Episode 4: Countless Handshake Requests
In truth, today’s recording didn’t hold much significance for Bang Hokyung.
‘As long as it gives Yo-han the melody, that’s enough.’
Singer Ko Yo-han.
A man who lived as an ordinary office worker for over a decade, he debuted as a singer after winning an audition program a few years ago.
His tone, emotion, and the lived experience of an office worker’s struggles—all of it was perfectly suited to this song.
The purpose of this guide vocal was simply to show Yo-han, who still struggled with reading sheet music, how to sing the melody.
Nothing more, nothing less.
That’s why they’d initially hired a decent singer, and even after that singer bailed, finding a replacement wasn’t hard.
But now, Bang Hokyung’s perspective had completely flipped.
His gaze turned to the cause of this shift—a young, brash guy standing in the recording studio.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Han Yujin. I’d like to hear the song first.”
His first impression was less spirited and more arrogant, the kind of attitude Bang Hokyung, who despised empty flattery and pleasantries, would appreciate.
But even so, for an unknown singer with no notable achievements, it was undeniably crossing a line.
Yet, Bang Hokyung didn’t snap at him for one reason.
There was a fleeting emotion in Yujin’s gaze, one that felt like he somehow knew him, sparking a bolt of inspiration in Bang Hokyung’s mind.
When watching the drama, the emotion had only vaguely taken shape, but now it surged like a tidal wave.
In that torrent of emotion, sweeping away all other thoughts, were lonely yet radiant phrases crashing like waves.
The artist’s instinct within Bang Hokyung roared: ‘Nothing could be more perfect for completing this song.’
That’s why, using a cigarette break as an excuse to step outside, he hadn’t touched a cigarette. Instead, he pulled out his notebook and frantically scribbled those phrases.
The lyrics born In that trance-like state were now drawing praise from everyone in the studio.
“Wow, these lyrics are no joke.”
“It’s like Yo-han’s voice is auto-playing in my head. I’m already getting emotional.”
Not a single person in the room hadn’t experienced the lonely scenery described in the lyrics, fleetingly seen through a subway window.
‘What is this guy?’
The praise only fueled Bang Hokyung’s growing curiosity.
That look in Yujin’s eyes had burrowed deep into his mind.
At first, he couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but after drawing inspiration from it to create this piece, he felt he understood.
It was the regret of belatedly realizing you’d let true happiness slip through your fingers while chasing a goal.
The same emotion a 40-something veteran actor had portrayed through lines and physicality as the future version of the protagonist in ‘Second Time with You’—that emotion was in the eyes of a mere 23-year-old unknown singer.
‘No, it’s not just that.’
If it were only that, Bang Hokyung would’ve written these lyrics while watching the drama.
That gaze held more than just loneliness—another emotion he couldn’t fully identify.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something only someone who’d truly experienced it could convey.
‘Am I getting old?’
If that intense gaze weren’t still so vivid in his mind, he might’ve dismissed it as a mistake.
Whatever happened while he was out, the emotion wasn’t reflected at all in Yujin’s now-relaxed face.
‘Was it really just my imagination?’
There was a simple way to find out.
From the song’s melody to the lyrics’ sentiment—things too complex for someone his age to easily grasp.
Hearing him sing would reveal whether it was a mistake or not.
“Alright, let’s get started.”
At Bang Hokyung’s cue, the staff moved in unison, and the lonely guitar melody filled the studio.
The moment Yujin’s voice touched the microphone,
“Where is this train taking me?”
A hush fell over the studio.
***
As the guitar melody faded and silence settled, I savored it briefly before speaking into the mic.
“Should I do it again?”
I knew it was a pointless question.
‘If it needed another take, I wouldn’t have finished the full song.’
Bang Hokyung not stopping me mid-song meant I’d more than passed the mark.
‘That’s exactly the level I aimed for.’
‘For You, a Moment’ is a song that suits a calm, unembellished delivery far better than flashy technique.
That makes it harder to capture the composer’s intent, which places a bigger role on the guide vocalist.
‘But the original singer was Yo-han hyung.’
Ko Yo-han is a near-perfect singer, save for his slow progress in reading sheet music.
For someone of his caliber, just giving him the right notes with a touch of emotion is enough.
That’s why I deliberately held back.
‘This song needs to be sung by Yo-han hyung.’
The moment I saw the original lyrics, a plan flashed through my mind, and for that plan, Yo-han needed to sing this song.
“No, that’s enough. You’re good to go.”
“Yes, sir.”
Unaware of my thoughts, Bang Hokyung gave the OK, and I hung up the headset, opened the studio door, and stepped out.
I brushed off the stares that followed me.
If I had to describe the shared sentiment in the staff’s eyes, it’d be something like “an unexpected twist.”
‘I sang at a controlled level, but that doesn’t mean I half-assed it.’
Everyone here is skilled enough to work with Bang Hokyung.
They’d recognize that the level I just sang at was good enough to finalize and use as the OST itself—if the comparison wasn’t Ko Yo-han.
‘Sure, at this level, it won’t unexpectedly climb the charts like the original.’
But it’d at least stay on the charts during the drama’s run.
