Chapter 44: Overcoming (1)

Silence.

The reception room of Xelnaga Entertainment, adorned with pristine white walls and luxurious furniture.

Perhaps due to the perfect soundproofing, not a whisper of outside noise could be heard.

Only the faint hum of the air conditioning and shallow, trembling breaths born of tension filled the space.

I was sunk deep into the sofa, arms crossed.

Yoon Sol, sitting across from me, was still perched precariously on the edge of her chair.

As if ready to flee at any moment.

Jungyeon had declared, ‘Sol is still tense, so why don’t you two have a proper conversation!’ pushed me into this room, and then, pretending to have an urgent call, darted away.

Thanks to her, this suffocating private meeting had come to be.

Her gaze was still fixed somewhere on the floor.

Her hands were clasped tightly together on her lap, and her ankles, visible beneath the hem of her white dress, tapped nervously.

The tension pressed down heavily on the air in the room.

I had to break this awkward silence.

If I didn’t speak first, it felt like this girl would keep her lips sealed forever.

“…Hey.”

As gently as possible, I adjusted my tone, recalling the memory of Jungyeon thoroughly scolding me last time.

At my voice, Yoon Sol’s shoulders flinched, and she trembled noticeably.

I still make her uncomfortable.

Well, considering how our first meeting went, it was probably natural.

“Am I still making you a bit uncomfortable?”

Beating around the bush really wasn’t my style.

I just asked frankly.

At my question, Yoon Sol jumped in surprise and snapped her head up.

She looked like a child caught misbehaving.

Her large, clear eyes wavered with bewilderment.

“Huh? Ah, no! N-Not at all!”

She even waved her hands vehemently in denial.

Her desperation made it feel even more awkward.

“If not, why are you so frozen? Afraid I’ll eat you up or something?”

Sometimes, a joke is the best medicine for a tense person.

“Ah, no! Th-That’s not it…….”

Yoon Sol stammered, her face flushing in embarrassment.

Then, she hung her head low again and continued in a very small voice.

“Last time… um, when I first saw you… I was so surprised I couldn’t even greet you properly… I think I was very rude… I felt sorry about that.”

It was an unexpected answer.

I was the one who should be apologizing, yet she was the one feeling sorry.

“No, that’s something I should be sorry for.”

I shook my head.

“My way of expressing myself was a bit strange back then. I learned some weird things from the internet… Jungyeon scolded me a lot. I’ll formally apologize again. If I offended you, I’m truly sorry.”

I bowed my head slightly and apologized first.

Hoping my sincerity would be conveyed.

Yoon Sol looked up at me again.

Anxiety still lingered in her eyes, but unlike before, it seemed to be mixed with a bit of surprise and relief.

“No… I-I’m the one who should be sorry. Actually, after you showed me around the company last time… we ran into each other a few times… but I was so nervous I couldn’t even greet you properly and just avoided you…….”

This time, she apologized.

It seemed she had gained a bit of courage while spending time with Jungyeon and Ajung.

“So, about that.”

I continued cautiously.

It might be now or never.

“If it’s okay, could I ask why you were so surprised back then? Of course, if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.”

It could be a question that touched her deepest wound.

But I needed to know.

To properly understand her and solve the problem.

Yoon Sol’s expression momentarily stiffened.

As if past memories resurfaced, her pupils faintly trembled.

Veins protruded on her tightly clenched fists.

I swallowed dryly and waited for her answer.

Was it an unreasonable question?

What if she ran away again here?

But Yoon Sol didn’t run away.

After a long silence, she slowly opened her mouth, her voice trembling.

“I… a long time ago… I was an idol trainee.”

The first words, uttered with difficulty.

After that, as if a dam had burst, her past flowed out in a calm yet broken voice.

The long four years she had spent running solely towards her debut.

Blood and sweat, competition with her peers.

The final stage for debut member selection finally arrived.

But at the crucial moment, the memory of her body freezing, unable to overcome the extreme pressure and fear.

The despair of having to come down from the stage without singing a single note.

And after that, the label of ‘stage fright,’ ‘mentally weak kid,’ along with the notice of her dismissal.

