Chapter 27: Do You Want to Be Special? (5)
27. Do You Want to Be Special? (5)
Let's switch to Lee Do-ha's perspective at this point.
For Do-ha, he was simply happy to meet a same-aged friend who matched his tastes after so long.
He knew Tae-hyun was carrying deep wounds (though he didn't know exactly what happened) and had even packed his bags to quit being a trainee (they were roommates after all). He also noticed that Hajin played a big part in why Tae-hyun returned (since Tae-hyun had been sticking to Hajin like glue ever since).
Despite appearing friendly to everyone, Tae-hyun clearly drew a line between "his people" and others. Watching Hajin handle Tae-hyun like a cat owner taming a feline, one thought kept circling in Do-ha's mind:
'I want to get close to him!'
To begin with, Kang Hajin wasn't a stranger to Lee Do-ha. Even before Hajin joined Miro, the staff who'd seen Do-ha would drop comments:
"There's a guy your age joining soon—they say he's insanely talented."
"Tae-il personally vouched for him and the team leader directly scouted him, so you know his skills must be..."
"I heard his position is vocal? Do-ha, did we finally find someone other than Si-woo to do guide vocals?"
Among all these comments, one phrase stuck in Do-ha's ears.
Guide vocal...
Guide vocal...?
Guide vocal...!
'I want to get close and ask him to do guide vocals for me...!'
Thanks to his self-taught skills since childhood, Do-ha was gratefully learning producing and composition at Miro while working on songs. But unfortunately, he was a real hip-hop boy who'd never even attempted the currently trendy singing rap style.
When making rap-only tracks, it didn't matter. But having decided to become an idol, he couldn't keep making rap-only songs. Until now, he'd relied on Jung Si-woo—the best singer in the special class and someone relatively close to him—but he'd started feeling it was becoming impolite to keep asking only him.
And then appeared a new guide vocal candidate!
'If Tae-il sunbaenim vouched for him, his skills must be undeniable.'
Moreover, hearing this was a vocalist that Seo Tae-il—the senior he respected most (the very person who made him switch from real hip-hop to idol)—had coveted only made him want Hajin more!
Which is why...
"So anyway, I was wondering if I could listen to some of your work first."
When Hajin suddenly showed up at his studio asking to hear his tracks, Do-ha couldn't help but feel like he was being cornered by a CEO demanding a presentation from an unprepared new employee!
"......"
"...Lee Do-ha?"
"Ah, uh—"
"Hey, careful!"
Uncharacteristically nervous, Do-ha stumbled clumsily. Despite having spent hundreds of hours in this studio—knowing the position of everything even with his eyes closed—in his fluster, he knocked over a shelf while turning his chair, sending stacked albums crashing down.
"Sorry, I'll pick them up."
"No, I'm the one who barged into your cramped studio."
As they hastily restacked the albums, another awkward silence settled. Do-ha was unbearably anxious about Hajin's reaction to his work, while Hajin had his own reasons.
At this moment, only one thought occupied Kang Hajin's mind:
'What the hell is this bastard's deal?'
Because floating before his eyes was a panel of information:
[Lee Do-ha (Affiliation: Miro)]
Vocals: 17% (Rap: 64%)
Dance: 47%
Expressiveness: 35%
Special: Composition, Producing (34%)
Appeal Point:
'Strong Heart'
—Delivery, On-stage Adaptability, Performance Realization (80%)
'How the hell is this trash-tier statline hogging a spot in the special class?'
Aside from that "Performance Realization" nonsense, not a single stat broke 50%. How does this make sense? Either Miro's lost it or the system's broken—there's no other explanation.
Hajin decided to listen to Do-ha's music first. If the tracks were as bad as the stats suggested, he'd immediately assume Do-ha's special class position was due to the department head's scheming and rethink his strategy.
"It's fine, just play me one of your most recent tracks. Since you're in the special class and I don't know much about you, I want to get a sense of your usual musical style."
After Hajin's lengthy explanation, Do-ha finally moved his large hands to grab the mouse. Nervously repeating "This isn't the final version..." about eighty-two times, Hajin reassured him he'd keep that in mind before finally getting to hear Lee Do-ha's first track.
♬♪♬♩―
Over a sentimental piano melody, stabilizing drum beats layered in sequentially. With no lyrics yet, a smooth vocal hummed in syllables that were neither English nor Korean.
"Is that you? The vocals?"
"No, Si-woo hyung. He always helps with my guides."
Over the crisp soundscape, a low voice with precise articulation rapped. Though the lyrics were incomplete with gaps, that alone told Hajin enough.
'This is fucking good.'
Unbelievably refreshing for something from Miro's dingy studio. And this was made by a pre-debut trainee? Even he would've locked this guy down.
But Hajin still couldn't ignore the dissonance with the numbers before him.
"Sorry, can I hear one more? Preferably with finished lyrics."
