Reaching the age of twenty-eight, Taeyeon had hit an invisible barrier blocking her way to bigger success.

She was the youngest artist to be regarded as “the Nation’s Singer” - but that wasn’t enough - she wanted a breakthrough, one that would bring her an alternative to the music genre she’s been stuck with since debt. Ballad songs had always fitted the public taste, they paid a large contribution to Taeyeon’s success, yet she desperately sought an opportunity to change. Frankly, it got tedious after having sung more than a dozen songs of the same genre. It felt like constantly ordering and consuming the same dish repeatedly when there were hundreds of other choices on the menu. No matter how exquisite the dish tasted, they’d become bland, intolerable even, simply because one had been fed too much of them.

Tropical, House, R&B, Hip-Pop, EDM, jazz…there were so many wonderful genres worth experimenting with, yet she couldn’t settle on any one of them. She sang countless demos for each category still she wasn’t satisfied with any of them. It felt off - her voice - felt unfitting, too strained and too endeavouring. The outcome wasn’t what she was expecting regardless how many times she tried amending her singing techniques, she even consulted her vocal coach (who she hadn’t been in touch with lately) for professional advices, to no avail. “The only barrier is yourself.” Taeyeon recalled her mentor’s words. “Perhaps what you need is a break, you’ve been working nonstop these years.” He also tried comforting her by listing the great artists who encountered the same obstacle before, reassuring her that this was a normal stage for performers. Usually it meant a time for short hiatus, for the artist to discover new possibilities through experiencing different things in life - but Taeyeon didn’t want to explore a new life, getting accustomed to new aspects in life, was the least thing she needed now.

It was the eleventh day since she locked herself in the recording studio whenever she could.

Here she went again, trying to master a brand new sound to her own music. Taeyeon gestured the staff to start playing the demo tape, the familiar rhythm hit her eardrums while her hands held onto the sides of the enormous headphones, then she closed her eyes in attempt to sink further into the world of music. By now she had already recored more than ten times solely for this particular demo which she liked when she heard it for the first time, her determination to perfect it was growing stronger day by day, as she still felt there was room for improvement. She sang flawlessly throughout the recording session. When she opened her eyes again, staff nodded with a huge grin of satisfaction and proudness behind the clear glass window, indicating today might be the end of Kim Taeyeon’s everlasting self-imprisonment, emotionally and physically.

Taeyeon flashed a faint smile to her contented colleagues, left the isolated soundproof booth and made her way back to the control room. The insincere grin faded as soon as she walked out of the quiet room, she made sure nobody witnessed the unpleasant feeling painted all over her face right now. Her singing might be flawless, but something felt off, the most elemental component wasn’t there - she wasn’t feeling at all comfortable with the piece she had just produced. But no one needed to know that, her colleagues had been putting up with her requests for days and she didn’t want to trouble them even further. The wisest decision would be letting this irritation be forever buried six feet under her heart. She wanted to flee, she didn’t want to hear her own voice when it wasn’t at its best. 

Her hand was on the door knob when it suddenly opened, revealing a woman with a batch of music sheets and a CD in her arms. The woman took a step back in time to avoid collision, her body stiffened as soon as she saw the person right in front of her. It was the one and only Kim Taeyeon.

’Tae…Taeyeon sunbae-nim,’ The woman immediately bowed, her loud voice made Taeyeon winced, she had always felt a little intimidated by people who has no volume control. 

Taeyeon was sure the woman had bended over ninety degrees, which was the more than necessary to show politeness. Her long jet-black hair and the trembling voice reminded Taeyeon of those young trainees she’d occasionally come across, but she had never encountered them in the recording department (they had no business here, to be exact). Foremost, this woman looked her age…or even older than her. Why did she just call Taeyeon her senior in such a panic manner? 

Taeyeon’s gaze fixed on the woman’s bended body, she seemed coy, very coy actually, which wasn’t surprising at all given Taeyeon was a well respected senior in her company. Taeyeon stood still and tried to get a better look at the stranger’s face, but the latter bowed again to excuse herself then hurried down the corridor, as if she had just seen a ghost. What a bizarre day, am I really that scary? Taeyeon watched as the woman turned and vanished round the corner.

She entered the control room with a sigh, music was her only priority right now, not some random stranger.

As expected, she was greeted with ear-to-ear smiles and clapping when she entered the room.

‘Absolutely amazing! I think that was honestly one of your best shot back there.’ The producer exclaimed. 

‘Thank you, there’s still a lot I need to work on.’ Taeyeon gave him a forced smile in return, cleverly masking the disappointment toward herself.

‘No need to be so humble, Taeyeon, you are the best out there. So this will definitely be the final version?’ He asked for her opinion carefully, it was commonly known among the industry that Kim Taeyeon had a tendency to reject all demos if she didn’t feel confident about them. In the end, the artist’s own opinion values the most.

Taeyeon simply nodded, unwillingly to comment further on the subject knowing she’d let her tongue slip. Should she go ahead with the recording she just did?

Undoubtedly, it was indeed the best effort she could give, and her colleagues would certainly be so relived to know they didn’t have to work on the same song again. The producer went through standard procedures - e