It had been a while since I last saw Lim Hyunsu’s face, and she looked a bit worn out. “What brings someone so noble to a dump ?” “Please, you’re the noble one gracing this dump.” Whether her California high wore off or what, Lim Hyunsu radiated a prickly aura with her face utterly soaked in fatigue. The whole plagiarism scandal with Kang Ichae must’ve pissed her off—and hit a sore spot too. “That crazy bastard. Get in here.” As soon as we stepped into the studio, she instinctively went for the window, but the air smelled different. “You bloodhound. Switched to vapes. For my precious lungs, you know.” “If you cared that much, you’d just quit altogether.” “Do you have to keep poking where it hurts?” Grumbling, Lim Hyunsu propped her foot on the table and gnawed at her nails. Empty liquor bottles cluttered the space near her foot. “Seo Hoyun, cut the crap and get to the point.” She dropped her hand from her mouth and roughly pushed her hair back. “So, how’s Kang Ichae doing?” “Doesn’t seem to be in his right mind.” She was the one who asked, but judging by the way her eyes widened, that was far from the answer she expected. “Th-That’s kinda surprising.” “You’re the one who asked, so what’s with the reaction?” “I mean... Come on, you know. That guy’s mental fortitude is titanium-grade.” Yeah, he was basically a SI*us mattress—doesn’t budge an inch under pressure. I sat down at the computer on the side of the studio. ‘Something feels off.’ It was bothering me how completely unshaken he seemed. That subtle air of something being off. I pulled up the copyright database and searched Kang Ichae’s name. All that came up was a fan song released back in September. As I tapped my fingers on the desk, retracing what I might’ve missed, Lim Hyunsu chewed on her lip. “Have you heard that shameless bastard’s song?” “I have. It’s exactly the same as our fan song.” I answered lazily while scrolling through SNS to see how things were unfolding. [We’re the ones who got fucking plagiarized and somehow we’re the ones being screwed. I’m not even mad anymore.] [Where the hell did all the psychos who jumped on us go? They just slapped a plagiarism label on the kid and dipped. I’m losing faith in humanity.] [I’m staying neutral. Not sure anymore. └How can you be neutral when there’s evidence? └└There’s no definitive proof it was plagiarism though. Could just be similar.] [Time to cleanse the trending searches. Just looking at it makes me want to scream.] [But was it really plagiarism? It’s similar, yeah, but there’s no actual proof. The song wasn’t even officially released?? └It’s way too similar for that.] As expected, among the Noeul fans, rumors about the unreleased track were already spreading, with many claiming Kang Ichae’s innocence. But with no copyright registration and the growing negative image around his genius persona, it was clear their voices would get drowned out. ‘Maybe I overreacted... Ichae must be struggling too.’ Being accused of something you didn’t do by thousands of people—how could that not break you? After combing through more online reactions, the picture became clear. There were two problems. First, we missed the ideal window to counterattack. Second, public opinion had already turned firmly against Kang Ichae. There’s one way to fix this. ‘Restructure the narrative.’ Make the story get reinterpreted. “One hundred percent, Kang Ichae’s the victim here. The composer stirring shit up? He’s a repeat offender. He’s even lifted a few bars from my songs.” “Really? Did you sue?” “Hah, you don’t know how it works? Plagiarism lawsuits are tough. Even if you take it to court, it drags forever and goes nowhere.” She was a former PD for a survival show filled with long-term trainees. There’s no way she didn’t understand how copyright and plagiarism worked. Whether it was a lawsuit or something else—this was all old news. I asked on purpose, just to make her say it out loud. While I kept filing away what I learned about the opposing composer, Hyunsu kept muttering. “I even tried to be the bigger person about it. You know, people make mistakes, right? Maybe he just made a slip-up...” “...The fuck is that logic?! You commit a crime, you pay for it! I still fucking regret it!” Watching her grind her teeth at the mere mention of plagiarism was almost impressive. I started thinking of how to steer this conversation. ‘She’s walking right into it.’ Time to gently nudge her. “Composer-nim, in cases ... do people usually speak to the other composer directly?” “Really? Our company’s trying to mediate but the communication’s not going well.” I mumbled with a slight droop in my brows, and Hyunsu narrowed her eyes. “You little shit. Just say what you want already.” “Hang on. Let this composer show you what mature conflict resolution looks like.” Clicking her tongue, Hyunsu whipped out her phone. “Don’t worry. I won’t bring up Kang Ichae.” I gave her a dramatic double thumbs-up. She was sharp. That’s what made her useful. “Ahem. Hey, this is Cheongbeom.” As soon as the call connected, she raised her voice and put it on speaker. [...Ah. Hello, sunbae.] “I was wondering if we could chat for a bit about your recent track—” The other voice immediately sounded on edge. Arms crossed, I watched Cheongbeom handle things in her “mature” way. “Your ‘Survive Menthol’ track—kinda looks like it—” [—I don’t think we have anything to discuss.] The other person even chuckled in disbelief. [Wow. I seriously can’t believe Lim Hyunsu sunbae is saying this to me.] [You made a ton of money and now you’ve just... forgotten your own screw-ups? Or are you just trying to stir up some drama again?] Googlᴇ search novel~fire~net Hyunsu’s expression stiffened instantly. ‘Still haunts her, huh.’ Once branded, it never fades. When plagiarism is brought up, she can’t argue back—even if she’s furious. She likes to think she paid the price by listing herself as a co-writer and handing over all revenue. But deep down, she knows that wasn’t enough. If another plagiarism scandal brews, she’ll be dragged through the mud again. [Besides, that track’s ancient news. Why now—] “You, what the fuck did you just say?” [This about Kang Ichae? You two are close, right? You calling ‘cause of him?] She froze, mouth opening and closing. [Didn’t he forget to register the copyright? From the looks of it, he plagiarized me.] The other guy snorted. No mistaking it—it was a sneer. Hyunsu clutched the back of her neck. “Th-That fucker—what the hell did he just say?!” “Call that asshole out here. Tell him I’ll beat the shit out of him right now!” [......Is this your idea of a mature response?] As Hyunsu chugged nearly half a 2-liter bottle of water in one go, I started strategizing how to reel her in. I scrolled through the opposing composer’s feed, and his Story caught my eye. “Just posted something.” “Want me to read it? ‘Sure, the progression and melody might sound similar, but the chord structure is completely different. Can’t believe I’m getting pressured over the phone by a sunbae, of all people. Laughing emoji.’” “‘And that it’s that sunbae? You can’t make this stuff up.’ ...Wow.” Thanks for laying the groundwork yourself. Even after I read it out loud, she couldn’t believe it until she yanked the monitor and reread it herself—word for word—face cycling through red and blue. I reached over and handed her a regular cigarette from beside the monitor. “Composer-nim, I think you might need this.” She snatched the cigarette like it was air and rummaged for a lighter. I lit it for her and began playing /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ through the composer’s entire discography. Beside me, Hyunsu was muttering furiously: “Damn it, this is why I don’t plagiarize... That bastard...!” ‘Obvious mimicry. Just subtle enough not to get caught. Just spicy enough to attract attention.’ Then, a particular track caught my attention. ‘The perfect bait for Hyunsu.’ One that sampled a classical melody with an expired copyright. Chopin, Brahms, Debussy... This time too, I asked while knowing full well. The bait was taking shape—for catching composers plural. “This track samples a classical piece. You can make songs like that?” “...If the copyright’s expired and neighboring rights are cleared, sure.” “So if someone else made a song using the same classical piece, would that count as plagiarism?” Hyunsu looked genuinely annoyed. Tapping ash into the tray, she answered: “...Depends on how it’s done, but if the songs are different enough, it’s pretty ambiguous. It’d feel shitty to the original creator, though.” She suddenly realized where this was heading. “You... You’re thinking of making a song using the same classical piece... to stir shit on purpose? And make sure it can’t be flagged for plagiarism?” “We don’t need to stoop to his level... But in this case, I think we might have to get our hands a little dirty to flip the board.” [What are you doing?] I ignored the system message. Hyunsu looked completely exhausted. “Don’t. No. You could pull off a scandal, sure, but are you out of your mind? You want Kang Ichae to release something borderline plagiaristic?” “Then who else on our team can compose? I guess I’ll have to ask Kang Ichae.” “What kind of bullshit—he’s not gonna go along with that!” “He would if I asked.” “Seo Hoyun, have you lost your damn mind?!” It had been a while since I saw Hyunsu this pissed. I felt a quiet appreciation for how much she still cared about Ichae. “You know that’s a terrible move, right? He wouldn’t—why would he do something like that? Not even I would!” She remembered her own scandal again and grabbed the cigarette pack off the desk. With a fresh stick between her lips—unlit—she chewed down on it instead of smoking. “Then what do you suggest, Composer-nim?” The fish was circling the bait. “Got any other way to cause a stir?” “...I do! I’d rather take the heat and sue him for plagiarism over my song—go full aggressive even if it blows up in my face...!” Hyunsu stopped mid-sentence. Her cigarette dropped to the floor. “You... You came to me first on purpose.” I never intended to mention plagiarism to Kang Ichae in the first place. Hyunsu just needed to believe I would. “You want me to stir up a scandal with that bastard? Knowing full well it’ll dredge up my old shit again?” That’s right. She was quick—always was. Why else would I show up , in this timing? Was I going to beg her to defend Kang Ichae’s character publicly? That would just tie both of them to the plagiarism narrative and drag them through the mud together. “What if I say no? You gonna go ask Kang Ichae instead?” Instead, I tilted my head and asked sweetly: “Composer-nim, are you really that kind of person?” She pressed her lips together and went quiet for a long while. Like her shameful past and her desire to protect her student were at war inside her. Eventually, a rare, heartfelt curse slipped out of her mouth. “...Wow, Seo Hoyun, you son of a bitch.” “Only just now figuring that out?”