Chapter 49: Work That Came Walking In (3)
March 10.
Time had flown by in a blur, and before I knew it, it was the day of the Together Duo shoot.
I was halfway through getting ready to head to the broadcast station when Yoon Hyeok-pil contacted me.
Apparently, NBC’s staff had shown up directly at the Letter studio.
That alone was enough to give me a strange sense of unease as I made my way there.
“Ah, hyung-nim, you’re here.”
The inside of Studio B-1, so familiar it almost felt homey, came into view.
Two cameramen, one writer, one assistant director.
A small crew.
I leaned in and asked Yoon Hyeok-pil in a low voice.
“What is this? Why are they filming here?”
“Ah, so—this is the deal. We’ll look over the contestants here on the tablet first, then head over to visit them directly.”
He gave the tablet PC a little wave.
That thing was 100% product placement.
“So basically, I didn’t need to come.”
“Ayy~ but if you’re here, the footage comes out way better, right~?”
The writer, who must have been eavesdropping on us, chimed in with a slick smile.
“…Excuse me?”
What the hell?
This is different from what was agreed on.
“That’s right, hyung-nim. And the other contestants are such powerhouses that the two of us together are probably the only way to keep things balanced.”
Even Yoon Hyeok-pil joined in.
His expression showed he genuinely believed this.
“What’s the lineup like?”
“Here, take a look.”
The writer handed me a sheet of paper.
And yeah—just a glance told me it was a pretty stacked list.
Enough to make me wonder how they even managed to recruit them.
The contestants were: Kim Do-kyung, Chun Yoo-ha, Sellen, Yoon Ji-in, and Son Ji-hyuk.
Among them, Kim Do-kyung and Son Ji-hyuk were already well-known as outstanding male vocalists.
The remaining three were skilled female singers with significantly more name recognition than Yoon Hyeok-pil.
“…Hmm.”
There was no denying it—Yoon Hyeok-pil was the weakest link.
Not in terms of skill, but in terms of public recognition.
It was only natural that he felt the pressure.
“So, are we starting the shoot now?”
“Yes, we were waiting for you to arrive.”
“…Ah, okay.”
I came here relaxed, but now I was suddenly nervous for no reason.
After a clearing of the throat, I sat down next to Yoon Hyeok-pil.
“We’ll begin the shoot now.”
At the assistant director’s signal, the cameras rolled.
Yoon Hyeok-pil and I looked at each other in silence before he said,
“Let’s see.”
“Yes.”
Pfft.
The writer let out a laugh.
I shot her a glare, and she quickly brushed her hair back like she hadn’t done anything.
“Let’s see.”
“Yes.”
We repeated the awkward exchange.
Then Yoon Hyeok-pil played the first video.
The first was a male vocalist.
Apparently, he was the lead singer of an indie band called Gyeongsang Podae—a name I wasn’t familiar with.
—“I’m Yoo Jun-hyuk! The song I’ll be singing is Seo-yeon’s Can You Hear Me!”
“Please feel free to comment a little here and there while watching.”
As I quietly watched the tablet screen, the writer interjected.
Yoon Hyeok-pil followed her suggestion obediently.
“What do you think, hyung-nim?”
“His tone is really unique. It’s like… a pink hue on a guy.”
“…Sorry?”
“Ah, I mean he’s got a bit of a feminine vibe.”
“Oh, yeah. You’re right.”
Yoo Jun-hyuk.
He’s unique, but he’s not the one I’ve been looking for.
— “I’m Slime. I currently work as a vocal trainer…”
“How about this one?”
“Nice. He’s good. But he doesn’t suit you. The tone—no, the pitch is too high.”
“What about this person?”
“This one just… can’t sing. Maybe he’s too nervous?”
…And so it went.
With Yoon Hyeok-pil, we breezed through comments on five different contestants.
Now only one candidate was left.
Suddenly, anxiety crept in.
The person I’d been waiting for still hadn’t appeared.
