Vocal Trainer Rose (1)
[Crazy.]
“Huh?”
[Why the hell did it explode?]
“...What exploded?”
[No, argh!]
Poni started zipping around wildly in circles.
“What? What's going on? How much did it go up? Why aren't you telling me?”
I couldn't say for sure, but the vibe suggested nothing bad had happened. That light had felt warm—far from unpleasant. If anything, it seemed like something good had gone down for me. But Poni's reaction was total crap.
This little shit—is it pissed 'cause I did better than expected and it's butthurt?
Arghhh!!! Pissed off!
I snatched the huffing Poni right out of the air with a whoosh!
Eek!
“Hey, you hate seeing me succeed that much?”
W-what are you doing?! Let me go right now!!
Its speech bubble swelled, words bolding for emphasis. But hey, it was just a speech bubble. And Poni was fly-level weak anyway.
“Tell me what happened. Right now. Don't keep it to yourself.”
Grrr!!
“Glare all you want—it doesn't scare me one bit. Spill it! No time. How many percent up?”
Who knew when the teacher would show? Couldn't waste time here.
...Up 2.32%.
“Over 2%? Didn't you say it hardly ever goes up more than 1%?”
That was just minutes ago.
Exactly!! That's normal! This situation is super abnormal!!
At 0.09%, my footwork had noticeably smoothed out. If it really jumped 2.32% like Poni said, that was a massive gain. I wanted to test the boosted skills right away.
In the moment I let my guard down, Poni slipped from my grip and buzzed around me frantically again.
“Quit flitting around like a maniac! Use the last coin. Not dance—singing.”
Dance had hit the jackpot, so singing it was for the final one. Sure, maybe pump dance more? But nah, no regrets on singing. The plan was steady growth anyway. This unexpected windfall meant dance was plenty for now. Better cover the sorely lacking singing instead.
Hmph, don't expect jackpots twice. That was suuuper rare. No way lightning strikes twice!
Fwoosh fwoosh fwoooosh! Flash flash!
Poni's body sparkled, the light soon absorbing into me.
See? That's normal. Heh!
“How much?”
Singing up 0.12%.
“0.12%? That's it?”
Tiny compared to the 2.32% dance boost. But Poni huffed in rage at my words.
Honestly, I said it just to troll the thing.
What do you mean 'that's it'? Don't get cocky! This is normal!! Ugh, annoying. Nothing left to do, right?
“Wait! Where you going? Use the coin and bail? I got tons to ask!”
Think I'm that free? Oh yeah! Got something to say. Almost forgot. You can't use condoms. They keep ripping when you try, right? It'll keep happening. Remember your mission properly.
“Wha—hey! Hey hey!! Wait! Hey!!!!”
Poni poofed away after dropping its bomb.
Left alone, I just blinked at the empty spot, dumbfounded.
“Fuck, it monologued and dipped?”
Next time I see it, no mercy!! I'll pay back this rage tenfold.
Anyway...
Can't use condoms? Shit.
I knew Poni wanted me knocking up women. But a curse this extreme? No idea.
Those two motel condoms ripping weirdly? Not defective products.
This bastard—next meet, shake it down for coins.
I'll bury this frustration and fury deep—and remember it well!
“Hyung!! There you are. What're you doing?”
“Oh, Uyeon. What's up?”
“Teacher's coming!”
“Gah! Let's go.”
The vocal trainer from morning was pricklier than Hwang Seongman. No one got praise watching their skills—fair. But she ragged on all trainees in her class. Problem.
They seemed to nail the new dance fine to me, but her frown never eased. All lesson long!! Spitting venom at the kids.
So, entering the practice room late? Suicide.
“Hurry up already—what're you doing?”
“Eek! Sorry.”
Me and Uyeon slipped in—and boom, Vocal Trainer Rose followed right after.
Trainees call her Rose-sensei. Stage name; real one's secret. Few know it.
Rumor: Rose has a complex about her real name. Spread by Ki Uyeon, naturally.
“Practiced at all?”
“Yep.”
“Oh? Really?”
Remembering my morning class, Rose-sensei singled me out.
