DLMS 33

Chapter 33

The guy sitting in the very front row, raising his hand the loudest along with his friend.

For some reason, the vibe he gave off seemed rather quiet and modest.

He was quite handsome, but judging by his aura, he didn’t seem like someone who could dominate a crowd.

As for his singing skills, you couldn’t tell just by looking.

But star quality—you could usually get a rough estimate at a glance.

“Yes, our handsome gentleman in the front! Would you like to choose your first song?”

“Yes, I’ll—”

Just the thought of showing my singing to the public reminded me of the debut showcase, and I felt excited.

[Hey, try tucking away that confidence.]

‘Huh? What are you talking about all of a sudden?’

[I mean, act pathetic like you usually do.]

‘What? That’s not something I can just turn on and off.’

As always, before a performance I was overwhelmed by nerves.

But right before the show actually started, confidence and excitement ballooned up inside me, as if the nerves had never existed.

The demon was telling me to stuff that feeling back down.

But that wasn’t something I could control.

He probably just wanted to set me up for a surprise reversal.

In the end, because the demon was talking to me, I didn’t respond to Hongcha’s question.

“Excuse me, you need to pick a song.”

“Oh, yes. Uh, then…”

Thanks to the demon making me stall, the scene looked weird.

To Hongcha and the audience, it probably seemed like I was pausing from stage fright.

Even Lee Jongin, sitting nearby, was staring at me with worry.

He must’ve thought my hesitation was a bad sign.

“Yes, I’ll sing Ebin’s Moon.”

“Oh! Right, Ebin’s Moon. Everyone, please give a round of applause and cheers!”

Ebin’s Moon.

It was released this spring—not a massive mega-hit, but it consistently held spots in the upper middle of the charts.

Until recently, you could hear it easily on the streets, in restaurants, or at cafés.

But as the weather got hotter, its popularity had started fading.

Still, I thought it was the right song to showcase my strengths.

I believed it could draw a solid response.

As the intro began, Hongcha stepped aside.

“Hey, good. He doesn’t look like he’ll be that good anyway—perfect for just killing time.”

“Exactly. Since everyone else is late, he’ll do to fill the gap.”

“God, unbelievable. These guys beg to get on here and even pay, but then they show up late?”

“No kidding.”

They were talking about today’s other participants in Hongraebang.

“Anyway, let’s just watch this loser.”

The short intro ended, and Yoo Jaehee lifted the mic to his lips.

“Ooooh!”

“Wow!”

Cheers erupted from the audience.

Moments ago, Jaehee had been stalling from nerves.

But now he shocked everyone by delivering a performance far beyond their expectations.

“Damn, what the hell?”

“Hyung, this guy’s good.”

“What the…”

Even Hongcha and the staff were stunned at the unexpected skill.

A camera was set up in front of Jaehee, and behind him, countless spectators filled the seats.

Among them, Jongin was recording his friend’s back with his phone.

[Yo, killer song choice! Vibes are great—just keep going like that.]

I was just as excited as the demon. I really liked how my first line had come out.

It wasn’t just the audience’s or the demon’s reaction.

I, myself, liked the sound I had made.

Of course, I had practiced hard the past few days.

But this was much better than practice.

Just for a moment, I wondered if maybe I really was made for the stage.

Ebin’s Moon had a very short first verse.

Barely after starting, the song went straight into the chorus.

The chorus leaned heavily on mid-to-high notes.

Rather than the thrill of high pitch, it emphasized the exhilaration of groovy rhythm.

As the demon had said, I still didn’t know how to handle rhythm with finesse.

Sure, I could keep time like anyone else, but that was it.

So, to pull off a rhythm-focused song my own way, I decided not to rely on rhythm.

Instead, I used the intensity of my sound.

At breaks in the rhythm, I hit big, impactful notes to add punch.

That way, even if I was a bit off-beat, no one would notice.

[Nice. That’s good. Being able to cover one weakness with another strength is also a skill.]

When I hit the chorus, the audience went beyond cheering—some even screamed.

While I was singing, I noticed someone running up near the camera to snap pictures of me with their phone.

Apparently, my singing struck a chord with them.

At that time, I thought their act of filming me would just be a nice little boost to my mood.

Jongin’s eyes, too, were shining brightly.

Usually, performers at Hongraebang brought powerhouse, high-pitched vocals.

As far as I knew, no one had come in recently with a groovy track like Ebin’s Moon.

And Hongcha knew that very well.

“Uh oh…”

“Hyung, we have to feature him, right?”

“Ugh, I don’t know. It’s a tricky situation…”

It gave him a headache.

In the early days, Hongraebang had been pure.

A cheap karaoke machine, a bargain mic, an amp.

It started tiny.

They found talent from the crowds in Hongdae, or sometimes just funny people who volunteered.

But as time passed, the channel grew and gained subscribers.

Naturally, people began trying to use the channel.

Now Hongraebang no longer recruited volunteers from the street.

Instead, they secretly scouted performers in advance.

Of course, those performers paid a fee.

