Never Wake the Sleeping Princess
It had been quite a while. Absolutely do not wake the sleeping princess. How much time had passed for Lara to reach this point, to finally deliver the right answer?
In truth, it hadn't been that long. Roughly two weeks, but the actual time spent together in lessons barely exceeded ten hours. What does the input time matter, anyway? High school life boils down to a diploma and a touch of nostalgia at the end, so this fleeting moment is like a road movie spanning three years. What counts is that Lara reached the answer in the end. All's well that ends well.
"Congrats, Lara."
I applaud her for nailing it. No matter what, seeing effort bear fruit is a good thing. Sure, I gave her a ton of hints, but hey, she got there on her own. For this, Lara who showed up on the weekend, me, and Lee Jeongyeon who volunteered her time on passion pay—we all deserve my endless thanks. Time to hand out Seonggwang praise stickers, one each.
Lara looks a bit suspicious upon hearing that. Does she think I'm teasing her?
"So... what exactly do you mean by 'infusing intent'?"
"Just what it sounds like. When you sing, there has to be something the singer wants to convey."
Following the emotional arc of the lyrics, or the feeling you want the audience to get from the song. The highlights, the accents, the emphasis. Controlling dynamics throughout—all that adds up to the singer's intent.
"In recordings, they usually direct you on that stuff... but even if you're singing straight from the sheet music, putting your intent into the song as a singer is crucial."
Whether that intent actually reaches the audience is another matter. The key is having a goal for every single note you sing, rather than just belting it out.
"But why learn it from a musical theater actress?"
"Because every song in a musical is packed with intent."
Songs in musicals aren't just there to be songs. They're tools for shifting the scene's mood, conveying character emotions—a device to immerse and pull the audience into the story. A solvent to dissolve one person into the world of the play. In that sense, bringing in Lee Jeongyeon, a musical actress, as Lara's teacher was a brilliant choice, even by my standards. Teacher Seonggwang, the master educator. No matter how I think about it, I'm way more suited for teaching than Junwoo or Juhee. After graduation, I'll drag the 30-year-old auntie off the throne and eye the succession myself.
Lara shoots me a disgusted look and asks,
"... Okay, I get that, but... is there a real reason why I need this lesson?"
"You said you wanna sing well."
"Yeah, but... intent still has to come through the voice, right? What I learned from Jeongyeon-teacher was gestures and stage movement... not actual singing?"
Lara seems stuck on the idea that singing is just something you do with your mouth. Can't have that. Artists must always push avant-garde, beyond the horizon with bold minds. I grab the shoulders of this lost little lamb.
"Don't get trapped by common sense, Lara. Does singing have to come from your mouth to count as singing?"
"Yeah, doesn't it?"
"Sure, it does. Expressing intent through song is the best way. But you can't do it."
She can't even sing straight, let alone place techniques properly. Her basic sense is just off, making it tricky to teach her singing directly. Even if I tell her how, she might not follow through.
"That's why we start with body language. It's way easier to express with your body than your voice."
And the effect is huge. In live performances, a gesture, a glance, a quick move can convey the singer's intent crystal clear.
I'm rambling on, and Lara listens with a weird expression—surprise, maybe guilt. Her eyes widen, brows furrow, and a soft sound slips from her slightly parted lips.
"... So there really was a solid reason?"
"You thought there wasn't until now?"
"I figured no reason, or you were just messing with me..."
"I'd never."
Of course, not explaining a thing to her did have a hefty share of teasing intent, but I'm not rotten enough to joke about music.
"You are rotten. Homewrecker."
"Hey, no digging up painful pasts. Plenty of people online wanna beat me up besides you."
Why rub salt in the wound? I grit my teeth at the bitter memories, glaring at Lara as she smirks. Lately, I've been thinking—this might be her real self. All the nice stuff before was just pretense. But her friends' reactions say she's not usually like this.
"Sigh... Anyway, you get why you need to learn this now?"
"Yeah, my questions are mostly cleared up."
"Then keep at it from now on."
"Yessir~."
Lara bounces down the auditorium steps like a cheeky kid, then chatters excitedly to Lee Jeongyeon, who's catching her breath. Jeongyeon's grin says she's showering Lara with praise, tongue wagging. She loves compliments and flattery more than she lets on. Pumped-up Jeongyeon lectures away, and Lara mimics with her body. Had to resort to threats, but she's been a big help all around. Gotta introduce her to a guy later.
Watching from the seats, I start mulling it over.
... Evaluations are coming up. Gotta think this through.
Jeongyeon's working hard, but that's no reason for me to slack. Can't just dump everything on her, and composing aside, I need to handle my part.
"Hmm... Wonder if she'll pick up now."
I grab my phone, scrolling for a contact. Switched phones, didn't save numbers, but recent calls should have it. Find the familiar one and dial.
A few seconds later, a weary male voice answers. Not the type to lounge all Sunday afternoon.
I call out to the somewhat unfamiliar yet familiar someone.
"Ah, hello? You free tomorrow for a bit?"
***
The day after Lara's lesson. Sunday, 11 a.m.
—Knock knock.
Someone raps on the door of Seonggwang's my-home. I hop up and head over. No need to ask who. Only one person coming. Open up to confirm.
"... You came."
"Yeah."
It's Lee Junwoo. My 24-year-old homeroom teacher showed up at my place in whatever clothes he threw on.
"Come in, Teacher Junwoo."
