EJAE’s debut single has been more than ten years in the making. Technically, it began when she was still a trainee, rehearsing behind the walls of SM Entertainment and waiting for a debut that never came. She trained alongside future idols and prepared for line-ups that eventually moved forward without her. Those early years carved out a story of near-misses – one of many young hopefuls caught in the ruthless arithmetic of K-pop’s trainee system, where talent alone doesn’t always guarantee a debut. SM reportedly cut her from final rosters because the company didn’t see the commercial balance they wanted; her vocal stylings did not suit what they were after. That kind of decision can often end careers before they even begin. For EJAE, it became a pivot point.

Instead of fading into the background, she did something rarer – she stayed in the industry but changed lanes. Over the years, she built a career as a songwriter, helping shape some of the most polished tracks in modern K-pop. Her credits speak volumes: Red Velvet’s “Psycho,” aespa’s “Drama,” and a number of deep cuts that reveal a writer who understands both emotional density and pop architecture. It’s a path that requires its own kind of artistry. Songwriting, especially in K-pop’s system, isn’t anonymity; it’s authorship. You still need a voice, a style, a brand. EJAE became known for hers – a blend of introspection, technical refinement, and emotional sharpness that made her one of the backbones of SM’s sonic identity in the 2020s.

Then came KPop Demon Hunters. The animated feature, directed by Maggie Kang, unexpectedly became a cultural talking point. Its success was fuelled by more than visuals – the music gave the story a pulse. EJAE’s involvement in the soundtrack, particularly through her work on the global hit track “Golden” by the movie’s fictional band HUNTR/X, marked a turning point. Kang herself has credited EJAE’s demo work as one of the reasons the film even got greenlit, a testament to how integral her songwriting had become to the project’s world-building. When audiences connected with “Golden,” they were connecting to EJAE’s sensibility. Her voice, presence, and melodic instincts became the emotional through-line of that soundtrack.

It’s not often that a behind-the-scenes artist becomes the defining sound of a hit project. Yet that’s exactly what happened. And now, following that wave of renewed attention, EJAE steps forward with “In Another World,” her long-awaited solo debut. The timing is perfect. With global curiosity piqued and her credibility established, she’s reintroducing herself not through hype, but through a song that feels like a distillation of everything she’s learned – and lost – over the past decade.

Vocals and Storytelling

If expectations were high before pressing play, “In Another World” raises them further. The song doesn’t just showcase her range; it reveals the kind of precision that only years of disciplined craft can produce. The track begins in a low, husky register – an intimate tone that feels close, almost confessional. There’s a faint rasp under her vowels, something lived-in, like someone speaking quietly into the dark. As the song builds, she ascends gradually, letting the melody climb in waves. By the second chorus she’s already orbiting higher notes with controlled intensity, and by the final one, she takes full flight. The belt arrives not as a showy climax but as an inevitability. Her tone holds firm even as she moves between chest and head registers, gliding up, down, and back again in effortless motion. It’s a technically demanding performance – one of those songs that sound simple until you try to sing them.

Her voice isn’t polished to perfection; it’s textured. You can hear edges, the small qualities that make the performance human. That’s what gives it weight. It’s storytelling through tone. Every inflection feels connected to the lyrics, which explore the ache of a relationship that’s failing not because of absence, but because of the baggage that lingers between two people.

The song was written by EJAE (Eunjae Kim) alongside Breagh MacKinnon and Ted Andreville. In her own words to Vulture, it comes from a deeply personal place: “This song is about a time when my fiancé and I had a break. For me, it was about acknowledging that we have baggage, that I have jealousy and insecurity issues that caused a lot of resentment. So maybe in another world where that was gone, we would have been perfect. That weirdly gave me relief.”

That honesty grounds the track. But she’s also described how the meaning evolved over time: “The song evolved into applying to my relationship with myself. Because when I was a kid, I could have gone to a different world of me being a singer. But the path I’d taken at the time was not to that dream.”

It’s rare to hear an artist speak so plainly about self-doubt. That dual interpretation – romantic loss and self-reconciliation – makes the devastation of “In Another World” multi-faceted. It’s not about regret, but about acceptance.

