Handsome Guys Are Rarer Than Pretty Girls (1)
Handsome men are rarer than pretty women. How important is looks when it comes to succeeding in life? It's impossible to pin down an exact number. But at least for a composer whose job is to create music and spread it across the world, appearance shouldn't matter at all. Sure, if you're appearing on TV shows or drawing attention to yourself as the composer rather than the music, looks definitely play a role. But otherwise? A composer just needs to make good music. That's the job, after all. Just like a pro gamer's job is to win, a composer's job is to craft great tracks.
But then...
"What the fuck is this bullshit? It pisses me off every time I see it."
This comment on my NerTube channel—what the hell was that supposed to mean?
"Why the hell are you picturing me when you listen to my music? It's a fresh, upbeat track—how do I even come to mind?"
Where the hell did it all go wrong?
"...I never should've done that interview."
The first button wasn't misaligned. It started the summer I turned twenty and resolved to become a composer. I holed up in my studio for a year, cranking out tracks nonstop, and suddenly, communities started noticing me. That led to me handling one song on a major indie band's album. The name Jeong Jisul spread pretty far as a composer.
Or rather, it spread way too far. The track I did ended up getting more streams than the title song. I made a ton of money for the first time ever and scored a huge hit as a rookie composer whose face no one knew.
A few days before dropping my first full album—fueled by daily composing, self-feedback, and connections from the music scene—I got a business email after a long dry spell. The sender? None other than the mega NerTuber Everything About Bands, the biggest channel covering bands in Korea.
He wanted an interview. I fired back an instant reply, and the next day, I was at his studio.
"I should've said no, you idiot. Who says yes to that shit...?"
Now, the butterfly effect from that interview was causing me endless agony. But back then? I was just thrilled. The guy was tight with nominees from the Korean Music Awards. Getting my face on his channel? My album promo was gonna explode.
But after the interview dropped...
"Fucked it all up. Image in the toilet, streams tanked, no gigs coming in."
My composer career started sliding. It began on one community board. I still remember the post word for word.
Jeong Jisul looks so fucking ugly I can't even listen to his good music.
That's exactly how it was written. It hit the concept post section, got flooded with agreements, my image plummeted, and my jobs dried up.
This world cared more about image than skill. And I wasn't some god-tier composer either. The folks who'd promised collabs figured it was better to pay the penalty and cancel than slap a weird frame on their work.
After that, I fell into a slump and stopped producing. I tried rebranding and starting fresh, but every time I opened my DAW—the music editing software—the comments crawled across my vision. PTSD is scarier than you think.
From then on, I never left my room. Holed up playing life sim games, reading novels, watching anime, manhwa, webtoons. The one that ate up most of my time? Life sim games. At least there, I could live a handsome life. It was like a drug.
Looking back now, the games weren't even that fun. It was more about escaping harsh reality than the gameplay.
Now that my mental wounds had started healing, I resolved to quit the hikikomori life. Jeong Jisul didn't have to be a composer. Time to reenroll in the university I'd taken leave from and chart a new path.
"Just this one thing."
So I decided to wrap up with the new DLC and say goodbye to my favorite game. I planned to quit cold turkey, but...
"How do you resist a collab?"
My top game crossing over with my favorite webtoon? No way.
"A dating sim life sim... Fresh concept."
The webtoon was a guy-targeted romcom, so the DLC added a perfect synergy with dating sim mechanics.
"All the characters should be there too."
I whipped up a save file and avatar like always. A flick of the mouse, and my ideal self appeared.
"Height 187cm, weight... muscular 78kg."
Perfect proportions, and most importantly, the face. Not too sharp, not too soft—right in the sweet spot. Boyish yet with thick brows adding manly intensity. To me, the handsomest face. Final touch: name it Jeong Jisul and load in my composing talent. Avatar done.
All that was left? Savor this final save file to the fullest.
"...Three AM already?"
Too late. I'd fixed my sleep schedule to escape hikikomori life, but I'd blown the whole night tweaking my face again.
"Tomorrow I'll buckle down. Plenty of time left."
Hugging my regrets, I shut down the PC and headed to bed.