Did she not apply at all?
Or did she apply and get cut?
No. There’s no way she was cut.
If she didn’t appear in the final video either, then there were only two possibilities—she gave up, or Ji Hyun-wook found out about her.
With tense fingers, I played the final video.
The knot in my chest unraveled all at once, and a sigh of relief slipped out involuntarily.
Finally—she appeared.
—”Hello. I’m Ah-yeong. In English, it’s A-Young… Just kidding.”
Her face filled the phone camera in the very first frame—practically taking up the whole screen.
It looked like she didn’t have much experience taking selfies.
Normally this would be an embarrassing camera angle, but not for her.
Her perfectly balanced features and delicate lines refused to allow anything resembling humiliation.
— “I came to a karaoke room by myself to sing a song.”
She panned the camera briefly to show the karaoke room, then turned it back to her face.
— “I’ll start singing now.”
Her song choice was Star Wind by Su-yeon, a talented idol known for her vocal prowess.
The melody was both rhythmic and lyrical, and Ji Ah-yeong’s voice flowed across it like light dancing on water.
A voice so captivating it made me close my eyes without realizing it—brilliant in tone, stunning in texture.
Though traces of incorrect vocal correction lingered here and there—painful to hear—they didn’t diminish the performance.
It was simply… good.
Just so good.
Once again, I was convinced.
This woman has to grow as a singer.
She was born with a voice that moves people—an unpolished genius, plain and simple.
“…She’s good. Just… really good.”
I added a perfunctory comment and glanced to the side.
Yoon Hyeok-pil was sitting there, dazed.
He didn’t know who Ah-yeong was.
He had never seen her face, never heard her voice.
Of course he’d be shocked.
I already knew, but I asked anyway.
“We’ve seen all six. Who do you want to go for?”
“I…”
Before he could finish, the writer cut in.
“Two people have already left for Ah-yeong-ssi. Kim Do-kyung-ssi and Son Ji-hyuk-ssi.”
The tone was… off.
It had that subtle vibe of, ‘You’re not gonna get picked anyway, so go for someone else and save yourself the embarrassment…’
Yoon Hyeok-pil seemed to get the same impression.
He went silent.
Kim Do-kyung and Son Ji-hyuk.
Both single, both male, and both with far more established careers than Yoon Hyeok-pil.
The only advantage Hyuk-pil had was age.
And even though he’d recently gained some confidence, these two were way out of his league—formidable rivals by any measure.
“Then maybe I’ll go for someone el—”
“We’re going to Ah-yeong-ssi too.”
But I didn’t see it that way.
“Huh? What?”
Yoon Hyeok-pil looked at me in surprise.
“Isn’t that a wasted effort?”
“Still, a man’s gotta at least try.”
Without hesitation, I stood up. Yoon Hyeok-pil slowly followed suit.
“Are you seriously going? The others working with her are really famous producers, you know.”
The writer asked, a note of concern in her voice.
I gave a firm nod, feigning a bit of bravado.
“You don’t know until you try.”
We headed to a nearby cafe where Ji A-yeong waited.
But when we arrived, things were already well underway.
Kim Do-kyung and Son Ji-hyuk were deep in conversation.
It looked like they were… mildly arguing?
Ji Ah-yeong sat blankly at the table between them.
“If you think about vocal harmony, I’m clearly the better match…”
“Let’s just ask Ah-yeong-ssi. By the way, I’m a former King of Masked Singer champ~”
Kim Do-kyung was composed and serious.
Son Ji-hyuk, in contrast, came off more like a showboat—borderline frantic.
Yoon Hyeok-pil and I quietly approached.
With the assistant director, writer, and camera crew in tow, our presence quickly became apparent.
Only then did Kim Do-kyung and Son Ji-hyuk turn toward us.
“Huh? Looks like someone else showed up.”
“What?”
Both their expressions instantly soured.
“…Oh. Hyeok-pil-ssi.”
