Chapter 148: Saving private Jo A-Young, Part 3

Hayoon thought, surely after all their hard work, things wouldn’t fall apart now.

That thought lasted eight seconds.

The intro played, giving Jo A-yeong a moment to prepare. The problem began the moment her part started.

“Ah…”

Hayoon groaned, experiencing déjà vu of Jo A-yeong’s earlier struggles.

“Hmm…”

The studio owner frowned at the familiar sound.

“Huh…?”

The others were speechless.

Baek-seol and Seo Ji-woo stared at Jo A-yeong with expressions that screamed, “She’s… in our group?” Hong Seo-hyun’s face said, “That’s… an idol?”

While their reactions were understandable, Jo A-yeong was still human.

Those expressions could shatter her confidence.

Fortunately, she was currently staring at the floor, but if she looked up, it would be a disaster.

Hayoon had no idea how to salvage the situation.

“Faces.”

“Ah…”

“…”

“Sorry…”

Hayoon turned and glared at the three, silently warning them to control their expressions.

They hadn’t meant any harm; their expressions were pure shock.

But Jo A-yeong couldn’t see them.

“Hmm…”

Managing their expressions was one thing, improving Jo A-yeong’s performance was another.

“What to do…”

Hayoon’s own muttered anxieties didn’t help, but she couldn’t afford to panic.

The priority was getting Jo A-yeong to function.

Hiring a vocal coach had already been tried, and it wouldn’t yield immediate results.

They needed a quick fix, something to trick Jo A-yeong into ignoring the audience and focusing on the song.

“Haa…”

This was… difficult.

She couldn’t just cover the recording booth with a blanket…

“Huh?”

Cover the booth… block the audience’s view…?

“Oh…?”

“What is it, Min Hayoon? Suddenly…”

The studio owner, noticing Hayoon’s sudden shift in demeanor, looked at her quizzically.

“Owner, we have other recording booths, right?”

“Uh…?”

“Right?”

“Well, yeah…”

Both Hayoon and the owner had grown accustomed to using the main recording booth.

It was a professional setup, allowing the owner, who was also the engineer, to fine-tune the recordings.

However…

They also had smaller, simpler booths, designed for voiceovers and amateur recordings.

“But we weren’t going to use those…”

“We don’t have a choice! The concert is in December!”

“Ah… right…”

They had considered the smaller booths before, as a temporary solution for Jo A-yeong’s stage fright, but decided against it, wanting her to adapt to a professional environment.

Now, they had no choice.

“Disconnect the headset and audio feed. We’ll record in the other booth. No live adjustments, just a raw recording, then we’ll clean it up in post. You can record the others in here, owner. It will save time.”

“Alright, I guess you know how to use the equipment in there.”

“Yeah, I remember the basics.”

Hayoon had used the smaller booths before to save money, so she was familiar with the equipment.

“Then, I’ll leave it to you.”

“Sure. Call me if you need anything.”

Hayoon entered the main recording booth and addressed Jo A-yeong.

“Come with me.”

“Uh-huh…”

Jo A-yeong, startled by Hayoon’s sudden entrance, pouted, thinking she was in trouble.

Jo A-yeong knew she was a nervous wreck.

The moment she sang the first line, she knew:

‘I’m screwed.’

People didn’t choose to choke.

They tried to avoid eye contact to focus, but Jo A-yeong wanted to argue: eye contact only made it worse! The moment she made eye contact with someone and faltered, she would freeze up and stammer.

Eye contact wasn’t the solution.

She had looked down at the bottom of the glass in the recording booth, hoping to avoid messing up.

But looking down ruined her posture and affected her vocalization.

Experienced singers could compensate, but Jo A-yeong wasn’t experienced.

That’s why she knew she was doomed the moment she sang the first line.

Her voice wavered, she avoided eye contact, her posture worsened, and her voice wavered even more.

By the end of her part, she had forgotten the lyrics.

A complete disaster.

And then…

“Come with me.”

“Uh-huh…”

Hayoon had barged in.

She was really screwed now.

Hayoon might work out and dance with her, but she was still the boss.

The gym membership, dance lessons, studio rental, mixing fees—all came from Hayoon’s pocket.

She braced herself for a scolding and followed Hayoon, head down, avoiding eye contact with Baek-seol, Seo Ji-woo, and Hong Seo-hyun.

She focused on the patterns on the floor as they walked. Finally…

Click

A door opened.

Not an exit, but a heavy, soundproofed recording booth door. She looked up hesitantly.

“Go inside.”

“Uh…?”

“Just go inside.”

“Is… is this…”

A tiny recording booth awaited her.

Jo A-yeong panicked, on the verge of tears.

“…like a solitary confinement cell? Am I supposed to stay here and reflect on my mistakes? Are you going to lock me in…?”

“Huh?”

Hayoon stared at her, bewildered.

She knew people with stage fright experienced a drop in self-esteem after messing up, but this was extreme. The image of a solitary confinement cell?

“Let’s think about this, Unnie. What is this place?”

“A recording studio… so, recording…?”

“Yes, you’re here to record. Did you think I brought you here to punish you? You’re even older than me.”

“…”

“…”

“Just in case…”

Jo A-yeong looked at her as if genuinely questioning why this wasn’t a punishment.

“You were actually planning to stay here if I told you to?”

“I messed up… so I thought… maybe until dinner…”

“Oh, dear…”

Did everyone with stage fright think like this? Was this why they always apologized profusely after messing up a presentation? Hayoon sighed, then decided to shift the focus.

“Like I said, you’re here to record.”

“Huh?”

“Seriously…”

How much self-loathing was she harboring? It was almost comical.

Hayoon shook her head and entered the small booth to set things up.

It was a bare-bones setup: a small laptop, a headset, and a microphone.

A tiny space designed purely for recording. Hayoon opened the inst file for “Omnibus” on the laptop, then stepped out and addressed Jo A-yeong.

“I’m going to be in the other room. Everything in this booth will be recorded. Play the track and sing your part. It’s okay if you mess up. Keep practicing until you’re satisfied, then call me tomorrow. I’ll take the recording to the owner.”

“Is… that okay?”

“I’ll pay him extra to clean up the recording and extract your vocals. Just focus on getting a good vocal take. Your own private practice session. Understand?”

“O-okay…!”

Finally, a positive response.

“I’ll do my best…!”

“Good. Now, close the door, go inside, and…”

“Start recording…!”

“Yes, start recording. Fighting!”

“Fighting…!”

It felt like encouraging a kindergartener, but it worked.

Now, the challenge was getting Jo A-yeong to perform in a motion capture studio with dozens of cameras…

“I’m so screwed…”

Hayoon collapsed onto a sofa in the lobby, cursing her own judgment.

“She’s pretty, she’s busty, and she can sing! But why does she freeze up whenever someone’s watching?!
!”

She needed a solution, fast.

The recording could be salvaged, but the live concert was another matter.

If Jo A-yeong was like this during recording, the live performance would be a disaster.

They might not even have usable footage.