Cruel Preparations
At lunch, I met up with my group members again to work on the performance evaluation.
Yeonju was a lot more stable than she'd been the first time we tried putting it all together. Still, I couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was off.
And once that feeling settled in, I had a suggestion of my own I wanted to make. If I was being honest, it was something I'd been turning over in my head for a while now.
"If it's okay with you guys... what if we don't stick to the original song form? What if we reshape it a little to fit our vibe?"
I floated the idea toward the two of them.
"Like how?"
"Well..."
I laid out everything I'd been thinking, like I was giving a presentation.
The way I saw it, Yeonju wasn't struggling on the chorus so much as she was falling apart from the intro through the verse. The chorus had a melody you could lock onto, and it sat in a range she could handle comfortably, so she could throw it out without much trouble. But from the top of the song through the verse, she just didn't have the precision to land those notes cleanly. So I figured we should flip the structure entirely — open on the chorus, and let Yeonju carry it all the way through the bridge that connected into the next one.
"What do you think?"
"Oh... yeah, this is definitely more comfortable for me. Honestly, I don't really know the front half of this song anyway..."
Thankfully, Yeonju's reaction was a good one.
And I still had one more change I wanted to make. The first suggestion had been about covering a weakness. The real point was what I was about to say next — this time, it was about pushing a strength as far as it would go.
"And also... Yeonju, I think you should keep going the way you are. That hazy ballad feel, same slow tempo. It suits you."
"Yeah. But?!"
"Once you close out the bridge like that, I'll punch in a variation right on that beat — and from there, Yena comes in on the chorus at something close to the original tempo and mood. I think that'd hit really well."
That was the part about maximizing what we had. Yena just... belonged more on that side of things, I thought. And if we let both verses drift by all soft and quiet, it was going to get a little dull. Let it flow gently, then have Yena's entrance flip the entire atmosphere on its head — that would land so much better. It was a dramatic trick people used in arrangements all the time, anyway. Normally you'd want drums coming in on that variation to really sell it, but we didn't have that kind of setup, so there wasn't much we could do.
"Oh! That's good. I think that'll sound really cool. Yena?"
Yeonju seemed fine with just about anything. I followed her question and looked over at Yena. This was my idea, but she was the one who had to be happy with it. For all I knew, I was completely off base.
"So I just do it like the original, then?"
Yena looked a little lost. In a situation like this, the best thing to do was just try it once and let her hear it for herself.
"Yeah. Let's just run it once. It'll be easier for you guys to decide after you've actually heard it."
"Okay."
And so we started the ensemble over, the new way.
Yeonju opened on the chorus without a hitch and carried it cleanly through the end of the bridge. I held the keys down dark and long right up to that same point — then in a single burst I came down on them, tang-tang-tang-tang, announcing the variation, and drove us hard into the original tempo. And Yena — she caught the lead-in beat on instinct and came in at exactly the right moment, her voice cutting through bright and wide open.
Ah. My whole body was shaking. Every time a moment landed this perfectly, the shiver that ran through me was enough to drive me insane.
I played on with a satisfied smile, bouncing across the keys, and the ensemble wrapped exactly the way I'd pictured it in my head.
"Wow, I thought we were in some kind of competition just now."
"For real. That's sick. I like this way better too."
Apparently I hadn't been the only one who felt that moment click into place. Yeonju and Yena both let their satisfaction show, no filter at all.
What a relief.
"Let's all try to finish it this clean on the day, too."
I gathered up the sheet music I'd set out and offered that as a closing remark. We were getting ready to head back to the classroom when Yeonju, who apparently had somewhere she needed to be in a hurry, spoke up first.
"We're all done, right? Okay, I'm gonna head out—!"
She said it, pulled the door open, and was gone. Yena just stood there watching me, vacant, like she was planning to wait. Conscious of that, I sped up the rest of the cleanup a little.
"Hey. Why'd you suddenly want to change it like that?"
Yena threw the question out of nowhere.
What...?
Was she unhappy about the sudden change? We had already been practicing it the other way, so I could see why.
"Ah... well. I just thought this way of singing suits you a lot better, so..."
I could hear my own voice shrinking as I said it. I couldn't help wondering if I'd pushed my own idea too hard and run right over hers.
"Yeah...? I-I see."
"If I sprung the change on you too fast..."
"No! It's not that... it's not that, it's just..."