But the moment they realized their new competitor was Yoon Hyeok-pil, both of them burst into wide grins.
Or maybe those were smirks.
“Hah! Didn’t I tell you? All the guys were bound to show up here.”
“You were right~”
Their power struggle paused briefly as Kim Do-kyung and Son Ji-hyuk walked toward us.
Standing in front of seniors with over ten years in the business, Yoon Hyeok-pil went stiff and nervously swallowed hard.
“Hyeok-pil-ssi. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Yeah, you’ve got a decent voice. Keep working hard and you might earn the ‘skilled vocalist’ label someday.”
Even though it was just the usual polite small talk, Yoon Hyeok-pil just stood there, frozen.
I nudged him on the shoulder, and only then did he react.
“Hello, I’m Yoon Hyeok-pil. I’ve come this far learning from listening to your songs, sunbaenim.”
He recited the greeting he’d probably rehearsed a hundred times, spitting it out like a robot.
“Haha. Is that so? That’s nice to hear.”
“So, you came all the way here just to see us? Well, you’ve seen us now, so I guess you’re done, right?”
Kim Do-kyung spoke first, followed by Son Ji-hyuk.
Son Ji-hyuk had clearly already written Yoon Hyeok-pil off.
And from the look on Yoon Hyeok-pil’s face, he was thinking the same thing—hesitant and unsure.
At this rate, he’d get kicked out without even getting a chance to try.
So, I stepped forward.
“Hello. I’m Heli.”
That was when Ji Ah-yeong, who had been sitting quietly this whole time, turned her head to look at me.
Her gaze seemed to shimmer for just a moment… but maybe that was just my imagination.
“Hm?”
Son Ji-hyuk looked down at the hand I extended, making no move to shake it.
Yoon Hyeok-pil spoke up in my place.
“He’s my arranger.”
“Uh… But why is the arranger stepping up like this?”
“Haha. I just couldn’t help myself. You’re all singers I’ve only ever seen on TV, so I had to come say hi.”
I didn’t withdraw my hand.
Though clearly reluctant, Son Ji-hyuk eventually shook it.
“Ah, Helly. Of course I know. You composed the title track for Lilac, right? Still holding that No. 1 spot?”
Unlike Son Ji-hyuk, Kim Do-kyung greeted me warmly and held out his hand first.
“We’re at No. 2 now. We peaked and dropped.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, anyway. Let’s just move on and choose, we don’t have all day. Ah-yeong-ssi?”
At Son Ji-hyuk’s words, everyone’s eyes turned back to Ji Ah-yeong.
He patted Yoon Hyeok-pil on the shoulder as if to say, ‘Good luck, buddy.’
“Looks like we’ve got another contender. Congrats on being so popular, Ah-yeong-ssi. This is Yoon Hyeok-pil. You know him, right? Or maybe not. Anyway, he’s a singer.”
That was the extent of the introduction.
“It’s me, Kim Do-kyung, and Yoon Hyeok-pil. Just pick one of us. Oh, and for the record—I’ve got connections with a bunch of agencies.
He threw that last line in like a casual boast.
I couldn’t help but let out a short, incredulous laugh.
So, what if he had agency connections?
Ji Ah-yeong’s uncle is the CEO of Letter.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
Apparently, that little chuckle didn’t go unnoticed by Son Ji-hyuk.
“Ahem.”
He cleared his throat in annoyance and turned his attention back to Ji Ah-yeong.
“Ah-yeong-ssi? I’m going to count down, so choose by the time I hit three. Okay, one…”
“I choose Yoon Hyeok-pil-nim.”
Her decision came before the count was even halfway through.
Kim Do-kyung and Son Ji-hyuk weren’t the only ones who froze—Yoon Hyeok-pil stared at her in stunned silence as well.
The unexpected answer dropped like a bomb, leaving all three participants speechless.
Even the production crew seemed caught off guard.
A heavy silence blanketed over the café.
