Chapter 47: Overcoming (4)

For some reason, my steps felt lighter than usual on my way to the company today.

After giving those community folks a piece of my mind a few days ago, the frustration that had been building up seemed to have eased a bit.

Of course, the possibility of Jungyeon nagging me still remained, but well, that was something to think about when it happened.

‘I wonder if she’s coming along okay.’

Xelnaga Entertainment’s top floor, the private lounge only I used.

I was waiting for someone here.

Yoon Sol.

The third star of the Starlight Project.

The incident in the recording studio a few days ago had left a bigger impact than I thought.

Her vulnerability, which I had only seen through the screen.

The sight of her collapsing helplessly under the pressure of reality was quite shocking.

The pity I felt at that time had, over time, transformed into something akin to a strange sense of responsibility.

‘Did I push her too hard because of my own greed?’

Even without Jungyeon’s nagging, this time I couldn’t help but admit my own mistake.

I had believed that talent would naturally bloom if given the perfect environment, but a person’s heart wasn’t such a simple mechanical device.

—Ding-dong.

Yoon Sol, her expression completely stiff, appeared on the intercom screen.

Jungyeon was nowhere to be seen.

As promised, she was alone.

I instructed her to take a deep breath and come in.

The door opened quietly, and Yoon Sol entered.

Today too, she was in a pristine white dress, just a different design.

The clean color seemed to accentuate her pale face and anxiously wavering eyes even more.

She stood at the door with her head hung low, unable to step further inside.

“Welcome, Sol-ssi.”

I greeted her in the gentlest voice possible, without rising from my seat.

Perhaps because I had already had a heart-to-heart conversation with her once before.

Though it was less than the first time, I could still feel her shoulders flinch at my voice.

“Ah, hello, Boss.”

A greeting that sounded like it was barely squeezed out.

Her gaze was still directed at the floor.

“Just sit comfortably. This is a space only I use, so you don’t need to worry about anyone else.”

I pointed to the sofa opposite me.

She hesitated for a moment, unable to take a step, then very cautiously, without making a sound, walked over and perched on the edge of the sofa.

Her hands were still tightly clutching the hem of her dress.

An awkward silence.

Only the faint scent of chamomile tea lingered in the air.

“Um.”

I spoke first.

“What happened in the recording studio a few days ago. Don’t worry too much about it.”

Yoon Sol’s head seemed to lift slightly, then drooped low again.

“I was too hasty. I pushed ahead without properly understanding your condition, Sol-ssi. If anything, I should be the one apologizing.”
I honestly admitted my fault.

Her trauma was much deeper than I had thought, and overlooking that was clearly my oversight.

At my unexpected apology, Yoon Sol looked up in surprise.

Her wide eyes turned towards me.

A very faint light of relief seemed to flicker within her bewilderment.

“No, Boss. I… I should have done better… I’m sorry for not meeting your expectations….”

She replied in a small, trembling voice.

She was still blaming herself.

“It’s not your fault, Sol-ssi. Let’s be clear about that. Everyone needs time, and I think Yoon Sol-ssi just needs a little more time than others. Our company, and I, can wait as long as it takes.”

I looked her in the eye and said firmly.

It wasn’t just to reassure her.

For her talent, I was willing to wait.

At my words, Yoon Sol’s eyes wavered again.

Along with anxiety, something like a very small hope seemed to be blooming.

“But if you keep feeling so sorry, it makes me a bit uncomfortable too, you know?”

I deliberately lightened my tone.

“It would be better if you got angry at me instead. For being a boss who pushed you inconsiderately.”

“…Huh? A-Angry?”

Yoon Sol blinked in bewilderment.

Her expression was so cute that a chuckle escaped me unknowingly.

“I’m kidding. I just mean you shouldn’t feel too burdened. This isn’t a place to criticize or evaluate you, Sol-ssi.”

I pointed to the small Bluetooth speaker on the table.

“Shall we talk about music for a bit? What kind of songs are you listening to these days?”

I judged it best to change the subject.

A topic she would feel most comfortable with.

“…Ah, just old songs. Quiet ballads… things like that.”

As music came up, Yoon Sol’s expression softened ever so slightly.

