"Make sure you evaluate Paul's work using the highest industry standards."
"Be sure to harshly criticize his new songs. You absolutely must maintain the most professional attitude."
"Paul needs to understand fundamentally that these new songs are unacceptable!"
Before arriving at Jasmin's office, the higher-ups and investors of Germo Entertainment had already briefed the professional arrangers and artists. Their task was clear: when reviewing Paul's new works, they had to adopt a critical stance, ensuring he understood the difficulties ahead and retreated from his plans.
"If the next concert goes wrong, it will damage the company's interests!" the senior management said sternly.
They couldn't risk Paul's experiment jeopardizing Germo Entertainment's reputation.
The well-known composers at Germo Entertainment all nodded in agreement. They knew that if the company was in trouble, no one would be safe.
Finally, a chance to show Paul we're not just here for paperwork. Time to flex our musical muscles, one arranger thought.
"Remember when he brought in that last hit?" one composer whispered to another. "Fully arranged, practically ready for recording. What were we even there for?"
"Copyright registration, apparently. We're glorified clerks to him," the other replied with a bitter chuckle.
This had long caused dissatisfaction among the composers, but Paul's position in the company and his influence in the market kept them from speaking out. Now that the opportunity had presented itself, how could they resist criticizing him? They were ready to show him what true professionalism meant.
You've had it too easy for too long. Time to taste some humble pie, one composer thought.
As for the company's contracted singers, although many of them idolized Paul, this was their chance to showcase their own ambitions. Who wouldn't want to rise and become Germo Entertainment's top star? They saw this as an opportunity to make a name for themselves.
"Don't get me wrong, Paul's incredible, but..." one singer murmured to his colleague.
"But wouldn't it be nice if someone else got the spotlight for once?" the other finished, nodding in agreement.
"Exactly. We've got talent too, you know?"
If I play my cards right, I could be the one they're all talking about after this meeting. It's my turn to shine, an ambitious singer thought, straightening his posture.
The company's senior executives and owner were present. If they could dissuade Paul from performing his new songs at the next concert, it would benefit everyone. So, they all approached the task with strong enthusiasm and confidence, even before the higher-ups gave any further instructions.
Behind the scenes, the company's key investor, an elderly man with white hair, was the first to pick up the new song sheet. He didn't know much about music and was merely planning to look over it briefly. He had already handed out the instructions to suppress Paul, and once the others had done enough, he would step in as the good guy to smooth things over.
No matter what, Paul was still the company's golden brand. The white-haired man had a soft spot for talented youth, remembering his own days of struggle in the capital. As a young man, he had been full of ambition, but only with age did he learn to seek stability, moving his focus to Gart. The capital's circles were too deep, and even with all his money, he found it hard to fit in.
It was clear to him that moving the company to the capital, as Jasmin had suggested several times, would be a fatal mistake. Even he couldn't handle it there, so how could she? Better to stick with Gart, where he could maintain a foothold.
As the meeting began, the professional arrangers and singers in the room picked up Paul's songs, studying them with unusual seriousness. Their expressions were stern, eyes filled with a clear intent to find fault. After all, they had a mission: to point out Paul's shortcomings.
"Let's see what you've got. Time to separate the wheat from the chaff," an arranger muttered, adjusting his glasses.
Remember, look unimpressed. No matter what's on that page, a singer reminded herself, schooling her features into a mask of indifference.
But...
As one of the company's arrangers started reading Paul's song Born to Live, his brows furrowed deeply.
When the senior executives and the white-haired investor noticed this, they were pleased. It seemed like the song had problems. Lars, the company's most respected arranger, known for his sharp criticism, never furrowed his brows lightly. This meant he was about to deliver some harsh words.
"He's about to tear Paul apart," an executive whispered to the investor.
"Good. This is exactly what we need."
Yet, as they waited, Lars remained silent, his frown only deepening. Finally, he looked up at Paul, his eyes filled with excitement.
"Did... did you really write this song?"
Everyone was stunned. What did this mean? Was the song so good that even Lars couldn't believe Paul had written it?
What are you doing? a composer thought, his jaw dropping in disbelief.
Even the white-haired investor and the executives, along with Jasmin, turned their attention to Paul. He remained calm and nodded lightly, as if he had expected this reaction.
"Yes, I did," he replied calmly. "It's all my own work." More or less.
Before anyone could react, Lars was on his feet, crossing the room in three quick strides. He grasped Paul's arms, his eyes shining with an almost manic gleam.
He then grabbed Paul's arms with urgency. "Please let me arrange this song for you. I'm begging you!"
His words left everyone in shock, especially the white-haired investor. What was going on? He had instructed them to suppress Paul, but now Lars was practically begging to work with him?
"Lars, I... I'm honored, but–" Paul started, clearly surprised by the outburst.
"You don't understand," Lars interrupted. "This song... it's... it's perfection. I need to be part of bringing it to life."
What the hell is happening? This isn't what we planned at all! an executive thought.
"Give me that," the investor growled and grabbed the lyrics from Lars. As he read them, his angry expression changed, his disbelief growing.
"This... how is this possible?"
"Did you really write a song like this?"
He couldn't understand. How could someone so young, who had never even been in a relationship, write something that captured the depth of love so perfectly?
"Is this reasonable?"