No matter how much I toned it down, I couldn’t completely hide the experience of 39-year-old me, who’s created and sung countless songs.
“Kyungmin-ssi, what’s that guy’s name again?”
“Man, with that kind of skill, you’d think I’d have heard his name before.”
That’s probably why he’s quietly asking Baek Kyungmin my name now.
Unfortunately, Baek Kyungmin didn’t have time to answer.
Being the only one here who knows the “original” me’s abilities, he’s probably the least likely to believe I’m the one who just sang.
“Han Yujin.”
“Wow, that opened my ears. Great job.”
“Young guy’s got a good feel. Solid voice, too.”
So I answered for him, and a flurry of handshake requests followed.
I get it—who wouldn’t want to hire a singer with my skill at my pay rate? They’d chase me to the ends of hell.
But understanding and indulging them are two different things.
“I’ve got someone waiting for me at home, so I’ll head out first. Sorry, and thanks for the hard work.”
I shook a few hands but drew the line there.
‘If they want more, they’ll reach out.’
My contact info is practically public domain—Baek Kyungmin could find it if he just snapped out of it.
Besides, unlike me, who’s done with the recording, they’ve still got work to do, so they can’t hold me up forever.
As I left the studio and pulled out my phone to tell Zia I was on my way,
“Hey, Han Yujin!”
Baek Kyungmin, finally coming to his senses, rushed toward me.
“What the hell, man! Are you insane?!”
His words might sound like a scolding, but the wide grin on his face said otherwise.
“Haha! You’ve finally found your groove!”
Seeing him so genuinely happy for me, knowing his future, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of bittersweetness.
‘Maybe I should do something for this guy.’
Baek Kyungmin’s eventual fall from the industry is still a ways off.
Since I won’t be joining Starlight and drifting apart from him this time, his future might change too.
“It wasn’t much different from usual.”
“Usual? You think I’m making a fuss for nothing? That was a performance of a lifetime!”
Hiding my bittersweet feelings behind a laugh, I felt his hand slip around my neck.
He was probably aiming for a playful headlock, but with our height difference, it just looked like he was clinging to me.
But that lasted only a moment.
Stepping back, Baek Kyungmin grinned and continued.
“I’m dying to know what happened to change you like this, but we’re short on time, so I’ll hold off. We’ll talk over drinks later. Here, take this.”
He pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to me.
“What’s this? Cash instead of a bank transfer this time?”
Thinking it was payment for the job, I asked, but he shook his head.
“Nah, that’s coming separately. This is from the boss himself. He says thanks for coming out at this hour—call it transportation money.”
“Aw, he didn’t have to. I’m getting paid for the work anyway.”
Even as I said that, my hand naturally reached for the envelope.
Knowing Bang Hokyung doesn’t make empty gestures, I figured it’d be actual transportation money.
But when I opened it, I was stunned.
‘Five, ten, fifteen, twenty… a million won? From Bang Hokyung?’
Twenty 50,000-won bills, each bearing Shin Saimdang’s face.
Unable to hide my shock at the unexpected amount, Baek Kyungmin burst out laughing again.
“Why so surprised? Don’t you know what kind of person the boss is? He’s more than willing to spend that much on a talented rookie.”
He doesn’t know that I know Bang Hokyung too well.
To me, this money isn’t just a token of encouragement—it feels like…
‘He’s planning to work me so hard I’ll need all this for transportation.’
It’s like he’s prepaid my future travel expenses.
‘Well, not a bad deal.’
A connection like Bang Hokyung is a golden lifeline in this industry.
Since I’m not quitting singing and plan to keep performing, this is definitely an opportunity.
‘Perfect. I was feeling a bit guilty anyway.’
I’d been a little uneasy about indulging in late-night snacks after coming out this late for money, but this eases that guilt. So, I decided to be genuinely grateful this time.
I hopped into the elevator and resumed what I’d started earlier.
[I’m heading home now]
The yellow “1” next to the message vanished in the blink of an eye.
Even that small detail brought a smile to my face, so I let my lips curve upward and typed again.
[Guess what? I got a bonus for singing well~]
[Want anything to eat?]
The “1” disappeared quickly again, but oddly, no reply came.
Wondering if she’d fallen asleep with her phone on, I tilted my head. Then—
[Zia♥]
Instead of a text, a call came through.
I hit the green button and brought the phone to my ear, hearing Zia’s voice.
“Already done? Forget snacks, you must be tired. Just come home quick.”
Her voice was as soft as before, but the vibe felt distinctly different.
‘She sounds… embarrassed?’
I quickly realized it was because of our earlier call, and my smile wouldn’t fade.
“Come on, quick. If you don’t pick something, I’ll just get whatever I want.”
So, deliberately using a playful tone I wouldn’t have in my original life, I teased her.
“Ugh… fine, chicken feet.”
“Chicken feet, got it. I’ll grab some and be home in about 30 minutes.”
Her answer was exactly what I’d expected.
Everything about this made my steps feel lighter.
To catch Zia off guard, I expressed my feelings again.
“I love you.”
It felt like something exploded on the other end of the line.
Unable to hold back, I burst out laughing.