The Double Life of a Genius Musician

Chapter 110: Vocal Cord Destruction Level

At first, it was just another ordinary ballad.

A classic piano chord progression, slowly building toward an explosive climax.

It was a song I had written while thinking of Taeshi’s gentle face.

That unfamiliar expression beneath the stage and the creaking emotions hidden within it.

But then—

Kyaaa!

A scream broke through.

It wasn’t emotion. It was a reaction.

A sudden intuition hit me—maybe this was Taeshi’s real voice.

‘There’s no reason for it to be all sentimental, is there?’

It had to be a song meant to let out what she’d been holding back.

Click.

I turned up the bass and raised the tempo.

BPM: 156.

The piano line stayed as it was, but as it entered the chorus, I injected mechanical synths into it.

A guitar riff flowed along the vibration of the high notes.

The mechanical sound of techno.

The texture of rock.

The skeleton of a ballad.

Blending what didn’t belong together—

That was the identity of this song.

‘The real key lies in the chorus.’

Taeshi’s scream was the key that opened the door to it.

It wasn’t about proving her vocal power.

It was about tearing out and spitting emotion itself.

That was no technique—it was confession.

I pushed the high notes sharper, longer, harder.

‘……It’ll work. It has to.’

The waveform in the monitor squirmed, gradually forming into a complete song.

This was a song made just for Taeshi.

Through this song, I could show it.

That my ears—and my conviction—weren’t wrong.

But there was one small, trivial problem.

The guide. The guide vocal was crucial.

Who could possibly handle these high notes?

‘Should I… try it myself?’

Ahem.

I cleared my throat.

Adding a bit of scat over the finished melody, I gave it a try.

“Skubadubadeem—uwaaah! Cough cough. Ahem.”

……Thank god no one saw that.

Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

I must’ve lost my mind for a moment.

Trying to take on this with a male vocal range?

I needed a guide who was trustworthy—and capable of truly pulling off this explosive high-note sprint.

I didn’t want to pass the demo around to find one.

That wasn’t my style.

Then suddenly,

I thought of one person who could really bring this song to life.

“Oh?”

I checked the clock.

8 a.m. At this hour, she’d probably be awake.

I quickly dialed the number.

The ringtone echoed.

Come on, please pick up. Please.

Half-asleep.

Han Yujin had just returned from Haneda early this morning.

Today, she wasn’t going to do anything.

No calls. No messages.

She had barely managed a few hours of sleep when—

Bzzz bzzz—

Somewhere nearby, a vibration kept buzzing.

‘Who the hell is it this early…’

Where was her phone, anyway?

Under the pillow? In the blanket?

No, it was buried under the blanket at her waist.

“Auuuugh……”

It couldn’t be from the company.

They knew she turned into a corpse after wrapping up a show.

Whoever it was, they were persistent.

“Who is it, seriously…”

Dragging the phone out from under the blanket, she half-opened her eyes and checked the display.

But the moment she saw the name on the screen—

[ Seo Tay ]

Her eyes flew open.

She shot upright like a spring and cleared her throat.

What was he calling about so early in the morning?

Was it about a song offer?

The corners of her lips curled faintly upward.

She couldn’t sound like she’d just woken up.

“Ahhhh—Super Ride—”

After warming up her voice a bit, she loaded it with cheer.

That should do it, right?

Her limp fingers suddenly found energy as she hit the answer button.

“Yo! DJ! Long time no see!”

Did you just wake up?

But there was no fooling Taeyoon’s ears.

“Seriously… freaky as ever.”

You got back from the performance all right?

“Of course. Oh? You’re finally showing some interest? You’ve practically memorized my schedule.”

I mean, you brag about it so much on chat. How could I not know?

Did I really?

Han Yujin pouted as she replied.

“By the way, what’s up so early in the morning? Are you giving me a song?”

Not exactly. I have a favor to ask.

“What is it? What is it?”

You didn’t forget what you promised last time, right? That you’d do me one favor, no matter what.

