DLMS 4

Chapter 4

“Hahaha! That guy actually came to school.”

“I’m telling you! Man, the moment I saw his face, I couldn’t stop laughing….”

At the same time—

Just like Im Taehyun and Yoo Jaehee, Kim Jongpil was drinking in Sinchon with a mysterious man.

“Wow, I almost forgot about that….”

The person sitting across from Kim Jongpil was Lee Jongin, a member of Yesung University’s music club Groovy Nation.

They weren’t in the same department, nor did they know each other personally, but Lee Jongin had also witnessed one of Yoo Jaehee’s most humiliating moments firsthand.

“Come to think of it, the launch ceremony is coming up soon.”

“Pfft! Can’t wait to see if he bombs again this time!”

Like Kim Jongpil, Lee Jongin also looked down on Yoo Jaehee.

From what he’d heard from Kim Jongpil, Yoo Jaehee was the epitome of pathetic.

Timid, antisocial, and nothing more than a shut-in who played at being a composer.

And to top it off, there was even news that he had luckily signed with a music company, only for it to end in failure….

Since Kim Jongpil didn’t know much about music and wasn’t interested in it anyway, he had no idea that the company was JH Entertainment. Even if he had known, he wouldn’t have realized how big of a deal that was.

“Guys like that make people take music lightly… sigh.”

That was why Lee Jongin held a poor opinion of Yoo Jaehee.

To him, Jaehee was just another one of those shallow types who claimed to “do music” just because it looked cool—without any skill or passion.

As someone who was always serious about music and burning with passion, such people were an eyesore to Lee Jongin.

He didn’t want the culture he loved to be tarnished by one rotten fish.

Those who applied for the talent show at the launch ceremony had to pass an audition to stand on stage.

Only those who passed could perform.

Every event at Yesung University had these student-participation stages.

Thanks to Groovy Nation’s reputation, Yesung attracted far more musically talented students compared to other schools.

Because of that, even events that weren’t major festivals often drew outside audiences.

On rare occasions, some performers were so good they made the invited guest singer feel embarrassed.

Anyone who performed well on these stages often applied to join Groovy Nation afterward.

In other words, the university’s events were essentially a testing ground—where both talent and star quality were judged as a pathway into Groovy Nation.

And this time, I was entering that gateway myself.

“Hey, but… how long will that power of yours take?”

After school, while working on a song at home, I suddenly asked the demon out of curiosity.

[Hold on… something feels weird.]

“What feels weird?”

[I think it’s going to take a bit longer than I thought.]

“What?”

What was that supposed to mean?

[When’s the audition again?]

“Thirteen days left.”

[That’s… cutting it close.]

“Wait, what? Why all of a sudden…?”

His confident tone from before was gone.

The demon continued, slowly explaining.

[Guess I’ve been asleep too long. Normally, when one person dies, I enter the next body right away. But the person before you was almost ten years ago.]

“So what, is that a problem?”

[Think of it like this. If a human doesn’t work out for years, their muscles waste away. Their strength isn’t the same.]

“Ah….”

It was such a fitting analogy that I didn’t know what else to say.

A body that lost its muscles couldn’t suddenly lift heavy barbells again.

It seemed the demon’s own “body” had dulled over time.

“So… it won’t be ready before the audition?”

[Hard to say. Might be ready, might not…. It’s borderline.]

“Is there anything I can do? Some way to help?”

I said “help,” but in truth, it was for my own sake.

Because yes—I wanted that power.

[Nope. Only time will fix it.]

“Damn it… my whole plan depends on that power….”

The fastest, surest way into the club was through performing at the event.

There was always the option of just applying directly, but the chances were far lower.

Now it felt like my best chance was slipping away, and the thought burned me up inside.

Lately, nothing had been going right. Even small obstacles drained me.

My song had been stolen, I’d gone through a short stint of unemployment, and now I wandered around campus alone.

And now, even my carefully laid plans were falling apart.

“This is driving me crazy….”

[Hey, don’t get so down. None of the lives I’ve entered have ever ended as nobodies.]

“I know, I’m not doubting your power. But it’s better to be sure, you know?”

[Fair enough. Just wait a bit. Even if your plan falls through because of me, we’ll find another way.]

“Hm….”

He wasn’t wrong, but I still didn’t want my plan to fall apart.

For once, I was trying to do something for myself.

I’d always lived for my parents’ expectations, for my own goals.

I’d scraped by against harsh realities.

But now, I wanted to create music that I wanted—not what some company demanded.

And I didn’t want my very first self-made plan toward that goal to crumble.

I hadn’t said it aloud, but I must’ve been harboring resentment.

And the demon had read my heart again….

[Humans, huh… Fine, I get it. So trust me, and prepare well. It’s just a delay—it doesn’t mean it won’t happen. No need to agonize over it so much.]

Thinking about it, he was right.

Even if I didn’t perform at the event, even if I never got into Groovy Nation, it wasn’t like success in music was impossible.

I was grateful for the power, but worry for the future had soured my mood.

