Talent That Transcends the System
The current lineup consisted of nothing but vocals, piano, and guitar, so it seemed Gaeul had chosen her song with that in mind. Memories of the Autumn Sea and Fallen Leaves was an acoustic pop track built primarily around guitar and piano. Still, it didn’t feel like the kind of light song that should open a set.
The prelude began with a piano solo. Yet the melody that surfaced in my mind was nothing like the gentle, understated introduction one would expect from acoustic pop. From the very first note, it was a violent display of technique—an explosive prelude that showed off the pianist’s skill as if there were no reason to hold back.
It looked like Gaeul had taken my words—“I can play any song”—completely at face value. After all, she was starting with a piece of this difficulty.
In that case, I would have to prove it. Prove that her faith wasn’t misplaced.
I placed my fingers on the keys and began to let them dance to the music flowing through my head.
The Jukebox on Fingers reward had only been described as granting the ability to play any song. However, it didn’t feel like my fingers were moving automatically. It was closer to knowing the song, understanding exactly how to play it, and possessing complete mastery over every muscle movement required. Enough to perform it more skillfully than anyone else.
If the stage had been set this perfectly, all that remained was to act.
As I continued striking the keys, I realized something. This couldn’t be summed up with a simple phrase like “I can play it.” I wanted to take back my earlier thought that the Jukebox on Fingers reward was nothing special. This was a miracle. A genuine transcendence.
The strangely syncopated rhythm flowed naturally into a steady beat, and the rapid passage began. I hammered the keys in time with the finely fragmented rhythm, and the melody started to fill the air without a single gap.
The people who had been focused on Gaeul’s appearance began to gape at my speed. Even Gaeul seemed shocked by the sight; she stared at me with her mouth open, completely dazed.
…No, Gaeul. You can’t do that.
Even though I knew it might break my concentration on the prelude, I shouted.
“Gaeul!”
Only after hearing my voice did she seem to remember her own role. She began playing the guitar.
As if refusing to be outdone, Gaeul launched into a riff that was both smooth and fiercely aggressive. The fingerstyle licks on the acoustic guitar were sweet yet combative, raising the song’s atmosphere to new heights.
Just what kind of song starts off by throwing both rapid passages and riffs at you right from the beginning? I had no idea. But playing it was incredibly fun.
Gaeul must have felt the same, because she was smiling so brightly that even her profile radiated joy. Together, we drove the song forward in a burst of pure ecstasy.
The long forty-second prelude was finally drawing to a close. Now it was time for the vocals.
The smile vanished from Gaeul’s lips. She cleared her throat with the solemnity of someone reciting poetry. Seeing her like that, I stopped playing the piano. This was the moment when the true protagonist of the song—neither piano nor guitar—stepped forward. No noise was needed. The guitar fell silent, and the audience held their breath.
In that brief, perfect silence, Gaeul began to sing.
A fallen leaf floating on the autumn sea
And the person who is you.
A shiver ran down my spine.
In Gaeul’s status window, her current vocal ability was clearly listed as A-. That was by no means a low rank. It meant she had successfully entered the realm of Moon In A, the level where people unanimously acknowledged her as a genius.
Still, I had seen A- level vocals quite often in my previous life. That was why I had assumed Gaeul’s current vocal ability was roughly at that standard—a skilled vocalist, the kind you could find plenty of in the professional world. Nothing more.
The person who makes it impossible to hold back a smile.
The person who is you.
It was a colossal misunderstanding.
No matter how much room she still had to grow, an overwhelming S-rank talent could not be hidden. And this wasn’t just my opinion. The people who had been watching my rapid playing, the passersby, even those chatting on their phones without interest—everyone was enchanted by Gaeul’s voice.
This was not the level of pull that an A- could produce.
Like crackling embers, like rustling fallen leaves.
Your unbearably lovely voice.
Gaeul turned her head and looked at me. Only then did I realize it was my turn on the piano. I had been so captivated by her voice that I had forgotten my own part. It was embarrassing, especially after I had shouted at her just thirty seconds earlier to snap her out of it.
I took a deep breath and resumed the dance of my fingertips.
Even your playful footsteps, even the words that sink deep.
Do you know just how lovely you are?
Gaeul’s singing continued. I desperately recreated the knowledge in my head. I controlled my strength with precision, ensuring that not a single beat or rhythm contained even the slightest error as I played the piano.
Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that the overwhelming brilliance of her vocals was dragging the song forward. In the midst of that dissonance, the track moved into the interlude, and another piano solo emerged.
Before the solo, I made a decision. I didn’t want to fall short. Not as a regressor manager, but as a pianist who had been allowed to participate in the music of someone named Yoo Gaeul.