"Not at school, so call me normal."
"Come in, old man."
"Right."
Junwoo strides in like he owns the place. Shabby guest for a shabby spot, but I tidied for company—worth it. He plops down, sets a paper bag beside him. Inside: braised ribs, seasoned beef, assorted side dishes in containers.
"Mom sent sides from home. Brought some for you. You don't eat proper anyway."
"Bro..."
"First time hearing 'bro' from you. Even at 21, you called me old man."
Casual as ever, he stocks my empty fridge. Just leftover ramen broth and half a cola pet before—now it looks lived-in. He eyes it pitifully.
"Fridge was empty as hell... What do you even eat?"
"Shit."
Junwoo cracks a smile.
"Guess that'll last forever. Looked it up out of curiosity— you've eaten shit for life and still getting more."
Like grandma at Chuseok stuffing you till you burst. No grandma for me, orphan—thought I'd be immune to orphan jabs, but netizens don't care. Found one about Seonggwang raping his stepmom then dumping the body—marveled at pure human malice.
"Anyway, enough chit-chat. Down to business?"
Why'd Junwoo come to my place on his precious Sunday? Not 'cause we're a homo couple in love. Needed advice from him.
"So... your consult was about building vocal performance skills and recognition at the same time... right?"
"Yes."
Before seriously training Lara, wanted advice from someone. I'm a no-limits music guy, but starting from zero? Tricky. I built fame from contests, agency pushed me hard—no promo issues. Seonggwang's music life: zero roadblocks. Talent and skill pulled everything.
"But this time, that's the problem."
Lara's case is messy. No fame, no skill. Gotta scramble bit by bit, but hard for me to help there.
"B-class first eval's end of May... Need some activity before then..."
"Asking me 'cause I'm a vocalist?"
"Yes."
Junwoo's not pure underdog either. Elite: top uni, smooth success track. Rich family. Makes my gut twist when he talks sweat and tears—I'm pure talent, zero support.
"Why call a guy like me?"
"You're the only singer who'd show up."
One more option, but probably sleeping. Don't wanna wake her—hates it, and age making her crankier.
"No... like you said, I got no experience either..."
Junwoo ponders my question sullenly. Promo? Dunno. Performance?
"Lumped it as 'performance,' but just real-world experience."
Lara lacks live reps. Build skill, sure, but for eval, gotta face public eventually. Best if it builds fans too...
Junwoo arms crossed, deep in thought. Opera background like me—contests to awards, networked into pop. Not helpful. Eyeing him awkwardly, regretting the call.
But good teacher that he is, he mulls and offers a workaround.
"Hmm... I can help with singing."
"Singing?"
"Yeah. Everything you mentioned solves itself with solid vocal basics."
I nod. Overwhelming skill pulls fans and fame. Lara's not just lacking—she's anti-fan territory. His idea's solid, efficient even. Ex-singer offering time? No-brainer.
But issue: his position.
"You're a teacher too, though. Okay to help like this?"
"... Might not be?"
"Probably not."
Teacher aiding specific student on graded eval? Dicey. As friends, fine, but snag could look like illegal connections—trouble for us both, and Lara.
No risky stuff. Back to square one.
"Ways to gain live experience and promo... Hmm..."
"Just hit lots of stages?"
"Stages ain't easy. Indies cost your own cash, and total no-names don't even get picked."
"Fuck... Then what?"
Two ex-classical pros spinning wheels in a one-room. Pathetic sight for music hotshots.
"... Do I really need to figure this?"
Exhausted Junwoo throws in the towel.
"Old man... You're helping..."
I glare betrayed; he scolds, grabs phone.
"Not me—know someone who does. Ask her."
Junwoo calls for backup. Rings, connects—rustling.
"Hey, hello? Sis, you free now?"
His "sis" sounds freshly woken, snaps curses at his words.
"What the fuck, calling at this hour... Sis, it's 1 p.m."
Not buying it, she yells; Junwoo eats shit for two minutes, hangs.
"... Sigh."
From lively to weekday-morning-tired in seconds. Muttering curses, I ask carefully,
"... So?"
"Coming in an hour."
Who makes Junwoo's clock run backward? Kinda guessed. Sleeps till 1 p.m. Sundays, cusses out industry-famous Junwoo, his "sis"—only one fits.
1 p.m. plus a bit: 2:27 p.m. Muttering from behind the door.
—Bang bang bang.
Irritated knock—we glance, I go greet as host.
Second guest: messy hair, pajamas under hoodie. Why take an hour for zero prep? Pouts unhappily.
"Fucking hell..."
"..."
"Don't block the door, scram."
No catching strays—I step aside; she slams in like home.
Heavy bag in hand, convenience store logo. Drops it—cans clink. Glares, full mood on display; Junwoo looks up.
"Juhee-sis..."
"Little-dick shits huddled gossiping in a tiny room... Not even gay..."
Ignoring him, Moon Juhee kicks off shoes, flops on floor. Her overwhelming aura shuts us up.
Junwoo's special guest, elite-path savior with answers we couldn't dream. Hongdae indie climb to Korea's top female band vocalist. Every bandman's dream, 30-year-old vet whose life was a living drama...!
Moonlight's vocalist and guitarist, Moon Juhee.
"So... why'd you call?"
The legend descends on a Jongno one-room.
"I woke up pissed. If it's nothing, you're dead."
"......"
One issue: freshly woken, she's really grumpy.