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Chapter 3
1. Hit the Road, Jack (2)
This was my first time ever entering a university practical exam hall.
Instead of a place filled with bookworms burying themselves in study materials, it looked more like a small concert hall.
The audience section had around 150 seats. It was probably a facility built for the school’s regular performances.
The dark hall was lit only by spotlights shining on the stage, while the professors and waiting applicants sat in the audience seats.
I sat all the way in the back, far from the three professors. Since we had to sit according to our numbers, the girl standing in front of me entered her seat while trembling badly.
“This is my first time singing in front of so many people. Aren’t you nervous?”
Huh? So many people?
There were three professors, ten waiting applicants, and two people who looked like teaching assistants. Even combined, there were only fifteen people here.
Even though I couldn’t see back then, I had sung in front of sixty thousand people before. There was no way I’d get nervous singing in front of only fifteen.
Even after sitting down, the girl couldn’t calm herself. She took out her sheet music from her bag, bit her nails, and quietly hummed her song under her breath.
Hmm. I should have sheet music somewhere too.
After searching my memories, I recalled putting it in the front pocket of the guitar case. I rummaged through it and found two sheets of A4 paper.
‘Singer: Kim Gwanghee. Song title: Unhappy Afternoon.’
Since the singer’s name was written there, it must be someone else’s song.
Do university practical exams normally use other people’s songs? It’s not like I’d ever taken one before.
“Hey, what song are you singing?”
I asked the girl, whose body was trembling from nerves. She answered while shaking slightly.
“Lee Jiho’s Good Day. What about you?”
I held up my sheet music.
“Kim Gwanghee’s Unhappy Afternoon.”
The girl blinked.
“That song’s difficult.”
Huh? Why is it difficult?
I glanced over the sheet music.
Ah right. I can’t read sheet music.
I understand braille music sheets, but this was my first time seeing regular notation with notes written on it. How do people even read this?
Strangely enough, I could read the Korean lyrics just fine. Maybe it was because I absorbed Minjun’s memories.
Thankfully, the melody from Minjun’s memory surfaced in my mind.
‘It’s not difficult at all.’
The high notes don’t go very high, and it doesn’t require any special techniques either.
The girl pointed at the sheet music with her eyes.
“That song is basically the number one song applicants avoid.”
“Why?”
“You seriously don’t know?”
“Nope.”
“That’s why you need to attend an academy. Teachers explain things like this.”
“I’m poor. I don’t have money for academies.”
“……”
My shamelessly honest answer left the girl speechless. She fumbled awkwardly, unsure what to say.
“Ah, well, I mean…”
This kid is kind.
Even though we’re strangers, she’s worried about me just because we’re sitting next to each other.
“I’m fine, so explain it to me.”
The girl looked apologetic as she took my sheet music.
“We only get one minute and forty seconds. The professors probably make their judgment within the first twenty seconds. If it’s a positive impression, fine. But if it’s negative, then we only have one minute and twenty seconds to completely change their minds.”
“Hmm, true.”
“But this song barely builds up emotionally. It’s basically a song where you talk-sing from beginning to end. How are you supposed to show your charm or your skills with something like this?”
I understood.
Well, intellectually at least.
Because this was a university entrance exam, applicants tended to choose unbalanced songs designed to show off their skills.
It seemed similar to survival audition programs in America, where contestants often picked songs packed with flashy techniques to impress judges in a short amount of time.
“Thanks.”
“You can still change your song before your turn. Don’t you have another song prepared for the second round or something?”
I probably did, but I couldn’t remember right now.
“Hmm… no.”
“I see scribbles all over your sheet music. Looks like you arranged it yourself.”
At her words, I looked again and noticed pencil markings everywhere. Notes had been erased and added here and there.
I still couldn’t actually read the music, but because I remembered the melody from Minjun’s memories, I could roughly tell what had been changed.
‘But this isn’t a very good approach.’
The song started in E minor and progressed through B7 – D7 – G – Am – D7 – Em – F#7 – B7.
Because of the minor chord progression, the overall mood was lonely and sad.
But instead of improving the song, this arrangement seemed more focused on simplifying the guitar chords to make singing easier.
Especially since the F#7 and B7 chords had been altered.
‘If he wasn’t confident, he should’ve just sung without accompaniment.’
The girl seemed to think similarly.
“Ever since famous singers on survival shows started performing with guitars, everyone suddenly wants to play guitar too. But honestly, it’s not a good strategy. My academy teacher said that applicants who come to Hongin University’s vocal department trying to look cool with guitars never get accepted.”
I looked at her empty hands.
“So you’re just singing?”
“Yeah. I submitted an MR track beforehand.”
While we talked, the exam continued.
One applicant, shaking badly from nerves, forgot the lyrics before even reaching the full one minute and forty seconds. He lowered his head in embarrassment.
The professors calmly raised a hand to stop the MR track and said professionally,
“Thank you for your effort. Next applicant.”
The girl, already nervous enough, buried her face into her sheet music after witnessing that mistake and started quietly rehearsing again.
She was probably thinking she absolutely couldn’t make the same mistake.
Though I wasn’t sure that kind of panic would help.
Still, I became slightly uneasy myself and began silently memorizing the melody and lyrics.
Even though I had never sung this song before, Minjun must have practiced it endlessly because the lyrics flowed out naturally.
‘The lyrics are good.’
Was this song by a famous singer?