But against every expectation, Yena was fidgeting, stumbling over the words. Then why had she asked like that, like she was about to bite my head off? I'd thought she actually had a problem with it. She'd scared me for nothing.
"Good. I've been thinking for a while that this is the way you should be singing it."
"Why... do you think that?"
"Your tone fits this better. And the way you look when you sing it — you actually seem like you're enjoying yourself right now."
It was true. The brighter, punchier side suited her so much more than what we'd been doing. Yena had a clean, well-supported voice that could really open up and carry, and this was where it belonged. It felt like she'd climbed all the way onto the song and was riding it. You could see it in her face, too.
Thump.
"Yena...?"
With a dull little impact, Yena smacked my shoulder. Not that she'd hit me for real — nothing like the liver shot she'd landed on me last time. The force of it was light enough that I could tell she was kidding. What I still couldn't tell was why.
"Listen to you. What would you even know!"
"I wouldn't. But even I can see it, and I don't know anything. Besides, you said it was fine, didn't you?"
At that, Yena hemmed and hawed for a second, then whipped around so her back was to me.
"Yeah... I like it too."
The words came out low, almost like she was reciting them to herself. If I hadn't been listening closely, I wouldn't even have known she'd said anything.
"C-come on! Let's go! Lunch is almost over!!"
She threw that out before I could even answer and bolted from the practice room.
Wait... hadn't she been waiting so we could walk back together?
So I ended up heading back to the classroom alone — and on the way, I ran into Sohee and Ahyeon walking arm in arm.
Honestly, running into Choi Ahyeon at school was twice as uncomfortable as it used to be. She, on the other hand, didn't seem to care much anymore.
"Oh. It's Jinho."
She called my name. Maybe she hadn't had a choice, given that we'd walked straight into each other head-on. Or maybe she genuinely thought she could treat me the way she used to.
"Oh, it is? Hi, Jino!"
Once Ahyeon acknowledged me, Sohee, who'd been stuck to her side, greeted me too.
Jino. Hearing that from Sohee still sat strangely in my ear. And with Choi Ahyeon standing right there next to her, it almost felt like the two of them had swapped souls.
"Jino...?"
The nickname seemed to land just as strangely on Choi Ahyeon. I watched her turn it over under her breath, tasting it by herself.
"Jino, when are we doing it again?!"
Sohee attached herself to me immediately, her voice bright and sunny. Though... shouldn't she have been asking Choi Ahyeon that before she asked me? The whole thing only happened when Ahyeon was practicing. That thought made me glance over at her, and Sohee must have read the look, because she turned and redirected the question.
"Ahyeon, are you practicing today? Can I tag along again?"
If she asked like that, Ahyeon would almost certainly say yes. She practiced nearly every day as it was. The audition wasn't far off — and even setting that aside, I didn't think she did it because the daily repetition actually produced some measurable result. She just couldn't sit still with her own anxiety and impatience. It was closer to a routine than anything, something she did because it settled her. Which meant it wasn't meaningless repetition, not really. Keeping your head on straight mattered more than people gave it credit for.
"Ah... no. I'm gonna rest today. Let's do it... next time."
But for once, Ahyeon turned her down, saying she was going to take the day off. That was unexpected. I couldn't say exactly why, but she was the type who almost never skipped.
"Aww... that's too bad. Well, next time then."
Sohee let the disappointment show with complete transparency. Not much I could do about that either, then.
"Yeah. Next time, if we get the chance."
The next morning.
For the first time in a while, I'd spent the previous afternoon at home by myself, taking it easy. As you might have guessed, there had been no audition practice, for once. And with that unexpected free time, I'd been able to put a little more into the performance evaluation instead.
A text from Ahyeon came in during the time we usually went running.
I was already outside. What was I supposed to do with a text that arrived this late? Had she slept in? She'd been getting up just fine lately, too. Nothing I could do about it. I figured I'd just stretch on my own for a while.
I ended up meeting Choi Ahyeon a little later than usual. And the Choi Ahyeon who showed up did not look well. Not well enough that the question came out of me on its own.
"...You feeling okay?"
"Mm, I'm fine."
That was the answer I got. A lingering unease still sat in my chest, but she'd said she was fine, so we went running anyway.
And that, as it turned out, was a mistake.
Ahyeon, who'd been running right there beside me, suddenly crumpled and went down mid-stride.
No — she hadn't caught her foot on anything. She hadn't tripped. She just dropped.