"Hey, student! What are you doing right now!"
Someone shouted, grabbing and shaking his shoulder.
He shook his head, trying to adjust to the light.
Wasn't he dead? He touched his confused head.
"Student! Wake up!"
Someone tapped his shoulder.
He was startled and stepped back.
The one who grabbed, shook, and tapped him wasn't a doctor or a manager. A stranger, an Asian man, was looking at him with an angry face.
Who is this person?
And where is this place?
"!"
The space he was in came into view at a glance.
He blinked in disbelief.
Stylish, clean, and spacious.
Untainted transparent glass and
curved soundproof walls.
Round lights and a clean wooden floor.
A condenser microphone, a music stand, and a control room beyond the glass window—this was clearly a recording studio.
"A recording studio?"
"Yes, you know it well. This is a recording studio, not a sleeping room!"
Heilo looked around in admiration.
There was no place this clean among the places he knew.
Even with differences, there were always cigarette butts and liquor bottles scattered around, and stacks of record covers on the shelves looked like they were about to collapse.
"What are you going to do if you just warm up your voice for two hours in the recording studio, student?"
But who is this person yelling at me since a while ago? Heilo frowned.
"Who are you to order me around-"
"The reservation time is almost up, are you going back like this? Then why did you make a reservation?"
"What on earth are you talking about…"
Why does my voice sound like this!
He grabbed his neck, annoyed by the man who kept demanding something from him.
This wasn't his voice.
His voice wasn't this thin or high-pitched.
Come to think of it, he fumbled and touched his clothes.
Clean hands without wrinkles and a suit without wrinkles. No, this wasn't a suit, but a uniform that kids from a private school in London would wear.
"What is this? A mirror. Where's the mirror?"
And the language coming out of his mouth is strange.
How can he use a language he's never heard before so fluently?
"It's over there, but why are you suddenly talking informally?
The man with dark circles under his eyes contorted his face and pointed to one side.
He didn't care and ran to the mirror.
'What is this?'
He grabbed his face tightly.
This wasn't his face.
Something was going wrong.
It wasn't just a slight change.
It was a face that could never come from him.
He clearly remembered having a car accident.
The impact was great, so if he didn't die, he would have been seriously injured, and his face might have been scarred.
There must have been a reason to put a knife to his face.
But no surgery can change race and age.
Unless he suddenly gets into a time machine and goes to the future where brain transplants are possible.
And yet.
He had become a kid who looked great in a school uniform, and his race had also changed. He had become a completely different person.
Who is this kid?
Why is he this kid?
Where is this place, and what is going on?
Then, the man who was staring at him said annoyedly.
"Aren't you going to record?"
"Record?"
Even in this bewildering situation, his ears chased after the familiar word. The man's fingertip was pointing towards the guitar and notes that had fallen on the floor.
Heilo slowly picked it up.
Exotic letters were written on the surface.
"Is everything ready?"
"Th-"
It felt like he would be kicked out immediately if he said no.
He needed time to figure out the situation.
He hesitated and opened his mouth.
"I need time."
"What?"
What excuse should he make? He opened his mouth, looking at the man who had his arms crossed.
"…My, my voice isn't warmed up enough."
"Warmed up?"
"It is."
The man's eyebrows twitched at the clumsy honorifics.
"You've been warming up for two hours, how much more do you need to warm up? Besides, do you know that the reserved time is running out?"
"How much time is left?"
"Less than an hour."
"An hour, huh."
He warmed up his voice.
Slowly raising the scales to check his condition.
The voice is very lacking and weak to be called a singer.
What was he trying to record with this body, though?
"It's enough."
Heilo is here now.
"Really?"
He still didn't seem convinced, but the man slowly walked out of the recording studio. As if to say, do it yourself.
Maybe he'll kick him out soon when the time is up.
He quickly realized that the man was a producer.
If someone is watching him from outside the recording studio, it can only be a manager or a producer.
Ah-
He hummed briefly, watching his surroundings.
The producer was staring at him fiercely, so he couldn't do anything else.
Surprisingly, his voice condition is clean.
Unlike his voice, which had been trained for a long time, it was weak and fragile, but there was nothing wrong with it, as if it were a child's voice. A voice that had never been exposed to alcohol or cigarettes.
Besides, the vocal range is free for a boy, so if he works on it well, it will be a good voice.
Suddenly, he felt a surge of interest.
He knew it wasn't his body, but it felt like he was starting his life over.
Since he had already walked the path once, he could make it more efficient and better.
He could fill the blank canvas with his favorite colors.
His greed was boiling. It was like an instinct.
He had almost warmed up his voice.
Now it's time to think.
But his eyes are on what this kid was trying to do.
What kind of music did this body want?
Heilo unconsciously picked up the tightly held notebook.
The answer will be here.
#
'I knew I had a bad feeling.'
Kang Young-min clicked his tongue.
The HY Studio he runs is mainly used by entrance exam students.
However, when it is not the entrance exam season, various customers from the general public visit.
As interest in personal broadcasting has increased these days, beginners who are just starting out on YouTube often make reservations for recording.
Kang Young-min thought that the student who made a reservation today was for a similar reason.
"It's going to be a tiring day today."
From experience, the work will not end easily.
Usually, the reasons are divided into two types depending on the type of person who made the reservation.
The first is when they are overly motivated.
In this case, they don't move on until they are satisfied. There are cases where it is difficult to record because they have practiced too much and their voice is hoarse, and there are also reasons why they are not satisfied with their own skills. The recording studio becomes a practice room.
And the other type is,
Kang Young-min glanced at the student who came into the recording studio.
