Letter from a Hazy Autumn Sky
The PD declared a 20-minute break, saying he needed a moment to think about the YouTube appearance. While everyone else stepped out for a quick walk, Myeongjeon sat on a park bench, tilting her head back to gaze at the sky.
Why did I do that just now?
She had been dead serious about the blues. So it was only natural that she didn't want to hear others belittling it. That had been true in her previous life, and it was true in this one too. But even so, she had never raised her voice to call it out directly. Not in her past life, nor in this one.
What Myeongjeon had just done was something unprecedented in her long life.
Her hand had slipped into her pocket unconsciously—probably a habit from her old life. Back then, she always carried something in her pocket to kill those short breaks effectively. Using it now would just stir up more controversy, of course.
Well, today's shoot was a bit rough...
Myeongjeon decided to chalk it up to that. She'd barely said a word since arriving, just smiling blankly the whole time, so maybe stress had built up without her realizing. Anyway, it was no big deal.
"No matter what song comes up, with skills like that, first place is basically guaranteed, right?"
"Whoa, total cheat mode. Isn't she a singer? She has to be. Yeah, definitely a singer."
"The show's not off-limits to singers, though?"
The contestants chattered among themselves, while the camera crew tinkered with their gear during the brief downtime. Gaeun watched the scene, her thoughts drifting to Suyeon. She genuinely wondered how a character like that could even exist.
Is she the type who gets heavily influenced by the people around her?
Gaeun mulled it over silently, then nodded to herself—it made sense. There were people like that, weren't there? The kind who got swept up by their surroundings. Starting games because friends did, or picking up hobbies from siblings.
Suyeon didn't seem like the type to waver easily, but not being swayed didn't mean she was immune to influence. Her friends had been borderline bullies, so she'd lived that delinquent life—until she met a great mentor, learned guitar, and transformed under his guidance. Totally plausible.
But even that "old-man grumpiness" couldn't hide Suyeon's innate cuteness. And it wasn't just any cuteness—it was punchy, short, and impactful. Some might dismiss it as trivial, but it was crucial. Especially now, with shorts and reels dominating, where people consumed quick hits of content.
Subtle, slow-burn cuteness didn't spread on those platforms. But even strangers would melt at the sight of this cool-looking girl half-chewing her words: "Talking... neyo!" or "It's... nieyo!" "Daeyo!"
A high school girl acting all 'back in my day' despite her age, then getting shy and reining it in... How could that not sell?
The "grumpy old man" bits were perfect for shorts too—just a few seconds of her muttering "Back in my day~" and done.
"Cuteness" and "grumpiness" would draw different viewer types. Then, in the full broadcast, they'd synergize with the cute moments. 1+1 wouldn't equal 2—it'd be 3, 4, 10. People would fall for that impossible combo's magic.
But...
Gaeun pondered. Sure, those elements would win over fans. But haters? They'd just see a brat throwing a tantrum. How to dial down that hostility?
Of course, it wasn't her job. She was just a PD on Jeong Taeyoung's team for the sub-channel—not a manager or agency rep.
But at the same time, Gaeun was a fan of this girl, Ha Suyeon. So she wanted to prevent any backlash.
"Alright, back to shooting~!"
Even as the staff called everyone back, she kept mulling. Then it hit her: Show Suyeon's skills raw, unfiltered, no edits.
That way, even the grumpiest viewers would shut up—they'd be too busy watching.
"Shall we go again?"
"Yeah, let's. No songs we know..."
Yu-na figured it couldn't be helped. Blues might be outdated or whatever, but how could they play it without knowing any tunes? Learning on the fly wasn't ideal either.
After that, filming flowed smoothly. Suyeon, who hadn't said a peep before, now chatted away, creating plenty of fun moments. Like...
"1990s song!"
"No way, how do you even guess that?!"
"It was before I was even born!"
"I can nail '20s songs, but 30 years back? No chance."
