Chapter 10
After my turn ended, the rehearsal for Desks and Chairs wrapped up as well.
Since they were already a well-known band on campus, a few fans had gathered at a distance to watch their rehearsal.
Because they were a group that used a lot of instruments, their rehearsal time was longer compared to the other three teams, including mine, and they showcased more songs too.
It felt almost like a kind of fan service.
Since there were still about three hours left before the main performance, I left the booth to wander around campus and kill some time.
The faces of the students roaming around campus looked unusually excited.
Probably because of the upcoming College of Humanities inauguration festival.
[Just from hearing that much, you can already sense it.]
The demon’s voice reached me, referring to how I’d cut my rehearsal short.
This time, his tone carried something like concern.
Or maybe I was just imagining it.
‘Yeah… I think I get it. Maybe it’s because the equipment here is good…’
[As expected, you’ve got a good instinct.]
‘It’s not because of your power.’
[I only give you the vocal ability you would’ve gained if you had worked hard for ten years. Recognition and application—that’s all you.]
‘Ah… I see.’
I thought a demon’s power would be nothing but convenient.
This was a bit unexpected.
[Yeah, there was even a case like that. An Austrian musician—I thought he should sing, so I granted him the ability. But in the end, he couldn’t make use of it and remained a composer.]
‘So your judgment isn’t always right, huh.’
[Well… I’ve missed the mark sometimes, but I’ve never completely failed.]
In other words, what the demon was saying was this:
If I relied only on the ability without my own will and judgment, life would turn into a failure.
Figures, coming from a demon.
[Exactly. I’m just someone who helps you and gets what I want in return. The decisions are all yours. Though… I can give you a word of advice here and there.]
‘Stop reading my thoughts without permission.’
[If you think that deeply, I can hear it all.]
Reading people’s minds like this…
He really was a demon through and through.
That was when someone greeted me.
“Hey! Good luck with the performance today!”
“Uh, yeah.”
A voice called out from a distance.
When I turned toward it, I saw a familiar face.
Of course, we’d never talked before.
They were second-years from my department.
I’d seen them plenty of times in class, but we’d never exchanged words.
Before I could even recall their names, I awkwardly waved back.
[Ooooh~ what’s this? Isn’t this the first time someone’s talked to you like that?]
‘Yeah, I guess…’
They must’ve watched my rehearsal earlier.
[Well well, feeling good, huh?]
“Ah, seriously! Stop reading my mind!”
[Pfft! Look at you yelling. What if someone hears you?]
[Kekeke… you really are a funny guy.]
“Sigh…”
[Anyway, what are you gonna do now? Still got lots of time. You should eat.]
‘I’m not hungry… I’ll eat after the performance. For now, I just want to walk.’
I was starting to get a sense of how to control my voice, but I had no idea how to manage my condition.
That could only come from experience, from learning to read my own body.
And if I ate too much, it might interfere with singing, so I decided to put off eating until afterward.
Besides, food wasn’t the priority right now.
Thinking back, every day had been chaos.
After CEO Kim Jung-hyuk drugged me, I’d been busy preparing to return to school.
Finding a place to live and moving took a lot of time.
After I reenrolled, I made plans.
Plans to get into Groovy Nation.
Plans for what to do to keep pursuing music.
Plans for how to pay Kim Jung-hyuk back for the humiliation he’d dealt me…
And then this demon showed up in my body—
No, he revealed himself after being inside me all along—leaving me even more confused.
Sure, he was making my path easier, but I still needed to sort out my thoughts.
Because things had veered off the course I’d originally planned.
‘First, the color of my music…’
[Hey, cut it out… I’m gonna puke…]
‘Huh? What’s wrong with you?’
[You’re thinking too much. It’s overwhelming.]
‘Oh, crap. Sorry. What should I do?’
As soon as I started reflecting, the demon groaned that he felt sick.
It was the first time I’d ever heard him sound in pain.
[Ugh… I’ll just take a nap. Think on your own for a bit.]
‘Oh… okay. Sorry.’
I didn’t know why he suddenly reacted like that, but I must’ve done something wrong.
‘Right… it all started when he appeared.’
Ever since he showed up and gifted me with singing ability, my plans had gone off track.
Originally, I’d chosen to live as a composer.
That was the kind of music I wanted most.
Since childhood, music had been my closest friend.
It had been the breathing mask that let me survive a painful everyday life.
And after the recent audition…
I was shocked, but I could vaguely sense a new life beginning.
It wasn’t simply about having or lacking ability.
The biggest change was where my gaze had shifted.
It was fun.
Even though it was just a remake of an existing song, I’d sung over my own track and, for the first time in my life, completed a whole song myself.
And someone had watched me do it.
I couldn’t see their exact reactions, but the results spoke for themselves.
My audition hadn’t been bad.
The goal I thought would end at composition had now expanded—
I wanted to be a singer-songwriter.
But to do that, there was so much more to think about, prepare, and practice.
