Gazing at the Milky Way Playlist
YouTube [[Playlist] Gazing at the Milky Way in the Night Sky | Guitar Instrumental Tracks Perfect for Dim Winter Nights]. Myeongjeon stared at the video title. Gazing at the Milky Way in the night sky... Dim winter nights... It was overflowing with sentimentality. But what did this have to do with him, and why had Iseo shoved this video in his face?
"Your song's in here?"
"Yeah. You didn't know?"
Iseo asked in surprise. She'd heard that YouTubers did so-called "one-sided collabs," but this playlist YouTuber always sent emails in advance and handled things properly. That's why she trusted and supported the channel a lot...
"More importantly, you're saying my song's in that video."
"Yeah."
"Then aren't they thieves? Shouldn't we sue for copyright infringement?"
"Uh..."
Iseo opened her mouth, then closed it, scratching her head. How was she supposed to explain this? He always struggled with stuff like this.
"Anyway, 'Pli'—they call it a playlist. Those people don't make money from it. Or rather, they can't."
"But they upload videos, rack up views, and if they meet the monetization requirements, they make money. By stealing someone else's stuff."
"No, YouTube... I don't know the details, but! They identify the songs, and if it's not theirs, they hold the revenue and give it to the original copyright holder."
Seeing Suyeon's utterly baffled expression, Iseo felt a bit lost herself.
"That's possible?"
"Yeah, something like that. They run some AI or algorithm or whatever to judge it and send the money back to the copyright holder."
Myeongjeon felt even more bewildered. How on earth did a company figure all that out—knowing what songs were in videos and such? What snapped him out of it was the sudden chill wind blowing in.
"Ugh! It's cold. Let's head inside somewhere."
"Yeah. Anyway... there's a Starbucks over there."
Iseo watched Suyeon take off her coat and set it on the chair. It felt a bit different from her usual baggy style. Ever since they met in October, Suyeon had always worn Adidas tracksuits or hoodies, but today she was in a slim black turtleneck knit that hugged her figure, paired with a black long skirt with a slit.
Has her taste gone back to normal? Nah, not quite.
Iseo remembered the old Suyeon wearing much flashier clothes—super tight, lots of skin showing... the kind that would have guys flooding her Instagram DMs with dick pics. As Iseo zoned out staring at her, she felt a vague sense of wrongness. Was a certain part of Suyeon a bit... bigger? Nah, probably just her imagination.
"Does the outfit... look weird?"
"Huh? No, no no... it's not. It suits you."
Suyeon asked in an awkward voice, as if sensing the blank stare. When Iseo denied it, Suyeon twirled her hair around her finger and spoke up.
"No, I had zero intention of wearing stuff like this... but Mom bought it and kept nagging me to wear it for once. So I had no choice but to throw it on."
"You pull it off. I mean, buying nice clothes like this and always wearing Adidas? That's a waste. A loss for humanity."
"Not that much of a loss."
As Iseo got a bit dramatic, Suyeon shot her a pitiful look. Iseo shrank under that gaze but figured she had to say her piece.
"No, we're starting a band now, right? Bands need star power, looks matter too. You can't just wear baggy stuff like that all the time. You've gotta wear cute outfits, do some sex appeal up front..."
Myeongjeon let out a light sigh at Iseo's words. Between "Mom" and this girl—and pretty much everyone else—why did they keep emphasizing "femininity" to him like that?
"That stuff doesn't matter. Think about King Crimson'sRobert Fripp. He just sat in a chair strumming guitar and built one of the greatest bands ever."
"What... 'lip'? Pork ribs?"
Iseo mumbled nonsense, clearly clueless. How was he supposed to deal with a kid who didn't even know the band? Maybe he needed to grab her and give a lecture on rock history someday. Myeongjeon scratched his head lightly.
He knew visuals played a huge role in a band's popularity. And since his body was female now, there wasn't much choice. Still, wasn't it okay to delay that phase as long as possible? As a former man, that should be fine, right?
