Sound Source Preparation
The hype from the competition had died down, and Luna-ri's viewer count was gradually dropping. It might seem scary to think that a modest stream like this had once hit 8,000, but Yoo Na-ri didn't feel that way at all. She was swamped with outside stuff like school and agency work anyway. Just a month ago, she'd have been thrilled with a two-digit audience, so this still felt like a miracle. As a streaming newbie, she hadn't even settled on a vibe yet, so this manageable number of viewers was perfect.
As Luna-ri's stream started finding its footing, a donation chimed in.
"Oh? A video clip? What's this?"
The clip played. A VTuber with wolf ears and a tail blew a hand heart at the camera and spoke.
A must-know figure for anyone into VTubers on LINK. Her slightly clumsy Korean pronunciation somehow made her even cuter, and with her natural cheerfulness and approachability, she'd hit 50,000 followers in a year. Now in her fifth year, Kurogami Yui boasted 110,000 followers.
"Ah! Right! I must've missed the email. They always pile up at once, you know? I'd be honored to stream with Yui. What should we do for fun~?"
The catgirl character beamed brightly. Perfect acting.
While the chat scrolled furiously, Na-ri outside the camera unconsciously bit her lip. She hadn't missed the email. She'd opened Yui's message ages ago. But it wasn't just a simple collab invite like the clip suggested. Buried under flattery about getting close and how a collab would be great was the real point: Could she get the MR for Broken Clock? And hook her up with composer Young-il?
A vague "let's grab food sometime~" collab pitch with no specifics.
She's trying to reach Young-il through me.
That made sense. He was that talented. Na-ri had opened the reply window right away. But her fingers wouldn't move.
Why? It wasn't dislike. She just... didn't feel like it, for some reason. And so, "eh, tomorrow," time slipped by until now. She'd totally forgotten. Busy with meetings and streams. Yeah.
Na-ri decided to believe that. Anyway...
Why bring it up on stream, though?
Yui in the clip looked so genuine. Someone of Kurogami Yui's caliber had to know mentioning it would force a connection. Maybe Na-ri was overthinking, but that savvy rubbed her the wrong way.
Still, stay cool. This was a golden opportunity for up-and-coming streamer Luna-ri's channel. Send the MR, say she's sorry but can't intro the composer. Not a lie. Young-il was busy and hated people.
Na-ri resolved to reply like that.
"J-pop content sounds fun! After stream, I'll dig up the email and reply properly!"
Luna-ri picked a chat to shift the flow.
"Ah! Sound sources? Heh heh..."
Her teasing laugh flipped the viewers' mood. Most had come for her singing, so they buzzed with excitement.
"Good news coming soon...? Or maybe not? Or maybe yes~?"
Not IG, but releasing music and working with Do-yoon was enough. Nothing was set yet, so no firm words. Time to dial back the hype.
"Aaa nothing's confirmed!! Not yet! And FYI, it's not IG!"
No, really not. Why won't they believe me?
Reading viewers' minds was tricky.
"For real... And tonight after this, it'll be finalized re: that. Still TBD~"
Stream end, then 1 a.m.: Kim Hye-min, Kim Do-yoon, and Na-ri to mediate the awkward duo. They'd scheduled a three-way call to hash details. This would wrap it up. If Hye-min's terms weren't a scam—and they weren't too good to be true.
Na-ri could tell from separate chats: Hye-min and Do-yoon were cut from the same cloth. Like they'd just work silently, no chit-chat.
Pfft, they'd get along great.
Imagining it made her chuckle.
Stream over, time for the call. Na-ri was a bit nervous, but Do-yoon's quieter voice and one-word answers cracked her up, easing the tension.
"Hey, Hye-min! You're here! Young-il, relax! It's just what I told you beforehand, so chill. Cool? Inviting you in?"
[Yeah...]
Then Kim Hye-min joined, her voice even more electric than last time.
[H-hi! Kim Hye-min here. IG ch-chief producer and Muse Family label head! Oh, Muse Family's my label name... weird? I'll change it!]
[...I'm Do- uh, Young-il.]
"...Kh."
Na-ri pinched her thigh to stifle a laugh at their awkward exchange. At this pace, would they finish tonight? But surprisingly, Hye-min's opener got things flowing fast.
[I got into Young-il's tracks from the contest. Luna-ri sang Graduation, right?]
