The Double Life of a Genius Musician Chapter 62 : Everything Had Stopped

Chapter 62: Everything Had Stopped

“Escaped Kids, we’re going into rehearsal.”

Hoo-up—

I took in a deep breath.

The staff were looking up at the stage.

This scene felt familiar.

I’d experienced it countless tis back at Sierra.

The cara director adjusted the lens.

The production crew peered into small monitors, checking sothing.

Before long, one by one, the lights descended over our heads.

“Three, two, one.”

The mont the countdown ended, a refreshing keyboard performance began.

The sound flowing from the speakers was quite satisfying.

I looked at the mbers.

Even if each of them was hiding their expression behind a mask.

Even if we couldn’t et eyes and exchange encouraging glances.

I knew. They were all smiling with satisfaction.

The first verse of the vocal, Teacher Moon Jungbae, began.

“They said ti doesn’t stop. Will I rember this mont?”

Our heads all turned toward the vocal at the sa ti.

How could he… sound so lively?

His voice was brighter and clearer than in practice.

— Compared to Cheongseong’s vocal back then… I should go a different route, right? I’m even wearing a mask, it’d be silly to get exposed over sothing trivial.

That’s what he’d said earlier in the waiting room, and sohow, even his tone felt a little different now.

The drums matched the beat perfectly.

The guitar followed smoothly behind.

The vocal’s voice rode the quick beat with ease.

It was a perfect stage.

Youth, adolescence—

It couldn’t have been expressed more stylishly than this.

A thrill that started at my toes raced up my back in an instant.

But then—

‘Why… does sothing feel off?’

It was quiet.

The audience—or rather, the staff seats—were far too quiet.

During rehearsal, there was usually at least a light reaction.

Lower one light.

Let’s raise the drum volu a bit.

I’ll adjust the vocal balance.

Sothing like that, at least.

But right now?

The staff were just… standing still.

Had we failed to et expectations?

Or had they started this performance without any expectations to begin with?

‘…No, it’s not like that.’

I hadn’t expected cheers or applause.

But still, at the very least—

I thought they’d show so hint of surprise.

Hoo…

I let out a faint sigh.

They say perfection feels empty.

But this couldn’t be that, right?

Wearing a mask was convenient in monts like this.

No one could tell what expression I was making or where I was looking.

I looked down at the staff.

The sound director wore his headphones in silence.

The lighting team stood still, as if there was nothing to adjust.

Even the broadcasting PD just stared at the screen without a word.

“Even the deepening shadows make us freer.”

The song continued.

It was heading steadily toward the climax.

Yet there was still no reaction.

It was as if ti had truly stopped.

Everything remained exactly as it had been when I first saw it.

‘Whatever.’

We were doing our best, and we would keep doing our best.

I hid my disappointed expression and placed my hand on the panel.

Still, everything had stopped.

* * *

UTAR’s rehearsal ended.

There was still only silence.

So were holding their breath, others clutching their hands tightly.

The staff stared blankly up at the darkened stage.

‘…….’

Even until the mbers of Escaped Kids finished tidying up and left,

they simply stood there, staring up at the stage.

‘How is this… a rehearsal?’

I felt the sa way.

This was supposed to be nothing more than a “rehearsal.”

Lightly checking the sound.

Going over the stage positions.

Making sure there were no problems.

No matter how well you did, it was normal to show less than half the performance compared to the real stage.

But—

That was how it was supposed to be.

“…F***. What did I just see?”

The first to speak was the sound director, Lee Haengseok.

He quickly took off his headphones.

The lingering aftertaste was still strong.

“This was rehearsal, right? Yeah?”

The assistant engineer who had been helping with the mixing swallowed hard.

“That’s what I’m saying. It’s rehearsal, but… it feels like we’re at a concert.”

The strange atmosphere hadn’t just enveloped the sound team.

The cara director couldn’t even put his cara down, only blinking.

Even after the rehearsal filming had ended,

their hands were still aid at the stage.

A wide grin.

Among all the staff, only PD Chun Hanyeong was beaming.

As if he were a player who had just won a match.

He strode confidently toward the cara and said,

“We need to watch this again. Play it back right now.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Seeing the cara, Chun Hanyeong let out a dry laugh.

No zoom, no panning, no tracking.

The cara had stayed fixed in one spot, like it had been frozen there.

“Right? When it’s this perfect, you don’t even know what to focus on.”

The directing team was in an uproar.

The cara director dusted off his hands and muttered as he got up from his seat,

“We can’t shoot this again, right?”

“Of course not. It’s live. There’s sothing that only cos out in that mont. You can’t capture it twice.”

PD Chun Hanyeong rolled his neck, looking up at the ceiling.

And then…

“Hey, hey, once this airs, it’s over.”

All eyes turned to the PD.

“…You an that in a good way?”

PD Chun Hanyeong slowly turned his gaze.

“Are you insane? You saw that and that’s what you’re saying?”

The directing team glanced at one another.

They’d never seen a stage like this before.

From rookies— and with a live band, no less.

To pull off a stage like this? They’d never even heard of it.

Only then did a faint exclamation escape.

“Wow…”

“CP, wipe your mouth.”

Belated cheers burst out.

“No, I thought I’d been electrocuted.”

“…What are they going to do for the actual stage, then?”

“Director, this was live, right? Not synced?”

“Nope. I was watching the mixing— 100%. Pure live.”

“…It’s almost scary.”

Then, soone snapped their fingers as if they’d just realized sothing.

“That’s why it was so quiet.”

Everyone finally nodded.

They’d been left speechless by an overwhelming stage.

As if sothing had broken inside them.

They hadn’t even had ti to react.

Not even the usual clapping had co out.

Sound director Lee Haengseok stepped forward.

Clap—!

He gave a loud round of applause.