"Anyway, I still don't get that earlier thing. Even if they upload it, I get the money? What's that about?"
"Uh... yeah, something like that. You gotta register it or whatever... I only saw a bit earlier this year. Anyway, those people don't make money off it?"
Iseo rattled off explanations. YouTube had something called Content ID—if part or all of the video matched registered content, the revenue went to the copyright holder, blah blah blah.
"But I don't remember registering anything."
"...Really? Don't they send emails when you qualify, telling you to register? Did you not check your mail?"
"Why would I? Nobody emails me anyway."
Surprisingly, Myeongjeon knew email well. He'd dealt with tons of paperwork and contacts via email as a session musician. But knowing how and being on top of it were different—he never checked unless someone specifically asked.
"That's all coming via email these days. Contacts too. Check your email now."
At that, Myeongjeon opened his inbox. Even though he'd never touched it once, a few emails were marked as read.
"...What the?"
He'd never checked email... but clicking the read ones, they were Content ID notices. Emails showing back-and-forth paperwork. Even the bank account was his.
Myeongjeon scratched his head a few times, then thought of the only person who could do this.
Probably Lee Hyein...
The only one who knew his details was Ha Suyeon's mom, Lee Hyein. Who else? Sure, maybe some Chinese hacker knew bits, but...
Then he remembered something. Lee Hyein had once said, "Suyeon, are you managing your YouTube channel properly?" When he said he didn't know, she'd offered to handle it.
"Looks like Mom registered it or something..."
"Your mom? Well, she does look super young."
What did youth have to do with it? Thinking that, he skimmed the inbox. Not too many emails piled up.
"What's the channel name again?"
"[WhatIWantToHearCollection]."
YouTube Channel: WhatIWantToHearCollection
There it was—an email from a channel by that name. The content was basically, "Your music's amazing, can I use it in a playlist?" Sent right after he'd uploaded his second original track.
"YouTubers like that... they just grab stuff usually. Since they don't get revenue, they think of it as free promo for us! Like they're doing us a favor."
"Ungrateful bastards."
Iseo flinched for some reason, but Myeongjeon just thought to himself. Old broadcast PDs were the same. "Bring in these hack musicians, we'll promote you—be grateful, don't expect pay, fuck." Something like that. Back then, you'd still buy them drinks to get anywhere. Women got sexual harassment as baseline. Man, thinking about it, the world had gotten better...
He brushed back his rising-tempered hair and checked other emails. Policy changes, subscription notices... tons of junk.
"Huh?"
Scanning the boring ones, one subject caught his eye.
* * *
Junhong checked the email he'd sent a while back one more time. Still marked unread.
"Argh, collabing with this person would pull solid views. Why no read?"
"Maybe 'cause it's email?"
"Email's all we got~! A high school girl doing YouTube checks it daily, right?"
Shrugging off the editor's negativity, Junhong reopened her channel. Around 10k subscribers—solid growth. But that's not what caught his eye.
Her guitar skills are insane.
Judging by voice and build, she couldn't be older than mid-20s tops. Yet her playing stunned even Junhong, who had a name in session circles.
She's better than me.
Some comments were like [Plays well, but is it worth the hype? Hmm...], [Hmm... that good?], but Junhong knew. What separated noobs from pros was fundamentals, not flash. This channel didn't flaunt trendy techniques like typical covers—instead, it focused purely on recreating originals faithfully, capturing their essence.
Junhong loved that. Her originals were good too, but even more, her guitarist mindset: respecting the source, sticking to basics—a true purist.
"If she guested on my channel, it'd boost her promo too."
Junhong's main gig was guitar sessions. YouTube was a side hustle—covers and lessons pulling 150k subs. Decent clout for promo.
The scene needs a fresh star to shake things up. Could she be it?
With that thought, Junhong checked the email again, hoping for a reply.