Sure, thanks to the demon, I’d started further ahead than most…
[Ugh… you’re still thinking, huh…]
‘Oh, you’re awake? Feeling better?’
[Yeah, I’m fine after resting.]
‘Wait, you sleep?’
[Since you humans sleep, I just said it like that. Strictly speaking, I didn’t sleep—I just cut the connection with you for a while. I don’t actually sleep.]
‘Hmm… then why cut the connection?’
[Because everything you see, hear, think, and feel gets transmitted straight to me.]
‘Yeah, I know that.’
[But sometimes when your thoughts or emotions get too heavy or intense, it throws me into confusion.]
‘Wow, was I really thinking that much?’
[You’re too dull to realize it, but yeah—you think a lot. Luckily, your emotions don’t fluctuate too wildly, or it’d be worse.]
He was right.
After enduring a painful school life as a loner, very little could really shake me anymore.
Except for music.
Instead, I’d grown used to long hours of reflection.
When alone, my thoughts always deepened, and I’d gotten into the habit of calmly sorting through floods of thoughts.
It was second nature to me, but to the demon, my mind was overly full.
Maybe compared to others, my head really was packed with thoughts.
[So, are you done thinking yet?]
‘Not yet…’
[Good grief…]
‘Sorry. I didn’t know my thinking made things hard for you.’
[It’s fine. Think all you want. If it gets too much, I’ll just disappear for a bit. And reflection is good. It helps form your identity.]
This time, his voice was gentler than usual.
Even though it caused him pain, he didn’t think my constant reflection was a bad thing.
[For now, just focus on the performance. Today’s important.]
‘Yeah, I know.’
So I strolled aimlessly around campus, chatting idly with the demon.
All the stage prep was already done, and relaxing seemed to help me control my mindset.
With only about an hour left until showtime, I decided to wait near the stage.
The shadows were growing long.
The spring sun hovered low, ready to dip below the horizon.
As parts of my body slowly fell under shadow, it felt almost like the sun was mimicking the moon.
That was when I heard laughter from a crowd in the distance.
Familiar faces.
Not hostile, but not particularly welcome either—just acquaintances.
“Yo! Kim Jong-pil!”
“Hey, you guys! It’s been forever!”
“Wow, man, so long. How’s life as a TA?”
“Hey, let’s sit down first. We can catch up slowly.”
Jong-pil’s friends—
At the same time, Yu Jae-hee’s classmates from the class of ’13—
all met in front of the Korean Literature department’s booth.
Even before sitting, they were already exchanging updates, their faces full of excitement.
That noisy group took seats at the booth, which had just finished its prep.
Except for Jong-pil, they were all graduates, but since they knew a few current students, the mood quickly warmed up.
“Hey, Jong-pil. Where’s Jae-hee?”
“Uh… haven’t seen him today. Maybe he’s getting ready for the performance.”
“What, the performance? Isn’t he just gonna wing it like before?”
“Nope. Heard he auditioned.”
“What?!”
At Jong-pil’s words, the group froze.
“He auditioned? And…?”
“Don’t tell me he passed.”
“Come on…”
They all thought the same thing Jong-pil had—
That Jae-hee would just hop on stage like he did six years ago.
Because otherwise, there was no way he could perform.
But the answer was shocking.
“He passed.”
“What?”
“He passed the audition.”
“Passed? Jae-hee passed our school’s festival audition?”
The cheerful reunion mood vanished, replaced by wide, stunned eyes.
“No way. I heard from a friend the contestants this year weren’t great. And Jae-hee’s skills must’ve improved since back then.”
“Jong-pil, come on. Our school’s festival isn’t something you get into just by improving a little.”
“You’ve been at Yesung long enough to know that.”
“Right. I knew you weren’t into music, but man… this much?”
“Yeah, back then you preferred going out to drink instead of hanging around festivals anyway…”
Even though Jong-pil relayed what Lee Jong-in told him, none of them bought it.
If they’d seen Jae-hee six years ago, they wouldn’t have believed it either.
“I just saw his rehearsal, actually. He was pretty good.”
Just then, a younger student who had been at the booth spoke up.
It was the same one who had waved at Jae-hee earlier.
“While setting up the booth, I watched Jae-hee hyung’s rehearsal. He was good. Short, but solid.”
“Oh? So his skills really have improved a lot.”
“Hmm… maybe…”
For the first time, Jong-pil thought something was strange.
‘Did he really come back because he’d improved?’
Not that it affected him directly.
Even if Jae-hee had gotten better at music, it wouldn’t hurt him—strictly speaking, it had nothing to do with him.
Still, something about it bothered him.
Made him uncomfortable, even irritated.
Hard to explain, but one thing was clear: it wasn’t a pleasant feeling.
Expectations for Yu Jae-hee were rising.
A performance after six long years.
Everyone was eager to see how that once pitiful figure had changed.
And they filled their glasses with that curiosity.
