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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Strengths and Weaknesses
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I followed Huh Ji-woong out, passing through the hallway and leaving the main building.
I knew exactly where he was headed, so I trailed behind him without a word of protest.
We arrived at a practice room tucked away in the farthest corner of the annex, a dim space that barely got any sunlight.
Ji-woong flung the door open without hesitation.
The rusty hinges let out a grating screech as the shadowy interior came into view.
He flipped the switch, and the fluorescent lights flickered a few times before buzzing to life.
My eyes landed on a beat-up upright piano and a couple of music stands.
It was emptier and more worn-down than the private practice room I'd used with Lee Cheong-ha.
Even so, it was a sight I'd missed so dearly.
"Come on in. This'll be our practice room from now on."
For all his rough edges, Ji-woong was an official teacher at Cheongyeom Arts High.
The school assigned each teacher their own private practice room for one-on-one coaching.
And the one allotted to Ji-woong was this forgotten spot in the corner, out of sight and mind.
It was about as good as it got for a teacher labeled a troublemaker.
But none of that registered with me—the faded walls, the questionable ventilation. None of it mattered.
Ji-woong had called it *our* practice room.
*Our*.
It made me feel accepted, my heart pounding like I was really back in high school.
Ji-woong brushed the dust off a folding chair piled in the corner and dragged it to the center of the room.
"Sit."
I sat facing him in the cramped space, waiting for him to speak.
"The importance of strengths and weaknesses. You said it yourself, right?"
"Yes."
"Your strength is your tone, first off. Though I pointed that out to you."
I had no idea why he was building up this tension for whatever he wanted to say.
Ji-woong scratched his nose and continued.
"So, what's your weakness? If you already get the importance of strengths and weaknesses, you must've checked your own flaws too."
It was a straight pitch, just like a teacher would throw.
Should I play dumb and ask him to tell me, or admit what I knew?
If I said I had no clue here, I could already hear what he'd say.
Eyes bulging, he'd snap that knowing the importance but only checking strengths made it half-baked knowledge.
Fine, time to score some points with Ji-woong.
I'd regressed this far—I might as well rack them up while I could.
"My vocal cords are weak."
I laid out the weakness I'd felt in my bones before regressing.
Maybe it was because I was in front of Ji-woong, but the words flowed out smoother than expected.
Images of the despair I'd faced because of those weak vocal cords flashed by like a panorama.
But this time, I'd fix it with Huh Ji-woong.
So I'd never face that despair again in this life.
"Plus, my vocal technique doesn't suit me. It's not one that highlights my tone—it's all about volume. If I keep this up, I could end up with vocal cord nodules."
I spat it out matter-of-factly.
Then I caught Ji-woong's expression and clamped my mouth shut.
He looked pretty thrown, brows furrowed.
Staring at him, I wondered if I'd come off too self-deprecating.
Was a seventeen-year-old rattling off their flaws too smoothly?
But his first words totally threw me off.
"Vocal cord nodules? Is your throat hurting anywhere?"
More than anything else, he zeroed in on the nodules, pulling his head back.
His worried tone suggested he thought this freshman was already showing symptoms just from dropping the term.
Ji-woong even stood up and reached out with serious eyes to feel my throat.
"Ew, no. It doesn't hurt. It's fine."
To prove I was healthy, I tilted my head back, stretched my neck out, and showed him.
Only after I demonstrated my vocalization to show it was okay did I finally shake off his concern.
"Really?"
"If you want, I can go to the hospital and get a diagnosis for you."
"Yeah. Good idea. Bring it by next session."
...Great. Now I had a pesky homework assignment.
He probably wouldn't let me do any strenuous practice until I showed up with the real thing.
The thought made me chuckle—he hadn't changed a bit.
"What're you laughing at?"
"Just... I like that you're worried about me, Teacher."
To think there was someone who reacted so sensitively to the words "vocal cord nodules."
I had to admit it—I'd probably missed this Huh Ji-woong for a long time.
"What're you on about, you creepy kid."
Ji-woong grumbled extra, probably embarrassed by my reaction again.
"Anyway. If you know your weaknesses that well yourself, why're you using that vocal technique?"
No good comeback for that.
I couldn't very well say I'd stubbornly believed it was the right path all the way to thirty-three.
"It's an old habit."
It wasn't a lie—a habit from sixteen years in the past.
The one I'd desperately tried to fix after my first vocal cord nodule diagnosis, only to lose my voice completely in the end.
A technique that helped others was pure poison for me.
"An old habit?"
On the other hand, Ji-woong's face scrunched up, like a seventeen-year-old having an "old" habit was baffling.
Had I slipped up again? I racked my brain.
What excuse could I make that sounded plausible?
