A teacher who prefers yellow fairies over blue fairies?!
That means the teacher has what it takes to be a singer, so why on earth is someone like this working as a teacher?
Come to think of it, my aunt mentioned that the teacher seems to have proper training in singing.
However, she also said that in our country, there are so many people trained in singing—and just as many who sing well—that it’s hard for anyone to stand out.
Yeonwoo couldn’t understand why someone who sings so well wouldn’t succeed as a singer. But seeing how Shunji’s fairy coveted the teacher and how she radiated yellow light and fairies, she realized some people might lack opportunities or have simply had bad luck.
Then maybe I can make the teacher a singer?
If it’s me, I think I could make her succeed, just as the yellow fairy believes.
My aunt mentioned money, but if we strike a contract or something with Shunji’s grandfather, wouldn’t that solve the problem?
Then first, someone from Shunji’s grandfather’s company needs to come.
Unaware that Shunji would soon arrive in Korea, Yeonwoo desperately hoped someone from his company, JOP, would come quickly.
“Yeonwoo, what was that song you just played?”
Chae Ha-young asked, oblivious to Yeonwoo’s earlier thoughts as she met the child’s gaze.
“It’s called ‘Poop!’”
The kids burst into laughter, chanting “Poop! Poop!” while giggling uncontrollably.
“What a fun song. Can you keep playing it for us?”
“Of course!”
Yeonwoo sat back at the piano and performed a sonata meant to amuse children, playing all four movements in one breathless stretch.
Ha-young was speechless.
The title sounded like something a six-year-old would invent, but the melody itself made her doubt whether a child could truly compose this.
No way. Even my classmates couldn’t make something like this.
Though her major was vocals, graduating from a practical music department meant she understood composition. Even composition majors couldn’t create such a piece. Did Yeonwoo really compose this?
If she hadn’t witnessed it herself, she’d never believe a six-year-old could play—let alone compose—like this.
Shouldn’t Yeonwoo be sent to a gifted academy or something?
Of course, such places weren’t cheap. But Yeonwoo’s family seemed financially comfortable, so why send her to an ordinary daycare? Shouldn’t such talent be nurtured early?
No, I’m overstepping. Meddling might just get me scolded.
Still… wouldn’t it be better to try?
As Ha-young agonized, Yeonwoo finished her performance and abruptly asked:
“Teacher, don’t you want to be a singer?”
“Huh? What?”
“I said, don’t you want to be a singer?”
“Me? A singer?”
Of course I do.
That’s why she’d started a YouTube channel with her friend and colleague Jo So-yeon. But apart from the video of Yeonwoo’s performance, their channel remained tiny, barely hitting 10,000 views.
So even if she wanted it desperately… the dream of becoming a singer felt impossibly distant.
“A singer…”
The child’s question left Ha-young dazed.
“I… do want to be…”
Just as she began to answer, hypnotized by her own longing—
“Teacher Chae! Time to prepare lunch!”
“Ah, right!”
Snapping back to reality at the director’s voice, Ha-young forced an awkward smile at Yeonwoo and hurried out.
After lunch, naps, and afternoon activities, the teachers still faced administrative work and overtime. They also had to supervise children staying late.
“Bye, Teacher!”
One by one, the children left with their guardians. Soon, it was Yeonwoo’s turn.
“Hello, Auntie.”
“Yes, Teacher. Yeonwoo!!”
While her grandmother or father handled drop-offs, her aunt had recently started picking her up.
“Auntie!”
Yeonwoo flung herself into her aunt’s arms.
Ha-young smiled unconsciously at the sight.
“She’s a bit spoiled, but our Yeonwoo’s adorable, right?”
“Huh? Oh, yes. Absolutely.”
“Does she behave at daycare?”
“No way. I wish all the kids were like Yeonwoo. Plus, he holds a concert every day, and the kids love it so much. It’s nice because they all calm down during it.”
At those words, Jiyeong ruffled Yeonwoo’s hair messily.
“Grandma said to be careful not to overdo it with the piano, or you’ll get tendinitis!”
“I want to be careful, but the kids keep asking me to play.”
“You still have to hold back.”
Hayoung, who had been listening to Jiyeong, cautiously spoke up.
“Um, Auntie.”
“Yes?”
“Yeonwoo played something he composed today.”
“Oh, no way… poop?”
Jiyeong couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, but Hayoung was serious.
“I laughed when I saw the title, but after hearing him play, it was on a whole different level. Honestly, his piano skills are unbelievable for a six-year-old. Yeonwoo is… well, he seems incredibly talented in music.”
“Yeonwoo? Well, our Yeonwoo is special like that.”
“No, I mean… you shouldn’t just brush it off like that……”
“I know. Our Yeonwoo is extraordinary.”
Truthfully, it’s not uncommon for parents to claim their child is special or talented.
Hayoung often felt awkward seeing such parents.
But Yeonwoo was different. He truly was extraordinary.
“So… instead of sending him to daycare, maybe a gifted school……?”
“A gifted school? He probably wouldn’t handle it well. Yeonwoo would find it boring anyway.”
“Huh?”
“Even if you gathered 100 gifted kids, they wouldn’t match up to Yeonwoo.”
At Jiyeong’s words, Chae Hayoung was at a loss.
She couldn’t deny it—it seemed true—but she also felt a flicker of offense.
