Chapter 46: Together Duo (3)
“Uh… What’s going on?”
I had been staring at Ji Ah-yeong for quite a while before I finally managed to say something.
I’d definitely had nearly two bottles with Yoo Ah-ra, but in front of this woman, my mind felt unnervingly clear in front of this woman.
“You… You said it back then? That I have a really good voice. That I wouldn’t be out of place debuting right away.”
Her voice was thick with drunkenness.
When I stayed silent, just watching her, Ji Ah-yeong pouted and pressed again.
“You did say that, right?”
“Yeah, I did. I still think that, too.”
First, I stubbed my cigarette out against the wall.
Ji Ah-yeong’s gaze followed the butt as it fell to the ground.
“Then why does everyone else say otherwise? The instructors, the other producer-nims… even my uncle. Are they all just ganging up on me? Trying to force me to quit?”
As she said that, she suddenly crouched down and picked up the cigarette butt.
“Wha—what are you doing…?
What was she planning to do with it?
Alarmed, I moved to stop her, but Ji Ah-yeong simply slipped the butt into her own pocket.
Then she shook her head at me, wagging a finger.
“You can’t throw away trash anywhere.”
“…Ah, sorry.”
“…Anyway.”
She suddenly let out a deep sigh.
“I don’t want to give up. But they’re telling me to.”
Without any warning, a tear slid down her flushed cheek.
On her otherwise blank expression, the tear left a trail behind like a scar.
Even that expression—somehow, it looked beautiful.
I’ll blame the alcohol still swirling around in my brain for that.
“I haven’t even tried yet, but they say it’ll only bring me pain. That I’ll regret it. That it’ll be even lonelier than the loneliness I feel now—that it’ll get harder.”
Was it the alcohol?
The tears kept falling without pause.
I fumbled through my pockets.
Unfortunately, there was nothing I could use to wipe her tears.
“……Huu.”
JJi Ah-yeong sniffled and wiped her tears with her sleeve.
“Should I really quit? It feels like that’s what everyone wants.”
“…….”
“Producer-nim, what do you think?”
She looked me straight in the eyes as she asked.
There was a desperate plea in her gaze.
…But I was drunk.
And I kept seeing traces of Jeong Ha-yeon in this woman.
It’s dangerous.
I needed to maintain some distance.
Instead of answering her, I took out a small, narrow card from my wallet—a business card the company had printed for me.
“I think complaining is the most useless thing in the world.”
I handed her the card as I spoke.
Blaming others and resenting the world won’t get you anywhere.
That’s why I’ve always shouldered my own failures.
Because growth only comes from reflection.
For nearly ten years, I’ve been living like that.
“Don’t ask others to make important decisions for you. Think it through—wrestle with it. Then decide on your own.”
“…Huh?”
“Only after that can anyone truly help you.”
Not as a person to another person, but as a producer to a singer.
If I can offer her even the smallest bit of help, it must be within that relationship—and only that relationship.
“…”
Ji Ah-yeong stared at me, her expression blank.
After a long minute of silence, she carefully tucked the card into her coat and gave a polite bow.
Then, without another word, she turned and staggered off somewhere.
I watched her until her figure disappeared from sight.
The Next Day.
I headed to a restaurant near Sangam for the Together Duo meeting—with Yoon Hyeok-pil in tow.
It was a fairly upscale Korean restaurant, and inside, PD Park Jung-woo and two unfamiliar writers were already waiting for us.
“Ah, you’re here~”
“Nice to meet you!”
I took a seat, greeted warmly by the PD and the writers.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, I gestured toward a stack of documents on the table.
“What is this?”
“It outlines the program’s concept, direction, and intentions. We’ve already sent it to the agency, but we brought it just in case you wanted to give it a once-over.”
“Ah, I see.”
I opened the folder and skimmed through it.
The program format was just as I’d been told before.
The core theme was a mix of music and variety entertainment.
Five professional singers would be paired with five amateurs, handpicked by the production team, to create duet performances.
The show would highlight not just the music, but also the humorous and touching moments that come out during the arrangement and rehearsal process…
“…A duet between a pro singer and an amateur.”
Professional singers.
Out of all the words printed on that document, that one made me feel oddly proud.
I glanced to the side—Yoon Hyeok-pil had a similar expression.
“How does it feel, being called a professional singer, Yoon Hyeok-pil-ssi?”
“Haha… It’s embarrassing, really. I’m a little shy.”
Yoon Hyeok-pil flushed with bashful pride.
PD Park Jung-woo chuckled as he spoke.
“But here’s the thing—I’ve left the definition of ‘amateur’ a little vague. On purpose. If we limit it to ordinary people, I don’t think it’ll attract much attention. And to be honest, for a show like this to succeed, we need cooperation from the agencies.”
“Ah, I see.”
“So it’s possible that later on, rookies or unknown singers might be brought in, too. We could justify it by saying they’re still rough around the edges. But the thing is, once a duet partner is chosen, they stay on until they’re eliminated. So, for the first round, some of the amateurs might be at a disadvantage depending on their skill level.”
