The mystery of Yeonwoo didn’t end there.
Ellis, unable to withstand Taein’s pressure, had rearranged the song in a style reminiscent of Taein’s approach. Yet Yeonwoo had nearly restored it to its original form.
When asked how she did it, Yeonwoo simply repeated what she’d said earlier: the original version had “appeared” to her.
“You’re incredible, Composer Yooin.”
As Ellis marveled, Yeonwoo—seemingly entranced—stared at her tablet, ignoring Ellis’s words.
“But if it were me, I’d have done it like this.”
Yeonwoo began adjusting the restored song again. She added instruments, tweaked chords, increased the tempo, and in one breath rearranged Ellis’s compositions before playing them for Ellis and Jiyeong.
“……!!”
The rearranged song hit Ellis like a shockwave.
Yeonwoo had incorporated ideas Ellis had never considered, erased trends she’d unknowingly followed outside of Taein’s influence, and stripped away her musical clichés. The result was unmistakably the same song, yet reborn—pounding relentlessly against her eardrums as if mocking, You can’t do this, can you? Hehe.
Ellis had to ask, watching Yeonwoo’s frenzied work on the tablet:
“How did you make this?”
“Just… I thought adding piano here would be fun, speeding this part up would work better, and… maybe boosting the bass and making the instruments pop more…”
The child rambled on, but everything ultimately reduced to “just” and “it seemed fun.”
Is this what genius looks like?
Then what have I been all this time?
Ellis, perpetually hailed as a “genius producer” and “genius idol,” realized upon seeing Yeonwoo that she herself was no genius.
“You’re truly remarkable, Yooin.”
Yeonwoo nodded as if this were obvious. Had she been even 15—no, 10—years older, Ellis might have resented her. But the child’s youth softened the blow.
Now that Ellis recognized her genius, only one task remained.
“Can we stop reworking my songs and discuss Yooin’s compositions instead?”
Yeonwoo’s hands froze over the tablet. She fixed Ellis with her large, dark eyes—a gaze so piercing Ellis felt unnerved, as if Yeonwoo were asking, Do you even deserve my work?
“Was there something you wanted to ask Yooin, Ms. Ellis?”
Jiyeong cut in, a timely reminder: this deal couldn’t be settled with Yeonwoo alone. As a minor, her guardian held legal authority.
“Hmm… My questions don’t matter anymore.”
Any inquiry about Yeonwoo’s five songs would inevitably circle back to “just because” or “it seemed fun.”
“Then we should decide which team receives these songs.”
The dynamic had shifted. Previously, composer and producer had interacted as vague equals. Now, Ellis—the producer—had to court Yeonwoo outright. The songs’ deeper meaning eluded her, but she needed them. Nothing else would work.
“We haven’t finalized the team’s name or concept. Five trainees are selected, but the lineup may change.”
Ellis poured her passion into explaining the idol group she aimed to build, her determination unwavering.
"As expected of Alice. You're amazing. If you get selected like this, you'll really hit the jackpot, won't you?"
"Thank you, Senior. Ah, please speak casually. You're my senior after all."
"We've only just met – how could I? We'll warm up gradually... Oh, right. Yeonwoo. What do you think, Yeonwoo?"
So Yooin's real name was Yeonwoo.
While Alice was processing this revelation, Yeonwoo answered frankly:
"Auntie, I don't understand anything you're saying."
"Of course, it's complicated for our Yeonwoo, isn't it?"
"Mmhm."
"Then Yeonwoo, do you have any hopes for the singer who'll perform your song?"
"Hmm..."
Yeonwoo pondered.
Someone singing my composition?
Truthfully, I'd never considered it before. I simply enjoyed the act of creating music itself.
But now things felt different.
Ever since Yeonwoo began speaking and listening to voices, fairies had started emerging from people's speech.
These voice-born fairies were peculiar.
Instruments playing pre-composed melodies might release red fairies when played wrong, but typically emitted blue ones.
Human voices worked differently.
Just as every voice carried unique tones, they produced fairies of varied hues.
When a voice began singing and harmonized with the music, these multicolored fairies would coalesce, transforming into unified blue or red spirits or bursting forth anew.
Though Yeonwoo didn't fully grasp the meaning, they vaguely understood this indicated how well voice and song harmonized.
Ideally, I'd choose someone perfectly matched to the song. But since it's my first time, regardless of quality, I want to witness that moment – my music meeting a voice to birth fairies.
"I just want to see someone sing it."
"Hmm... Then we'd need lyrics, or at least a guide track. Otherwise, how would they even hum it?"
At Alice's comment, Yeonwoo looked to their aunt.
Lyrics? Guide?
"You don't know about lyrics? How can someone sing without words?"
"Mmhm. Then what's a guide?"
"It's like... a temporary vocal demo before proper lyrics exist? Though sometimes lyrics come first."