Still, she wondered if proper education might benefit Yeonwoo.
“I understand your concern, but don’t worry. His grandma studied practical music in Japan, I think? Anyway, she was a music professor. I’m also a producer, so there’s no need for him to go anywhere special.”
“Oh!”
Chae Hayoung’s face flushed instantly.
No wonder the boy was extraordinary—he came from a family of musicians.
That refined-looking grandma had been a music professor?
“I overstepped. You must’ve already considered everything.”
“Not at all. It shows how much you care about Yeonwoo. I should go now… Hm? Yeonwoo, what is it?”
Seeing Chae Hayoung flustered, Jiyeong tried to leave quickly to spare her embarrassment. But when Yeonwoo tugged her sleeve, she paused.
“Auntie, give Teacher your business card.”
“My card? Sure.”
Jiyeong pulled one from her wallet and handed it to Teacher Chae Hayoung.
“This has my studio address. It’s nearby, so contact me first if anything urgent happens. Faster than his grandma or dad.”
“Okay! Safe trip! Yeonwoo, bye! See you tomorrow!”
“Bye!”
As the aunt and nephew walked away, Chae Hayoung finally glanced at the card.
SSHIN
Producer Shin Jiyeong.
“Shin Jiyeong……”
The name felt familiar.
Curiosity gnawed at her as she stepped back into the daycare. She pulled out her phone and searched the name.
“Ah…!”
What a coincidence.
Shin Jiyeong was Chae Hayoung’s senior from the practical music department—a legend. Though years ahead, her success was legendary. In an oversaturated industry, even one professional debut was a bragging right for schools. But Shin Jiyeong? She’d become an icon, a name professors cited relentlessly.
“With someone like her as his aunt, I worried for nothing.”
Embarrassment flared. She’d meddled in a family of experts. Yet envy stirred too. How could she not envy someone thriving in a world she’d never enter?
Before, it would’ve bittered her. Now, though, she had hope. Her YouTube channel was growing. Someday, maybe she’d step into that world too.
“…Someday…”
“Yeonwoo, why did you suddenly ask me to give my business card?”
“Because the teacher sings well.”
“Right, they said she sings well.”
“Yeah, after we make a deal with Grandpa Shunji, we’ll make Teacher Chae Hayoung a singer.”
At that, Shin Ji-young’s eyes widened.
“What? That much? You said it wasn’t that much before!”
“Back then, we were comparing her to Mr. Kim Beom-shin.”
“Oh, right. Thinking about Beom-shin sunbae, everyone else seems like they’re not even on that level.”
Yeon-woo nodded.
Kim Beom-shin is one of a kind.
I’ve watched so many singers’ videos, but I’ve rarely seen a Korean singer as amazing as Kim Beom-shin.
Plus, seeing him sing right in front of me made a huge impression.
In 6-year-old Yeon-woo’s world, Kim Beom-shin was the best singer alive.
So it makes sense that he even has a fairy doppelgänger.
Yeon-woo looked at Kim Beom-shin’s fairy.
Thinking of Kim Beom-shin, the fairy puffed up as if it were its own achievement.
Well, if the original is praised, the doppelgänger would feel good too.
But wait.
If this is Kim Beom-shin’s fairy, who even corrected the singing techniques of the Hadas kids…
‘If I start practicing singing, will you give me the ability to sing well someday?’
As if it had been waiting for those words, Kim Beom-shin’s fairy nodded eagerly, its eyes sparkling.
“Singing…?”
Singing?
Me?
In my six years of life, I’d never even thought about it.
Thinking back to when I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t even imagine singing at all.
‘Singing…’
For once, Kim Beom-shin’s fairy flew up and hovered around Yeon-woo.
It was as if it were saying, ‘Try it! Give it a shot!’
But Yeon-woo shook her head.
The fairy looked like it was crying out, ‘Why!!’
‘I’m too shy…’
Yeon-woo still felt embarrassed stepping into the spotlight.
Kim Beom-shin’s fairy disappeared somewhere with a disappointed expression.
Yeah, for now, I like instruments more than singing.
Thinking that, Yeon-woo got up from her seat.
“Huh? Where are you going, Yeon-woo?”
“Working on a song.”
“Have a snack first. Here’s an apple.”
“Okay.”
Yeon-woo sat back down.
She liked fruit. Among them, she loved crunchy apples the most.
As she nibbled on the apple with her front teeth, enjoying the crisp texture—
Kong kong kong!
Someone knocked loudly on the studio door.
The aunt and niece both turned their gaze toward the entrance at the same time.
“Come here!”
A voice with awkward pronunciation called from outside.
The gruff voice of an old man…
“Grandpa Shunji?”
It was Shunji.
Yeon-woo had been waiting for someone from JOP to come but was delighted that Shunji had come himself.
She jumped up from her seat and ran to the entrance.
“Grandpa!”
“Ohh, Yeon-woo! I watched a historical drama and tried copying it… Come here! How is it? Is my pronunciation okay?”
The nearly 80-year-old man lifted Yeon-woo lightly as he spoke.
Yeon-woo smiled brightly and replied.
“It’s Japanese, so I can’t understand a word!!”
Oh no.
In his hurry, he forgot to bring an interpreter.
Realizing they couldn’t communicate, Shunji panicked and said, “Where is your grandmother? Uh… Grandmother?”
He desperately looked for Hee-ok.