"This is completely unreasonable!"
The murmuring of the elderly man with white hair also attracted the attention of the other executives.
What kind of work could it be that made the famous arranger, Lars, personally beg to compose for it, and even left the investor, Georg, with a look of disbelief?
"Is it really that outstanding?"
One of the executives couldn't help but ask. Lars responded without hesitation, his tone full of excitement and confidence.
"Outstanding?"
"No. It's beyond outstanding. It's absolutely amazing!"
"How do I put this? I'll tell you this: this song absolutely has the potential to win this year's Polyton Award!"
"If the judges have no issues, and this song doesn't win, I'll take my head off for you all to see!"
"..."
Hearing his confident tone, the others became even more curious and rushed to see what Paul had written. It was well-known that as a senior arranger, Lars' qualifications and abilities were indisputable. If he went out on his own, any entertainment company would be scrambling to invite him to join.
If it weren't for the relationship with Georg, the investor behind Germo Entertainment, someone of his age wouldn't still be working at a company. Although his fame might not surpass Paul's today, within the industry, the vast majority still held him in high respect and admiration.
So, when he said Paul's song had award-winning potential, everyone knew just how high that praise was.
"These lyrics are... truly well-written!" someone couldn't help but exclaim.
Jasmin, who was standing nearby, also stepped forward, her eyes falling on the lyrics Paul had written for the song: That Was It for Me.
Her heart trembled slightly, as if these lyrics were tailor-made for her. Especially these two lines:
And today, after 30 years, she stands where she once was.
And realizes that everything eventually fades, probably even. floodlights.
For a woman, what was most important? Of course, it was age. Especially in the entertainment industry, the treatment for an eighteen-year-old girl just entering the field and a woman in her thirties who could no longer get roles was worlds apart.
This industry was brutally appearance-focused; people might try to deceive you with words or false claims, but the physical reality of one's body - age, looks, fitness - was undeniable and ultimately what the industry judged.
That was how the entertainment industry was: female actors aged, and then they were cast aside, forgotten...
But there was also a continuous influx of young girls, who, after being carefully selected, trod the paths of those who had once succeeded. Unless you had truly solid skills and a clear plan for your future, becoming the power behind the scenes.
Only then, like Jasmin, could you barely manage to stand at the forefront. The more this was the case, the more she understood the ruthlessness of time.
In this industry, actresses faced even more stringent standards, as their golden age of youth often lasted only a few years before they were forced to start declining due to age.
Paul had previously suggested to Jasmin that Germo Entertainment should invest in creating a variety show that would give female stars who had lost stage opportunities due to age a chance to return to the spotlight. He had even thought of the show's name—Golden Girls.
After hearing his suggestion, she agreed it was a solid idea. But before the planning even started, he announced that he would sing new songs at the next concert.
When the arrangers and singers at Germo Entertainment saw his song That Was It for Me, they immediately understood why Lars said it was award-worthy.
It was simply too fantastic. The lyrics weren't complex, but they were filled with deep emotion and sincerity. In a society so full of superficiality, this kind of genuine, heartfelt work was the rarest.
Every one of Paul's works could touch people's hearts, and that was no coincidence. As everyone marveled at and praised the song, another arranger, holding another song, exclaimed in surprise:
"I think this song is equally excellent."
"If Lars wants That Was It for Me, no one better take this song from me!"
Hearing that another arranger had 'betrayed' them, from always finding faults with Paul to genuinely wanting to work on his music, Georg could only smile wryly.
He walked over and glanced at the song in the arranger's hand. The title clearly read, Breathless Through the Night.
Even Georg, who had been in the entertainment industry for many years, couldn't help but read and re-read the lyrics of Breathless Through the Night. Though the song fell within the folk genre, Paul's writing was simply outstanding.
No, it was excellent. Even better than his previous works.
If That Was It for Me was Lars' guarantee for winning an award, then Georg was willing to stake his reputation on Breathless Through the Night also being an award-winner.
No wonder that arranger immediately switched sides and wanted to arrange the song. Who wouldn't want to share in the glory of something destined to win an award? Especially since Paul, who they had all worked with, had a thorough understanding of his own music.
He could even provide accurate and detailed suggestions on the arrangements.b This made their work much easier compared to arranging for other singers.
He could hardly believe that both of these award-worthy songs were written by Paul in a single day—no, to be precise, in half an hour. What kind of talent was this? It was as if he had a divine gift for songwriting.
"Listen to me, come see the song I have here!"
Just as Georg was about to say something, another highly respected arranger not far away raised a song in his hand. From the look of excitement on his face, he seemed to have forgotten he was already in his fifties.
"David, what's wrong? Afraid we'll take it from you? You're not young anymore, don't raise it so high, or you'll hurt your back." The other arrangers couldn't resist teasing as they looked over.
"Yeah, if your wife finds out you hurt your back and can't fulfill your duties at night, she won't let you off lightly."
Even Lars joined in the teasing, but David wasn't the least bit upset. He just held tightly to the song in his hand, as if afraid another arranger might snatch it away.
"We're all adults here. Who's going to steal it from you? Show us what you've got."
With Lars' reassurance, David finally lowered his hand. Everyone's eyes were drawn to the sheet music, and there, in bold letters, was the title—7 Years.