The Asking Price

Song Ya knew very clearly that it wasn't so much that Pablo was blown away, but rather that only after Old Joe took over the chorus did this "cheat code" of a song finally reveal its true face.

In other words, it wasn't that Thrift Shop was a perfect fit for Old Joe, but that Old Joe's unique attire and voice helped Song Ya unlock what he called his "apocalypse." Old Joe was the cause, and Thrift Shop was the effect; he was the person in this current plane of existence best suited for the chorus. Conversely, Little Lowry's rap still had a massive gap compared to the original, so the moment Old Joe opened his mouth, the flavor of the song immediately clicked.

However, since this was his first time touching the track and Old Joe was getting on in years, he still ran into quite a few issues during the more complex lyrical sections in the latter half. Once the song finished, he opened his arms in a gesture asking for feedback. Song Ya immediately held up two thumbs from behind the glass to flatter him. Old Joe took it well and returned the gesture with a standard, sweeping bow.

"I can't do it anymore, I'm exhausted. I need to drink something and take a break." Old Morgan pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his sweat as he walked out of the recording booth.

"Hey!"

Old Joe, just getting into the groove, wasn't having it and followed him out. "Don't be a buzzkill, old man, I haven't even warmed up yet!"

"You should practice the lyrics first. Did you bite your tongue just now?"

Old Morgan didn't let him get the upper hand. He skillfully opened a small liquor cabinet beside the sofa, rummaged through it, and finally fished out a bottle of Chivas. He poured a small glass, downed it in one gulp, let out a satisfied sigh, and slumped onto the sofa. "You really need to restock your cabinet, Old Joe..."

"Shut your mouth and go drink your own piss!"

Old Joe was getting annoyed. "I haven't made a profit here in a long time..."

Pablo gave a light cough.

Just then, Eric pushed the door open with Tony following behind him, laughing as he shouted, "He got dumped by that girl!" He then pointed to the side of Eric's cheek. "Look at this!" There was a pale, five-fingered print there.

Eric couldn't be bothered to deal with him; he walked silently to the mixing console, sat down, and put on his monitor headphones to shut himself off from the world.

"Pizza's here." The voice of AK came from outside the door.

"Everyone, go grab something to eat and take a break." Pablo gave Old Joe a look, then pointed at Song Ya. "You, come with me."

He led Song Ya out, pulled a box from the stack of pizzas outside, and pushed aside the change handed over by Silencer. "You idiot, just keep it." He walked through the hallway with practiced ease and opened the door to the office at the very end.

"Sit."

He placed the pizza on the executive desk, pointed to the chair opposite it, and then sat down himself.

Once Song Ya sat down, "Let's skip the small talk." He asked directly, "What are your plans?"

"Uh..."

Song Ya braced himself. "I don't quite understand... plans regarding what?"

"Copyright, lyrics, management contract... everything." Pablo pulled out a cigarette holder and loaded it. "This song is good, hmm... very good. I think highly of you, but you're currently missing someone to guide you into the industry."

"Yes."

Song Ya felt like he was being led by the nose the entire time. Back in the car, the other party had said they needed to resolve the lyric issue first, so why skip over that now and jump straight to hinting at a management contract?

"But didn't you say we needed to resolve the copyright issue for the lyrics first?" Song Ya decided to play dumb.

"Of course, let's talk about that first then."

Pablo gestured with his hands. "You don't understand this circle. You might think I'm being overbearing at first glance, but let me tell you, this is absolutely necessary. Little Lowry must be listed as a lyricist, otherwise, he won't be able to survive in the future. It's the same for any rapper. The barrier to entry in this circle is low. If you're caught with a weakness, countless small-timers will try to use you to climb the ladder by dissing you. Radio DJs also love to see these kinds of fights; it attracts listeners. How about this: I can pay you a buyout fee on behalf of Little Lowry. You can name your price."

After saying this, he stood up, walked to the window, lit his cigarette, and began to smoke slowly.

How the hell am I supposed to know what a fair price is? Song Ya cursed inwardly.

To actually let a rookie name the price—he looked at Pablo's back and grew increasingly wary of this man. "Uh... can I consult a lawyer first?"

"Damn it!"

Pablo let out a curse. "The fewer people who know about this kind of thing, the safer it is, you understand? Nigger." He turned around, walked closer, and looked down directly into Song Ya's eyes. "I've explained this issue twice already. Don't make me say it a third time."

It seemed to be a negotiation tactic meant to apply pressure. If it were the old Alexander Song, he might have fallen for it, but the current Song Ya had a much stronger mind and knew how to use softness to overcome hardness. "As far as I know, lawyers' mouths are much safer than ours, Nigger."

Pablo's gaze turned cold.

"They... they have that thing... what is it... attorney-client privilege or something..." Song Ya felt that Pablo's change in demeanor was real this time, and he felt a bit of a chill. Someone like Pablo, who thrived in the ghetto, usually had some gang background, and with his Mexican heritage... the ruthlessness of Latin gangs was on a whole other level.

In the ghetto, a death or two really didn't mean much.

Maybe? Should I just back down... you need to be alive to spend the money...

"I wear your granddad's clothes, I look incredible..."

Thank God, just as Song Ya was caught in an internal tug-of-war, Old Joe hummed the song as he swayed into the room.

"Why aren't you eating pizza?" He took off his pink suit jacket, hung it on a hanger, opened a pizza box, grabbed a slice, and started chewing. Even while eating, he didn't forget to stare at the sheet music in his other hand. "Hey! APLUS, what did you think of how I handled that part just now? Give me some feedback," he asked.

"Uh..."

Song Ya looked at Pablo, who had sat back down, and closed his eyes to recall the original song in his mind. "I think you could be a bit more playful."

"Playful? How so?"

"It's just... um..." Song Ya stood up and performed a bit, mimicking the MV by grabbing his suit lapels and shaking them. "Something like this."

"I see, I see..."

Old Joe finished the pizza in a few bites and started singing again, stopping occasionally to exchange ideas with Song Ya, completely enjoying himself.

Pablo glanced at Song Ya, and Song Ya responded with an innocent expression.

"Joe."

Pablo waited for a while, but finally couldn't help but stop Old Joe and bluntly stated the disagreement the two of them had just had. "What do you think?" he asked.

"Hmm..." Old Joe sat behind the desk, pondered for a moment, and then said to Song Ya: "You should find a lawyer you trust, OK?"

"Oh! My God!" Pablo stood up and clutched his head in disbelief, "This kid has bought you off!?"

"Can you stop making things so complicated?" Old Joe replied, "My order was placed with the cassette factory a long time ago. It's only because you said you wanted to add another song that I held back the master tape and didn't send it over. We can't delay any longer; we must re-record the master tape and get it to the factory as soon as possible, or I won't be able to afford the breach of contract penalties."

"You don't have to say these things in front of APLUS, we haven't reached any agreement with him yet..." Pablo didn't care that Song Ya was standing right there and shouted at Old Joe, "What you're saying will put us in a very passive position in front of his lawyer!"

"I don't care."

Old Joe spread his hands, "I don't care anymore. I've been supporting Little Lowry and Al for two years, and I've run out of patience. I just want to end all of this as soon as possible. Whether it becomes a hit or not, it's time to show our cards, understand?"

"FXXX!"

Pablo was so angry that he slammed the door and left.

"Don't mind him. Where were we? Besides being a bit more playful, what else was it?"

"Uh... can you overcome the aspirated sounds a bit more?"

"I can, I can, no problem... I'm a professional. I was popular before, don't underestimate me. Just remind me to pay attention to it when the time comes..."

"Alright."

"And then? What else should I pay attention to..."