I bellowed back without thinking. Too late—realized I stepped in it. Her finger already beckoned me forward.
“Just hours ago. Let's see how much you improved.”
This was stepping on a landmine.
Morning session: slammed on everything but tone. Pitch wobbly, pronunciation needed work. Breathing? Disaster. Raw singer here—no lessons, needed diaphragmatic basics.
Long road ahead; Rose sighed she never expected teaching a total noob like me.
Normal: basics in B/A-class before debut group. I skipped it all.
“This make sense? Kid singing raw this morning—now nailing diaphragmatic breathing like that?”
Venomous Rose-sensei. Praising me afternoon class.
Morning: irredeemable problem child. Now? Attitude flip thanks to that 1-coin singing boost.
0.12%. Peanuts numerically. Gacha pull odds level.
But real-world? Game-changer. Total newbie grasping zilch on breathing? Now natural as hell.
Whispers—trainees' eyes locked on me.
They saw morning me; knew minimal practice. Uyeon gawked, eyes wide.
“Morning critique stung your pride, huh? Didn't expect this grind. You all—learn from him. Debut needs fight. Biz ain't easy. No talent? Fight and pride make results. No fight? Dead meat.”
Here we go—Rose-sensei's epic rant skill!
“Debut, mental shatters—tons bail. I harsh on purpose. Post-debut? Forget my words. Can't take my shade now? No debut quals. Get it? Fight hard. Fight.”
Should spark fire in eyes—but most trainees meh. Bored, annoyed by nagging.
They weren't always. Long trainee grind dulled edges, broke will, snuffed fight.
Not hopeless. Her words hit some kids.
Only those survive.
My eyes ain't eagle-sharp. But debut kids? Some screamed “gonna make it!” Like Uyeon beside me now. Star material.
If I see it, teacher of masses like Rose-sensei? Duh.
Pity flickered in her trainee gaze.
“In. Class starts.”
I hustled to spot. Yesterday's greeting kids poked my side, jealous teasing.
Weaker than them skill-wise, but Rose eye-stamp? Envy-worthy.
Class began. Pre-class praise? Gone—venom flood.
“No workout? Pitch shakes at this level—how sing dancing?!”
“Singing a joke?! Practice like live—nail every lyric!”
“No teeth? Braces? Pronunciation trash. Forgot Korean?”
“Stop!! Stop! Ears rotting—cut it!”
“High notes mean good singer? Go rock out. Kid!”
Class end, Rose out—I collapsed, legs jelly.
“Hyung, you okay?”
“Nah. Not okay.”
This normal? Learn singing like that? Could teach soft.
Word repays thousand debts? Rose crafts hundred foes per quip.
“First Rose class? Mental break normal. Used to it, still crack sometimes—trainee hyungs/nunas sob.”
“This normal? Other places same?”
“Trainer styles vary vibe. But Rose skills god-tier—everyone grits. 'This extreme?' Tears/snot flow, but results? Speechless. Fixes habits, highs climb.”
Uyeon thumped my shoulder: “Cried like 100 times in her class myself.”
“But hyung's beast. No tears. First-timers who don't cry? Fingers short!”
Uyeon yelled random—no trainee reaction.
“For real? All cried?”
“Yup. Guaranteed.”
“Eyes open, nose bleeds feeling.”
“So bad: rumor she got stab scar side. Didn't see, but trainee she broke mental—quit, stabbed her.”
“Whoa, fr?”
No class? Can't relate. But post-class me? Totally plausible.
“Fr. Girl trainees bath with her—scar shock, asked. She casual: stabbed, turns out by her trainee. Legend, right?”
“Damn~ Rose beast. That trauma, still pushes?”
“Yup. Amazing all ways.”
Talent ≠ personality. Rose traded humanity for skill—consensus.
Rumor magnet.
Gulp—throat tight.
Ex-singer, strict self-care: killer bod. Not idol-pretty face—plain vs. trainees. But body? Overflowing healthy glow past skinny kids.
Tanned skin, bursting vitality!
Tempting... but nah.
Women everywhere.
No need chase that.