"If we're going with hip-hop, I'd like to recommend Serim's side."
"…Mm, can I ask why?"
"I just think her vocal tone fits the vibe better."
I answered Hwang Young-oh, who was deliberately smiling as if to hide his irritation—but unable to hide the weight in his voice.
"Hyung, your tone is on the delicate side. Serim's has a stronger feel to it. If we end up doing hip-hop, we'll have to match a stronger beat, so I think Serim fits that better."
At my words, Hwang Young-oh fell silent. He must've confirmed onstage during the last performance that Cheon Serim's tone and vibe suited hip-hop—he couldn't really argue with that.
'But you're not planning to give up here, are you.'
I waited—waited for Young-oh to think it through, and for him to finally speak. There's no way he'd just sit still and let his desired position slip away.
During the last mission, he had to give up the position he wanted multiple times. And now, with three positions already fixed by force, the remaining three of us were in an easy situation to each take the role we wanted.
This was the perfect chance for him to showcase his strengths. So he'd want to secure Main Vocal no matter what.
And just as expected, Young-oh spoke up.
"…Then what if we match the vibe of the original? How about that direction?"
"I think that would suit you, hyung. If we keep the melody itself more classical, your voice could express the delicacy and emotion better…."
At that, I felt Yoo Chan-hee—who had been pushing for hip-hop—shift uncomfortably. Those two had probably planned to support each other implicitly in this team, so seeing Young-oh turn around must've felt both unsettling and annoying.
After hearing him, I pretended to think for a moment and glanced down at the lyric sheet, then continued with a troubled expression.
"Actually, I have something to say about the key too… If we go hip-hop, I think it's best to keep the original key as much as possible. If we drastically change the arrangement and lower the key, I think the original mood will disappear too much."
"Ah, I agree. Going with a very different concept from the original can be fun, but completely ruining the essence of the original wouldn't be good."
Do Ji-hyuk backed me up, and Cheon Serim nodded right after him.
"Right. But it's a bit… the pitch is high, so it's a bit worrying. For Main Vocal and Sub Vocal 1 too—the hook and ad-lib sections are pretty high. What do you think, Chan-hee?"
"…I…."
With an uncertain expression, Yoo Chan-hee checked the pitch of the original through the tablet and fell silent.
The original version of "Same And Different" had most high-range parts concentrated on the Main Vocal and Sub Vocal 1—the lead vocal line. For him, it would be a burdensome pitch.
'Chan-hee probably wanted to switch the genre to hip-hop and lower the key.'
To be honest, if we really went for pure hip-hop, lowering the key might suit the vibe better.
However—doing that would alter the original more than necessary.
Even though DEAR DOLLl allows pre-negotiated rearrangements, the original artist wouldn't want something that destroys the original identity.
That's why we kept the original key range as much as possible in the last mission too. Like how we kept the original key for "BINGO."
'And the core of "Same And Different" is its classical harmonic progression and concept.'
What Chan-hee wanted was to cut out both of those. And lowering the key on top of that would affect the melodic line too.
In short, if we did everything the way he wanted, we might end up creating an entirely different song.
'But he won't want to give up hip-hop either.'
Then the solution was to offer him a middle ground—slightly altering the direction so both he and I could be satisfied.
"…How about something like this?"
I pretended to think, then played a few reference tracks on the tablet that could help the team grasp the vibe.
Chan-hee's previously bleak expression suddenly brightened. He must've realized what kind of direction I had in mind.
"We keep as much of the original classical feel as possible but take out the strings…."
After playing a few more examples, I set down the tablet and continued.
"Something like this—add heavy bass, clean up the mix, and we can keep the original feel while adding a hip-hop edge. That way, we can also adjust the key a bit."
"Oh, I like that direction! We'll have to see what the helper does with it, but… The vibe changes, but the melody still lives."
"I like it too. Chan-hee, Young-oh, Min-seong—what about you guys?"
"Uh, I like it too."
Yoo Min-seong nodded as if anything was fine. Then Do Ji-hyuk looked at Hwang Young-oh, who cautiously asked:
"Then… who would be Main Vocal in this case…?"
"We'll need to talk more with the helper about the key, but… with this direction, I'd recommend you, hyung."
"Yeah, we won't know until the arrangement comes out, but in this direction, Young-oh seems like the better fit. Serim's voice is good too, but for a classical vibe, Young-oh really shines."
"Hey, deciding already is too fast~. I can show you I can do it just as well. Let's choose after we hear the arranged version, okay?"
Though Cheon Serim joked, Young-oh nodded brightly, certain that the Main Vocal spot would come back to him.
"I like this direction too. Let's choose again after the song comes out, Serim."
"Okay~ sounds good!"
"Then Chan-hee?"
"I…."
Chan-hee glanced around at the team, then made eye contact with me. His lips twitched—uncertain whether he wanted to get angry, cry, or feel relieved—until he finally let out a small sigh.
"…I agree too."
And just like that, Team 2 decided on a rearrangement direction: a hip-hop dance track with classical elements. A result where everyone got at least a partial win.
Once the mood settled, Do Ji-hyuk shifted the topic.
As important as the arrangement direction—
the concept.
"So, I think we need to decide the concept now… hmm, anyone have ideas?"
