DLMS 3

Chapter 3

“He really is a bad guy, but that doesn’t mean you should get back at him.”

$Whosaidanythingaboutkillinghim?$

“No, I didn’t say that either…”

Since it was a demon, I thought it would hurt Kim Jong-pil—the one who made my life hell—or ruin his entire life.

$It’snotlikethat.SoonI’llgiveyouanotherability.Withthat,wecantrysomethingnew.Changethesituation.$

“What kind of ability this time?”

The words slipped out of my mouth before I knew it, but my tone was urgent, almost desperate.

$Bepatient.Iwanttogiveittoyourightawaytoo,butitdoesn’tworklikethat.$

“Like there’s a cooldown or something?”

$Exactly.$

The demon said it would let me know when the time came, and for now I should just focus on what I had to do.

It was the right thing to say, but hearing that from a demon…

It left me with a strange feeling.

Yeseong University’s music club Groovy Nation.

Groovy Nation was on a completely different level from the sloppy music clubs at other schools.

The current members’ skills were top-notch, and the club had produced singers with great reputations.

Some said it had declined and wasn’t as good as it used to be.

But that was only a relative comparison to its glorious past—there were still high-level artists in the club.

Some students even applied to Yeseong University just to join this club, not because of the school or the major.

Of course, my short-term goal was also this club.

Some people said, “If that’s what you want, shouldn’t you just apply to the Practical Music Department?”

But compared to the academic program, the club offered much more freedom and let you focus on your strengths.

Textbook-style learning was hard, but it was the perfect environment to chase your own artistic direction.

—Groovy Nation Recruiting Members Year-Round.

A poster for Groovy Nation’s open recruitment was pinned on the school bulletin board.

$Thisistheclubyousaidwasyourgoal.$

‘Yeah. I have to get in here, no matter what.’

Talented musicians were everywhere.

Especially at this school, where many had enrolled just to join Groovy Nation.

To get in, it wasn’t just about musicality—you also needed to be buzzworthy.

Even if you were musically skilled, if you lacked star quality, they were notorious for rejecting you.

‘Which means…’

I turned my gaze to the poster next to it.

—College of Humanities Inauguration Talent Show! Recruiting Participants!

‘I have to get on that stage.’

$Kekeke\dots Kid,you’vegottenbold.Doesn’titremindyouoftheolddays?$

I knew exactly why the demon was laughing.

I had a dark history with talent shows.

A really, really terrible one.

‘Ugh… Just thinking about it still makes me kick my blanket at night…’

$Kekekekeke\dots Ilaughedsohardbackthentoo.$

‘But this time will be different. I’ve already made plans… and besides, you promised you’d help me.’

$Ofcourse.$

Six years ago.

At age twenty, I proudly became a freshman in Yeseong University’s Department of Korean Language and Literature.

In elementary school, I was too busy playing.
In middle school, I never dropped from the top ranks, but thanks to Kim Jong-pil, my school life was miserable.

That crushed me, so in high school I just kept my head down and lived quietly.

At least I wasn’t bullied anymore, but that was all.

The most important thing in my life was happiness, and its source was music.

Still, getting into a prestigious university boosted my self-esteem to the max.

And that was the problem.

The College of Humanities Inauguration.

It was like a small festival—different departments gathered to drink, hold a talent show, even invite singers.

I drank and drank—

“Drink! Drink! Drink!”
“Bottoms up! Chug! Chug! Chug!”

Lost in drinking games, I laughed with classmates and forgot all about Kim Jong-pil, my fearsome classmate.

That’s when the MC’s voice rang out from the stage.

“Anyone want to sign up? Singing, dancing, comedy, impressions, funny stories—show your talent and win a culture gift certificate! We’re giving them out generously!”

Why the hell did I do it?

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe confidence from being ‘the guy who did music,’

Or maybe it was for the future I couldn’t see yet, six years later.

Whatever the reason, I shouted loudly:

“Me! Me!”

Moments ago I’d been slurring my words, but that shout came out clear.

“Oh! Nice. The handsome student from the Korean Lit table! Come on up!”

That was the first and last time in my life I stood in a spotlight, under so many eyes.

“A fine young man from Korean Lit! Please introduce yourself first!”

I took the mic and stared forward.

The lights dazzled me, maybe because of the alcohol, maybe because I’d never stood under stage lights before.

“M-My name is Yoo Jae-hee, freshman in the Department of… Soup Brothology!”

“Pfft! Soup?!”

“I—I mean Korean! Korean Literature!”

My tongue, soaked in alcohol, wouldn’t obey, but their laughter sobered me up, and I corrected myself clearly.

“Haha! Looks like he’s had a drink. What talent will you show us?”

In the distance, I saw the table where my classmates sat.

All their sparkling eyes were on me.

It was the perfect timing to turn my invisible, pitiful life upside down.

‘From today, I’ll be famous.’

“I’ll sing.”

“Oh, great! Please give him a round of applause!”