I was certain. The moment Yoo Gaeul’s name was attached to it, the stage had to be the best. Therefore, even as a supporting piece, I had to be the best, even if only for a moment.
I compressed the song Memories of the Autumn Sea and Fallen Leaves that filled my mind into something smaller. Then I analyzed and greedily absorbed the hundreds of thousands of songs that flowed through my fingers.
The knowledge I possessed right now wasn’t limited to just Memories of the Autumn Sea and Fallen Leaves. It was every existing song. If I couldn’t utilize that, it would simply be a lack of ability on my part.
My overheated mind throbbed. My stomach churned as if I might vomit. The blood throughout my body burned hot. My small, frail body screamed for a strike, unable to withstand the tidal wave of knowledge.
But in the end, I succeeded. I managed to draw out a single thread from that vast sea of knowledge.
Before the realization could fade, I struck the keys. Sometimes funky, sometimes sweet, sometimes with powerful damping, sometimes calmly. Gaeul’s eyes snapped open as she watched me play beside her. A rapturous smile had already spread across her lips.
I wondered what expression I was making. I didn’t know. But a faint premonition told me that I was surely wearing a smile that looked just like hers.
I gave Gaeul a small nod. In response, she began to add variations that matched my rhythm. The sound of her fingerstyle acoustic guitar grew even more dazzling, completely transforming the song’s atmosphere.
This was no longer Memories of the Autumn Sea and Fallen Leaves by the singer-songwriter Oh Jong-gyu, who had written both the lyrics and melody. This was ourMemories of the Autumn Sea and Fallen Leaves.
Oh, memories of the autumn sea and fallen leaves.
The song reached its climax.
I will remember you. I will love you.
The deep emotion carried in Gaeul’s voice rang out through the microphone and speakers. No matter how magnificent the songs of the sirens from legend were said to be, they could not have surpassed the appeal Gaeul was showing now.
Right now, Gaeul was a witch. The way she drew people in with nothing but her voice looked as if real magic had been cast.
Before the fallen leaves crumble to dust,
I will be swept away. By you, the—
The dazzling fingerstyle acoustic guitar and the piano that had flowed without pause both reached their conclusion.
—sea.
And with that, the song ended.
Even after the music stopped, not a single person made a sound. As if afraid of damaging the lingering resonance, the plaza filled with dozens of people remained wrapped in complete silence.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Then a young child began clapping with an innocent smile. As if snapping out of a trance, people started clapping one by one. The wave spread like an infection until it filled the entire square.
In the explosion of applause and cheers, Gaeul looked at me with flushed cheeks and a slightly breathless voice.
“…Team Leader Seon.”
“Yes, Miss Gaeul.”
“Is it over?”
I thought I understood how she felt.
“It’s a shame, isn’t it?”
Because I felt exactly the same.
“…Yes. I’ve never felt anything like this before.”
“Then we can just sing another one, can’t we?”
“Is that really okay?”
“Why do you think I bought your three hours? If we end after just one song, I’d be the one in trouble.”
Where did you think you were running off to? I’m not letting you go until that sticky attachment to singing is fully revived. Until you feel the charm of becoming an idol. Until you have a dream you can’t possibly give up.
“You have to stay with me until the end.”
Gaeul answered with an innocent smile, like a child who had just received a promise to go to an amusement park.
“Okay!”
After watching the performance of Yoo Gaeul and Seon Taeyang, Cheon A-ram turned to Seo Suyeon, who had just finished her work at the main house and joined them.
“What did you think?”
Seo Suyeon shook her head slightly and replied,
“My expertise is heavily specialized in accounting, so my knowledge of music is lacking. Therefore, I believe I am not qualified to evaluate that performance.”
“No, qualifications have nothing to do with evaluating a stage. Not every member of the public who judges something has formal credentials, after all.”
Cheon A-ram spoke with her arms crossed, holding her blazer in place like a cape so it wouldn’t slip off.
“Besides, since you chose to follow me, Suyeon, you can’t avoid giving your opinion. If you’ve stepped into the world of entertainment, this is something you have to do.”
When Seo Suyeon still hesitated, Cheon A-ram softened her voice a little.
“I’m not asking for a professional critique based on specialized knowledge. Just tell me what you felt as one person watching the stage.”
“If I’m speaking simply as one person, then…”
There was a faint glimmer of tears in Seo Suyeon’s eyes as she spoke.
“It was incredible.”
It was a short impression. But it was also an excellent summary.
Cheon A-ram let out a small chuckle and said,
“Yeah. It really was incredible.”