Recording Session at Last
How long has it been since I stepped into a recording studio?
When I tried to recall, the last time I recorded was in the spring when I turned twenty. That was eight years ago, giving me plenty of time to spare.
Stepping back into this familiar space stirred a strange mix of feelings in Jang Namhun.
‘So I’ll be recording again, huh.’
He had been steadily rehabbing, dreaming of this moment, yet he had never truly believed it would arrive.
The row of expensive mics dangling behind the pop filter gave him a fresh wave of nostalgia.
‘When I set up my own studio later, I’ll buy these. And then that mic over there.’
Those high-end mics, the ones Jo Wonhyeong—his childhood friend—had painstakingly taught him about every single day in the old days.
‘Hyung still managed to chase his dream a little, didn’t he?’
The thought made Namhun feel a flicker of envy toward his friend.
While he had been stuck, the world had changed so much.
‘Now it’s my turn to move forward.’
Lost in thought, he stood quietly before the microphone. Wonhyeong pressed the talkback switch.
“Ready to listen one more time?”
“No, I’m good. I know it by heart anyway.”
“The instrumental is still in progress, so I can’t play the real version right now.”
“But I can’t use karaoke backing either, so I’ll mute the voice with AI.”
“If it’s the first time hearing it, no problem. It’s a song I already know.”
“Alright. We’re going straight through without stopping. Even if you’re unsure, just keep singing like you’re mimicking Ha Daeun-hyung.”
One of Namhun’s other long-standing skills was mimicking.
“Yeah… I hope I nail it.”
“Alright, let’s begin.”
As the backing track started, Namhun focused on the lyrics. Even as a classical singing prodigy, mastering lyrics was entirely different. Especially for trot, a genre he was hearing for the first time.
He hummed along faintly with the melody, but otherwise stayed true to the words.
‘I’m always waiting by your side…’
Jang Namhun sang ‘My Love’ with a light heart, yet Jo Wonhyeong listened seriously.
“Hmm… Why did you insist on mimicking?”
Even though it was a slow, heartfelt ballad trot called ‘My Love’, Ha Daeun was one of the Trot Four Heavenly Kings.
With decades of experience, he used every trick in the book freely.
Namhun had tried to capture Ha Daeun’s feel through mimicry, but the unfamiliar genre made it feel awkward in many places.
“Still not bad. Your voice sounds way better than it used to, and it’s much stronger now.”
During his idol days as Elixer, people kept mistaking him for a girl. Even later as a ballad singer, his high notes were weak and his low range was shaky.
But now his low end was solid, widening his range and giving the song real depth. The natural timbre was rich and alive.
‘If ballad were still the big thing back then, the women would have been swooning. No, even as an idol I would’ve been a total smash.’
A main vocalist with looks was what you needed.
“Well… what’s the point now? I just need to do better from here.”
“Next time, take full responsibility. If you hadn’t pulled me into the industry, I’d still be living comfortably.”
Remembering Yoo Sera’s words, Wonhyeong turned his full attention back to the song.
* * *
After finishing, Namhun stared blankly at the room. Another vision had triggered.
【Song Title – My Love】
【Comprehension – 33】
【Proficiency – 28】
【Immersion – 76】
【Digestibility – 41】
【Condition – 87】
【Audience Reaction – 20】
【Overall Score – 36.5】
He was disappointed by the lower-than-expected grade.
‘I thought I didn’t mess up the lyrics or anything.’
Every number except Immersion was off.
Wonhyeong spoke with a smile. “It’s fine. You can come out now.”
36.5 was low, yet calling it “fine” felt like a hollow comfort.
It was as if the power was mocking him.
“You suck at singing.”
Yeah, let’s see who wins this time.
“Hyung, can you just listen one more time?”
“It’s not necessary, but…”
“One last time.”
“Okay.”
Wonhyeong had no problem hearing it again.
After the second take…
【Song Title – My Love】
【Comprehension – 28】
【Proficiency – 31】
【Immersion – 67】
【Digestibility – 37】
【Condition – 83】
【Audience Reaction – 16】
【Overall Score – 32.6】
He had sung carefully, yet the score dropped further.
“Time to wrap up.”
Namhun left the studio with his shoulders slumped.
Wonhyeong looked at his disappointed face with confusion. “Why so down?”
“It was pretty bad, right?”
“No, it was fine.”
Those words stung Namhun.
‘Fine?’
‘Who else is watching?’
The 20 and 16 points Wonhyeong had assigned were clearly his own calculations.
“Don’t lie.”
Angered, Namhun demanded the truth. Wonhyeong simply looked baffled.
“Seriously, it was good. My breathing stayed steady. Lyrics were perfect. Emotion felt right.”
“…”
Namhun sensed Wonhyeong was telling the truth.
They weren’t formal with each other. There was no reason for him to lie in private.
“You’re not kidding?”
