojis.
Liang Yun looked at the message, and his previously heavy mood inexplicably lightened.
The dazzling idol on stage and the lively, energetic girl in the chat window finally seemed to merge into the same person in his mind.
He thought for a moment, his fingers hovering over the screen for a long time.
If it were a regular fan, he might reply with “Amazing!” “Goddess, you’re stunning!” or similar phrases.
But he was the Producer; this was a “homework check.”
So, with an almost academic rigor, he began to make things up: “I watched it. The overall stage completion is very high. The combination of strings and synthesizer sounds in the arrangement is good, creating a dreamlike feel. The choreography is tightly integrated with the song’s structure, especially the positioning and hand movements in the chorus, which are very memorable.”
He paused, then added: “As for your personal performance, the high note section starting at 2 minutes and 31 seconds shows stable breath and accurate emotional delivery. In terms of facial expression management, the micro-expression changing from hazy to firm as the camera zoomed in on the ending shot was handled very well. I can give you 98 points. The two points deducted are to prevent you from becoming arrogant.”
After sending the message, Liang Yun put down his phone, very satisfied.
Hmm, that was professional!
However, only a few seconds later, Ahn Yujin’s reply came.
There was no text, only a row of crying-laughing emojis and an animated sticker of a fist pounding the ground.
After a while, she finally sent a message: “Ah, sh*t… Producer-nim, you really are the most boring man in the entire universe! Even your compliments sound like an analysis report!”
“But, seeing as your praise was so specific, this hero-girl will forgive you! Take good care of ‘ELEVEN’ for us, and wait for us to come back! Fighting!”
Looking at this message, Liang Yun’s lips unconsciously curved into a slight smile.
He closed the chat window and turned his gaze back to the vast internet.
From that day on, Liang Yun’s lifestyle underwent a huge change.
He seemed to have become the most devout “archaeologist,” diving headfirst into the vast ocean named “IZ*ONE.” He was no longer satisfied with watching a few MVs; he began to systematically “catch up.”
He started from their debut reality show “IZ*ONE CHU” Season 1, watching the girls, still with their youthful innocence, grow step by step and pour their sweat into their performances.
He saw Ahn Yujinimitate various strange sounds in the show without any idol pretense, like an over-energetic little lunatic; he also saw Jang Wonyoung, while proclaiming “I’m an adult now,” secretly pout adorably because she couldn’t get the chocolate bread she wanted.
These vivid, life-filled scenes brought them back from the distant and sacred symbol of “top idols” to flesh-and-blood people.
They were not gods; they were just young girls who laughed and played, and worried about small things.
Besides variety shows, he found and repeatedly listened to all of IZ*ONE’s songs and albums since their debut.
From the elegant blossoming of “La Vie en Rose” to the romantic fantasy of “Violeta,” and then to the magnificent celebration of “FIESTA,” he savored the arrangement, production, and concept of each song like the most discerning gourmet.
Every day when Fang Zi came home, he would see Liang Yun wearing headphones, playing IZ*ONE’s performances or variety shows on his computer while furiously writing something in a notebook.
“Dude, are you studying for a postgraduate degree? Graduate studies in IZ*ONE fanology, huh?” Fang Ziteased, tearing open a bag of potato chips.
Liang Yun didn’t even look up, muttering to himself: “No, this chord progression could actually be more brilliant… Yujin’s mid-to-low range is very distinctive, but it hasn’t been used much in previous songs… Wonyoung’s vocal color is sweet, it needs a cooler, more impactful melody to create a contrast…”
He was completely immersed in his own world.
This was not a fan’s pilgrimage; this was a top Producerconducting the most thorough user research for his “work.” He wanted to understand their every habit, every strength, and even every potential they themselves had never noticed.
One day, as he was studying IZ*ONE’s singles released in Japan, trying to find the differences between Japanese and Korean idol production, Director Kim Ji-yeon’s call came through.
“Liang Yun-ssi, come to my office. We need to discuss your next steps.”
Liang Yun’s heart skipped a beat.
