Chapter 548
Chapter 548
Kim Rae-bin lifted his head.
Inside the PC he had been working on for hours, the complex, densely packed dots and lines looked dizzying at a glance.
However, he knew that when all of this was converted into notes, it produced a surprisingly harmonious and beautiful sound...
But something was strange.
‘Who is this song for?’
Of course, he sometimes composed songs as a hobby while imagining a specific singer. After the members created the Starry Melody account together, he occasionally wrote songs that were purely imaginative, without a specific narrator in mind.
However, for a song to be completed this quickly and in such detail meant there was a very clear singing voice in his head.
“That is...”
Looking at the plotted notes, he reflexively began to manifest them as audio in his mind.
He even imagined the voice that would fit into this track like a perfect puzzle piece.
It was a clear, solid voice.
It wasn't excessively heavy, and a hint of smooth air mixed into the notes whenever it moved between octaves.
And exquisitely, as if drawing out emotion at the exact right moment, it had an appealing sound with a vibrato that wasn't overdone...
“Kim Rae-bin, are you composing again?”
“...!”
Startled, Kim Rae-bin whipped his head around.
Cha Yu-jin was lying on the spare bed in his room, waving a hand.
“I want to hear too!”
“...Alright.”
A strange sense of lingering regret remained in his mind, as if he had been pulled out of a deep state of flow just a step away from a great realization.
Kim Rae-bin let out a small, involuntary sigh and connected the speakers to the PC instead of his headphones.
The music colored the room, its three-dimensional layers sparkling and popping in every direction.
“Wow.”
Cha Yu-jin, who had been rolling around on the bed, stopped moving.
He let out a soft whistle, losing himself in the music. Kim Rae-bin, too, submerged himself back into the sound.
After beautiful music and silence dominated the space for several dozen seconds...
Cha Yu-jin suddenly spoke up.
“But Kim Rae-bin. Why is there another bed here?”
“.......”
With a blank expression, Kim Rae-bin looked at the extra bed Cha Yu-jin was pointing at.
“...I must have bought it just in case.”
“When?”
“Well... quite a while ago.”
“For who?”
Kim Rae-bin stopped mid-sentence.
Like a fog, the blanks he had unconsciously overlooked began to drift through his mind.
The track he had created shook his thoughts like background music playing through the speakers.
Whose bed was this?
And for whom exactly had he composed this song, with a range spanning from C3 to D#5?
The plaza next to the concert hall.
An outdoor breeze brushed against his hat.
However, Ryu Gun-woo was so immersed in singing that he barely felt it, let alone found it bothersome.
The melody, which surged upward like an escalator, carried the song along, stepping lightly across the bridge-like beats.
—So I
I must celebrate myself
I must never forget again
He was focused enough to draw people in, yet his voice remained steady.
It was a clever singing style that caught the ear.
His attitude while singing in front of an audience hadn't changed.
However, this song wasn't coming from the vocal cords of an idol main vocalist who had been polished through years of practice, maintenance, and promotions.
It was coming from the vocal cords of Ryu Gun-woo, a man who hadn't even considered singing a hobby.
Therefore...
—Now, remember
Until now
His voice cracked slightly with a hint of huskiness.
There were parts where the pitch didn't come out quite as intended, and parts where his voice didn't follow his will.
But that had been the same when Park Moon-dae first sang this song on Idol Inc.
—The amazing miracle
Of having lived through every today
Don't forget it, don't erase it
The essence remained unchanged.
—So, congratulations
Celebrate this moment
That's the party in me
As if every day is a PARTY, Ooh—
He was TeSTAR's Park Moon-dae.
No matter where he was, no matter what he looked like.
The identity formed during the most dense and intense years of his life was so solid that it kept him grounded.
I was myself.
—Let's PARTY
His clear voice, unwavering even in the high notes, firmly filled the reach of the microphone.
The single song came to a pleasant end, feeling full until the very last note.
The man bowed his head in greeting, just as he would at any other performance.
Clap, clap.
The applause of a few audience members who had stopped in their tracks to listen filled the space where the accompaniment had ended.
Perhaps because he had sung a song by T-Holic—the former rivals—at a VTIC concert venue, there was a hint of ambiguity in the air.
Still, a reaction was a reaction.
Applause was applause.
“.......”
He let out a breath as if feeling refreshed and stepped down from the stairs.
Ju-dan, finally recovering from his daze, made a comment full of conviction.
“You were a singer, weren't you?”
TeSTAR's Park Moon-dae didn't answer; he just gave a smirk.
Ju-dan had become quite talkative.
Seeing me boldly belt out a song in a crowded plaza seemed to have convinced him that I definitely made a living doing this.
Thanks to that, I was currently listening to his parade of deductions... Wait, wasn't this guy usually a weirdly pragmatic secularist?
‘Why is he so excited?’