Why wasn’t someone who made songs like this known in America?
Ah. Maybe this singer debuted after I died.
‘I want to rearrange it a little.’
The problem was that I didn’t have an instrument.
It would’ve been nice if there were a piano.
I lifted my eyes from the sheet music and looked toward the stage.
‘Oh!’
There was a piano at one side of the stage.
Two applicants had just gone up. At first I thought they were taking the test together, but one of them walked to the piano.
It must have been an accompanist who came along with the singer.
If there’s a piano, then this is possible.
As I calculated an arrangement in my head, a teaching assistant approached quietly.
“Applicants 51 through 55, please move backstage.”
Once the students in front of the girl with number 56 cleared out, she started shaking even harder. Her chair trembled from her legs shaking so much that I finally spoke up.
“Nervousness doesn’t help singing at all.”
“……”
The girl’s face had turned pale. She looked like she’d burst into tears if someone touched her.
“You’re not nervous?”
Would I be?
How could a singer who gets nervous in front of fifteen people ever stand at Carnegie Hall?
I patted her shoulder.
“You know, life is a lot like jazz.”
The girl looked confused by the sudden comment.
I raised my thumb and continued.
“The best part is improvising.”
She stared at me like she had no idea what I was talking about.
I smiled.
“Rules don’t create art. Art creates rules. Singing differently is easy. The hard part is becoming simple like Bach. Don’t overcomplicate things. Try singing in an amazingly simple way. That’s what creativity becomes.”
The girl stared at me in surprise.
“Be honest.”
“What?”
“How many years did you repeat school?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“You’re not actually the same age as me, are you?”
Hmm. How old was Minjun again?
Judging by the memory of him wearing a school uniform yesterday, he definitely was a student.
“I don’t think so?”
“What kind of answer is that? Either you are or you aren’t. How can someone my age stay this calm? Is that just your personality?”
I guess it is.
Unless I was singing a serious emotional song, I usually smiled brightly while performing.
Of course I did.
Singing was the happiest thing in the world for me.
“Just think about all the things in the world you love. Whatever they may be. Then you’ll naturally enjoy yourself.”
The girl frowned.
“But I’m singing a sad song.”
Ah. Mistake.
“Then think of something sad. Like memories of losing something. But don’t get too immersed in it. If you sink too deeply into your emotions, you’ll ruin the song instead.”
“You talk like you can actually do that. It’s not like you’re some famous singer. You’re just another applicant like me.”
“Is that so?”
“You’re seriously weird.”
I simply smiled.
There was no way I could explain what kind of person I used to be.
***
“Hmm. Maybe because she’s nervous, her pitch is unstable. Still, her tone is good.”
“There are plenty of students with good vocal tone. Our job is to determine whether they’ve studied properly and whether they’re students worth teaching.”
“She’s from SMMD Academy. The academy director even called me personally.”
“So? Did you accept some kind of favor?”
“Haha, of course not.”
The professors chatted during a short break while observing the applicants.
Three professors responsible for vocals, instruments, and composition sat side by side, discussing and recording scores.
Professor Kim Seojin from the vocal department had once been a famous singer himself.
He used to be the main vocalist of a four-member male group active in the 1990s and early 2000s. After retiring from singing, he became a professor.
Resting his chin on his hand with a bored expression, he shook his head while watching applicants leave the stage one after another.
‘Nothing but factory-produced academy students.’
‘They sing with machine-like precision, so there’s no charm at all.’
Of course, applied music departments prioritized technically perfect singers rather than singers with unique charm.
But Kim Seojin doubted that system.
What was the point of bringing in already-completed vocalists to teach them?
A blank white canvas would be better instead.
‘Academy-trained kids don’t have bad habits, but they also don’t know how to add charm to their finished vocals.’
Teaching that was supposed to be his role.
But students selected through this system rarely became successful singers afterward.
These days, composition majors who became producers succeeded more often.
After all, South Korea’s music industry in 2025 was the era of producers.
Another applicant stepped onto the stage looking no different from the previous fifty.
Different face, same singing.
What exactly were academies teaching these students?
It felt like they were mass-producing copies.
Everyone sang with identical techniques and vocal styles, making it impossible to decide who to choose.
The instrumental professor laughed lightly.
“Professor Kim, you need to pick six students, but it looks like you haven’t passed even one yet. Why not loosen up a little? At this rate, nobody will even make it to the second round.”
“I’m taking notes. I’ll decide after seeing everyone.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll handle it. I only need to focus on the instrument applicants anyway.”
The professor shrugged and leaned back.
Seojin turned his eyes toward the stage again.
The female applicant wearing number 56 had begun singing.
‘Oh.’
She’s better than the others.
Unlike the students mechanically singing and leaving, she seemed to hold something emotional in her heart while singing.
As a result, her overall emotion was much richer.
Her technique was excellent too, showing proper training.
The other professors seemed to notice as well, watching her with interest.
After the short one-minute-and-forty-second test ended, Kim Seojin wrote “PASS” beside her name, indicating she passed the first round.
‘At least there’s one.’
One decent applicant out of fifty-six.
There were over a thousand applicants total, so hopefully six students like her would appear eventually.
Then the composition professor suddenly exclaimed,
“Wow, that guy is ridiculously handsome. Didn’t he choose the wrong department? He looks like he should be an actor instead.”
Seojin’s eyes turned toward the male student stepping onto the stage with number 57 pinned to his chest.
