The Double Life of a Genius Musician-Chapter 150 : How to Speak of Love Differently

Chapter 150: How to Speak of Love Differently
It was stylish, but not popular.
It had depth, but wasn’t the right answer.
That was how teens and people in their twenties perceived R&B.
Outdated, something stuck in the memories of people in their forties, a little childish, that kind of sticky love play.
In other words, songs that only middle-aged men would listen to.
That was the Lumière members’ perception of R&B.
For idols, a stable concept and image maintenance were most important.
That’s why Stay’s R&B suggestion felt like a gamble.
At least, it had felt that way until just yesterday.
But then—
“I can’t believe this is our song…!”
“Wow, now I see why Writer Stay was so confident.”
“There’s a difference between what’s trendy and what you actually want to sing. That’s for sure.”
<Velvet Trigger> was more than enough to flip Lumière’s perception in an instant.
This wasn’t simply a matter of genre.
Emotions that couldn’t be expressed on stage—
Expressions they had always wanted to show someday—were all inside this song.
They wanted to try it.
For the first time, that thought arose.
A narrative that pushed love to its limits.
Utterly sensual, yet not vulgar.
Brutally honest, yet with a sense of purity.
And then—
“This part’s DJing, right?”
“Reminds me of More Than Time!”
“I didn’t know DJing could be this cool.”
The DJing immediately captured the Lumière members’ ears.
With a meticulous build-up strong enough to dominate the track, it struck right at the heart of the song’s emotion.
In this song, DJing wasn’t just background sound.
Stay had used DJing as an instrument, as a language.
He forcefully pierced the gaps between desire and emptiness.
A bullet loaded on the track—
And the one who pulled the trigger was none other than DJ Blackhole.
A cold scratching that cut through the breathless silence.
That’s where the music turned into a story.
Amidst it all, there was someone viewing the situation calmly.
Lee Jeongin bit her lips.
This isn’t a song for Lumière…
She realized it the moment she heard it.
This song wasn’t made for Lumière.
Back when other members were hesitant about R&B—
She was the one who said, “Let’s trust him,” just because the name Stay was attached.
She wanted to prove that her trust hadn’t been misplaced.
But toward the end of the song, her heart began to tremble.
She couldn’t picture the members splitting parts and singing this together.
It felt like the only voice that should exist in this song—was hers alone.
A few moments later, when the song ended—
Clap clap clap clap—
The KIM Entertainment meeting room erupted with applause and cheers.
“Whew!”
For those in their forties and fifties, it was nostalgic.
“Reminds me of when I used to hit the clubs.”
“Yeah. R&B always played during break time back then.”
“You used to go to clubs, Director?”
“I was a club rat.”
For those in their twenties and thirties, it was a fresh shock.
“I’m gonna start listening to R&B now.”
“I thought it’d sound old-fashioned, but it doesn’t.”
“Isn’t it all about who makes it?”
To the Lumière members, it was a song that gave them certainty.
Familiar yet unfamiliar, classic yet trendy.
<Velvet Trigger> stood tall at the intersection of generational sensibilities.
In the midst of that ecstatic atmosphere—
Someone casually remarked,
“Seems like Writer Stay knows how to DJ too.”
That murmured question subtly shifted the air in the room.
All eyes turned to Kim Minsoo.
Tell us everything you know—right now!
That was the demand in their questioning gazes.
Kim Minsoo added as if correcting them,
“It’s a feature.”
“A DJ feature?”
“Yes. Blackhole.”
With that short answer, the meeting room fell silent.
Curiosity quickly turned to anticipation.
“…Blackhole? Seriously?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
The name alone was enough.
It wasn’t officially confirmed yet, but Blackhole was practically Seo Rabbit of The Kids Who Escaped From Us.
It had already been proven with <More Than Time>.
The brief DJing in More Than Time had left a huge impression.
But this time, it was different.
He didn’t just DJ—he led the song with a whisper-like rap.
As if he were the protagonist of this song.
Executive Director Woo Chaewon asked in an excited voice,
“Wow, did you scout him again? How?”
Kim Minsoo made a V with his fingers and touched it to his chin as he replied,
“I reached out a long time ago. I told you before, didn’t I? I’m really close with Blackhole.”
Blackhole.
A name built solely on music and skill.
Lyrics, composition, and arrangement: STaY.
Featuring: Blackhole.
That powerful credit line would ignite public curiosity even before the release.
<Not Yet>, and now <Velvet Trigger>.
Both songs sang of worldly love while constantly raising questions.
What is love?
Why does pop music always seek love, fall in love, and forget love?