"Mm... So who makes lyrics?"
"Sometimes composers write them. Other times specialized lyricists do."
Jiyeong then glanced meaningfully at Alice:
"Our Aunt Alice here writes excellent lyrics. She's quite famous for it."
"Aunt Alice?"
Aunt?!
As Alice reeled from this sudden matronly title, Yeonwoo grew thoughtful.
Truthfully, Yeonwoo hadn't properly learned Hangul.
Most children mastered the alphabet by this age, but before finding Father, there'd been no one to teach them. Now neither Father, Grandma, nor Aunt forced lessons – Yeonwoo had only absorbed bits through observation.
Lyric-writing seemed daunting.
Amidst these thoughts, Yeonwoo's eyes settled on Alice.
Countless fairies swirled about her like living stardust.
The fairies didn’t come from the song she had created in Taein, but from the rearranged version Yeonwoo made of her composition.
Yet, they flocked to her as if instinctively knowing their true creator.
The fairies’ fondness revealed that her love for music remained undiminished.
Even after her song was altered freely, its closeness to her original vision and the fairies’ approval proved her passion for the music she wanted to create hadn’t wavered.
Yeonwoo found herself drawn to that unwavering spirit.
“Auntie Ellis, will you write the lyrics for me?”
“It’s ‘write them for me,’ Yeonwoo.”
“Okay, will you write them for me?”
“M-me?”
Though meant as a sincere request, Ellis took it another way entirely.
‘T-this…!’
A trial by a genius?!
Is she testing whether a mere amateur like me can compose lyrics worthy of her song?!
“If I… write good lyrics… will you give me this song?”
Yeonwoo tilted her head in confusion.
Huh?
Wasn’t Auntie offering the song because she liked her?
Just then—
Jiyeong patted Yeonwoo’s head and interjected,
“Yes, you should do it, Yeonwoo.”
“Mmm… okay!”
Ellis’s eyes blazed with resolve.
“Alright… I’ll write lyrics that’ll make Yooin-nim adore this song!”
“Okay, Auntie!”
The word “Auntie” made Ellis flinch, but when she met Yeonwoo’s gaze—those sparkling obsidian eyes locked onto hers—something inside her softened.
Why “Auntie”? The girl’s innocent persistence was almost too endearing. She might as well have called her “Ajumma”!
“Just you wait—this Auntie will…!”
“Hehe!”
Yeonwoo’s radiant smile stole Ellis’s breath.
“But, Yeonwoo-nim…”
“Yes?”
“Next time… could I maybe pinch your cheeks? Just once?”
She yearned to squeeze those mochi-soft cheeks now, but they’d only just met.
Surely next time would be okay…?
“No. Yooin isn’t a baby.”
“…Right.”
Yeonwoo’s refusal was firm.
Jiyeong, barely containing her laughter, stepped in.
“Let’s meet again once the lyrics are done, yes?”
“Yes, Sunbaenim! I’ll finish them fast and contact you!”
“Good. Yeonwoo, ready to go?”
“Mhm!”
Nodding, Yeonwoo took her aunt’s hand and left the studio.
“Hmm… Smooth sailing, isn’t it?”
Jiyeong glanced back at Ellis’s studio, her smile brimming with satisfaction.
From the start, Yeon-woo had hoped her song would be released through a successful producer, which was why she wanted to meet Alice.
She’d expected to be in a weaker position, but Alice wanted Yeon-woo’s song more desperately than anticipated—a stark contrast to Tae-in, who’d tried to control her and tamper with the chord progressions.
This meant Yeon-woo could insist on her musical vision while also demanding more—money or otherwise—from Alice, who’d handle the financial and legal "adult negotiations."
As Yeon-woo smiled contentedly, she noticed her aunt’s peculiar grin and asked,
"Huh? What’s going so well?"
"Nothing, Yeon-woo. We’re just talking about adult matters."
"Adult matters? What’s that? Adults are so confusing. You’re laid-back at home, Auntie, but totally different outside."
"Hehehe, Auntie has to act like a proper adult out here to make money."
"Yeon-woo’ll earn money without any of that adult stuff."
"If it’s you, I bet you could."
"Yeah, I can!"
Ji-young smiled at Yeon-woo’s confident nod.
Changing the subject...
"I’m starving. Should we grab food before heading home, Yeon-woo?"
"We need to go home, Auntie."
"Huh? Aw, c’mon! Let’s eat first. I’ll treat you to something tasty. Okay?"
"If I don’t go back, Grandma will eat alone. She’ll feel lonely. I have to eat with her."
Good grief...
This grandma-obsessed kid.
What’s so special about that ice-cold woman? Though to Yeon-woo, she’s as warm as spring sunlight.
"Fine, be that way. Auntie wanted to have a meals go!" and rushing to catch up.
Hand in hand, Yeon-woo led her aunt home.