“Did I say that?”

You’re not going to help me, then?

It had been a joke, but Taeyoon’s voice was serious.

It wouldn’t be an unreasonable request.

So Han Yujin dropped her playful tone and replied again.

“I’ll hear it first.”

I’d like to ask you to do a guide vocal.

“……?”

You can’t?”

“Hold on. I thought this was about the next album, but a guide?”

She was at a loss for words.

Seriously.

Her, Han Yujin.

Someone who had just returned from performing in Japan with a Stay song— and he was asking her to do a guide? Was he out of his mind?

That’s how she should have been thinking.

Her head was definitely saying that.

But her heart was saying something else.

“Mm, I’ll listen to it first.”

You just did. Didn’t you hear? The guide…

“No, the song.”

Her voice carried a strange mix of disappointment and anticipation.

She spoke curtly, but she was already throwing off the blanket and getting up.

She looked in the mirror.

Her hair looked like a wind-blown bouquet, and her face was all puffy— but her ears were already switched to “Stay fan mode.”

A chance to hear Stay’s new song before anyone else?

No way she could resist that.

So you’ll do it?

“It depends on the song. If you’re asking Han Yujin for a guide, it can’t be an ordinary one, right? You know I don’t sing just anything.”

Han Yujin smiled faintly.

She said it like that, but—

This kind of request, she’d gladly accept.

After all, she owed Taeyoon a lot.

What was a little guide work, really?

Should I play it for you now?

“For real? I’m super curious.”

Hold on.

The track started playing.

“Wow, the intro’s unique. Techno vibe? Fun. You hear this kind of thing in old nightclub videos.”

Shh.

Han Yujin focused on the song.

The beat was clearly different from Stay’s usual style.

If anything, it resembled Blackhole’s rhythm more.

That retro electronic sound reminiscent of the 90s—it was enough to draw her in.

‘……Is he insane?’

A dummy vocal.

He had replaced the topline with a MIDI synth instead of an actual voice.

A common method used for demos sent to agencies— what they called a MIDI guide.

Electronic sounds usually lacked emotion and felt dry.

But this song was different.

Han Yujin’s brows rose.

It should’ve sounded rough and mechanical… so why did it feel emotional?

Well? What do you think?

“……You want me to sing this?”

You can handle it.

“This is at vocal cord–destruction level! Stay, what have you done?”

The high note was deadly.

The highlight section probably hit a G5.

She groaned, but it was the kind of song she wanted to challenge.

Han Yujin took a sip of water.

“All right, I’ll try singing it once. Listen carefully.”

One try and you’ll know?

“Did you forget? I’m Han Yujin.”

She masked her tension with a playful quip.

Then, recalling the melody she had just heard, she dove right in without hesitation.

She added some nonsense lyrics.

“Run to the bangbang night, laser dream in my eye, zero sugar! no gym, no running, oh, hamburger! goodbye!”

She sang it like she meant it, even though the lyrics were meaningless fluff.

Her tone balanced perfectly in the high notes— emotion stripped away, but color still alive.

After a few repetitions, she finally caught her breath and asked,

“Phew… that was insane. How was it?”

From the other end, Taeyoon’s laughter burst out.

Pffft. What even are those lyrics? Why do they sound legit? Is it because you sing too well?

“That’s how they do it for foreign guides.”

……But seriously, noona, you’re amazing. I knew I had good instincts.

“No one else could pull off this guide.”

That’s why I called you.

“You’re getting slicker by the day, huh?”

She grumbled, but the smile never left her face.

Quietly mulling over the song, Han Yujin murmured to herself,

“Your song got me all the way to a Japan concert. I can do at least this much.”

That’s because you’re good, noona.

“Your tone’s changed lately, hasn’t it? Anyway, play the song once more.”

She said it shortly and focused again.

“If you’d given me this to sing, I might’ve cursed you out, but since it’s just a guide, I actually want to do it right. Funny, huh?”

