Chapter 43
Chapter 43
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 44
Chapter Title: YouTube Original Debut
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There’s only one way to make money from cover songs on YouTube.
It’s when the original artist shares the revenue. There are various conditions and details below that, but the most fundamental thing is that the original artist allows revenue sharing.
That’s why channels like Teacher Ban’s barely generate any revenue.
Yuin was the original artist and had permitted sharing, so revenue came from Cold Night, Rising, and Fly High. There were also cases where a few original artists who were impressed by Yeonwoo’s arrangements allowed sharing, and songs whose copyrights had expired long ago. That was all.
There weren’t as many as one might think, so among countless videos, fewer than ten actually made money.
If only revenue was the issue.
Songs like Sky Watcher had been taken down at the original artist’s request, who was getting flak from fans and seemed to harbor negative feelings toward Yeonwoo’s arrangement.
That started it, and recently, three more recently uploaded videos had been removed.
“Yeonwoo, it’s okay that the videos got taken down. Right?”
Yeonwoo hated that.
After four videos he’d arranged and Chae Hayeon had sung so passionately disappeared, he was so disheartened that he buried his face in the studio cushion.
He wasn’t bawling like a baby, but anyone could see he was sulking.
“Yeonwoo, right? I said it’s okay.”
Chae Hayeon was soothing him from the side.
“Yeah, Shin Yeonwoo. How long are you going to keep that up? You’re not a kid!!”
Shin Jiyeong finally spoke sternly, and Chae Hayeon looked troubled.
“Yeonwoo… he’s still a kid.”
“Oh, right. But this is a company! Yeonwoo is the CEO!”
Yeonwoo flinched at that.
“The CEO’s just going to sulk because he’s upset? Huh?”
Yeonwoo sat up from the sofa.
“No.”
“That’s more like the CEO.”
“But it’s so frustrating. They can’t even make good music themselves, but they ask to take it down after I made it nice?”
“…They’re embarrassed.”
“If they’re embarrassed, they should learn! Aunt Himari calls me every day so we can learn from each other!”
Yeonwoo shouted and suddenly got up, heading into his studio.
“Uh, that… Himari…?”
“Does Junior Hayeon know her too? That jazz singer Himari.”
“No way, Yeonwoo’s connections are insane. Shunji Datemura too, and now Uesugi Himari.”
At Chae Hayeon’s words, Jiyeong said,
“It’s not Yeonwoo’s connections, it’s Grandma’s. Our grandma was Himari’s mentor. Oh, and old man Shunji was in a band with Mom back in the US.”
“S-such connections…! Your grandma must be an amazing person.”
“She was incredible. Korea’s just a jazz desert, and she retired ages ago, so not many know.”
Chae Hayeon nodded emphatically. Thinking about it, it was a family of remarkable musicians.
Now she understood where Yeonwoo’s talent came from.
“But what’s Yeonwoo doing?”
“No idea. Even Grandma, Dad, me—no one knows what’s inside our Yeonwoo.”
As Jiyeong shook her head and said that, Yeonwoo opened the door to his studio.
“Auntie, I need a lyricist!”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“Teacher’s going to release a new song on YouTube!”
“A new song… on YouTube?”
“People keep taking them down. If it’s an original, no one can! So we’re debuting a new song on YouTube!”
Shin Jiyeong scratched her head.
What? Debuting officially on YouTube? Would that even work?
She didn’t know about other countries, but in Korea, at least so far, no YouTuber had successfully debuted as a singer that way.
“Why? Can’t we, Auntie?”
“No, it’s not that.”
Truthfully, anyone could debut as a singer. Uploading to music streaming platforms took some effort, but it was entirely possible for amateurs.
That’s why these days, the line between pro and amateur was whether they could perform based on that music, make money, and go full-time as a singer.
“You can upload to Mango too, right?”
“Yeah, but…”
She was a bit worried.
There were no YouTuber-turned-singers, but there were plenty of failed singers who turned to YouTube.
Some boasted hundreds of thousands to millions of subscribers, but when they released albums leveraging that fame, they often flopped on music platforms.
Of course, she couldn’t say they weren’t singers just because of money, but by her standards, they were borderline.
Was she too old-school?
Come to think of it, it didn’t cost much, promoted the song, and even made money. Not a bad idea?
“So Yeonwoo really wants to release on YouTube?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then do what you want, Yeonwoo.”
Yeah, it was Yeonwoo’s song anyway, and Hayeon was a trainee scouted by Research.
“Oh, and you said you need a lyricist?”
“Um…”
“Yeah? What’s up, Hayeon?”
“Could I… maybe try writing the lyrics?”
“Sure!”
Yeonwoo agreed without hesitation.
Jiyeong wondered if this was okay, but as she’d said, she’d let Yeonwoo do as he pleased.
“I’m off to check on the VVX kids. Hayeon, don’t overdo it—head home early. Grandma’s picking up Yeonwoo.”
“Yes, got it.”
After Jiyeong left, Yeonwoo led Chae Hayeon into his studio.
“This is a song I came up with while arranging other songs to fit your voice as I listened. It’s not finished yet—want to hear it?”
“Sure, let’s.”
Yeonwoo played the song he’d made for Chae Hayeon.
It was based on data accumulated from arranging multiple songs to suit her voice.