The audience had no clue.

Today, some of those scouted acts arrived late.

And conveniently, Yoo Jaehee had stepped in to fill the gap.

That coincidence created a dilemma for Hongcha.

Should he include Jaehee in the video? Or cut him out in editing?

Including him risked backlash from paying participants.

But cutting him out—too many people had seen.

Already, suspicions of “pre-scouting” popped up in the comments of their recent videos.

“This is driving me crazy…”

“What do we do, hyung?”

Hongcha turned his gaze back to the stage.

That guy sitting awkwardly in the front with his friend.

The one who had hesitated nervously when asked to pick a song.

He didn’t seem like he could sing or had star power.

But the prediction had been completely wrong.

“Damn, he’s really good…”

Unable to decide, Hongcha stared at the man’s face.

The man on stage was smiling radiantly, looking utterly happy.

“Yes, thank you for the great performance.”

“Thank you.”

The song ended, and it was time for the interview.

“Alright, first, please introduce yourself.”

Once the stage was over, the nerves came crashing back.

Behind me, countless spectators.

In front of me, the camera…

It was my first time standing before one, so I didn’t know where to look or what kind of expression to wear.

“Yes, my name is Yoo Jaehee. Hello.”

Thinking I should at least look polite, I gripped the mic with both hands and bowed 90 degrees.

“Ahahaha!”

“Kyahahaha!”

“Ah! What the hell! Hahahaha!”

“Ah, why’s he like that! Haha!”

Laughter burst out behind me.

Even Jongin laughed at the sight.

Since I had finished the performance well, it was okay to show this side too.

[Yo, you looked really pathetic just now.]

‘Yeah, I know. Don’t remind me…’

“Hahaha! Alright, good. So, Jaehee, do you usually do music?”

“Oh, uh, I’m not signed anywhere right now. I just work hard at it as a hobby.”

[Eh, hobby? That’s not really true, is it?]

‘Well, I thought it would sound more impressive as a start. Was it bad?’

[Yeah, not great…]

‘Ah, really…’

“Aha, a hobby! Well, you sang pretty well for a hobbyist. Thank you! Let’s move on to the next participant.”

[What the? Ending it this fast?]

“Ah, yes. Th-thank you.”

The interview ended quickly, and cheers erupted as I stepped down.

It was so short I was taken aback.

But I still felt good, thinking I had shown a solid performance.

After my turn, they swapped the camera battery.

I sat back in the front row to watch the rest.

One staff member kept glancing at me while changing the battery.

[Hey, that guy keeps staring at you. Must mean you did well.]

‘Ooh… yeah, he really keeps sneaking looks.’

[Well, you did do well.]

Not just him—other nearby audience members also glanced at me.

All today’s performers were skilled.

Of course, the demon’s opinion was—

[You were the best. Except that girl who went on before you.]

The event ran for about an hour.

Afterward, Jongin and I headed back home together.

Since we lived in the same neighborhood, I gave him a ride.

“Dude, you killed it! The crowd went nuts for you!”

“Really? I was too focused on singing to notice.”

“Man, once this video drops, you’re definitely gonna blow up.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m a subscriber to this channel.”

Come to think of it, Jongin was probably right.

He watched Hongraebang often, and as someone aspiring to be an A&R, he had a good ear.

Even as just an amateur, his judgment was trustworthy.

“Plus, that bit at the end—acting all shy—was great. It really worked.”

“Oh, yeah, right! I totally did that on purpose! Hahaha! It was good, huh?”

“Perfect, man.”

[Yep, he’s definitely an idiot too.]

“Can’t wait for the video to go up.”

“It should be uploaded next week.”

“Oh wow, that fast?”

“Once it’s out and you gain some recognition, next is—”

“Promoting the concert.”

“Our club’s regular performance!”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t just for me—promoting the club concert was good for Jongin too.

“At the same time, I need to spread my own music. Pre-debut fandom is really important.”

“Whoa, you’re already thinking like a celebrity.”

Now that he said it, Jongin was right.

“Yeah, it’s kind of embarrassing, but… basically, yeah. Haha!”

“Impressive.”

“Fans who support you from before you debut—that pride sticks with them.”

[True. Remember how idol fandoms worked back at your company? Same thing.]

“Anyway, this is really the start. Beyond school festivals or club gigs—this is a real chance to promote myself.”

“Yeah. Go for it. I hope it works out.”

Jongin’s voice carried genuine sincerity.

I didn’t know why he cheered me on so much.

We hadn’t been friends for all that long.

But we had the bond of music.

And I chose to believe in that.

The future that would come out of today’s events—I couldn’t help but look forward to it.

Hongcha had around 700,000 subscribers.

The thought of my video going up on that channel—I was dying to see it.

Sure, it was my first time on camera, so I might look awkward.

But more than anything, it was a chance to monitor my performance for the first time.

I was curious about the audience’s live reactions, and the YouTube comments.

Of course, I had no idea what kind of headache Hongcha was dealing with behind the scenes…