Hearing His Voice

Yoo Na-ri, the guide vocalist, sensed that something about her had changed a little. Nothing major had shifted. School, her classmates, her usual corner spot in the practice room—it was all the same. But her attitude within it all was different now. Looking at her classmates who were ahead of her didn't feel as painful as before. The stares that pierced her during singing still terrified her, but she wasn't as frantic about it anymore. Just yesterday, over 90 viewers had tuned in to watch her. That was more than you'd get at an average Hongdae busking gig. Sure, online and offline were different beasts, so it might be a childish sense of superiority, but a win was a win. Little by little, Yoo Na-ri was finding her stability. And the clear trigger for it all was...

"Hey, Na-ri~ You seem way more relaxed lately?"

Her classmate Hye-jin from the same major plopped down next to her after practical class ended.

"Yeah?"

"Totally. Like, more settled? You always had that chased look before."

Yoo Na-ri thought for a moment, then smiled.

"Huh, maybe. No idea."

She played dumb, but she knew. Someone had truly listened to her voice for the first time. Those casual praises he'd tossed out stuck around longer than expected. Even when classmates brought up practical presentations, she didn't shrink back like before. She had her own ideas now about what song to pick, and they were pretty specific. She was starting to get a sense of what suited her. And that was all thanks to him.

Yoo Na-ri naturally pulled out her phone and opened the Discord app. His familiar English ID popped up. Their last messages were from last night, about contest prep. To her, it was a given that this connection would continue after the contest. She'd never doubted it. They'd just keep chatting like this. That was it.

Ding-!

She jolted at the sudden notification, then smiled seeing the sender.

"Na-ri, Na-ri~ How about a blind date? With some practical music kids from the other school?"

"Nope, got plans! Catch you later, bye!"

"...I didn't even say the date yet."

The moment class ended, Yoo Na-ri bolted out of school like lightning. Back home, she dropped her bag without a second thought and fired up her laptop.

A file from English had arrived. Why send it when I'm out? He probably doesn't know I'm at school, so not intentional, I guess. She plugged in her earphones and hit play.

And then.

"...Huh?"

Her eyes widened the instant the intro flowed out.

[Hello, from the first time I saw you-]

A voice rang out. In the spot that should have only had backing track, a low, quiet voice overlaid it.

'Guide vocal?'

Yoo Na-ri froze. The voice was clear and crisp. Pitch-perfect without effort, sung dryly as if suppressing emotion—and strangely, it fit the song's vibe perfectly. Is this English's voice? The thought made her heart skip a beat. It could be someone else. That made more sense, more natural. But for some reason, she had this odd certainty it was him.

'It fits the song like a glove.'

How could it not be him? They'd only talked via chat, Discord texts. She'd imagined his voice before, but not this young. Yoo Na-ri replayed from the start. Second time around, she focused on the whole track. Soon, a strange feeling welled up.

It was good. Undeniably good. Timbre, arrangement, the guide vocal's delivery—all of it. But it was so heartbreakingly sad. Maybe the song, once like spring sunlight full of youth, had turned into a raw farewell ballad. Was it the lyrics, the melody, or that dry singing style? She couldn't pinpoint it. Just listening made everything feel wistful. Good, so good, yet something nagged at her.

She dwelled on that sensation for a while, then suddenly opened Discord.

[asdf1234]

Still there in the list. But his nickname hadn't appeared in stream chats lately. That bugged her oddly. It had to be his insane composing talent. To shake hearts like this. Beyond arrangements, she was dying to hear his original songs. Yoo Na-ri stared at the screen a moment, then replugged her earphones. The track played for the third time, his timbre filling her ears again. A voice she desperately wanted to hear live, just once more.

Adding the guide vocal was pure impulse. If he'd sent just the backing after finishing the arrangement, Luna-ri would've sung it her way. But this song couldn't be like that. Emotional temperature was key—she needed to hear it at least once to grasp the vibe he wanted. So he grabbed the mic for the first time in ages.

It felt awkward after so long, and thinking of someone else hearing it made his body creak. First tries, no sound came out. Throat locked up. Two, three pitch slips, then he finally locked into rhythm. Not perfect, but the nuance should come through. He sent the file, then spent 30 minutes buried under blankets, replaying Why did I do that? Fell asleep eventually.

Around 6 PM, vibrations woke him. Arm out from under the covers, he checked his phone.

Endless praise from extroverts needed filtering.

He crawled out from under the covers. Sleep was gone anyway.

Luna-ri shared the contestant list link. He memorized the new names one by one as she explained.

Baek-ah, Baek-ah. There—searching brought up videos. Skill and detail in her singing. Her VTuber avatar ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eyes squeezed shut, immersive as hell. And crucially, overlap with Luna-ri's style. Facing her would be a razor-thin battle. Genres matched too.

Searched streamer Sion. One video play—he knew instantly. 'Straight matchup? No chance.' Classic R&B ballader. Voice power on another level. If Luna-ri's strengths were finesse and timbre, Sion was a powerhouse monster.

Draws were on-site random. No telling.

They analyzed contestants deep, then Luna-ri switched gears.

Complex? He'd figured her following his vocal flow would nail it.

Quick reply.

Call. He froze mid-type. Safe in his room, but chill crawled up his neck.

He refused. Since holing up, even family chats were rare. Last outside call? Probably college withdrawal. When was that?

Haa. Pure passion to not ruin his song pricked his conscience. Rationally: no ulterior motives. Faces unknown, ages unknown. Only voices and music love in common. Nothing like his tormentors. A sickness to overcome eventually. He knew. Still scary. But her voice—familiar from countless streams. Pure music passion. Perfect practice partner? After agonizing, he relented.

One second later, call started.

Ding-! Connected. Faint breathing through headset.

"Ah... yeah. Loud and clear."

His voice shook wildly. Stream-identical timbre. Thought familiarity would help. Cold sweat beaded his forehead. Impulse to hang up and dive into bed surged, but Luna-ri hummed the song right away.

Hearing her sing crushed rising anxiety. His brows furrowed unconsciously.

"Um... Luna-ri."

"Sorry, but don't breathe so brightly there."

From his still-shaking mouth, calm words flowed.

"That's not letting go. It's forced push—ending so pretty kills the song's bitterness. Drop the breath... like tossing it to the floor."

Fear was fear, but mangled music? Unbearable. Cautious but uncompromising feedback. Brief silence on her end. Too harsh? Sweat about to restart—

Her mutter faint.

"...Luna-ri?"

Questions poured on various parts—more like dissecting head to toe, start to finish. She absorbed his feedback shockingly fast. Skilled enough he wondered why ask. Her passion shone. After tweaks, the nuance hit that crawling loneliness perfectly.

Her tone softened sweetly.

"...Yeah?"

He said nothing.

Inspired imagining the end of this odd companionship. But instinct screamed not to confess.

Silence.

"...Just thought it'd suit your voice."

It passed. Check time: nearly an hour in. Impressive progress. Proud of himself. Then Luna-ri chattered stream-style.

"Uh... maybe?"

Good results? Likely.

"...Keep it secret. Like a friend."

"None really."

Unnecessary? But "English" did sound off.

"asdf1234, so 'AS' from front—'AS'?"

"English A + 1 from numbers—'A-Il'?"

"..."

Seemed fine...

"Hey, that's good."

Young-il was great. Sounded like an older guy's real name, but numbers to the clueless. Perfectly layered, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he loved it.

That's the appeal.