Given her androgynous tone, she’d expected something heavy and sad, but surprisingly, it was city pop.
A genre born in Japan that had boomed there, now gaining a fandom in Korea too.
It was odd.
Wasn’t this a Korean debut, not Japan?
The vibe targeted Japan.
“Ayuna Nakagami is far from city pop. If you had her in mind, it’d get hate. And you conceived this… just listen to the end.”
Yeonwoo replayed the music, and Chae Hayeon listened intently.
A gentle flow, but clearly more refined than old-school city pop.
Chae Hayeon closed her eyes softly.
She imagined the mood.
After work, on the subway crossing the Han River just then, the bridges and towering buildings gleaming, piercing the dark night.
The Han River sparkling under those lights, rippling.
It made her sentimental, craving a cool shower at home and an ice-cold beer.
That’s the feeling the song evoked.
“It feels like a song for office workers like me.”
“Exactly!! I made it based on what I saw on TV and YouTube. Don’t you think people will love it on YouTube?”
Definitely—her subscribers were mostly in their 20s and 30s: college students, new grads, busy workers.
The channel name was kindergarten teacher, a common job in this era, and considering the age range, many would relate and like it.
“The lyrics are key. That’s why I was happy when you offered. You can write relatable ones. Auntie doesn’t know day or night, commuting—nor do people around her.”
“Oh, that’s what you meant… Anyway, our Yeonwoo talks so much more now? Sounded all grown up.”
Yeonwoo smiled shyly.
Chae Hayeon looked at the stack of books behind him.
From fairy tales for his age to elementary, middle, high school recommendations.
“All that reading?”
“Yeah, I learn about what I haven’t experienced from books and videos. Aunt Himari said that’s how you make songs for people.”
Chae Hayeon gazed at Yeonwoo anew.
The genius she’d thought was just naturally gifted was putting in more effort than his talent.
A six-year-old reading tough books to get better at music.
Recalling most kindergarten kids, she thought his effort was tremendous.
“Impressive. I’ll write great lyrics so your prep isn’t wasted!”
“Yeah!”
Chae Hayeon gently stroked Yeonwoo’s head.
* * *
Meanwhile, Shin Jiyeong, who’d left the company for VVX production, detoured to a quiet café in some Yongsan back alley.
Near Hyochang Park in an old neighborhood, it required a village bus, then uphill through an alley barely wide enough for one car.
The café was quite vintage.
Antique, if you put it nicely—barely a notch above a traditional tea house.
Opening the door of the sparsely run place brought a screeching hinge noise.
Like it was rejecting customers.
The interior was equally antique, with just one patron.
The person Jiyeong was meeting.
“Senior Yoo Jaehyeok.”
He was none other than Yoo Jaehyeok, the former rock ballad emperor who’d searched for Yuin on Kim Beomsin’s behalf.
“…….”
Yoo Jaehyeok silently stared at Shin Jiyeong, then pointed to the opposite seat.
Jiyeong sat across, looking at him.
Yoo Jaehyeok hesitated with an uncomfortable expression before speaking.
“…Where’s Yuin?”
Like with Kim Beomsin and Park Sangcheol, Jiyeong was inwardly startled by his voice.
She knew Yoo Jaehyeok’s voice well from his rock ballad heyday.
But she didn’t show it.
“I haven’t talked to Yuin yet. I thought I should meet you first.”
“…I thought I told you to ask if she’d give me a song.”
“Yuin doesn’t give songs to singers she hasn’t met or heard sing.”
“Has Yuin… never seen me?”
“Forgive me, but she’s never seen you as you are now.”
“…….”
“But Senior, that voice… are you okay?”
To Jiyeong, it was unsingable. Even if possible, who’d listen to that grating tone?
“Possible.”
“It is?”
Jiyeong made a troubled face and stood.
“I’ll step out for a call.”
Worried Yeonwoo’s voice might be overheard, she went outside and called him.
“Hey, Yuin.”
-Yeah?
“Um… a famous singer with a wrecked voice wants a song. What do you think?”
-Why’d you meet someone with a wrecked voice, Auntie?
“This guy used to be amazing. Shoulder-to-shoulder with President Kim Beomsin. So I came to check.”
-How wrecked?
“Oh, well… his voice is like…”
That’s when it happened.
“Curious about my voice?”
Yoo Jaehyeok, who’d followed silently, spoke from behind.
Jiyeong jumped and looked at him. He glanced at her smartphone and said loudly—unusually so—
“This is my voice. He saved has-been Kim Beomsin, so maybe I can sing again?”
Hearing the loud voice carry over the smartphone, Yeonwoo blurted,
-It’s red….
“Huh? What?”
-I want to meet him.
“R-really? If you say so.”
Jiyeong hung up and looked at Yoo Jaehyeok.
“Eavesdropping on calls is rude.”
“Sorry. That’s how desperate I am.”
“Why? You achieved everything and have money.”
Yoo Jaehyeok looked at her a moment, then said,
“Singers… crave the stage above all, even unto death.”
Jiyeong saw his desperation. Sighing, she said,
“…Yuin wants to see you. But Yuin’s identity is top secret. You’ll need an NDA.”
“Got it.”
“And don’t freak out when you see Yuin.”
“…?”
He’d probably be shocked.
Jiyeong thought so as she scheduled with Yoo Jaehyeok.