What on Earth is Life?
That Japanese comment lingering there—"The assistant's too stiff"—haunted me all day. Even now, while I'm working on the Vocaloid program, and even in the shower.
"Huaaaah…"
It was tempting to frame it like some daily dose of rage and motivation, staring at it every morning before diving in. Honestly, even after quitting the assistant work and collapsing into bed, that sentence wouldn't leave my head.
"Aaaah… what do I dooo…"
I lay there with my mouth open, letting out sounds, but it refused to budge from my mind. It felt like I'd perfectly copied the memories of that lonely man who'd lived in solitude, but I hadn't fully internalized the data myself.
In those memories of the solitary man's life, the original Sail Away was definitely made with Vocaloid software, but all he remembered was the famous utaite cover version—so I vaguely figured the stiffness came from matching that.
To be precise, the original was pretty old, so the utaite's version had become way more famous, and that's what stuck in his head.
'Sail Away Declaration will be different… it has to be.'
I bit my lip, gritting my teeth with renewed resolve. At the very least, from the perspective of recreating this song, I couldn't let the original get insulted. That Japanese comment hit me hard, for better or worse.
"Sigh…"
My dreams were sky-high, but reality felt impossibly distant. I wanted to turn my NewTube channel HALU into a proper NewTuber's dream. At first, it was just a light thought of sharing this song with others, but now I was dead set on recreating it perfectly—or even making a better version.
'Hoo… get it together, Lee Haru.'
Shake off the distractions. They were only strangling me. If I let these thoughts keep me up tonight, it'd wreck my condition tomorrow and just hinder my Vocaloid track-making.
"Time to sleep…"
To drift off as fast as possible, I cleared my mind. When the thoughts wouldn't quit, I resorted to my last weapon: a dusty Bluetooth headset from the corner of my room, slipping it on and playing Vocaloid songs until I passed out.
-Beeeep beep bleep!
Thankfully, I woke up right on time to my phone alarm today.
"Feels refreshing."
Finally, I was up at my normal wake-up time. My sleep schedule had been downright apocalyptic lately, but since I'd crashed relatively early compared to recent nights, I felt great.
"Thanks for the meal." "Eat slowly." "Yep."
I quickly washed my face, scarfed down Mom's breakfast, brushed my teeth, and leisurely slipped into my uniform. Glancing in the mirror, I saw a beauty so stunning, she could've passed for a celebrity.
"Heh…"
Is this narcissism? No, objectively speaking, Lee Haru is seriously pretty. The lonely man's memories had settled in by now, so looking at my own body was starting to feel normal.
'Let's hustle through today too.'
The usual walk to school, and Jisu looking the same as always. It was Wednesday, so classes ended early—that was nice. Objectively, Wednesday's lunch was good too, making it a solid day overall.
"Hmmm…"
"Why are you staring like that?"
"Our Lee Haru… looks like she's got something on her mind…"
Jisu's intuition was sharp enough to pick up on my comment-induced brooding right away. She wasn't a psychic, so she didn't know the details, but she seemed so perceptive that I didn't want to worry her unnecessarily, so I denied it.
"Nah… probably just my imagination."
"Hmmm… something's fishy."
She propped her chin on one hand at her desk, giving me this enigmatic look. It was like Lucifer saying, 'I wanna commit super murder.' Jisu wouldn't get the reference, so it was just an unconscious habit slipping out.
"C'mon, Jisu, cut it out—wanna grab lunch?"
"Sure."
On the way to the cafeteria, I spotted that nameless guy from yesterday—the one I'd told 'Take it back'—heading off somewhere.
'No matter how hard I think, his name won't come to me.'
His eyes had this look like he was marching to public execution, an indescribably weird expression.
"What… spaghetti again?"
"Yeah, you were hyped about it yesterday too."
It was like they'd copy-pasted yesterday's menu, but pasta wasn't an everyday thing, so it didn't get old fast. As I bit into some garlic bread and chatted with Jisu, the speakers crackled.
I knew what this was for, so I didn't think much of it.
This Wednesday-only event took 30 minutes of lunch to read student stories and play requested songs. They called it "song requests," but it was basically half public confessions.
Jisu and I finished lunch lightly, brushed our teeth, and time slipped by until the requests hit the final one.
'Wait…'
My body froze solid as memories flashed like a montage. Jisu waved her hand in front of my face, looking puzzled at my halted state. The montage stopped at the time I was reading NewTube comments. The reason for it wasn't physical death… but social death.
"Ah?"
"Haru, what's wrong? Hit your head again?"
Jisu looked at me with eyes full of worry, but right now, I just felt mortified.
Is this what they mean by getting publicly rejected in a confession? Even the broadcast club staff couldn't hold back their laughs. At least it wasn't me getting dumped via confession—that was a small mercy. But if the target was Jisu, that changed everything.
Objectively, Jisu was super pretty and seemed popular, but since we were always together, she never got confessions. She was staring blankly, oblivious that it was about her.
"That… that's about you, Jisu…"
"Huh? Me?"
No way she forgot about yesterday already. More like, she'd been focused on it that day but forgot after hanging out with me.
The moment the broadcast club finished speaking, a very familiar instrumental started playing.
It was familiar—impossible not to be. Because… it was the song I made. Or recreated.
"St-stop it!"
"Huh? Stop what?"
She's only dense at times like this? I couldn't bear to watch my song get publicly executed. But it was too late to move now. And so, even though it wasn't me directly, the public execution of my recreated song began.
The familiar MR and ERU's mechanical voice kicked in.
'Haa… what the hell is life?'
Ever since gaining the lonely man's memories, this snowball of actions had led here. Shame overflowed as the song's mechanical Vocaloid tones blared; I faceplanted onto my desk.
"Huh? Haru, why? You're acting extra weird today."
"… I've got my reasons. Anyway, you just got confessed to—nothing?"
"Aigoo… I'm all-in on our Haru, one and only."
The chatter around me seemed all about my recreated Sail Away. Call it self-consciousness overload, but with no phones allowed at school, everyone had to hear this broadcast.
At least Jisu wasn't too hurt by the rejection confession. Yeah… first things first, grab my phone later and block that Male_ImJungyeon account—99% sure it's the same guy.
"Ugh… what even is this song?"
"Why play some otaku tune at school? Total nuisance…"
I didn't play it, but it was mortifying. In Korea, Vocaloid songs were niche underground stuff—and of all things, my recreation of a song from the lonely man's memories, judged by normies. Pure humiliation.
'I… wanna die.'
If there was a rat hole, I'd crawl in. I resented our Wednesday school broadcast more than ever.