Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Raise Three Idols Well And They’ll Launch a Confession Attack.

Episode 28: Talent Beyond The System.

Gaeul seemed to have chosen the song considering the current instrument setup, which included only vocals, piano, and guitar.

“Memories of the Sea and Leaves” was an acoustic pop song based solely on guitar and piano.

However, it didn’t seem like a light song suitable for the first performance.

The intro started with a piano solo.

But the prelude that came to mind was quite different from the calm and simple prelude typically expected in acoustic pop.

It was a violently skillful prelude that flaunted the pianist’s abilities as if there was no room to hold back from the start.

It seemed Gaeul truly believed my words that I could play any song.

Considering she chose such a high-difficulty song from the start.

Then I had to prove it.

That her belief was not misplaced.

I placed my fingers on the keys and began to let them dance to the tune flowing in my mind.

The “Jukebox in the Fingers” reward only mentioned that I could play the song.

However, it didn’t feel like my fingers moved automatically according to the song.

It was more like knowing the song, how to play it, and each movement of the muscles, enabling me to be more skilled than anyone.

With the stage set up to this point, all that was left was to act.

As I kept hitting the keys, I realized this wasn’t something that could be summarized simply as “being able to play.”

I wanted to retract my judgment that the “Jukebox in the Fingers” reward was nothing special. This was an artifact and a miracle.

The offbeat rhythm flowed strangely, then smoothly transitioned to a regular beat as the fast-paced playing began.

As I forced my fingers to hit the keys in the finely divided rhythm, the music began to fill in seamlessly.

People who had been interested in Gaeul’s appearance started to gape at my fast playing.

Gaeul, too, seemed stunned by my performance, staring blankly with her mouth open.

…No, Gaeul, you can’t do that.

I shouted, aware that I could disrupt the immersion of the intro.

“Gaeul!”

Only after hearing my voice did Gaeul realize her role and start playing the guitar.

Gaeul began playing the riff smoothly yet aggressively, as if not wanting to lose.

The fingerstyle riff on the acoustic guitar sweetly yet combatively elevated the song’s atmosphere.

By the way, what kind of song starts with both fast playing and riffing right from the beginning?

But I was thoroughly enjoying playing it. Gaeul also seemed to be having fun, smiling brightly enough for it to be noticeable from the side.

We drove the song forward as if we were rampaging, filled with bursting joy.

The long 40-second intro was nearing its end.

Now, it was time for the song.

The smile disappeared from Gaeul’s lips.

She prepared her voice earnestly, like she was about to recite a poem.

Watching her, I stopped playing the piano.

This was the scene where the true protagonist of the song, neither the piano nor the guitar, made her entrance.

Noise was unnecessary.

The guitar sound stopped, and the audience held their breath.

In that moment of complete silence, Gaeul began to sing.

“Leaves floating in the autumn sea, and you.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

Gaeul’s status window clearly showed that her current vocal ability was A-. It wasn’t a low ability.

It meant she had successfully entered the stage where people would unanimously acknowledge her as a genius.

However, it was also true that I had seen quite a few A- vocalists in the previous timeline.

So, I thought Gaeul’s current vocal level was just that.

A good vocalist you could find fairly often in the professional world. Just that level.

“You, who makes it impossible to hold back a smile.”

It was a huge mistake.

No matter how much her growth wasn’t complete, the overwhelming talent of an S couldn’t be hidden.

This wasn’t just my thought.

Everyone who had been watching my fast playing, passing by, or talking on the phone without interest, was enchanted by Gaeul’s voice.

This wasn’t the pull that an A- could show.

“Like a crackling leaf, like a burning bonfire.”

“Your voice, so lovely.”

Gaeul turned her head to look at me.

Only then did I realize it was time for the piano.

I had been so enchanted by her voice that I forgot my role.

I felt embarrassed, considering I had just shouted to wake her up 30 seconds ago.

I took a deep breath and resumed the dance of my fingertips.

“Playful steps, words that sink deep.”

“Do you know how lovely you are?”

Gaeul’s song continued.

I desperately reproduced the knowledge in my mind.

I played the piano meticulously, adjusting my strength so as not to make a single error in rhythm or beat.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that the overwhelming brilliance of the vocals was pulling everything along.

In that dissonance, the song transitioned to an interlude, and the piano solo reappeared.

Before the solo, I thought.