“Yeah. It sounded like a ballad, but you were trying to sing trot like it’s your thing, right? You nailed the points. No need to nitpick the tiny details.”
Wonhyeong sounded genuinely satisfied.
‘What is going on here?’
Namhun pondered briefly, then asked again.
“Between the first and second take, which was better?”
“The first one. The second felt forced. ‘My Love’ is supposed to be emotional and heartfelt.”
The words clicked for Namhun.
‘Ah… Hyung never expected much from me at all.’
By absolute standards, it was a clear failure. But Wonhyeong knew him well and had low expectations from the start, so the song felt perfectly fine to him.
Only now did Namhun understand the true power of this ability.
The moment he realized how to use it, goosebumps broke out across his entire body.
‘This is… a scam.’
* * *
Jang Namhun had grown up listening to classical music beneath the piano of his father, a vocalist, and the violin of his mother, a pianist.
Inside their home, elegant tunes had always filled the air.
So he sang melodies from the moment he learned to talk, imitating whatever he heard.
“The greatest voice is Jang Nam’s.”
“His tone is priceless.”
“He sounds like an angel descended from heaven.”
His natural talent and emotional depth had been his greatest weapons.
But during puberty he realized something. He had leaned on that innate voice, yet it was changing rapidly.
No one else could have noticed as quickly as he did.
‘It’s over.’
He was terrified. Everything was going to be lost.
So he ran away.
Looking back now, it was foolish. Even if he stopped being a genius, he never would have quit singing out of fear.
Instead he moved through trot to idol group Evil Spirits and then to ballad singer Namhun.
He had competed more fiercely than anyone, yet he had never been judged by pure numbers before. Only by judges, colleagues, and the public’s vague standards.
When the score differed from what he expected, he fell into confusion.
‘What exactly do I fix?’
‘How should I practice?’
Now he understood the scam-like nature of the power. It handed out absolute standards in a world where art was never absolute.
‘Even hidden true feelings can be read.’
Most people hide emotions from others, whether for social reasons or genuine kindness. Even with close friends like him, who never showed weakness to his younger siblings. Jo Wonhyeong was the same. He had no hidden agenda. He was truly satisfied.
Even though he was a trot outsider, he considered the performance quite good. But for Wonhyeong, Namhun’s song had scored 20 and 16. From the perspective of a trot stage in front of the public, those numbers were accurate. The power had been mercifully kind.
Comprehension, Proficiency, Immersion, Digestibility, Condition, Audience Reaction.
It clearly showed exactly what was lacking, beyond just the overall score. Once he knew the gaps, he could simply practice and fill them. Whether the process was hard or not didn’t matter.
‘Since singing is what I do best.’
He had once abandoned the singer’s path, but fate had pulled him back. He refused to suffer the same regret twice. It didn’t matter why he had been given this power.
【Song Title – Forever Only You】
【Overall Score – 100】
He decided this was the divine gift given to him after overcoming countless hardships and standing up again.
‘Does the trigger require an audience to be listening?’
* * *
After the simple test, Wonhyeong handed over a contract.
“What’s this?”
“What else? A contract. We’re riding the same ship now.”
The word contract reminded Namhun of past bad deals. He furrowed his brow. But the terms inside were surprisingly generous.
One-year contract. Living expenses paid in advance until debut. Split 5:5.
“Living expenses again?”
“If you’re going to do this, do it right. Stop all other work today. A one-year contract means we’re building it so you can make money inside that time.”
“…One year isn’t short, is it?”
He had listened to countless late-night trot singer stories over alcohol at broadcasting company parties. One hit and your life was set, but almost nobody succeeded. The trot industry was filled with decades of nameless struggle.
“So steel yourself. Leave everything else to me and focus only on singing. Listen a lot, practice a lot. You need to get comfortable with trot.”
Determination burned in Wonhyeong’s eyes. Namhun signed the contract without a word.
* * *
After leaving Wonhyeong’s office, Namhun checked the time and frowned. It overlapped with Yoo Yuyeon’s dismissal time.
“Should I pick them up?”
On days like today, Yoo Sera sometimes watched the twins for him. Once she reached his level, practice time during off-season would naturally be less. Performances would require intense focus again.
He felt guilty enough already without asking her to help. Besides, after the kids were elementary school age, he could just leave food and side dishes and they would eat on their own. That was how he had started taking vocal lessons in the first place.
‘The real problem is Yuyeon.’
The issue was that his brother Yuyeon spent more time with Sera than with Namhun himself. More secrets than even with his own blood siblings. Whenever something came up, Namhun had to tell all three of them, and the information inevitably reached Sera through Yuyeon. Then she showed up to pick the kids up instead of him.
‘She’s probably already at our house right now…’
Normally Sera texted him constantly, but today the silence was unusual.
“I’d better head over.”
He could call her, but she might not answer. Yuyeon would know where she was anyway. He just needed to decide whether to go to her practice room or home.