“Ballads? They’d suit your voice well, Sol-ssi. Do you have a favorite song?”

“…I don’t particularly like just one. Just… I think all music is good.”

Yoon Sol spoke hesitantly.

At Yoon Sol’s words, I picked up my smartphone and played a song that everyone knew, a song so famous that it tugged at people’s heartstrings.

Yoon Sol looked at me in surprise, but then, with the familiar melody, she seemed to relax a little.

Her head slightly bowed, eyes closed, savoring the music.

Her profile was precarious, yet breathtakingly beautiful.

“Nice.”

I said softly after the song ended.

“Is this the kind of emotion? What Sol-ssi wants to express.”

“Yes, it’s similar. Not too sad, but a bit of a wistful feeling.”

Yoon Sol was now answering without avoiding my gaze.

The common language of music was definitely effective.

“Then how about trying to sing it with that feeling?”

I said as naturally as possible, as if the thought had just occurred to me.

“Right here, now?”

Yoon Sol’s eyes widened again.

But this time, her expression was closer to bewilderment than fear.

“Yes. There’s a keyboard over there too. Just for a very short while. Really, just one verse. Last time in the recording studio, the environment and everything was too sudden, wasn’t it? It’s a bit more comfortable here. How about it?”

I pointed to the electronic keyboard in the corner of the lounge.

“Of course, you absolutely don’t need to feel burdened this time either. It’s just my suggestion. If you don’t want to, you naturally don’t have to.”

I once again gave her the choice.

This time, I truly intended to respect her wishes.

Yoon Sol seemed to be deep in thought.

Her gaze darted anxiously between the keyboard and me.

Her tightly pressed lips trembled.

The failure in the recording studio last time seemed to come to her mind.

But at the same time, the small joy she had felt while talking about music just moments ago, and my promise to wait for her, seemed to be swaying her heart.

Time passed.

I quietly waited for her decision.

Finally, Yoon Sol nodded very slowly, but clearly.

“Yes. I’ll try.”

She took a deep breath and rose from her seat on trembling legs.

She walked towards the keyboard with faltering steps.

She sat on the chair and placed her fingers on the keys.

The cold, smooth touch was transmitted through her fingertips.

She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths in and out.

Her white face seemed to turn even paler.

She wasn’t completely calm yet, but she didn’t look like she would collapse at any moment like last time.

And then, she began to sing in a very small voice.

It was the song we had just listened to together.

Her voice still trembled faintly, and her pitch wasn’t perfect.

Even the fingers pressing the keys shook minutely.

Even her breathing was unstable.

But she didn’t stop.

One verse, and then another.

Her voice, precariously continuing, held all her courage and desperation.

It was just two verses.

That seemed to be her limit, as she couldn’t sing anymore and lowered her head.

Her shoulders, heaving with ragged breaths, trembled slightly.

I could see hot teardrops falling, thud, thud, onto the piano keys.

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

They were hot tears, a mixture of relief and overwhelming emotion at having done it, and pride in herself.

I watched her in silence.

It was clearly different from last time.

Though short and unstable, she had started singing of her own will and finished without breaking down.

It was a very small, yet truly enormous, step.

It was a precious victory she had won by fighting against her trauma herself.

I rose from my seat and slowly approached her.

I stood in front of her as she still kept her head down, shedding tears and catching her breath.

And very quietly, but sincerely, I said.

“It sounds good.”

Yoon Sol slowly lifted her head.

Her face was stained with tears, but the light within her eyes was distinctly different from before.

“Your voice really is.”

I looked straight into her wet eyes and continued.

“It has the power to move people’s hearts.”

At my words, a very faint, yet warm and clear smile, like sunshine, bloomed on Yoon Sol’s lips.

It was an incredibly beautiful smile that blossomed amidst her tears.

The first truly heartfelt smile she had shown me.

At that moment, a strange sensation, as if even a corner of my hardened heart was melting tenderly, brushed past me.

Something different from the satisfaction of completing a collection by gathering my own VTubers, something much warmer and softer.

For some reason, even the cooled chamomile tea seemed like it would taste sweet today.

A premonition of a new beginning lingered in the lounge, like the subtle fragrance of tea.