The pity, ridicule, and even baseless malicious rumors directed at her during that process.

‘Yeah, she’s got talent, but with that mentality, where would anyone use her?’

‘I thought she had connections, but I guess not.’

‘Rumor has it she was offered a sponsorship deal, refused, and got blacklisted for it?’

Her voice trembled more and more faintly, and tears began to well up in her eyes again.

But she didn’t cry.

She gritted her teeth, seeming to hold on with her last shred of pride.

I listened to her story in silence.

It was a much deeper and crueler wound than I had imagined.

It wasn’t simple stage fright.

It was a complex trauma, a mixture of betrayal by her talent, distrust of people, and despair from being abandoned by the world.

So that was why.

My rough expression of interest, the words ‘secret friend,’ had been a trigger for her, reminding her of past nightmares.

“After that… I became afraid of standing in front of people. Being noticed, receiving expectations… all of it. Afraid I’d disappoint them again. Afraid I’d be abandoned again.”

Yoon Sol finally looked up at me.

Her tear-soaked eyes were devastatingly honest.

“A VTuber… because I could hide my face. I thought maybe… with just my voice… with just my singing, I could start over. But then… when you suddenly appeared like that, Boss… I was so scared. That it would… that it would be like before again.”

After her story ended, a heavy silence descended again.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Clumsy comfort or pity might only hurt her more.

“That must have been tough.”

What I chose was honest and simple empathy.

“I didn’t know you had such a past. I acted too thoughtlessly. I’m sorry.”

I apologized sincerely once more.

It wasn’t a strategic apology merely to keep her in my fold.

A genuine sympathy arose for the talent I had seen beyond the screen, and for the deep wound that was eating away at that talent.

At my apology, Yoon Sol’s eyes widened slightly.

It seemed she hadn’t expected me to react this way.

“But.”

I continued.

This time, I looked her straight in the eye and spoke with a bit more force.

“It’s different here. Xelnaga Entertainment is not the kind of place you experienced.”

My voice held unwavering conviction.

“Trashy rumors? Malicious comments? Mr. Yoon will take care of that. I won’t let anyone who dares to touch you get away with it. This is my world that I created, and you are now under my protection.”

I didn’t hide the power I possessed.

Money and authority.

That would be her most reliable shield.

“And the stage. Live performances. If you don’t want to do them, you don’t have to. No, until you are completely okay, Yoon Sol-ssi, I won’t ask you to do them first. I have absolutely no intention of forcing you onto a stage.”

I pinpointed her greatest fear.

“What we want is your voice, your music itself. In this studio, in the best environment, you can make and sing the songs you want to create to your heart’s content. The recorded results alone are more than enough to prove your worth.”

My words weren’t empty.

Her voice had the power to shake the world even without a stage.

I was merely providing the best soil and fertilizer for that voice to fully bloom.

“We can wait. Until you feel okay yourself. Until you feel like you want to stand on stage again. When that time comes, I will create a stage more glamorous and perfect than anyone else’s. I promise you that.”

Was my sincerity conveyed?

Tears that Yoon Sol had finally been holding back streamed down her face.

But this time, they weren’t tears of despair or fear.

They were tears of relief and emotion, flowing as the tightly shut locks on her heart finally came undone.

She didn’t cry out loud.

She just shed tears endlessly, and with a wet voice, barely managed to answer.

“Thank you… really… thank you, Boss.”

Her trembling voice was filled with deep sincerity.

The fact that there was someone who understood her, waited for her, and believed in her.

I could feel how much comfort that brought her.

I silently handed her the tissues from the table.

Quiet patience was more needed now than clumsy comfort.

After crying for a long time, Yoon Sol finally seemed to calm down a bit, sniffling and wiping her nose.

Then, with her eyes still red, she looked at me and smiled faintly, but clearly.

That image was more beautiful than any I had ever seen of her.

More poignant because she was wounded, more dazzling because she was precarious.

My third star was thus, very carefully, beginning to shine.

There was no need to rush anymore.

Until she found her own light and brightly illuminated the night sky, I would just silently watch over and support her.

For my, and her, brilliant future.