I let out a small chuckle.
Well, at least he’s honest.
“So, how long will Hyeok-pil be on the show?”
“Well… the team that wins the round stays. And from the teams that don’t win, the audience gets to vote for one to stay. Those two teams appear again in the next episode.”
“Hmm~ so there’s a chance of being eliminated right from the first episode.”
“Haha… Come on, you really think that’ll happen? If he performs something like Sending My Love, you might end up worrying about him becoming a permanent fixture on the show.”
Sending My Love.
Among Yoon Hyeok-pil’s fans, it’s considered one of his signature songs—right up there with Alleyway.
But still, it’s one of those tracks only his true fans know.
The highest it ever charted was 88th.
“Ah, and just so you know, all of this only applies if we get picked up for a full season. If the first episode doesn’t do well, that’ll be the end of it.”
Park Jung-woo scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.
“So when will the duet partners be chosen?”
“We’re accepting online applications right now. Since agencies haven’t responded yet, the first batch of amateurs will most likely be regular people.”
“…Hmm?”
‘Regular people. And a duet.’
Suddenly, a certain someone came to mind.
“Hey, actually…”
I almost blurted it out—but just barely managed to hold myself back.
Who do I think I am, getting ahead of myself like that?
“Yes?”
“…Never mind.”
Just then, one of the writers who had been quiet until now spoke up.
“Oh, by the way—would Heli-ssi be open to appearing on the show as well? Since our concept is a mix of variety and music, we’d love to show the process of you working on the arrangements with Hyeok-pil-ssi. We think it’d make for some fun scenes.”
“…Pardon? Appearing on the show?”
That was… sudden.
“Yes, please~!”
The writer clasped her hands together and tilted her head in a playful plea.
It gave me pause.
Getting screen time meant my face would become more widely known—but at the same time, it would raise my profile as a producer.
…Then again, who am I kidding?
My face has already been out there more than enough.
Nothing left to protect.
“If it’s just brief appearances here and there, I’m fine with it.”
“Ah, thank you so much~!”
The writer clapped like a seal, thrilled by my answer.
Just as we finished talking, the food arrived—galbi, grilled Spanish mackerel, and other classic Korean dishes.
“This meal is on us, of course~ On the company card. Please, eat as much as you like. Order more if you’d like, too.”
“Haha. Thanks.”
It really was a feast.
I didn’t even know where to start.
I picked up my chopsticks with a hungry glance at the spread—but just then, my phone buzzed.
I glanced at the screen… and slowly put the chopsticks down again.
It was a message from Ji Ah-yeong.
8:30 p.m.
As the early spring darkness fully settled in, I returned to my studio in good spirits after wrapping up the meeting.
“…Hmm.”
Normally, I would’ve gone to sleep feeling content.
But tonight, something else had been added to my list of concerns.
Still lying on the couch, I checked my phone again.
I hadn’t replied yet to Ji Ah-yeong’s messages.
—Producer Heli-nim. I’m sorry about yesterday. I got drunk and made a scene.
—But I still remember what you said to me. I think you’re right. Thanks to you, I’ve thought deeply about it and made my decision
—I won’t give up. I still want to sing in front of people. But my uncle is so worried. He thinks I’ll break before I can bloom.
Ji Ah-yeong’s uncle was Ji Hyun-wook.
That Ji Hyun-wook was worried about her.
That detail struck a particular chord with me.
Being a celebrity is a profession unlike any other.
They live glamorous lives, basking in public attention and the love of fans—but in return, they’re expected to sacrifice their privacy and suppress their emotions, held to an unforgiving standard.
One slip of the tongue can turn them into a public villain.
Mistakes so minor that no one would even notice if a regular person made them become grounds for national outrage and condemnation.
And the public sees all of this as normal.
In fact, they get angry when someone can’t endure it.
Ji Hyun-wook, who’s spent half his life grinding through this industry, would know better than anyone about the thorned shadows that lurk beneath the dazzling surface of being a ‘celebrity’.
That’s why he didn’t want the niece he loves to walk this harsh path.
Even if the way he went about it was a little clumsy.
—So, um… I know it’s really late to bring this up, but… back when we first met, you said you wanted to help with my vocals, remember?
—Is that an offer… still open?
She wanted to become a singer that badly.
But I still didn’t know what history existed between her and Ji Hyun-wook.
Which meant I couldn’t judge or answer carelessly.
Still, for someone like her—who was likely staring at her phone, waiting for a reply—there was at least one thing I could offer.
Together Duo.
I sent her the link to the new show’s website as my response.
If Ji Ah-yeong truly couldn’t give up on becoming a singer…
If she genuinely wanted to sing in front of the world, no matter what…
And if the producers recognized the blend of effort and talent she carried—
Then maybe… just maybe, she had every reason to expect something good to come out of this.
