Karaoke with the Cash Cow and Bae Sol's Outreach
I knew that Yoon Seola, the cash cow we absolutely had to secure, occasionally came to this karaoke spot. I just hadn't expected it to be today.
"……."
Yoon Seola subtly shifted in her seat to make room for me. Even so, once I sat down next to her, the space felt cramped. Our shoulders were just close enough to brush if we leaned in a little.
...Is this what they call a duet room?
No matter how I looked at it, this was a single room. I set my backpack down on the floor and tried starting our first real conversation with Yoon Seola.
"You've still got five songs left. Do you usually sing this many?"
This really was our first conversation. She sat right next to me in class, but she slept through the entire day, so we never had a chance to talk. She even skipped lunch...
Come to think of it, we just never had the opportunity.
I wondered how my relationships with the three girls around me were even holding up.
"I sing as many as I want."
"So you could sing all five and still keep going?"
Her dark blue long hair swayed gently as she slowly nodded in response.
Seemingly done answering, Yoon Seola picked up the karaoke remote again. Without even glancing at the songbook, she punched in a number and searched.
"Ah, ah."
As the backing track started, she began testing the mic.
...What was this situation?
I couldn't presume to read Yoon Seola's mind, but if I had to guess...
She was surprised to see me here unexpectedly and let me into the booth, but decided our chat wasn't that fun and went back to singing.
I guess I got bumped down the priority list.
I quietly listened to her voice.
It was a ballad earlier, but now it's a band track.
Wait a second.
It's an Okiid song?
The lyrics were entirely in English, and the melody was incredibly familiar. After confirming that the singers and music in this world differed from my previous life, this was the first band song I'd heard here.
As the song built toward its climax, I glanced sideways to observe her. Unlike her usual blank expression, she visibly buzzed with excitement. She seemed passionate in her singing, and she really was putting her all into it—but she was restraining her vocals to let the band's instrumentation shine.
That's what this song demanded. It was the moment her clean, straightforward voice truly sparkled.
"Hoo..."
After the song ended, Yoon Seola took a few deep breaths, probably winded. She whipped her head around to look up at me.
"……."
I reflexively met her gaze, but...
What does she want?
Thankfully, her silence didn't last long.
"How was it?"
Was she fishing for praise? Well, they say even a whale dances for compliments.
"You sang amazingly. You totally nailed the song's vibe."
"Not that."
...So that wasn't what she wanted.
"Saeron said you're the composing guy."
"I compose."
"Then you know singing well too. Anything off?"
So...
She's asking me for feedback?
Composers often had deep knowledge of vocals. Most songs only truly come together with the singer's voice, making collaboration essential. To communicate effectively, composers needed to understand singing techniques at a singer's level.
I'd studied vocals extensively myself—not because I could sing well, but to explain clearly during recordings.
But even I couldn't find a single flaw in Yoon Seola's performance just now.
"Nothing to nitpick. You were clearly going for the original vibe. You even matched the breathing, right?"
"...Yeah."
"I could give feedback, but it'd be on the original song, not you, so it wouldn't mean much."
She might not like that answer. I quickly offered a carrot.
"What I can say is you're way better than most idol trainees. With the right opportunity, you could debut."
"……."
Her response seemed to please her; her blue locks shimmered as she nodded.
"Here."
She handed me the mic she'd been using.
"...Is there only one mic?"
"Yeah."
"……I'll grab another one."
I couldn't use that mic. I'd change the cover, sure, but still... the vibe.
I carefully stood to avoid bumping her and headed for the counter—
Thud!
"Just sing. I wanna hear it."
—only to get grabbed by Yoon Seola, frozen in place.
"……."
The silence brought an unspoken pressure. She probably wasn't trying to pressure me, but her signature blank face made it feel that way.
I awkwardly sat back down and took the mic from her.
"Just so you know upfront."
"Yeah."
"...I can't sing well."
"...Yeah."
"Don't get disappointed."
I warned her about my skills and swapped the mic cover. Clearing my throat—"Ahem... ah, ah."—I flipped through the songbook, queued up a track, and started.
But...
What the hell is this?
The more I sang, the weirder it got. I could effortlessly adjust my vocal cords to control airflow density like breathing. Notes that took falsetto effort in my past life came out pure and easy in chest voice. My mix voice seamlessly shifted from chest for lows to head for highs.
This music talent...
It's not limited to composing, is it?
If it applied to singing, it must work for instruments and conducting too.
...It's way more incredible than I thought.
Since I'd always focused solely on composing with this talent, I'd only realized it now.
"...Liar."
As my song ended, Yoon Seola murmured softly.
"I'm in good form today..."
"That's not just 'form' level."
"……."
I knew it too. No one sings like that on a good day. Only those blessed with innate talent could.
Yoon Seola extended her hand—wanting the mic back. She quickly picked the next song, and the track started...
"You should change the cover."
"You've only used it once, it's fine."
...Did I stimulate her? Does she think I sing better than her?
.
.
.
"Singing's... way more fun when you're good at it."
Back in my past life, I hated sending guide vocals. But now that I could sing well, I ended up doing three extra songs willingly.
"Yeah, no one wants to do what they're bad at."
After getting home, showering, it was already 8 PM.
"Tonight... let's handle Insta first."
I hadn't logged in lately. Not because my drive had faded—I'd just been too absorbed in composing.
"I've got about ten ready..."
I could release them one by one.
"Oh, right—selfie."
I needed a photo for my personal account too, not just the music one.
"......Do influencers never get tired?"
How do they post ten pics a day? And stories on top. Even if they curate, that's at least a hundred shots daily.
"Impressive people."
Muttering that, I rummaged through my backpack.
"Student ID for today."
Influencers' feeds often featured them. Snap!
With everything ready, I opened Insta. Uploaded the student ID to my personal account first, then switched to the music one...
"...What."
The DM window had an unbelievable name.
"...Bae Sol? That Bae Sol I know...?"
Who was Bae Sol? The genius producer who led Seong Haein's peak, co-founding HS Entertainment at 25 with her. Now Korea's hottest agency CEO.
Did Seong Haein connect us?
Probably. I couldn't think of another way she'd contact me.
I steadied my racing heart with deep breaths and opened the DM. Read every word carefully.
"Meeting. A meeting's basically a contract offer..."
It was a meeting request.
"Portfolio required... and parents too."
How long to make a portfolio? Not too bad.
So, until the meeting...
"I'll compose at least one more song."
Stock up tracks for it.
** Three days later.
Considering Jeong Jisul was a student, the meeting was set for Saturday—today. In the pristine HS conference room, Bae Sol waited for Jeong Jisul and his parents.
"How many is this? Fourteen songs in ten days...? The speed's insane."
She was listening to his tracks one by one via his NerTube channel.
That 'one hour per song' claim was 100% true?
"Churning out pro-level tracks daily, good enough for our artists..."
Bae Sol chuckled, reminiscing. How much time had she poured into her own compositions? As a rookie, her longest took a full year.
"Short production time doesn't mean shallow depth..."
A composer mass-producing this quality...
"The meeting result's already in before it even starts."
From the agency's view, he was a cash cow they had to secure.