Ghost Singer, Episode 1
The title came up, and the finished cut of the drama we had poured ourselves into—skipping school and all—rose onto the television screen.
Kang Shin-hye's Best Actress award. Her retirement. And, in the same breath, the start of a musician's life. New faces waited for her there, allies and enemies alike. But Kang Shin-hye's singing, set beside her acting, was not worth the listen.
While her senior Kim Jiseong's harassment settled into a routine, Kang Shin-hye stayed behind alone in the practice room and sang.
And then the room began to stir.
A cold seeped through the air. Objects in the practice room inched, shuddered, crept.
And then—
A raw, tearing roar—and the first ghost arrived.
"Whoa... Jiwoo. That's insane."
Someone watching with total focus let the words slip out. For more than thirty minutes after the drama began, the only sounds in the room had been meat hitting the grill and the television itself. The moment extra noise cut in, concentration shattered. Of course it did.
"Ah, come on... who was that? I was right in the middle of it."
"S-sorry. But..."
"Of course it is. I shot it and cut it myself. How could it come out wrong?"
Kang Wonseong kept his attention locked even through the interruption, then glanced at me as I stared a hole through the screen.
That focus is something else. I ought to take a page from that myself.
He turned back to the television and sank in again.
By the time we were done, every last person in the room had forgotten the meat burning on the grill. The episode was already racing toward its end.
"Look at this! I paid five million won for this talisman! You're finished now!"
"Heh... heh heh heh! A talisman? That's it? Fine. I'll take that challenge!"
Kang Shin-hye hurled the charm she had bought from a shaman at a ruinous price. Slow motion caught it drifting toward the ghost, lazy as a falling leaf.
The instant it touched the ghost's body—
A glare burst out hard enough to make anyone flinch. When the light died and Kang Shin-hye opened her eyes again, she looked around.
Nothing. The objects that had been floating in midair were sitting obediently on the floor.
"Ha... haha! I-I did it! How do you like that, ghost! This is the power of a human being!"
"Ow, ow, ow..."
A familiar voice drifted in from somewhere. The ghost that should have vanished was still in the room.
"That hurts... A human! You dare throw this cheap scrap of paper at me? You are so getting—huh? Why can I touch this?"
The ghost's hand closed on Kang Shin-hye's shoulder. Until now, touch had been impossible. Somehow, it wasn't anymore.
"...What is this? This is scary..."
"Hey, that's my line!"
It was the ghost who trembled. A light, almost comic beat—and it worked. Open too heavy from the first episode and the audience would burn out; a little humor was unavoidable.
Good thing they didn't overdo it.
Lean too hard on the gags and the whole thing would have tipped into farce and lost its quality. The timing was right, and it actually lifted the episode instead of cheapening it.
The ghost wanted to get away from Kang Shin-hye. Strangely, after a set stretch of time, she drifted right back to her side. The talisman, I figured.
"Hurry up and burn that thing!"
"Don't be ridiculous! I am never burning this!"
"I said burn it—"
"Shh. Quiet!"
Kang Shin-hye clapped a hand over the ghost's mouth as the practice-room door opened and Kim Jinwoo walked in.
"...What are you doing here? At this hour."
"Ah... haha, I was just practicing..."
"That so?"
Kim Jinwoo pulled out a chair and sat.
"Let's hear it."
"...Hear what?"
"Whatever you've been practicing. I'll tell you if it's been enough."
Kang Shin-hye's face almost crumpled. Almost. She was an actress good enough to take home Best Actress; the mask held.
"Yes! I'll give it a try."
She drew one breath and sang.
A nightingale—or a tin can being beaten within an inch of its life.
"Gyaaaaah! S-stop it, you lunatic! I can't take this!"
The ghost slipped into Kang Shin-hye's body and took the wheel.
The first syllable that came out—
"Aaaah~"
A voice that actually pleased the ear. The scowl on Kim Jinwoo's face began, slowly, to brighten.
"What do you think you're doing!"
Kang Shin-hye snapped at the sight of her own stolen body.
"Watch and learn. This is how you sing."
The ghost's voice filled the practice room. Kang Shin-hye forgot she had even lost control of herself; she was too busy listening.
Wow... that's incredible. How can a song sound like this... Then why... why does it feel like missing someone...
Tears tried to come for no reason she could name. She wiped them on her sleeve. It did not help.
"That's enough. Well? How was my singing?"
The ghost's gaze did not go to Kim Jinwoo. The song had been for Kang Shin-hye.
"You... what are you?"
"Me? I'm a ghost. Kang Sora."
Kang Sora smiled. The picture froze, and the end credits rolled.
Then the preview.
"W-wait, what is this!"
"Die, you ghost!"
"I won't die that easily!"
Kim Jinwoo frozen in terror at the center, a broom and a wooden sword hung with a talisman whipping in from either side—and the preview cut to black.
An hour and twenty minutes is not a short sit. Nobody in the room remembered to breathe.
A long exhale moved through the gathering.
"We... we pulled it off, right?"
"I'm not the only one who thought that was good, am I?"
The extras and supporting players, shoulders still wound tight, let the words out one by one.
"I had fun too."
"I think everyone did."
"Wow... I didn't notice it when we were shooting, but the detail is no joke. Especially that last singing scene... whew. I get chills just thinking about it."