The problem was that his hit rate was surprisingly high.
“Are you perhaps active as a singer under LeTi in the future?”
“.......”
“You have knowledge that only LeTi insiders would know, and even your appearance fits the preference of this agency...”
And eventually, it came to this.
“No, wait... I see. Are you going to join our debut group as the final member and debut soon? If we assume about ten years have passed, the age range seems to fit...”
“No.”
It was so plausible it was driving me crazy.
But Ju-dan nodded slightly with a meaningful look.
He looked like he was staring at a member he was destined to meet in the future.
“I understand. I'll take it as that.”
“........”
...Let's not mention that I've actually experienced something similar.
I walked on in silence.
Hmm, the way people's eyes were following me seemed to be because of my song choice earlier.
‘Was a T-Holic solo song crossing the line after all?’
It wasn't intentional, though.
To be honest, the reason I suddenly grabbed a mic and sang while walking down the street was... because I wanted to feel it.
‘The fact that I was Park Moon-dae.’
I felt I needed that to keep my head straight within the system.
To vividly experience the life I had lived for the past few years.
To solidify my identity.
Moreover, I currently had no evidence or connection to TeSTAR's Park Moon-dae.
In the end, what I felt personally was what mattered.
And having done it... it definitely worked. I had convinced myself.
That idol is me.
I let out a short laugh and clenched and unclenched my hand.
‘Good.’
I felt certain now.
As long as I didn't lose this sensation, I could keep my wits about me anywhere. Even if it was inside the system.
Let's define it clearly right now.
Just because the system shows me a status window doesn't mean I am the system.
The reason the status window appeared in the first place was something very human, wasn't it?
I'm talking about Keun-dal.
The status window appeared because that guy wanted to help me live as an idol.
He spent years doing that.
‘I can't exactly say my identity collapsed because I couldn't hold out for a few months, damn it.’
I would examine that terminal within the system while keeping my sanity by any means necessary.
With a glint in my eyes, I moved forward. Ju-dan, who had finally calmed down, pointed toward a nearby building.
Okay.
“It's over there. We're almost—”
It was then.
“Hey, you're the one who was singing in the plaza earlier, right?”
“...??”
Some guy cut in with a bright, loud voice.
‘This is the kind of voice a salesperson makes.’
Besides, he looked somewhat familiar, so I checked his face...
“Chief.”
“Oh, oh, oh! Woo-dan!”
“.......”
It was the Chief of LeTi's Rookie Development Team.
‘Wait, no way.’
The man, who was making a deliberate fuss while pretending to recognize Ju-dan, looked at me with sparkling eyes while pretending to ask Ju-dan a question.
“Is he someone you know? Oh, is this the relative you said was coming? Wow, I guess talent really does run in the family. How can a cousin be this handsome? I was shocked. You sing so well, too...”
“.......”
“Ah, it's still early... You haven't eaten yet, have you? I was actually planning to buy Woo-dan a meal anyway, and there's a great place around here.”
“...Well.”
“What do you think? It's right next door! To be honest, your singing earlier was so amazing... and you weren't nervous at all. As an audience member, I was totally immersed! So I really wanted to treat you to a meal...”
“.......”
It seemed choosing a T-Holic song had been more effective at drawing attention than I had expected.
Hmm.
‘This might make things more natural.’
For digging up information, that is.
After a quick calculation, I opened my mouth.
“Yes. Um... thank you.”
“Don't mention it! I'm the one who's grateful.”
The Rookie Development Chief brightened up and quickly pointed toward the "great place," and naturally, our destination was changed.
Ju-dan whispered to me.
“Did you calculate even this far when you sang that song?”
As if.
But I just gave a small smirk.
“Let's go.”
Ju-dan looked at me with eyes that suggested he was re-evaluating me.
It's not a scam. Not really.
“This place is good, right?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
At that "great place," as expected, the Chief spent the meal loosening the atmosphere with small talk while investigating my background.
“I see!”
And once he felt the time was right—around the time we were full and dessert was being served—il began to lay it on thick.
It was the groundwork for a contract pitch.
He mostly rambled on about how attractive LeTi was as an agency, pretending to be candid... but naturally, the topic of their flagship artist had to come up.
VTIC.
“The LA concert sold out incredibly fast this time, too.”
I observed the Chief's complexion as he spoke.
‘He seems fine.’
Furthermore, he brought them up in conversation without any hesitation. Seeing as he wasn't being cautious at all, it meant that no emergency regarding the members had been communicated to him.
“Woo-dan's training period is a bit long, but that's because he'll be rewarded if he does well...”
From the information about trainee Ju-dan to the various details about T-Holic's disbandment that came out of this man's mouth...
Looking at the various current realities that matched the information I had gathered as the status window, a clear conclusion emerged.
—Cheong-ryeo hasn't restarted yet.
