From A Producer To A Global Superstar-Chapter 304: Two songs Left

The studio was quieter than it used to be.

Not because people were absent. Everyone was still there. Engineers behind the console. Assistants moving in and out. Artists sitting with notebooks and water bottles. Staff checking cables and screens. The same setup.

The difference was in the air.

A few weeks ago, every small mistake used to make the room stiff. Even breathing too loud felt like a problem. Now, the fear had reduced. People still took Dayo seriously, but it was different. They respected him. They understood him. They knew what he wanted, and most of them had started to meet him there.

Dayo stood in front of the main monitor and looked at the tracker on the screen.

Twelve songs.

Ten were already marked as completed.

Only two remained.

He didn’t smile wide. He just nodded to himself and rubbed his eyes lightly. His face still carried the tiredness, but it didn’t look like the tiredness of someone drowning anymore. It looked like the tiredness of someone pushing toward the finish line.

One of the engineers leaned closer and lowered his voice, like he didn’t want to disturb the moment.

"Two more and we’re done, Director."

Dayo nodded without looking away. "I know."

Behind him, Yura was sitting with her headphones resting around her neck. She was watching him when she thought he wouldn’t notice. Then she looked away quickly, pretending she was focusing on the lyrics on her phone.

Dayo noticed anyway.

He had noticed for the past one hour.

Her eyes kept lifting. Her fingers kept tapping. She kept opening her mouth like she wanted to speak, then stopping herself. It wasn’t panic or confusion. It looked like someone holding in words because she didn’t know how to say them without looking weak.

Dayo didn’t rush her neither did he didn’t ask.

He only continued with the session.

"From the second hook," he said, calm. "Yura, stand by. Then we do one take."

Yura stood immediately. "Yes, Director."

The take went well. Not perfect, but close enough that the room didn’t feel heavy.

Dayo stopped the playback halfway and pointed at the screen.

"Your timing is good," he said. "But you’re pulling back too early. Don’t fear the note. Hold it, then release."

Yura nodded fast. "Okay."

She did it again.

Better.

This time, Dayo didn’t need to talk much. He only raised two fingers, signaling the engineer.

"Save it."

The engineer saved it.

A few staff members exchanged looks and smiled lightly. It wasn’t loud. Nobody was celebrating yet. But they all felt it. They were close. They were almost done.

Dayo stepped back and checked the session notes. He made two quick corrections in the file, then closed the tablet.

"Break," he said. "Ten minutes."

People moved quickly. Someone went for coffee. Someone went to the restroom. Others sat down and stretched. Yura remained standing near the booth entrance, hesitating like she was waiting for permission to exist in front of him.

Dayo was about to walk back to the console when he noticed her step forward.

She stopped in front of him and bowed.

Not a normal bow.

A deep one.

The kind that meant she was serious. The kind that was not done for show.

The room quieted slightly, not because Dayo commanded it, but because people felt the weight of the moment. Even staff who were walking slowed down.

Yura straightened up and looked at him.

Her hands were clenched lightly at her sides. Her eyes didn’t look teary or dramatic, but her voice wasn’t fully steady.

"Director..." she started, then took a small breath. "I learned more here than I learned in years."

That was all.

No long speech. No begging. No dramatic confession.

Just that one line.

Her voice shook slightly at the end, like she was fighting the emotion in her throat. She forced it back down and kept her face calm.

Dayo looked at her for a second.

Then he nodded once.

"Good," he said. "Keep it."

Yura swallowed and nodded hard.

"Yes."

She bowed again, smaller this time, then stepped back like she didn’t want to take too much space. She returned to her seat quietly, holding her phone with both hands like it was the only thing keeping her stable.

Dayo didn’t chase the moment.

He only moved back to the console and checked the tracker again.

Two songs left.

He glanced at the time, then picked up his phone.

He called Min-Jae.

The line rang twice before Min-Jae answered.

"Where are you?" Dayo asked immediately.

"Studio," Min-Jae replied. "Where else?"

Dayo’s tone stayed flat. "Come to the private studio. We’re recording today."

A pause.

"Today?" Min-Jae asked. "You’re serious."

"Yes," Dayo said.

Min-Jae exhaled loudly. "Okay. Give me ten."

Dayo ended the call without extra words.

He returned his phone to his pocket and turned to the engineer.

"Prep the private studio," he said. "Minimal staff. One engineer, one assistant. That’s all."

The engineer nodded. "Got it."

Dayo looked toward the room and spoke again.

"Everyone else, continue practice. I’ll be back."