The applause soon turned into a roaring cheer.

So loud that even Lee Haengseok, who had started it, looked flustered.

“Crazy…”

PD Chun Hanyeong muttered while scanning the area for soone.

“Where’s UTAR?”

“They went back to the waiting room already.”

“Tsk, they must have completely misunderstood this.”

“Co on, no way. They know better than anyone. They just did a rehearsal like it was a solo concert encore performance—how could they not know?”

By then, Taeyoon and the mbers had already left.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had this much fun.”

Director Shin Chunho laughed heartily.

He had watched the filming in complete silence.

From the very start of the rehearsal until the end of the main shoot.

Quietly, from a corner of the audience seats, so as not to stand out.

His impression was simple.

Signum and Escaped Kids—

Perfect rivals, yet perfect companions.

An idol band, and a real band.

Their positions didn’t overlap.

Yet they created a clear contrast that flipped expectations.

That was Shin Chunho’s judgnt.

‘PD Chun Hanyeong still has it.’

The MC began the closing remarks.

“Music Stage! Until now…”

As soone who loved music—

And as soone running the Entertainnt Division with his own goals and vision—

It was electrifying.

It was exciting.

When the rehearsal had been interrupted earlier, he’d felt a twinge of anxiety.

But PD Chun Hanyeong had crafted a stage that he absolutely loved. As always.

He chuckled to himself and was about to slip away when—

“Were you secretly watching?”

Ah, damn.

He’d been caught red-handed by PD Chun Hanyeong.

“Ahem. Not secretly. I was just… watching.”

“If the Director is sitting in the corner wearing a cap, that’s definitely sneaking a peek. Don’t even try it.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“A snapback doesn’t help.”

The awkward laugh lasted only a mont.

Shin Chunho quickly shifted into his sharp, no-nonsense Director mode.

Then he spoke to Chun Hanyeong with strict authority.

“Good picture.”

He didn’t forget to give two firm pats on the shoulder.

He ant to leave coolly—

But UTAR’s stage kept replaying in his mind.

Especially the DJ wearing the rabbit mask—he had shattered every prejudice about DJs.

DJs, in his mind, had always seed like punks.

Hitting on won at clubs, posting half-naked pictures on Instagram, indulging in hedonism…

But today, for the first ti, he had t a DJ who made real music.

Maybe he had never really looked at them properly before.

DJ Rabbit, Seo Rabbit—

A character that fit perfectly with a refreshing band track.

Enough to even lt the heart of an old-fashioned director.

Still, he had his dignity to uphold.

He was about to leave, smacking his lips, when PD Chun Hanyeong stopped him to ask:

“How was it?”

“You hear say it was good, or not?”

“Not that.”

“Then what?”

Chun Hanyeong added—

“Didn’t it feel… like Cheongseong had co back?”

“Hm.”

Shin Chunho took a deep breath, then answered clearly.

“No, not quite that much.”

“Really?”

“And you?”

“Better than Cheongseong, I think.”

“Why’s that?”

“They’re young.”

“That’s true. Cheongseong must be nearing sixty now. They can’t pull off that kind of freshness anymore.”

I agreed with that.

Shin Chunho was also a music maniac who would hate to be considered second to anyone.

“I’m curious about the vocalist’s face. That Cheongseong vocalist, what’s his na again…?”

“Moon Jungbae?”

“Yeah. Feels like he’s trying too hard to imitate that Jungbae kid. Not very convincing.”

“Cheongseong has its own charm, and UTAR has theirs.”

“That’s true. Oh, and another thing.”

Shin Chunho looked down at Chun Hanyeong with a warm gaze.

Rivalry?

Though each had a different appeal, from a strictly band perspective,

Signum was far behind UTAR.

A complete victory for UTAR.

However, in terms of public buzz, both bands had their strengths.

Thus, it was a beautiful ending without winners or losers.

“Don’t lean too heavily into that rivalry angle, got it? Viewers these days have sharp eyes. If it looks like you’re clumsily pushing them just because they’re from a big entertainnt company, the broadcasting folks will be the ones taking the heat.”

“I know, I know. If you ss up the rivalry story, they’ll call it so outdated ’80s thing.”

“When’s the digital release?”

“On the afternoon of the broadcast day.”

“Okay. I’m looking forward to the B-side tracks too.”

Shin Chunho gave two big thumbs up and waved them before leaving.

The day passed like a dream.

We did the rehearsal, then fild the main stage.

It had been over 30 hours since I last slept.

This was an entertainer’s experience I’d never imagined for myself.

Seriously, not just anyone can do this.

After filming the stage and the interviews—

Even after the live shoot, there was still more filming to do?

I was cold and hungry.

“Taeyoon, you worked hard… hey, are you asleep?”

The charcoal on the table flickered.

Its faint red glow swayed as if casting a hypnotic spell.

The mont that warmth wrapped around my eyelids, they collapsed shut.

Sleep was crashing over .

I flopped over and rested my head on Teacher Moon Jungbae’s thigh.

A large, warm hand brushed through my hair.

Ah… I just couldn’t open my eyes.

I faintly heard CEO Kim Minsoo and the mbers talking.

“This isn’t like him.”

“Let him sleep. He must be exhausted. We’re all in the sa group—it’s fine.”

“No, that’s not it. He’s not the type to refuse at. Is he sick?”

I wanted to at least answer them—

But no words ca out.

I cracked my eyes open just a little.

They were all looking down at with concern.

Ah, whatever.

at or not,

I just wanted to enjoy this blissful drowsiness in peace. At least, that’s what I thought—

‘…Huh?’

And just like in a lie, suddenly—

‘A lody popped into my head?’

In that mont, the chick-like faces of the Signum mbers flashed before .

And in contrast, a fierce eight-bar synth the struck my mind like lightning.