This was still the 100th life of his restarts.
He might still be preparing to restart, or he might have put it on hold because of another problem that arose when he tried to.
I quickly reached a conclusion.
‘Then all that's left is to make contact.’
Now, I just had to politely decline this Chief's scouting offer, send him on his way, and wait for the right timing to naturally run into Cheong-ryeo...
“So, Gun-woo. Aside from singing... are you interested in any other work?”
“.......”
Hmm.
Cheong-ryeo was lying quietly in a first-class airplane seat.
The LA concert was over.
However, he still hadn't restarted.
If he put his mind to it, it would be simple to break the airplane window and jump out.
But he didn't.
Since he had removed the risk factor, there was no pressure on when he should start.
...Or perhaps, for no reason at all.
“.......”
Lying in the first-class seat, which was almost like a private room, he thought.
‘I was right to delete it.’
It was a faint sense of relief, one that felt sincere.
He had to erase that useless influence before the restart.
But.
“.......”
The habit of the past few months had been more excessive than necessary.
A conversation partner with whom he had nothing to hide and could always talk to inevitably bred dependency.
It wasn't good.
‘...The Help Menu.’
Cheong-ryeo murmured apathetically.
At that moment.
[Why.]
“...!”
His hand gripped the armrest tightly.
He immediately bolted upright and stared into the empty air.
At the bright blue popup that had appeared.
[You said you were going to restart, so why are you still here?]
“.......”
The Help Menu.
Cheong-ryeo stared at it in silence before slowly muttering as if to himself.
“It's my choice when I restart.”
[It was also your choice to try and kill me because you wanted to restart quickly.]
[Even though I'm not the kind of person whose death becomes undone just because you restart.]
“Is what's talking right now an illusion?”
[It's not an illusion, it's real.]
[Anyway, if you're being sarcastic about how I didn't end up dying, you're a real son of a bitch.]
Cheong-ryeo stared blankly at the popup.
And he read the emotion between the lines.
It was anger.
[You definitely knew. You pressed it knowing that I could die.]
[Isn't that why you drank the beer, too?]
“.......”
Cheong-ryeo let out a long sigh.
For some reason, he looked extremely fatigued.
But the popup continued to pour out statements without hesitation.
[If you want to press it again, go ahead. Let's see what happens this time.]
“How did you come back?”
[I don't know either. Somehow...]
The popup flickered as if it were a bit strained.
It looked as though it had taken some kind of hit, but the sentences remained as blunt as ever.
[Anyway, I recovered a bit and sent a message. Because I was pissed off.]
“.......”
Cheong-ryeo looked at the popup without expression.
However, the suspicion, the mountain of questions, and the brazen composure that the sender of the popup had expected did not manifest.
[That's all.]
Cheong-ryeo moved his head up and down slightly at the final message.
“...Right.”
Suppressing the urge to grumble something like, ‘Is being calm after stabbing someone in the back a natural trait of yours?’ Park Moon-dae removed the popup.
And so, the blue popup floating before Cheong-ryeo's eyes vanished.
“.......”
The Help Menu had returned.
Cheong-ryeo silently closed the red deletion prompt that had reappeared as well.
Then, he leaned back into his seat once more.
He should have deleted it.
The problem was that he didn't.
And at the same time.
“Gun-woo?”
“...Ah.”
“Oh my, you must have dozed off while waiting~”
Park Moon-dae opened his eyes in Ryu Gun-woo's body.
That's right.
He had succeeded in accessing the system inside Cheong-ryeo while maintaining his own body!
‘It actually worked.’
It was enough to just lightly brush past the trainees and staff as they were greeting each other and shaking hands.
The balance was better than expected.
Even though his current body hurt like hell and the burden of accessing the system was twice as heavy...
‘I feel like I have some ground to stand on.’
Including this part.
He smiled and shook hands with the Chief in front of him.
“Congratulations on the contract.”
“Thank you.”
He had actually signed an artist trainee contract with LeTi even with his physical body.
Of course, in his early 30s, it was an age where it was difficult to debut as an idol by social standards.
So he had used two secret tactics.
One was... a change of career path.
“You really won't regret it. Our actor line is actually quite good this time.”
He had signed as an aspiring rookie actor.
In the first place, that had been the Chief's goal in scouting him.
He had recruited him not for Ryu Gun-woo's singing ability, but for his composure in front of people and his appearance.
‘I have no intention of actually debuting here anyway.’
So this was enough.
And the second.
“You're in your mid-20s, so the age is perfect!”
“...Yes.”
Didn't he need a resident registration number to sign a contract?
So... well. He had simply used his own number.
“Then, I look forward to working with you, Ryu Gun-woo!”
The Ryu Gun-woo of this place, that is.
He sent a sincere apology to the university student version of himself living in this reality.
‘Sorry.’
Let me borrow your identity for a bit.