The karaoke track started.

And then…

I sang into the mic.

And it was…

Horrible.

“Puhahahaha!”
“Ahahahaha! What the hell is that?!”
“Ahahaha! How can someone with that face sing so ugly?!”

I wasn’t normally that bad, but alcohol is stronger than people think.

Rumors spread and spread, and soon I became the official tone-deaf student of Yeseong University.

I had no choice but to leave the stage with unprecedented attention.

Of course, not the kind of attention I wanted.

Thanks to the “merit” of delivering both comedy and song, I actually got two culture gift certificates…

But it wasn’t exactly an honorable prize.

Even though I’d planned it myself this time, my steps felt heavy as I submitted the talent show application for the inauguration.

Back then, at age 20, I had the army as a place to run to.

But now, if things went wrong and I embarrassed myself again, there’d be nowhere to escape—and the path to Groovy Nation would be blocked.

If the demon gave me the ability it promised, maybe like perfect pitch, I wouldn’t have to worry.

But I couldn’t trust it completely.

A demon was still a demon.

It could always betray me at the worst moment just for fun.

So I shoved those thoughts aside and headed to my appointment.

That evening, after classes, I was supposed to meet my friend Lim Tae-hyun, who had contacted me recently.

The place was Sinchon, not far from campus.

The signs of bars were lighting up one by one, and I waited in the crowd, listening to music, for Tae-hyun to arrive.

It had been days since I got my new ability, but it was still fascinating.

Through my earphones, I could hear every note value of the melodies in a song.

It made analyzing existing tracks much easier.

“Hey!”

“Oh—hey, you’re here.”

Lost in the music, I only noticed when Tae-hyun arrived.

“What’s with that goofy smile?”

“Ah, was I? Haha.”

D, Eb, F, G…

His words had four notes. I awkwardly answered, and we headed into a nearby bar.

“So, how’s school treating you?”

Over some stew and a couple glasses of soju, Tae-hyun asked.

“Well, nothing hard academically, but I don’t know anyone there…”

“With your personality? No wonder, you timid bastard.”

“Haha, yeah. It’d be nice to have at least one friend.”

—Clink.

The glasses met, soju rippling inside.

“So, are you quitting music now that you’re in school?”

“Of course not. I’m keeping at it.”

“Good. With your skill, it’d be a waste to stop.”

JH Entertainment was a dirty company, sure, but not just anyone could get in.

Even before the demon gave me power, plenty of amateurs wanted my songs.

Among my peers, JH even said I was the most talented.

That’s why the CEO stole my song…

“Then why go back to school? With your skill, you could’ve tried other places.”

Knowing this, Tae-hyun valued me highly, and was baffled I’d gone back to school.

—Clink.

“I just didn’t have the courage. After getting burned by JH, I can’t trust anyone.”

“Hmm. Yeah, all agencies are shady… but not all of them are bad. If you need info, ask me. I’ve only been a reporter for a year, but I hear a lot.”

Tae-hyun had studied journalism and always dreamed of being a reporter.

He had a strong sense of justice, wanting to write only fair articles.

We’d gotten close in middle school, when he found out I was into music too.

Back then, when I was bullied by Kim Jong-pil, his friendship was as important as music to me.

Even now, he’d rushed over because he worried about me.

“And from now on, don’t sign any contracts without asking me first. Back then I didn’t know, but now I’ve got dirt on the shady companies.”

“JH was always like that.”

“Yeah, plenty got screwed over like you. Short contracts, monthly salary system, right?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s a reason for that. If composers get royalties instead, they’ll work hard. But if it’s salary, they only care about quick checks. The agency just wants to see who’s worth keeping.”

“Hmm…”

“So why didn’t you say anything? Why’d you just put up with it?”

“….”

He had me there.

Even now I shook with rage, but back then I was terrified.

I could suddenly understand all the other victims like me.

“From now on, don’t go signing contracts blindly.”

“I had no choice. You knew my situation.”

There were two reasons I signed with JH:

First, they were a respected agency for producing.

Second, I had to support myself after losing my parents.

Being alone wasn’t just emotionally crushing—it was financially devastating.

Graduating wasn’t as urgent as surviving.

So I sent demo tracks to agencies, and JH was one of the big ones that reached out.

Without thinking, I signed.

Looking back, most of my fellow composers there were young, broke, but talented.

“So that’s why… But why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“Ah, I only found out after I mentioned you to a senior. He told me about JH.”

“Hmm… I see.”

“If I’d known, I’d have warned you.”

“True. With your personality, you wouldn’t have let me go in blind.”

“Anyway, enough of that. Let’s drink.”

—Clink!

Talking with Tae-hyun eased my mood.

Losing my songs, leaving the company, going back to school alone—it had all weighed me down.

But conversations with friends are comforting, even if the words themselves aren’t much.

That’s when the demon, quiet until now, whispered.

$Hey,thisfriendofyours\dots helooksuseful.$

‘Huh? In what way?’