"It started when I was little, mimicking someone I saw on TV by chance. Probably picked up the bad habit without realizing."
"TV, huh. That's the problem with all that reckless info out there."
Ji-woong rubbed his chin, sensing something off but not quite suspicious enough to press.
"Old habits die hard, as they say. Breaking them ain't easy, especially from childhood."
Not three years old, but thirty-three.
Ji-woong pondered for a moment, then said gravely.
"Changing habits is tough. It can turn into harder training than you think."
I'd chosen him for exactly that training, so it was music to my ears.
"I'm not looking for an easy ride in musicals. There's no royal road to anything, right?"
Ji-woong nodded at my eager words, like he agreed.
"Good. Let's do it."
*Yes, he's hooked.*
Or so I thought.
"But do kids these days even say 'royal road'?"
Old habits were scary.
I was already working on it, but I needed to ditch more of that old-man vibe.
"Royal road...? Not really, I guess~?"
"You know your strengths, your weaknesses. Let's jump into practice then."
I'd even tacked on that lame "~" at the end, but Ji-woong breezed right past it.
*My mentor hates cheesy stuff and cutesy talk, huh.*
Lately, it felt like getting brushed off was my daily routine post-regression, but nah, just my imagination.
"First, let's nail this down. Do-hyun, your vocal cords are on the weak side, right?"
I vaguely remembered some prep work before checking vocal condition pre-regression, but details were fuzzy.
Maybe because I knew my strengths and weaknesses too well, Ji-woong went straight for the question.
"Yeah. Hurts right away if I push it. And it lingers into the next morning plenty of times."
Seeing him nod at my answer made me proud.
Felt like he was starting to trust me already?
"Sing a number. One with high notes. I'll cut you off, so do it your usual way."
At his request, I stood from the chair and got into position.
No tricks like in the audition—just sing like my old self, as he said.
That way, my weaknesses and bad habits would show, and he'd prescribe the fix.
I quickly picked a song where vocal technique and volume were key.
One I'd practiced a ton, mesmerized by pros singing it.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
"Here goes."
*Tap, tap, tap, tap.*
Ji-woong tapped the chair leg with a stick to set the beat.
I drew a deep breath in time and let out the first line.
"Do I have no reason to be born, spirit—"
The song I'd chosen: "I'm a Monster" from the musical *Frankenstein*.
"Why must they all call me a monster? My heart beats too."
It was the build-up where the man branded a monster by all swells with raw emotion—a climax of the show, taught to me as needing big volume to resonate with the audience.
The final highlight had the sustained high note bursting with sorrow, just as Ji-woong wanted.
"Can you bear this sorrow—!"
*My condition's good today.*
The high note stretched longer and cleaner than usual.
*Clap, clap—*
Applause cut through as the song ended.
"Wow. Bravo."
Anyone hearing Ji-woong's claps would think it was praise.
I'd been thrilled by them the first time pre-regression, thinking the same.
But now I knew what they really meant.
"I thought some Pavarotti reincarnate dropped in."
I knew exactly what his deadpan mutter implied too.
"Quit teasing and just tell me, Teacher."
I shrugged and asked.
Singing to show flaws and getting praise meant nothing.
Back then, I'd have dreaded the venom from his mouth, but not anymore.
"Heh, seriously."
Ji-woong let out a chuckle, baffled by his shameless student's reaction.
No one had ever responded like this before.
The dummies got cocky on the fake praise; the ones who caught on got scared or defensive.
*He's definitely different.*
Lee Do-hyun.
From day one, I'd sensed he wasn't like the other kids.
"A guy who knows his vocal cords are weak, and you belt like *that*?"
Ji-woong *thwacked* my cocky head with the stick he held.
"Not showing off your volume like some desperate show-off. Can't even find your own resonance, yet you torture those poor vocal cords for nothing."
*You told me to sing a number with high notes.*
Sure, I was the idiot who'd drilled the bad habit, but it felt unfairly pinned on me.
And it hurt more than I remembered—I rubbed my head.
By my third year at Cheongyeom Arts High, I'd gotten good at dodging; time to relearn that.
"I can hear it clear as day. You're forcing the technique up too high, and your vocal cords can't take it—they tremble hard."
That overblown operatic style was probably even rougher on this young body.
A normal person might miss the tremor entirely.
Ji-woong nailed it with "hard."
*My mentor's skills haven't dulled a bit.*
Pre-regression, as a freshman, he'd caught it in my audition high note attempt too.
He'd probably spotted the subtle flaws in my singing during this round's vocal test as well.
Or maybe I'd taken all the life's beatings, so of course he was still sharp.
"So that's it... This is spot-on for your level right now."
Lost in wistful memories, I watched as Ji-woong pulled something from his pocket.