EJAE has also made it clear that she wants the focus to stay on the song, not the persona behind it: “‘In Another World’ was a song that my beautiful co-writers helped me write. I want it to be very clear that it’s not about me; it’s about the message. I’m not perfect, but the songs have every intention of wanting to be. Because every lyric and every melody was very intentional from all our collaborators. So let’s idolize the song, not me, you know what I mean?”

That sentiment underlines her entire approach. For EJAE, pop is translation. She treats emotion like something you sculpt, not something you perform.

Production and Atmosphere

Produced by Breagh Isabel, Vitals, and Daniel Rojas, the arrangement mirrors that philosophy. It’s an atmospheric acoustic ballad built around reverbed piano, muted strings, and open space. The production gives her voice plenty of room to breathe and soar. The piano carries most of the emotional weight, with light percussive textures flickering beneath it, like echoes of movement in an empty room. There’s restraint everywhere. Each sound has an intention. When the strings finally swell, it’s a subtle shift that mirrors the song’s emotional progression from heaviness to release.

The production doesn’t overwhelm her; it cradles her. There’s no temptation to turn the song into a cinematic and overproduced spectacle. Instead, it feels intimate. Honest. It’s the kind of balance that comes from people who trust silence as much as sound.

The Visual Language

Then there’s the video, which takes the entire project to another level. On first watch, it looks simple: a music room, empty chairs, a spotlight, a piano. But every element carries meaning. The space feels ceremonial, almost like an exhibit. Red chairs fenced off with velvet rope suggest that the performance is being protected, or perhaps restricted. There’s a sense of absence at first, as if we’re waiting for someone who hasn’t arrived yet. When EJAE finally walks in and sits at the piano, the visual narrative begins to unfold.

The camera circles slowly around her as she plays, intercut with home-video clips: birthdays, fragments of childhood, moments that seem ordinary but loaded with subtext. It’s a quiet unveiling. When the camera finally reveals her face fully in the final chorus, it feels earned – a reveal of identity.

The detailed work is thoughtful. In one shot, we see a close-up of her hands brushing across the piano keys. It’s a Young Chang – a Korean manufacturer. The choice feels deliberate. It’s subtle cultural signalling, a nod to her heritage woven into the visual texture. It ties back to how EJAE has spoken about her Korean and American backgrounds as equal sources of pride. For her, identity is dual fluency – and this cinematography quietly reinforces that.

She’s previously said (again, to Vulture), “I don’t really see myself as K-pop or pop. If I release a song and there’s some Korean in it too, then absolutely. I don’t want to pigeonhole myself in a specific view. If I can express my feeling better in Korean, hell yeah, I’ll do that. As a bilingual person, there are certain words that I could only express in Korean that I can’t express in English.” That fluidity defines the video. It’s definitely not a visual story of one culture dominating another, but more like coexistence in motion.

The closing scene captures that perfectly. As she finishes the song and starts to rise from the piano, the video cuts suddenly to an old home clip of a young EJAE standing from another piano. The gesture mirrors itself across time as continuity. The past and present share the same frame, and for a moment, they feel indistinguishable.

Conclusion

Photo: EJAE Official Instagram

In many ways, “In Another World” isn’t a debut. It’s more like the sound of an artist finally reclaiming her own timeline. After years of writing for others, EJAE finally places her name on something that carries her full emotional and creative signature. The timing is sharp – she’s coming off global recognition through KPop Demon Hunters and a renewed visibility that many artists never get twice. But what makes this moment powerful is sincerity.

This song doesn’t try to reinvent pop, nor does it chase trends. It’s small in scale but vast in feeling. It belongs to that lineage of songs that seem personal but end up speaking to everyone – the kind that sound like letters to the self. For EJAE, it’s also proof that the detours – and there’s been many – were part of the design.

“In Another World” may have started as a what-if, but it lands as something more certain: a statement of self. And after over a decade of waiting, EJAE finally sounds like she’s arrived exactly where she was always meant to be.