The artists nodded. No one questioned him.

The studio kept moving like a machine that had learned its rhythm.

Minutes later, Dayo was in the private studio.

The space felt cleaner and more contained this was were Dayo and Min-Jae use to record and it was exclusive to them only.

Min-Jae arrived shortly after.

He walked in with confidence in his shoulders, but Dayo could still see it. The small nervous habits. The way Min-Jae kept clearing his throat like something was stuck.

Dayo didn’t call him out directly after all it been a while he sang so he could understand that he was nervous.

He only looked at him and said, "Warm up. Your ego won’t save you."

Min-Jae blinked, then scoffed. "Just press record, Director. Don’t cry when I carry your song."

Dayo’s mouth lifted slightly. "You’re talking too much."

Min-Jae pointed at him. "You’re scared."

Dayo turned to the engineer. "Set it."

The engineer pressed buttons and adjusted the audio levels.

Min-Jae walked into the booth and put on the headphones. He took a breath, then nodded.

The first take started.

Min-Jae was good. His voice had strength. His control was clean. His tone carried confidence. But halfway through the verse, he slipped slightly on a line. Not enough that a casual listener would notice, but enough that Dayo noticed immediately.

Dayo lifted his hand.

"Stop," he said.

Min-Jae removed one side of his headphones quickly. "Why?"

Dayo spoke calmly. "You rushed the line. You jumped into the word."

Min-Jae frowned. "No, the beat—"

"The beat is fine," Dayo cut in.

Min-Jae’s mouth opened, then closed. He sighed.

Dayo leaned forward slightly, still calm. "You’re trying to prove something. Don’t. Just do it clean."

Min-Jae stared through the glass. "You’re acting like I’m the new trainee."

Dayo shrugged. "Right now you are."

Min-Jae scoffed, but he laughed under his breath too.

"Fine," he said. "Again."

They recorded again.

This time, Min-Jae improved. He held the timing better. He delivered the line with more patience.

Dayo still stopped him once.

"Your breath," Dayo said. "You’re taking it too late. Take it earlier so you don’t squeeze the last word."

Min-Jae looked annoyed. "Do you enjoy suffering?"

Dayo answered plainly. "Yes."

Min-Jae rolled his eyes. "You’re insane."

Dayo didn’t deny it. "Again."

The third take was the one.

Min-Jae hit the verse cleanly. The chorus entrance was smooth. The delivery matched the mood of the song. The control didn’t drop. Even the engineer raised his brows slightly, impressed.

The take ended.

Min-Jae removed the headphones and looked proud.

Dayo didn’t clap or praise him like a fan.

He only said, "Good. Again."

Min-Jae’s face dropped. "Again? Are you mad?"

Dayo leaned back in his chair. "You want it perfect or you want excuses?"

Min-Jae stared for a second.

Then he laughed, short and helpless. "You’re really a problem."

Dayo’s smile showed slightly more than before. "Again."

Min-Jae went back into position.

They recorded one more.

By the time Dayo finally stopped the session, Min-Jae was sweating lightly. Not from dancing. From focus. From pressure. From the fact that Dayo treated him like every other artist, except with more teasing.

Min-Jae came out of the booth and sat down heavily.

He looked at Dayo. "You know you’re lucky I like you."

Dayo replied calmly. "You like yourself too much. Don’t give me that BS."

Min-Jae laughed again, then drank water.

The engineer saved the files and backed up everything. The assistant quietly wrote notes.

Dayo checked the tracker.

One of the two remaining songs was now done.

He was closer.

And for the first time since he started the album, he felt like he could breathe without forcing it.

But the world didn’t rest.

Not when people were watching. Not when enemies were waiting.

****

At Virex, the CEO sat in his office with his tablet in his hand.

His face was tight.

His assistant stood in front of him, holding a folder. The assistant looked careful, like every word mattered.

"Sir," the assistant said slowly, "their promotion... it paused suddenly."

The CEO’s eyes narrowed. "Paused?"

"Yes," the assistant replied. "They stopped pushing the movie news hard. It’s like they’re waiting for something."

The CEO leaned back and tapped the table once.

He hated waiting. He hated not knowing what the other side was planning.

"Release more scandals," he said coldly.

The assistant hesitated.

"Sir..." he started, then paused again. "What if they have evidence?"

The CEO’s eyes sharpened.

"They won’t," he said.

The assistant nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."

But when he turned to leave, his hand tightened around the folder.

He didn’t look convinced.

And that small doubt followed him cause he felt the pause was too sudden.