The two songs offered completely different answers.
And that would become the core of Lumière’s new album.
Woo Chaewon fell into brief thought.
Did one person really make both?
Fifteen years.
That was how long she had worked in the top-tier A&R teams of major entertainment companies.
She’d worked across domestic and international markets.
Met countless composers. Heard endless demos.
No matter the song, a creator’s trace always remained within.
Like a fingerprint that couldn’t be erased.
One or two songs might reveal the creator in a totally different direction—boldly, without hiding.
Then, Kim Minsoo asked her,
“Director Woo, what are you thinking about?”
“It’s just so amazing.”
“You mean because the song’s so good?”
“That too, but… I was thinking—how can someone draw out similar emotions from two completely opposite genres? Isn’t this kind of cheating?”
Kim Minsoo laughed and replied,
“Well, that’s because it’s Stay.”
Woo Chaewon let out a small chuckle.
If <Not Yet> flirted with charm—
Then <Velvet Trigger> came at you, outright.
But the question remained the same.
‘Do you like me?’
Two completely opposite ways of drawing out an answer.
One was shy. The other, brutal.
Lumière was about to embrace both forms of love.
Yes, this was how to speak of love differently.
One album revealing both a girl’s fluttering feelings and a woman’s desire.
That was exactly what Lumière’s second album aimed to do.
Ambivalent emotions that any woman would inevitably relate to.
In that moment, the album’s concept landed in her mind.
<Lip & Bite>
two faces of desire.
Two faces of desire.
The emotions would build slowly, then finally explode.
The jacket concept, the music video, even the stage design.
Everything came to mind in a flash.
The hallmark of a so-called “working” song.
There was a clear theme. One that guided the listener to the destination without wavering.
Woo Chaewon snapped her fingers and said,
“This’ll be fun.”
“Director Woo, you already have your concept all figured out, don’t you?”
“…Honestly, you’re like a ghost.”
Kim Minsoo stood up from his seat with a satisfied expression.
Then, placing both hands on the table, he asked the staff,
“Anyone with objections?”
Silence followed.
Not hesitation—certainty.
Even the notoriously picky Woo Chaewon nodded.
Only then did Yoon Seonghan uncross his arms.
“Alright, meeting’s over. You’re all dismissed.”
Now that the song had been pitched, the rest would proceed like clockwork.
Everyone got up to leave the meeting room in high spirits.
“Except you guys.”
Kim Minsoo called back the Lumière members.
“Just wait here a bit. I’ll be right back after a call.”
His voice had calmed again.
The Lumière members sat back down.
Their perception of R&B had changed.
It was no longer a worn-out genre their parents used to listen to.
Didn’t they say trends always come back around?
<Velvet Trigger> would definitely pull the trigger.
The mood was as cheerful as could be.
Happy fantasies raced through their minds.
Who would be best for the killing part? The bridge?
The youngest was perfect for the intro, as always.
Everyone would probably start copying them now.
It felt like all of Lumière had made up their minds.
Now they were ready to embrace the song wholeheartedly.
They chatted away non-stop as they waited for Kim Minsoo.
Except for one person—Lee Jeongin.
Hmm…
Jeongin sat quietly, wordlessly, her slightly vacant gaze fixed on the window.
She couldn’t picture all the Lumière members singing this song.
It felt out of place. Awkward.
That arrogant certainty rose up again—this was a song only she could sing.
Get it together…
Slap, slap.
Jeongin patted her cheeks with both hands.
She shouldn’t be greedy.
Not in a team. That wasn’t right.
Her head knew that, but her heart said something else.
The story the song was telling—
Ticklish confessions and refined seduction.
It all felt like those emotions were aimed directly at her.
Her face flushed red.
What am I even doing in front of the girls…
Jeongin quietly inhaled.
She nervously opened and closed her pouch a few times.
Even after applying tint and redoing her eyebrows, her heart refused to calm down.
I’m the leader. The team comes first. Unity matters most. Don’t have useless thoughts…
But the more she repeated it, the less convincing it felt.
She grew certain—Stay hadn’t written this for Lumière, but had aimed it squarely at her.
Of course, there was no proof.
But music always recognized sincerity, didn’t it?
And she had been the first one to see through this song.
Her face turned so hot, even her ears turned red.
Kim Dabin, noticing her expression, wrapped an arm around Jeongin’s shoulder and asked,
“Unnie, are you feeling sick?”
“Huh? No, I’m fine…”
“What? Look at you sweating! Should I get the manager?”
“No, no.”