"I swear, if anyone gets this, I'll starve myself. How do you ID a '90s track?"
"This is Bucheal's Shower from album 3. '93, sung by Kim Jae-gi."
...calmly grabbing side dishes amid the contestants' stunned faces. Or...
"Name five Korean rock group vocalists!"
"Uh, Min, Min Kyung-hoon?"
"Shin Jung-hyun, Kim Chang-wan, Jeon In-kwon, Bae Chul-soo, Jo Ha-moon."
"Who's Jo Ha-moon??"
"Uh, Magma's vocalist. He sang Haeya."
"Girlfriend?"
"What song's that...?"
"You don't know? Haeya tteora, haeya tteora, malgadge haeya sora... Nunmul gateun goljjag-e seoreoun dalbam-eun sireo."
"No clue."
...dropping obscure music knowledge even the eldest crew (the cinematographer) questioned: "There's a song like that?" It was like she was baffled they didn't know.
What a unique kid.
She looked like the idol type sweating in a practice room to girl group tracks, but her words screamed grandma. And lines like "I just don't get why you wouldn't know this... daeyo" made you wonder if it was all a broadcast gimmick.
But still...
"I'm folk."
Suyeon's roulette landed on folk—a tough genre for her age. Undeterred, she strode to the sidewalk, set up, and sang.
"Whoa, she's really good."
"Suyeon said she's in a rock band, right?"
"Pro singers are on another level."
"Da-eun's a singer too, aren'tcha? Heh heh heh~"
Three songs total. Despite announcing it was a shoot with a donation box, pranksters skipped giving money, so others barely raised any. But Suyeon, guitar plugged into a speaker, belting out captivating tunes... Even with cameras rolling, countless unscripted passersby stopped dead.
Amid thunderous applause, a rather elderly grandma approached Suyeon. Suyeon turned from bowing to the crowd with a faint smile.
"Miss. Mind a request?"
"Pardon? Um..."
Gaeun panicked—it was totally unscripted. Taeyoung PD had warned anything could happen mid-shoot, so be prepared. This must be what he meant.
"If I know it, sure."
"Oh, good. Bet you know this one."
The grandma named a song. Her voice was so faint, the mic barely picked it up.
This is pure gold! Perfect visuals—please let Suyeon know it.
Gaeun clasped her hands in prayer. Killer scene: girl moves strangers to tears, then a grandma requests a youth nostalgia tune. Girl nails it, grandma weeps memories. Too perfect, almost suspicious—if it worked.
"I know it."
"A young thing like you? Impressive."
Gaeun fist-pumped silently at the earpiece feed. Now Suyeon just had to sing it well. Even if not... editing magic—post-sync, autotune—plenty of fixes.
"Keep rolling?"
"Yep. One out-take, one in. Got the approach shot?"
"Yup, captured."
A staffer's confirmation. Gaeun nodded, eyes glued to Suyeon and the grandma. Amid growing onlookers who hadn't dispersed, Suyeon began strumming softly—random at first, unstructured. But soon the notes aligned into tone, rhythm, melody.
"This is..."
"Kim Kwang-seok, right?"
"Writing a letter under a hazy autumn sky... Neyo."
She'd known an oldie was coming—the requester screamed it. Gaeun would've been thrilled if Suyeon just knew and sang it.
But this? A high school sophomore—junior next year. Born after the song's creator had passed, etched in collective memory. Yet here was Ha Suyeon, singing it like it pierced the soul.
No one walked the sidewalk anymore. Like moths to flame in a tunnel, the song drew passersby into a crowd.
The grandma, amid them, fought back tears.
The ad-lib follow-up? No flashy vocals—just raw high notes. But that unpolished emotion hit harder than any polished one.
Tears finally spilled from the grandma. Snifflers all around. She shuffled forward, grasped Suyeon's hand, whispered a few words.
Gaeun, capturing it all on camera, summed it up in one thought:
"Jackpot."