A week passed after I first signed the contract with that GNet employee and I kept my promise on Grandpa Jung's end.
For some reason, there were actually a lot of customers coming in and out of the restaurant, some recognizing me.
I realized I'd become a small internet presence as some people had posted pictures of me online.
I have now earned the nickname Rice Cake Oppa.
Don't worry about it. This is still an idol-themed novel.
Through the three hours of break that Grandpa Jung's restaurant had, which is from 3–6 p.m., I bought a membership on a nearby gym and looked up online courses for singing and dancing.
All I ate this week was the free rice cakes from Grandpa Jung. I had to save up money, after all.
After the week passed, I earned a sum of ₩320.000, not counting the generous tips some people gave me.
Since I also promised to work at the rice cake restaurant every weekend, I think it's safe to say I can hold on to two meals a day while saving for clothes money.
I can't go on the survival show in just T-shirts, I should at least have two good-looking tops.
But that matter can be settled later on.
Right now, I need to concern myself with practice.
I may be there to embarrass myself, but I can't be kicked out of the show from early on, no?
Hence why I have planned a tight schedule of timeless practicing.
I call this mission: Force it until you make it!
And today, on this sunny morning, is Karaoke Monday.
I started with a light jog for about half an hour before getting breakfast. After that, I went to a karaoke bar that was a 15-minute walk away from my apartment.
The place was plenty cheap, going at ₩3.500 an hour.
I guess I don't mind paying that much for a machine to judge my singing.
For that hour, I sang a selection of K-pop music that seems to be trending nowadays.
In the end, my average score is 67.
"That's...above average."
Once an hour passed, I left the karaoke place and went back to my apartment to continue singing.
This place might be cheap, but the walls are actually soundproof. As long as no one is screaming.
Which, no, I did not do.
I sang, recorded and listened to my own singing, and watched ThyTube tutorials.
Take that and repeat for about ten hours with occasional 20-minute breaks in between.
By the end of the day, I was tired.
But the grind doesn't stop.
On Tuesday and Wednesday, I practiced popular K-pop dances.
Thursday, I practiced singing without the karaoke and binged some survival shows for research.
Friday, I realized I hadn't included gym in my schedule and change things up for Monday and Thursday. But on Friday, it was leg day.
And obviously, on the weekends, I worked in Grandpa Jung's restaurant.
Now, imagine the laziest person ever suddenly forced to do all this consistently for a whole month.
Did I want to throw up at first? Absolutely!
Never in my life have I worked out so much in a week, but the grind never stops.
For the first month, I somehow kept up with this routine and noticed some changes in my overall build.
I realized running for fifteen minutes at once had stopped being exhausting.
A month passed like a breeze, meaning I had only repeated the cycle four times at most, but already improved so much.
It seems I was a natural singer, seeing how my scores went up to an average of 80 even among high-note songs.
I started liking this routine and thought it was time to learn other song genres.
Though for dancing... more practice was definitely needed.
Today is Thursday again, which means it's time to sing.
I was thinking of what songs to try today while jogging, and my voice naturally came out.
~ Tonight the star is me
Dazzling, go shining through
Pick me up, I don't feel like myself~
...
I only noticed when a passerby stopped me to say that I sounded great.
It was so embarrassing that I had to reroute home as quick as possible.
But hey, at least I know I sound good.
"After all, people are more reliable than karaoke machines..."
Wait.
I have found a way to reduce the money spent!
.
Today is Monday again, which means I'll be going to karaoke.
..but not!
I put on a plain black tee and my usual sweatpants, then covered my long black hair with a cap borrowed from the rice cake shop's owner.
I couldn't commit to my plan while wearing a mask, so I settled with some goofy sunglasses instead.
On the crowded street far from my residence, I stood on one side with an empty bow in front.
"It's money time, baby."