Jeongin brushed her flushed cheeks and added casually,
“I’m really fine. It’s just—the song’s really good.”
“Right?! I already want to hear it again.”
Jeongin’s expression brightened again.
The members, reassured, began chattering about the song.
“Can’t wait to see how the parts get divided.”
“The bridge has to be Jeongin-unnie! I want to hear it already.”
“The chorus would be great for the youngest, I think.”
Seeing the members’ childlike excitement, she couldn’t say anything.
She felt like she was standing with one foot off a cliff.
Turning away from the bitter taste hovering on her lips, Jeongin quietly turned her head.
Then, gazing at the now-darkened sky outside the window, she thought—
Writer-nim will figure it out.
Ugh, no point making noise here.
The PD would decide the parts anyway.
With that thought, she tried to pull herself together.
About ten minutes passed.
When Kim Minsoo returned to the meeting room, he asked in a teacher-like tone,
“What, already splitting up parts?”
A bubbly response came back.
“Yep!”
“We thought it’d be fun to try matching them ourselves.”
Oh no.
These kids had jumped the gun.
Kim Minsoo calmly declared,
“<Velvet Trigger> isn’t a Lumière song.”
As if someone hit the pause button—
The Lumière members froze in place like they had short-circuited.
“Huh?”
“T-then… whose song is it?”
Kim Minsoo answered coolly.
“Lee Jeongin’s solo.”
Someone let out a cough. Someone else sharply inhaled.
The youngest silently turned to look at Jeongin.
And only Jeongin, the one in question, didn’t panic.
She slowly moved her dry lips.
“…I’ll do my best.”
A short and quiet reply.
Just that one line made Kim Minsoo’s eyebrows twitch ever so slightly.
“What, you already expected it?”
“……”
Lee Jeongin gave a slight nod without replying.
Kim Minsoo’s lips, which had briefly quivered, soon settled back into place.
“Well, that makes things easy.”
The Lumière members still wore blank, stunned expressions.
In the heavy silence,
Jeongin was at a loss for how to act.
Just moments ago, they’d been excitedly assigning parts.
How was she supposed to soothe the hopes they’d just held?
Especially the youngest, who had seemed the most excited.
Sure enough,
The youngest, Kim Dabin, quietly scooted over and sat beside Jeongin.
Then she whispered,
“The premature celebration tasted good.”
Pfft—
A small laugh escaped.
“…Huh?”
Contrary to Jeongin’s worries, all the members were smiling.
Thanks to the youngest’s cheeky playfulness, the awkward air softened.
“Well, even getting a taste is something. And when I think about it, isn’t Jeongin-unnie the only one who could really pull this song off? Right?”
Even if it was Jeongin’s solo, just having it included on the same album was an honor.
With that thought, they comforted their own disappointment.
Kim Dabin raised her right hand and asked,
“You’re going to crush it, right?”
Jeongin quietly stared at the youngest’s hand.
Then she soon smiled brightly and reached out.
“Of course.”
Clap—
Jeongin and Kim Dabin’s palms met with a cheerful slap.
Kim Minsoo looked on at the Lumière members, satisfied, and thought—
I’m glad they took it well.
Yes, if they were a real group, this level of cool acceptance was a basic requirement.
Even with desire, they knew how to hide it. Even with lingering regret, they knew how to celebrate others.
Lumière was growing into that kind of group—and he was proud.
A few days passed.
I’d heard that both songs had been pitched, and while waiting for the recording schedule, I poured even more effort into Sierra’s performance.
Meanwhile, KIM Entertainment wasted no time spreading news about Lumière’s second album.
[ Lumière x Blackhole: “Expect an overwhelming sound.” ]
[ One of the most anticipated albums of the year: Is Stay the core of Lumière’s 2nd album? ]
[ Land Stay, land the chart! 5 secrets behind Stay’s songs. ]
Crunch, crunch.
I was munching on a sandwich my hyung had made and left behind as I checked the articles.
Even though I’d successfully escaped unemployment, my hyung still took careful care of my meals.
Somehow, his cooking skills kept getting better.
Maybe he took after Mom.
I was thinking that as I looked down at my phone—
Buzz—
A message came in from an unfamiliar number.
“Huh?”
[ Hello, Writer Stay. I’m the casting manager at Daebak Sound. I was wondering if… ]
I’m used to these kinds of messages by now.
My contact info might as well be public property at this point.
I wasn’t too bothered and was about to send a quick reply when—
[ …if you could meet with Mr. Seo Dongyoon as well… ]
“…What?”
Why is hyung’s name in this?
Staring at the nonsensical message, I immediately made a call.