It was time to discuss how to modify the original song's fairy-themed concept.
"About that…."
I raised my hand again. Under everyone's gaze, I tapped the lyric sheet with my finger.
"In the original, it's framed as a healing process… but I actually think it's kind of scary."
"Scary? Which part?"
"Here—when the child from the human world and the fairy world meet."
—Fragments of truth reveal themselves
Even the twisted fate is swallowed whole
—At last, we face each other
—Our realms are similar
Crossing the boundary to reach you
—I don't wander anymore
'Cause we finally know
In the original, the two finally meet, look at each other, regain their sense of self, and rejoice—
but I thought this narrative could be turned into something far more intense.
Because, although the narrative is about healing…
"Doesn't this feel exactly like a doppelgänger?"
…I thought it could also be about erasure.
"...?"
"Doppelgänger?"
"Yes, a doppelgänger."
The others looked puzzled, as if they couldn't grasp my intention.
Do Ji-hyuk began speaking again, as if trying to recall the concept of a doppelgänger after mentioning changelings earlier.
"A doppelgänger is… right, when there's someone in the world who looks exactly like you, and if you meet them… ah."
"Yes, so…."
As Do Ji-hyuk slowly thought about the idea of a doppelgänger, he soon nodded, seeming to understand what I meant.
"…Like that kind of vibe."
After I explained it further, the team finally understood the concept and nodded without much objection.
Do Ji-hyuk was the first to show approval.
"I'm fine with it."
"…I think it's a good idea."
Hwang Young-oh seemed satisfied now that he'd secured the Main Vocal position, and although Yoo Chan-hee looked sour, he didn't seem to have the energy left to object.
Yoo Min-seong also nodded, going along with the flow.
And lastly, Cheon Serim—
"Hyung, you really think of everything, don't you."
—said something that made my insides twist in frustration as he clapped happily.
Either way, thanks to that, the concept shifted away from changeling and dreamlike fantasy—
"Then let's go with a doppelgänger-thriller concept."
A completely different concept was decided. Something bold—something the
***
We were able to check the helper's rough arrangement the very next day.
The finer details would need more time, but we decided to begin practicing with the arranged version right away.
Before that, we finalized positions. The others stayed as previously discussed, except—
"So, Main Vocal goes to Young-oh, and Center will be Serim. Everyone okay with that?"
"Yes~!"
"Sounds good."
The new update was that Center also went to Cheon Serim.
'He really never loses anything.'
By giving up the Main Vocal spot, he'd cleared the unspoken debt he owed Hwang Young-oh—and used that goodwill to easily secure the Center position.
The song's vibe suited him, of course, but more importantly, he led the mood skillfully and snagged the Center spot he'd wanted from the beginning of the 2nd mission—the one he truly wanted.
Still, this did help soften the previously sharp atmosphere within the team. Since everyone had gotten at least a bit of what they wanted in arrangement and position, the mood was better than expected.
The conflict I had worried about with Yoo Chan-hee didn't escalate. He and I had both silently agreed to ignore each other for now.
But the unexpected twist came from somewhere I hadn't imagined.
"Hoo…."
It was after a full day of practice, around dinnertime.
As I stretched my stiff neck, I realized I was alone in the practice room.
…We planned to continue practicing after dinner.
We needed to finalize formations, positioning, and detailed choreography. After that, I also had personal rap-making prep and practice. Early stages were always the busiest, so the next few days were going to destroy me physically.
Maybe I should use a Boong-Boong Drink.
I had only a few left from April, and since I wasn't doing part-time work anymore, I'd been saving them for when I really hit a physical wall.
To check how many I had left, I opened my status window.
And then—
"…?"
I saw the Boong-Boong Drink icon flickering ominously at the bottom.
…What now.
A bad feeling welled up inside me so fast that I couldn't bring myself to touch the icon.
「WARNING!」
"…Ugh!"
A warning message suddenly flashed before my eyes—and then the crushing weight of fatigue slammed into me, making me collapse to the floor, gasping for breath.
A dull ache spread through all my muscles.
What… what is this…?
Still struggling to process the abrupt change, I forced myself to look up at the system window.
The red-glowing screen read:
『!Sudden Mission!
Only Practice Will Save You (D-6)』
You who survived daily life powered by the Boong-Boong Drink!
But no gain comes without a price.
Pay back what you received—through practice.
Success Condition:
• Achieve 40 hours of personal practice
Success Reward:
• Debuff removal
• +1 to any desired stat
Mission-period Debuffs:
• Fatigue +400
• Sleepless Nights
Failure Penalty:
• Fatigue +800
• Chronic Insomnia
• Random stat decrease
I stared blankly at the system window, speechless—past disbelief, straight into seething rage.
So the system was demanding payment for something I never even asked for—
a reward it handed out on its own.
"...."
My trembling arms pushed against the floor as I forced myself to stand.
…40 hours?
Six days until the stage.
To reach 40 hours, I'd need to practically give up sleep and practice nonstop.
And it specified personal practice, not group practice.
Meaning I had no time to waste.
I selected a track to copy rap lines from and hit play, thinking:
I'll kill it.
Whoever brought me back in time at the end of that mission—
whoever that bastard is, I won't ever let them off.
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