My next steps?
Was it another trainee evaluation?
He didn’t dare to delay and immediately rushed to the company.
In Kim Ji-yeon’s office, besides her, there was also a middle-aged man Liang Yun hadn’t met before, who looked like the head of the planning department.
Kim Ji-yeon motioned for him to sit down and said bluntly: “Liang Yun-ssi, your song ‘isolation’ on the internet is still performing very well. The company believes we shouldn’t waste this momentum.”
The head of the planning department took over, handing him a document: “Producer Liang, this is the debut plan we’ve formulated for you. We plan to re-arrange and produce ‘isolation’ as your solo debut single, to be officially released.”
“Debut single? Oh oh… huh?” Liang Yun nodded like a pecking chick, then only reacted a few seconds later.
He pointed at his nose, his face full of disbelief: “Me? Debut? Are you saying… you want me to be a singer and stand on stage to sing?”
“More precisely, a singer-songwriter,” Kim Ji-yeon’s tone was unquestionable.
“You already possess excellent creative ability and decent vocal skills, coupled with your current popularity, this is the best time. While a mysterious figure whose voice is heard but not seen has appeal, a singer-songwriter who can stand in front of the stage and interpret their own works with their own voice can truly maximize brand value.”
Liang Yun shook his head like a rattle: “No no no, I can’t do it! It’s fine if you let me sing for my own entertainment, but debut??? I get uncomfortable speaking in front of more than three people! Make me go on TV, that’s worse than killing me!”
His intense reaction surprised both Kim Ji-yeon and the head of the planning department.
Kim Ji-yeon was wearing a sharp black suit dress today, its hem just above her knees, revealing her beautifully shaped calves.
She crossed her legs, leaning slightly forward, her sharp eyes seeming to see through people’s hearts.
Her lips were painted with a mature berry-colored lipstick, now slightly pursed, forming a serious and firm arc.
She looked at Liang Yun’s panicked, startled-animal expression, and instead of impatience, a knowing, almost “amused” light flashed in her eyes.
She didn’t force him, but changed her approach, her voice softening, carrying a persuasive magic: “Liang Yun-ssi, don’t you want your music to be heard by more people? Don’t you want to personally present the world you created, completely, to the audience?”
“Uh… that doesn’t mean I have to debut, right… I can work behind the scenes…”
“Behind the scenes?” Kim Ji-yeon interrupted him.
“For the songs you write for MONSTA X, people will remember MONSTA X; for the songs you write for the future new girl group, people will remember that new girl group. They will praise the song as good, but how many people will truly remember the Producer named ‘Liang Yun’?”
“You are very talented, Liang Yun-ssi, the company has no doubt about that. But talent also needs a stage to blossom,” her voice was full of power.
“Do you want to hide behind the mixing console your whole life, watching others perform your hard work under the spotlight? Don’t you want to stand center stage yourself and tell the whole world—this song, I wrote it, and I sang it too?”
These words, like a precise surgical knife, dissected Liang Yun’s deepest desires and unwillingness.
Yes, what creator doesn’t wish for their name to be known to the world?
He recalled the loneliness and passion he felt when he was repeatedly revising “isolation” in that small rented room, in front of his computer; he recalled the excitement when, after the song became a hit, he saw comments from people moved by the music.
He yearned for recognition, for his music to touch more people.
But the thought of facing the camera, facing countless eyes, made him feel a physiological suffocation.
Seeing the internal struggle on his face, Kim Ji-yeonknew he was wavering.
She delivered the final blow.
“The company will not force you. However, a Producer with his own career and fan base will have more say and better resources in the industry. This is crucial for your future development, and for the… works you want to protect.”
This sentence completely hit Liang Yun’s weak spot.
He thought of “ELEVEN,” and the expectant eyes of Ahn Yujin and Jang Wonyoung.
If he became stronger, would he be able to provide them with better music and safeguard their future?
After a long silence, Liang Yun, as if expending all his strength, squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth.
“…Okay, I’ll try.”