"...Was it bad?"
No, it's weird because it's fucking good, you bastard.
Unable to say that, Hajin equipped his workplace smile and shook his head.
"No, it's good, but hearing more helps me understand your musical taste. Your rap style too. Ideally something with completed rap."
Do-ha's sharp, scrutinizing glare softened slightly.
This bastard really thought I'd call his work bad. Once again, Miro trainees had such intense expressions that when they stared like that, it was genuinely terrifying.
"Hmm... then this one."
After some deliberation, Do-ha played another file.
A beat that started faint, as if played underwater, gradually grew before dropping with heavily effected, shredding electric guitar sounds. Then came a high, rapid-fire melodic hook.
Hwweeeeeo―!
Followed by an easy-to-catch whistle and a surge of band instrumentation—a structure that instantly conjured images of perfectly synchronized male idol choreography. Just as the accelerating tempo and fragmented rhythm left the listener breathless—
Shhhh―,
All sound vanished as if submerged again, replaced by slow bass and a heavily layered voice.
"A night collapsed underfoot by a car, melodies shattered beyond counting."
The lyrics were more poetic than expected. A rap pace neither fast nor slow in that low voice. Flawless delivery despite the heaviness, woven with just the right amount of wordplay to keep it engaging.
Here, Kang Hajin became certain:
'This crazy bastard is fucking good...?'
This had to be the system's error.
'Let me think this through.'
Dazedly leaving Do-ha's studio and returning not to Room A but to Joo Eun-chan's place (which was practically his second home now), Hajin lay on what had become his personal couch to ponder.
'Right, some stats did seem questionable.'
Thinking back, Seo Tae-il and Seo Tae-hyun's stats weren't easily digestible either. Actually, the percentage format itself was weird. Shouldn't this be rated as high/mid/low? Or ABCD absolute grading?
"Do-ha's dance is in the 30% range, but Tae-hyun only has 67%? How does that make sense?"
Hajin had already received and reviewed all his teammates' practice footage. Do-ha's dancing wasn't as disastrous as he'd imagined, but it certainly wasn't only half as good as Tae-hyun's, who'd battled to the survival show finals.
"What's the benchmark? The benchmark."
Of course, the system window stayed silent at this crucial moment. Seriously considering whether he could punch it just once, Hajin reopened the three profiles.
[Seo Tae-il (Group: YUPIA)]
Vocals: 93%
Dance: 83%
Expressiveness: 91%
Special: Composition, Producing (63%)
Appeal Point:
'Everything in My Hands!'
—Leadership, Charisma, Stage Control
[Seo Tae-hyun (Affiliation: Miro)]
Vocals: 45%
Dance: 67%
Expressiveness: 52%
Special: Acting, Variety Skills (82%)
Appeal Point:
'Eyes Drawn to You!'
—Vocal Color, Dance Lines, Stage Expressiveness
[Lee Do-ha (Affiliation: Miro)]
Vocals: 17% (Rap: 64%)
Dance: 47%
Expressiveness: 35%
Special: Composition, Producing (34%)
Appeal Point:
'Strong Heart'
—Delivery, On-stage Adaptability, Performance Realization (80%)
Studying the system window and comparing it to their actual skills, Hajin repeatedly formed and discarded hypotheses. When do percentages usually apply? As he crossed off about seven theories—
"Ah, right. My battery. Should've charged it."
Checking his phone for the incessant notifications, Hajin clicked his tongue at the battery level. Remembering he'd left his charger in the practice room, he started getting up to use Eun-chan's spare charger when—
"...Percentage."
Another theory flashed in his mind. A benchmark suitable for percentage representation.
"It shows realization rate. What percentage of their potential they're currently demonstrating."
As if waiting for this, a hologram sparkled before him with golden confetti.
[System Alert: (≧∇≦)/ Correct!]
[System Alert: Skill <Dragon's Eyes> (Lv.1) comprehension increased.]
[System Alert: Skill <Dragon's Eyes> (Lv.1) ▶ (Lv.2) leveled up!]
[System Alert: Penalty incurred due to <Dragon's Eyes> creation.]
[System Alert: Replace penalty with cash?]
[Original Penalty: 5% Mental Care System reduction / Replacement Cost: 300 Cash]
"Inflation hitting here too?"
[System Alert: The system shakes its head, saying it's barely scraping by.]
[System Alert: Guaranteed you won't find better rates elsewhere!]
"Your reality patches keep getting weird too..."
For a moment, his body trembled with the illusion of meeting a fruit vendor at a traditional market.
300 cash? Though expensive, it wasn't worth another meltdown like last time, so he reluctantly paid. A cheerful transaction sound soon followed.
He examined the stat window again. But really—
"...These bastards are insane."
With a clear benchmark, his analytical perspective shifted. New realizations surfaced, and he—
"How am I supposed to beat these guys?"
He lost motivation. Goddamn it.