[Ah, yeah.]
[That's my original. Guess you didn't know. Ha-hat.]
Neither Do-yoon nor Na-ri, who'd sung it, had known. Hye-min explained it was an obscure freelance comp, old song—no big deal if overlooked.
And from there, it exploded.
[Analyzed the contest files' frequency bands with TF—sounded like virtual instruments? Balance too perfect, thought it was live session, but virtual? How?!]
[Hand-carved EQ per instrument.]
[By hand? No presets??]
[Yeah... Do that all day, you get used to it...]
[Delivery Food's wild chord progression slayed! Theory says VI to IV, but bII there? Hits perfect tho. What thought process—?]
[Was gonna do bVI, too obvious, bumped half-step up. Melody followed, smoother chorus entry.]
[Aaaah, that's why! That gear-meshing feel in the chorus! Intentional! Thought lucky accident—insane either way, but planned? Chills—]
The talk rolled on: plugins, reverb chains, virtual layering. Na-ri caught more unknowns than knowns.
Whoa, aren't they... getting too buddy-buddy? First meeting.
She hadn't imagined this synergy...
Do-yoon's voice—so tight-lipped for over a month with her—now poured out full sentences to a stranger. First chats were mostly "yeah," "mm," "ah." Music loosened him, sure—she'd grilled him on songs early on. But wedged between their insider lingo? Irksome.
"...Tch."
Should be happy he's opening up. Why the prickliness?
More back-and-forth flew over sidelined Na-ri.
[Call me Hye-min, not chief producer. Feels stiff, inefficient. Yeah!]
[Ah... Hye-min.]
[And Young-il—mixing talk!]
Too fast. One day in, nicknames already? Young-il wasn't even his real name—he never used it. Natural in deep talks, but today it grated. Tired from stream?
"Uh, grabbing water."
Cold sip would clear her head. Na-ri muttered, That nickname's trash, knew it from the start, and stood.
While Na-ri stepped out, Hye-min and Do-yoon dove into releases.
[M-mastering to Philip Lab. Oh! Personal connect, IG uses 'em too.]
[Mastering my songs?]
[Mm, heard you avoid people max. Right?]
[Yeah, prefer that. Okay...?]
Flow of chat unearthed the unsaid. Do-yoon's real worry: Do I have to go out?
[No need to step out! But swap slow home internet, better. Recording/mixing all remote. Tech's wild now!]
[Huh? Recording too, no visit?]
[Yup! No mic/backing loss. Common these days! Me too. Mixing optional—if you, book empty studio. Or outsource.]
[Hm...]
Do-yoon eyed a pro studio once—curiosity for top gear, composer itch.
[Anytime?]
[Totally! No one uses it! My dedicated, I skip haha!]
Not now, but for a fave future track? Worth it. Do-yoon nodded.
[These—Delivery Food, Broken Clock, This is All for Me—pro mixing maybe overkill? Hm! See after recording. Love your raw vibe!]
Industry vet Hye-min, fellow avoider, anticipated newbie curiosities, spilling tips pre-ask.
[Post-mastering, 2 weeks to distro. IG lines speed it!]
Songs searchable. From his ~180 sq ft room to the world. Contest exposure was big, but official charts? Unthinkable. Deep thrill tickled Do-yoon's chest; he smiled.
As release talk wrapped, Na-ri returned.
[Na-ri! Back! Recording date set, I'll tell ya! Come to the studio address I sent!]
"Huh? Recording?"
[Yup! Soon as poss. Y-you're pro already!]
Back with ice-cube-cold water—not just cool—Na-ri's head spun at "recording."
Studio?
Profs said composers direct vocals on-site. Do-yoon beyond glass, headphones on, her song playing—flash.
No face in the vision. Voice, tracks, deco pic only. A day's tensions melted in that image.
She bolted to her closet.
First meet, can't look sloppy—rude.
Na-ri smirked slyly, odd feelings washed away. Why the buoyant buzz? Not crazy—rational crush on a voiceless guy? Hard to name.
"...No cute outfit."
Meeting her close bro-oppa-like? Settled.
Tragically missing their chat, Na-ri didn't know Do-yoon was skipping studio. Normally she'd double-check. But tossed by the day, no room for "He cool with meeting?" Profs too trusted—her mistake.