It wasn’t just anyone—it was Stay.

What was one little guide to him, anyway?

When are you free? Since we’re at it, how about today?

“Ah, I’m tired today.”

I was planning to meet you at Backstage, though.

“Eek!”

Knew it.

“What, Backstage’s interior is done? You really built a recording booth like you said? When should I come?”

How about by noon?

“Good.”

The moment the call ended,

Han Yujin hurried into the bathroom.

‘It’s not even my song, so why am I this excited?’

The guide recording went smoothly.

Han Yujin turned out to be a singer with a far broader spectrum than I’d imagined.

Though she groaned a little, the guide was flawless—almost like the real take.

It even made me think I’d like to write this kind of song for her someday.

“Why are you recording here? We should be charging ToMe Entertainment for this. Where’s that Kwak Youngho punk’s number…”

When we stepped out of the booth,

Mr. Moon Jungbae asked,

while stroking the congratulatory bonsai Han Yujin had brought.

“I was doing a guide recording.”

“A guide? You, Yujin? The superstar who sang Super Ride? Doing a guide? Good heavens.”

Mr. Moon Jungbae shook his head in disbelief.

“Whose song is it that you’re guiding? It’d have to be for someone like Ariana Grande or Taylor Swift, right?”

It sounded like a joke, but he wasn’t wrong.

Even I had been wondering on my way to Backstage, is this really okay?

But those worries were groundless.

Han Yujin was a real pro.

When it came to music, she never calculated.

She stayed cheerful and perfect from start to finish.

At Moon Jungbae’s question, Han Yujin casually replied,

“It’s not about Ariana Grande.”

“Then what?”

“What matters is who wrote the song, don’t you think?”

“So you did it because it was Taeyoon’s song?”

“Of course! Ah, I want to gush about it so bad, but I can’t spoil it. My lips are itching!”

“……Who’s it for, anyway?”

Everyone was curious, it seemed.

Even the Cheongseong members who had come in late pricked up their ears to listen.

“I don’t know either.” Follow current novels on novel•fire.net

“Huh?”

“Guides aren’t supposed to ask that kind of thing, right?”

Of course, of course.

No matter how close we were, there were boundaries.

That’s what made Han Yujin so easy to work with.

She never crossed the line.

I handed her the paper bag I’d prepared.

“Oh, a gift?”

“Open it.”

“Hmm? For real?”

I needed to show some gratitude somehow—

but giving an envelope of cash would’ve been absurd.

So I’d put my heart into preparing something better.

“……What’s this?”

“Think of it as vocal maintenance gear. If your throat gives out from the guide, CEO Kwak’s going to scold me.”

“It’s fine. This was just personal. I don’t need to report meeting a friend, right?”

“True.”

“But wow, what’s all this? Woah—”

Honey ginger tea, a mini humidifier, propolis,

and a petite scarf I’d bought in a hurry at the department store after getting a tip from Oh Jisoo.

Keeping her neck warm was the most important thing, apparently.

Come to think of it, even Mom always wrapped a scarf around her neck on chilly days.

“Huh?”

As she rummaged through the shopping bag, Han Yujin suddenly burst out laughing.

“What’s this writing? A secret code?”

“……A thank-you note.”

“They say geniuses have bad handwriting—guess that’s true. ‘Yujin. Noona. Fighting? Thanks, thanks.’ Pfft, hahahah.”

After the fun little gift exchange and the guide session,

I sent my brother a text.

[Me: Taeshi’s new song demo completed.]

[My brother: ????????? Already? What the hell, you.]

[Me: When should I come?]

About ten minutes later, a reply arrived.

[My brother: Team Leader wants to see you right away. You free? Director will be there too.]

[Me: I’d like Taeshi to hear it together, if possible.]

[My brother: Ok.]

Leaving the Cheongseong members’ cheers behind, I walked out of Backstage.

It was time to head for the real battlefield.

I clenched the USB tightly in my hand.