I didn’t want to be inadequate.

Not as a manager who had regressed, but as a pianist participating in the music of someone named Yoo Gaeul.

I was certain.

The moment a stage bore the name Yoo Gaeul, it had to be the best.

So I, who had become part of it, had to be the best, even if only for a moment.

I made the “Memories of the Sea and Leaves” that filled my mind smaller.

Then, I analyzed and voraciously absorbed the tens of thousands of songs flowing through my fingers.

The knowledge I had now was not just of “Memories of the Sea and Leaves.”

It was of all existing songs.

If I couldn’t use it despite having it, it was simply a lack of ability.

My heated head throbbed.

I felt nauseous, as if I were about to vomit.

My entire bloodstream felt like it was burning.

My small and shabby body couldn’t withstand the tidal wave of knowledge and demanded a strike.

But I finally did it. I succeeded in weaving that knowledge into a single thread.

Before that realization faded, I struck the keys.

Sometimes funky, sometimes sweet, sometimes with strong damping, sometimes calmly.

Gaeul’s eyes widened as she looked at me playing the piano beside her.

A blissful smile had already spread across her lips.

What kind of expression am I wearing?

I don’t know.

But I had a vague feeling telling me.

It must be a smile resembling Gaeul’s.

I looked at Gaeul and gave a slight nod.

Then, she also began to vary her playing to match my rhythm.

The fingerstyle guitar sound became more dazzling, changing the song’s atmosphere.

This was not “Memories of the Sea and Leaves” by singer-songwriter Oh Jong-gyoo.

It was “Memories of the Sea and Leaves” by Gaeul and me.

“Oh, memories of the sea and leaves.”

The song reached its highlight.

“I will remember you. I will love you.”

The deep emotion in Gaeul’s voice resonated through the microphone and speakers.

No matter how great the legendary Siren’s Song was, it couldn’t surpass the appeal Gaeul showed now.

Gaeul now was a witch.

Her current appearance, drawing people in with just her voice, seemed magical.

“Before the leaves crumble.”

“I will be swept away. To you.”

The dazzling fingerstyle guitar and the breathless piano both came to an end.

“To the sea.”

And the song also ended.

Even after the song ended, no one made a sound.

As if not wanting to harm the lingering feeling, the square, filled with dozens of people, remained silent.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

And then a child started clapping with an innocent smile.

People started clapping one by one, as if waking up from a trance.

That spreading flow soon filled the entire square.

In the explosion of applause and cheers, Gaeul looked at me with excited breaths.

“…Team Leader Seon.”

“Yes, Gaeul.”

“Is it over?”

I felt like I knew what Gaeul was feeling.

“You’re disappointed, right?”

Because I felt the same way.

“…Yes, it’s my first time feeling this way.”

“Then we can just sing again, right?”

“Is that okay?”

“Why do you think I bought three hours of your time? If we stop at one song, that would be troublesome for me.”

Where are you trying to back out?

Until your lingering regrets about singing are revived.

Until you find the allure of being an idol.

Until you have a dream you can’t give up.

“You have to keep playing with me until the end.”

Gaeul smiled innocently, like a child who had just been promised a trip to an amusement park, and answered.

“Yes!”

Cheon Aram, who had watched the performance of Yoo Gaeul and Seon Taeyang, asked Seo Soo-yeon, who had joined after finishing her work at the main house.

“How was it?”

Seo Soo-yeon shook her head slightly and said.

“My knowledge is specialized in accounting, so I’m lacking in musical expertise. Therefore, I think I’m not qualified to evaluate that stage.”

“No, qualifications don’t matter in evaluating a stage. Not every member of the audience is qualified.”

Cheon Aram crossed her arms to keep her blazer, worn like a cape, from slipping off and said.

“And Soo-yeon, since you’ve followed me into this world, you can’t avoid such evaluations. If you’re involved in the entertainment industry, it’s something you must do.”

When Seo Soo-yeon hesitated to speak, Cheon Aram spoke in a slightly kinder voice.

“I’m not asking for an evaluation based on specialized knowledge. Just speak about your feelings as a person who watched the stage.”

“Simply speaking as a person…”

Tears were welling up in Seo Soo-yeon’s eyes as she spoke.

“It was amazing.”

It was a brief impression.

But it was an excellent summary as well.

Cheon Aram chuckled and said.

“Yeah, it was amazing.”