A uniform he had never seen in the neighborhood. Neat attire and a neat face.
However, he was crouching like someone who had lost his spirit, and he kept looking around.
"Did you make a reservation?"
"Yes."
"Name and phone number."
"No…"
His voice gets smaller and smaller.
It's amazing that he heard it all the way to the end.
The type that Kang Young-min finds the most difficult is the type that has never recorded before, so they are overly nervous and lack confidence. It's better to be overly motivated. Because he can give instructions and persuade them.
However, in this state of tension, they may not record even one verse.
If he gives any instructions, they become more intimidated and can't make a sound, and some people even cry – he once comforted someone for an hour because they suddenly cried –
He needs to complete the song to correct it even with 99% of the machine. He feels like he's going crazy when the reservation time is over but they haven't sung even half of the song.
After confirming the reservation, Kang Young-min guided the student to the recording studio. At the same time, he earnestly wished to all the gods in the world.
Please don't let his expectations be correct.
And surprisingly.
'God is dead.'
His expectations were correct.
He endured and endured, but the student was severe in the second type he saw. He only warmed up his voice for two hours, let alone singing.
He glanced at the notes with a lack of confidence, and while looking at his face, he asked, 'Shall we start now?' and shook his head and asked for more time.
It was exactly two hours later that he lost all his patience.
He opened the door and went in because he thought it was strange that the student was suddenly looking at the air. He wondered if he had a panic disorder or claustrophobia.
But suddenly, he started talking informally.
His attitude changed like a multiple personality.
"It's my fate. What worries."
Kang Young-min sat roughly on the chair.
The chair slid back with a whoosh.
"I don't know what he's going to warm up more after warming up for two hours. He's out as soon as the reservation is over."
He vowed to kick him out right on the hour.
Ah ah-
Ah ah ah ah-
It was then.
Kang Young-min poked his head into the recording studio at the sound coming from the recording studio.
It's not that he could hear it better. The sound coming through the headphones drew him in.
"Did I hear it wrong?"
It sounded very sweet.
Eum eum eum-
"!"
He woke up completely at the melody he heard again.
He didn't hear it wrong.
Something had changed.
If he had been stiff until just now, his shoulders were straightened, and his head was facing forward.
He looked comfortable in the recording studio, and his eyes seemed to have come alive from a lifeless state.
But what he caught before that was the sound.
It had changed so much that he couldn't feel like it was the same person.
Something was happening.
Kang Young-min listened carefully as he was just warming up his voice.
The sound became clearer and the reverberation increased.
The breathing itself has changed.
He seemed like a professionally trained entrance exam student,
Or he seemed like a trainee from an agency.
The natural gaze and sweet melody made the boy look special.
'Maybe it feels that way because the expectations were so low.'
He didn't know about anything else, but one thing was certain.
'The tone is good.'
It's a tone that needs to sing.
Kang Young-min wanted to hear his song for the first time.
#
"Hmm."
Heilo groaned.
He turned the notes without paying attention to the producer who was staring at him intently.
He is already used to the gaze. No matter how much they stare, his body will not be penetrated.
What's more important is the owner of this body's notebook.
This notebook, full of lyrics, compositions, and worries about his career path, was enough to stimulate his interest.
"You also arranged and composed? That's commendable."
Heilo occasionally smiled and turned the sheet music.
He didn't know how old he was, but he was impressed that he put so much effort into composing.
Whether it's a good result or not, it looked good just with passion.
It feels like he's remembering old memories.
But now is not the time to fall into sentimentality.
He glanced at the producer in the control room.
He has to finish recording within an hour.
Of course, this was what this kid, not him, was going to do. As long as he doesn't know what's going on, he felt a minimum of responsibility.
It's not difficult to record, and he wants to help him because he's so passionate.
Heilo looked around and picked up a rolling ballpoint pen.
Fortunately, the solid-colored ballpoint pen had black ink.
"Hey. How much time is left?"
The producer was startled by his question and looked around.
"Forty-five minutes. Are you going to start now?"
"Give me ten minutes. I have something to fix."
"Can you finish recording in thirty minutes?"
His tone seems to have softened a bit because he sees signs of it ending.
"If it's that much, well."
He snorted and scribbled with the pen.
Thirty minutes? Unless the length of the song is thirty minutes, he won't fill thirty minutes.
Looking at the sheet music, it seems like a 2-minute song, and even if he fills it a little more, it will be a little over three minutes.
"Am I the last one?"
"Are you talking about the reservation? No, why?"
Even the foreign language flowing out of his mouth is now familiar.
It's not that strange to put honorifics in his mouth that he didn't even use when speaking Spanish.
"That's a shame. I could have left work early."
"…What? Hehehe."
He doesn't know if he's laughing or what.
Well, he's used to being ignored.
It's all similar to what he received around this age.
– What makes you think you can do music?
– Does anyone become a singer?
– It's crude and old-fashioned. You don't have the basics and you're clumsy. No one will accept this kind of album.
The writing goes awry.
The boy's neat handwriting is covered under the black ink.
He tried his best not to erase the boy's traces.
"I didn't touch it much. It's yours."
Heilo muttered briefly.
He can't touch it as he pleases because he doesn't know when the owner of this body will return.
"It's still old-fashioned, though."
He slammed the notebook shut.
He had already memorized everything when he first saw it.
"I like old-fashioned things too."
For the boy who may or may not return, he decided to pave the way in advance.
He's sorry for taking away the monumental moment of his first recording. But whatever.
He's not someone anyone can meet.
His initials are engraved at the end of the notebook.
Know it as an honor, kid.
"Let's start."