“You read my thoughts, huh. Sorry….”

[Heh, sorry? Don’t be. Humans are always like this. You’re grateful when you’re given something, but the moment it doesn’t go your way, you get resentful. It’s natural. At least you didn’t start cursing me out….]

“Not everyone’s like that.”

[Nope. Everyone is. I’ve never seen a single exception.]

“…”

Somehow, every conversation with him ended with me reluctantly agreeing.

[Anyway, start picking your song.]

“Ah, r-right… yeah….”

What I’d thought might’ve hurt him didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.

If anything, my shifting emotions seemed to amuse him. His voice was tinged with joy.

Having apologized, I started browsing for a song to use in the audition.

I opened my streaming app and scrolled through my playlists.

[Ugh… don’t you have something more sophisticated?]

“Sophisticated?”

[Yeah, something that’ll really blow people’s minds.]

“Well… for a performance… hm….”

My playlists had all sorts of songs.

High-level, experimental music. Tracks too niche for mainstream audiences. Pop hits. Even some instrumental pieces.

There were also idol songs I’d listened to while working at JH.

But nothing seemed to satisfy the demon.

“Hm, I think this one’s good.”

[An idol boy group song?]

“Yeah. Perfect for an event like this.”

[What, are you insane?]

“Why?”

[You planning to dance too?]

“What, are you insane?”

It was the moment our madness clashed.

“Even I wouldn’t want to see myself dancing.”

[Yeah, me neither.]

“Wait, that kinda pisses me off.”

[Heh… You’ll arrange it, right?]

“Of course. It’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing….”

[Good. Then I’ll trust your plan.]

Ever since I’d first gotten into MIDI as a kid, I’d practiced by copying existing songs.

That training was the biggest reason for my current skill—but it had been hellish.

I had to hear even the faintest instruments and catch every note.

This time, it wasn’t copying, but arranging—so I had freedom in choosing instruments.

All that was left was transcribing the chords and melody.

With perfect pitch, that would be a breeze.

I hadn’t tried transcribing since gaining the demon’s power, so I was curious how much faster I’d be.

“It’s been so long since I transcribed someone else’s work….”

Curiosity won out, and I sat down at my computer.

The song I chose was Word by the boy group Premier League.

I played the track on my phone and began writing out the instruments and vocals in my session.

To me, it felt like I was going slowly.

But in reality, the work was done in an instant.

If before it had felt like transcribing English dictation, now it was like taking Korean dictation from a news anchor.

Not hard at all.

“Whoa, fast, fast!”

[Now arrange it.]

As the demon said, I moved on to the arrangement.

I wanted to make it as cool as possible.

To squeeze out the very best quality I could.

The blueprint was already in my head. I started browsing VSTi for the first instrument.

Then, the demon interrupted again, reading my thoughts.

[Hmm….]

“What now?”

Before I’d even begun assigning instruments, he had already read through my arrangement plan.

[You really are something else.]

I couldn’t see him, but I could almost picture him stroking his chin.

The work was done in no time, and together we listened to the finished track.

“So? How is it?”

[Eh… not bad.]

“That’s it?”

[Honestly, it’s not quite my taste. But it’s way better than I expected. For an amateur, it’s impressive. Very good.]

“Was that an insult or a compliment?”

[An insuliment.]

“Wow… not funny at all.”

So, superpowers didn’t come packaged with a sense of humor.

[Hey, but remember this. A song’s quality is important, but it’s not everything on stage.]

“You’re right… but it’s my first time performing, I don’t even know what to do….”

[Then let’s do this.]

“How?”

[Cut out some of the piano.]

“Why?”

[Just do it.]

And so, the demon added his input to my arrangement.

Strangely enough, the more we worked, the more confident I felt.

“This year too, so many applicants.”

“Yeah. The auditions alone could take all day.”

The Student Council of the College of Humanities carefully reviewed the applications for the launch ceremony.

Among them was Lee Jongin, Groovy Nation member and Kim Jongpil’s friend.

“…Huh, what’s this?”

• Department of Korean Literature, Class of 2013, Yoo Jaehee

Jongin froze at the unexpected name.

“What the hell is this guy’s deal…?”

“What is it? Who?”

Other than Jongin, the oldest in the council, no one there knew Yoo Jaehee.

“…No, never mind.”

Rage and curiosity surged within him.

From Kim Jongpil’s account, Yoo Jaehee was just some loser trying to hide his pathetic self behind music.

No authenticity, no skill—just an empty act.

And Jongin had personally seen him humiliated at school before.

Why would someone like that show up again…?

The fact that someone who disrespected art was entering the event filled him with anger.

And the fact that he couldn’t understand Jaehee’s actions only stoked his curiosity.

“Can I join this audition panel too?”

“Uh, sure… but didn’t you say you weren’t free that day?”

“I’ll cancel. I’m in.”

“Alright, I’ll let the judges know.”

Jongin was certain Yoo Jaehee would crash and burn. He intended to deliver a harsh reality check.

Because to a poser with an “art disease,” nothing cures better than the words of a true musician.