I had to agree. A song scene that could have looked ordinary—and they had framed it, dressed it, and cut it until it put goosebumps on your arms.
If I ever do NewTube for real, I would hire him as an editor in a heartbeat.
That was how much respect I had for Kang Wonseong, the man who had cut that footage.
I was not the only one thinking along those lines.
In one household, dinner was done and the family had gathered to argue over a late-night snack.
"Uh... th-that... that..."
"Hm? Jina, did you pick something?"
"No! And I told you I don't eat late-night snacks! More importantly—that person!"
"Someone you know?"
"If I know her, I know her... and if I don't, I don't? She was definitely going to be an idol, so why is she an actress... what on earth happened?"
And at a choreography academy, in the middle of acting practice, they had the drama on for study.
"Lee Jiwoo...? Why is she in a drama..."
"What? Kim Woojin? You know that actress?"
"Ah... hyung, that's..."
Kim Woojin was trapped. He did know her. Same school, same class—she sat right next to him. Nodding, though, was not an option.
"Damn. That actress is sexy as hell. And those tits... I wanna cop a feel."
"Don't talk like that. You get reported and you're in a cell before you even debut."
"We're just talking among ourselves. What, like every guy isn't thinking it?"
The talk stayed that cheap. How was he supposed to say he knew her? Kim Woojin, at least, absolutely could not.
"So? Do you know her or not?"
"Th-that's... bathroom! I need the bathroom!"
In the end, Kim Woojin chose the bathroom. In other words, he ran.
Phone in hand, he bolted for the stall and punched in the number of his best friend, Choi Wooseok.
"Pick up... pick up already..."
"The subscriber you have dialed cannot be connected..."
A woman's recorded voice. He hadn't picked up.
"This crazy bastard. I bet he's slumped over playing games again."
Kim Woojin mashed redial and kept calling until someone answered.
On the third try—
"Ah, hell... what? I died because you broke my focus."
"Yah! That is not the point right now! Turn on the TV—no, watch the drama!"
"I'm at a PC bang... fine. Hang up first."
The truth was, Choi Wooseok at the PC bang was in no condition to watch a drama.
"Die! Please just die!"
"No way, is that asshole hacking?!"
It was a soul teamfight—the kind every guy on earth has to grind his spirit into. Bronze, and a soul teamfight? Precisely because it was Bronze.
Choi Wooseok hammered the keyboard hard enough to crack it and, barely—
"Fuck... lost again."
He didn't even feel like raging. His teammates, after all, were like this:
"Close one. Let's run it back next time!"
"Hey, people lose. It happens!"
The seniors from the VTuber club. Pure fun-first gamers.
"Haaah..."
The will to queue again evaporated. He opened a browser, meaning to cleanse his mood with the drama Kim Woojin had begged him to watch.
A drama sat at number one on the realtime search list.
"This it?"
Choi Wooseok clicked it without much thought.
"Yah, what are you doing? You coming to the next game or not?"
"Ah... sunbae. I was just... gonna rest for a bit."
A chest slid in from the side, close enough to brush his face. Choi Wooseok's ears went scarlet. He had no idea where to put his eyes.
The only girl among the VTuber club seniors. Her chest against his cheek sent a rush of pleasure and a dizzy little bloom of happiness straight through his head.
"A drama, huh. I'll watch too."
"Y-yes... I mean, fine by me..."
She settled on the arm of his chair and watched with him. A fair stretch of the episode had already gone by; the climax was in full swing.
And then—
"Huh? Lee Jiwoo?"
"...Pretty?"
Why was she here?
The same thought hit both of them at once.
"All right! Glasses up, everyone! A toast for the first broadcast!"
At Kang Wonseong's word, they all lifted glasses that had been poured to the brim. For a moment even I felt the urge to drink well up in me. Outwardly, though, I was seventeen. I had no choice but to raise a black potion—cola, as it's commonly known.
"If everyone's ready! Jiwoo will do the toast! Come on, Jiwoo, on your feet."
Me? He meant me?
I stood up slowly, still wearing a dazed look. Every actor in the room turned toward me. My pulse jumped; my palms went damp.
"We've all run hard, and we've finally reached the starting line. Let's stay in one piece through the last day of shooting, stay healthy, and make something good. Cheers!"
It was not a kid's toast. A few of the actors blinked. In the middle of that, Go Eun-hye was smiling.
"Our youngest is making a toast. Everyone, glasses up."
"C-cheers!"
At Go Eun-hye's word the glasses went to the ceiling, and they drank them dry.
That was when it happened.
"P-PD! It's here!"
"Oh... finally!"
Actors and staff turned toward Kang Wonseong. Kim Eun-joo swallowed hard, the tension plain on her face.
Why were they like that? Was something wrong?
I went back to the beef I had abandoned while we watched.
How long has it been since I had real beef?
It was painfully good.
While I was busy inhaling grilled meat, everyone else stared at the laptop the staffer had brought over and said nothing.
And then—
Drama rating... 2.3%MBS
The other networks had never been the real fight to begin with. What mattered now was the OTT drama.
OTT rating... 17.4%
That was enormous. Not that many people in Korea sat down for dramas to begin with, so our loss suddenly looked all but certain.
Kang Wonseong took in the faces of the actors and staff and let out a short laugh.