I'd transmigrated into the game. As an insanely handsome guy.
Best way to sum up my situation. The key was my satisfaction level and any lingering regrets about my old life...
"As if I'd have any regrets."
Unlike my orphan past life, I had loving parents. And this face that made my shoulders lift involuntarily every time I saw it. More than enough to erase any nostalgia.
At first, living as a handsome guy felt awkward. Strolling hand-in-hand with my parents, passersby stared. Some strode up with candy. Others cooed about how cute I was and begged for a photo.
For someone who'd lived 21 years with a wrecked face, this was bewildering. But humans adapt.
Now that I was used to it, I didn't flinch anymore. Graduated kindergarten, then elementary school. Over those 13 years, I learned how a handsome guy navigates the opposite sex.
Rule one: Be kind. Turns out, handsome people draw more scrutiny than ugly ones. But not too kind—cross that line, and girls start misunderstanding.
Calibrating the right level was tough at first. But practice made perfect; now it's second nature.
That's all it took. Maintain that perfect kindness toward girls, and life was easy and fun.
Two regrets, though.
"Still, I'd love to talk to them at least."
This was the world from my favorite romcom webtoon, full of its heroines. Sucks not seeing them alive since it was my top series.
But compared to the bigger issue, it was nothing.
What really bummed me out...
"...Not being able to do music."
Our family was poor, so I couldn't bring up wanting to pursue it. My parents were amazing—model parents of the era. That's exactly why I held back.
If I said I wanted music, they'd support me 100%. But failure scared me.
So I planned to try composing after becoming independent as an adult. At least then, chasing dreams wouldn't burden them.
That's what I intended...
"Jisul-ah, come sit here."
Early December, after middle school graduation, when high school applications were due. Dad, who'd barely touched booze before, was drunk and wanted a father-son heart-to-heart.
"How's high school prep going? You were top of your class in middle school, so no worries from me."
Dad rambled on from there, but it boiled down to one thing.
"But son, don't you have any dreams?"
He wanted to know his son's aspirations.
"......"
I tried saying studying was easiest and best, but my mouth wouldn't move. My chest tightened. My true feelings kept bubbling up, screaming not to lie.
"You know your dad chats with your teachers, right?"
"...Yeah."
"Know what they always said during those meetings?"
"...No."
"That you're too talented. Great with friends, top grades, athletic. And..."
Silence. Dad swallowed hard, then continued.
"You play piano and guitar amazingly. But... we never taught you."
"......"
"So where'd you learn? Self-taught, probably. Internet's great these days."
Dad grinned and ruffled my hair roughly.
"If you taught yourself that well, it's beyond a hobby, right?"
His beaming smile felt bittersweet.
"Do you want to do music, son?"
The brighter his smile, the lower my head drooped. Was it shame, or gratitude mixed with guilt for spilling my selfish truth?
"......Yeah."
I barely whispered it.
February. Started living alone in Seoul. Dad said anyone in music has to be in Seoul.
I thought it meant a high school dorm at first. But knowing I can't sleep with others around, they set me up with my own place.
Seoul rent is insane. I decided not to dwell. Instead, gratitude for their full support—and focus on quick results.
"Tomorrow, grab a part-time gig and hit a practice room."
No computer yet, so no home composing. But a prepared composer carries samples. I'd recreate my past life's hits before high school started.
"The ones that topped charts..."
I'll use them, honestly. Great songs deserve this world's ears. But not as my launchpad—they'll shine on their own timeline.
"Phew... The real key is how to debut..."
Communities drove me to quit, so I hated them. But they also got me my debut, so it's a love-hate thing.
And this time, no year-long isolation cranking tracks.
No-name composer debuts vary wildly, but luck rules all. If you're not a no-name? Someone with a rep pre-debut? Way better start.
To build name value now...
"...Gotta do Insta."
Leverage the face first. I made two Insta accounts quick. One for daily life (face pics), one for music.
Tag each other in bios—done.
"Just post face pics, right?"
Wouldn't know till I tried influencer stuff. Snapped selfies, picked the best.
"This one's the winner."
Uploaded to Insta. Now pray the algorithm picks it up.