[Oh, the house is warm. The floor is warm too. Ah, so this is ondol. Japanese architects are all fools, huh? Who’d think a house colder than outside in winter makes sense? Oh, is that the kimchi fridge I’ve heard so much about?]
Shunji bustled around Yeonu’s family home, inspecting every corner as if it were his own.
[Were you making dinner? Now that I think of it, I remember the kimchi jjigae you cooked for me in the States. Recall how those damn Yankees pinched their noses at first, then begged for seconds?]
[Enough. Why are you here, old man?]
At this, Shunji turned to Yeonu.
[The moment a century’s genius enters my embrace—why should I only command underlings? We’ll sign contracts together, take commemorative photos. In fifty years, those shots’ll be worth billions of yen.]
[So it’s just money to you.]
Heo-ok’s voice dripped disdain. Shunji guffawed.
[What’s wrong with money? Beats splitting half a pizza slice like starved rats.]
He sat at the table, memories of their struggling early days in America sharp in his mind.
[What’re you doing?]
[Food’s ready. Too cheap to feed a guest?]
Heo-ok exhaled sharply, weighing whether to scar his other temple before serving his portion.
[Where’s the booze?]
[Eat.]
[I don’t eat dry— Fine. Stopping.]
Shunji kept needling, amused by Heo-ok’s reliably frosty glare. But when her murderous aura flared, he ducked his head obediently.
[So what’s our Yeonu been doing since I last saw him?]
[Daycare.]
[That… You mean kindergarten? Right, six-year-olds belong there.]
Shunji’s belly laugh shook the room as he shoveled food like a starving man.
“Hm? Visitor?”
Jihoon entered the kitchen post-work, eyeing the unfamiliar elder. He glanced at Heo-ok.
“This fossil’s Datemura Shunji. The Japanese record exec investing in Yeonu.”
“Ah. Good evening?”
[You speak English?]
[Wow, your English is amazing!]
[Skip the ‘for a Japanese’ qualifier. My American years fixed my accent.]
Their handshake sealed the greeting.
Post-dinner, Jiyeong and Jihoon convened with Shunji. The blueprint: JOP establishes a Korean branch housing SSHIN as subsidiary label. They expanded on verbal agreements, pending legal review before signing.
“Yeonu-yah, Grandpa Shunji’s company will help you and Auntie now. What’s first?”
The boy answered before his father finished:
“Make singers!!”
“Singers? Right.”
As Jihoon nodded, Jiyeong interjected:
“That’s good, but we have no candidates. Once JOP Korea trains trainees—”
“There IS someone!”
“Don’t tell me… Teacher Chae Hayoung?”
“Yeah!”
Yeonu had glimpsed her potential through Shunji’s “fairy”—knowledge Jiyeong lacked. She nearly dismissed it as childish whim, but this was the inexplicable genius who’d corrected Hades’ vocals. After leveling up through Himari’s tutelage in Japan, maybe he truly saw gold in Hayoung.
Shunji, who had heard Yeonwoo's words from Jihun while leaving the confused Jiyeong behind, said, "If you're someone who nurtures singers, you must have a good eye. Shall we go see if our Yeonwoo has a good eye?"
"You?"
"I'm curious. Is this child just good at music, or does he also have an eye for recognizing talented musicians?"
"Is that really important?"
"If it were just about composing songs and producing albums, it wouldn't matter. But Yeonwoo said it himself—he wants to discover and nurture singers."
"Hmm... Then it wouldn’t hurt to go see."
One thing was certain: Shunji’s discernment was undeniable.
After Japan’s top agency shut down due to a major scandal, concerns arose that the Korean wave might engulf the Japanese music industry.
In reality, Korea had nearly swallowed up the idol industry whole, turning these fears into fact.
Amid this, Shunji’s company filled Japan’s idol-dominated music scene with other genres, becoming synonymous with Japanese pride.
This was achieved solely through Shunji’s foresight and eye for talent.
Though he’d connected Yeonwoo to learn guitar, it seemed the boy would end up learning something else from Shunji instead.
Well, that might not be so bad either.
"Then let’s go pick up Yeonwoo together tomorrow afternoon and see for ourselves."
"Sure. By the way, since it’s my first time meeting your son, do you have any alcohol? It’d be nice to chat over drinks."
Heok nearly lost her composure but swallowed her frustration—Jihun’s opinion mattered. When she asked him, Jihun agreed readily.
On one condition: only after Yeonwoo had fallen asleep.
Once Yeonwoo went to bed at the appointed time, the adults’ private hours began.
Cha Haeyoung’s days spun in an endless loop.
With permission from the director—her friend’s mother and employer—she filmed YouTube videos with Jo Soyeon (the director’s daughter, colleague, and friend) before heading to work.
Once she began tending to the children, time vanished until pickup hour.
"Goodbye, ma’am! Yesera, behave now!"
Another day drew to a close.
Cha Haeyoung turned with a sigh, surveying the room.
Excluding nighttime care, only three children remained.
Fortunately, no injuries, illnesses, or complaining parents had disrupted the smooth pickup routine.
"Yewon and Siyeon’s guardians are here!"
Two down.
After hurrying them out, only Yeonwoo lingered—later than usual today.
Cha Haeyoung approached him.
The boy who typically lived at the piano now fixated on a toy drum.
Since Yeonwoo had started playing, the daycare had stocked up on xylophones and toy instruments to nurture the children’s newfound interest.
"Interested in drums?"
Yeonwoo looked up.
"Yes."
Long ago, his grandmother had shown him a YouTube video featuring Wes Montgomery and the legendary jazz drummer Buddy Rich’s "fairy." But without real drums, he’d rarely encountered this spirit—until today, when the toy drum summoned it back.
"Do you know how to play drums?"
"Huh? No."
"Ah. So Teacher isn’t good with instruments."
Yeonwoo’s sidelong glance at the piano made Cha Haeyoung scratch her head. He’d once called her piano skills lacking too, though she wasn’t that terrible…
You play really well.
“Teacher, when did you start learning to sing?”
“Singing?”
“Yes, you’re so good. You did learn it, right?”
“Yeah, I did. I think I started formal lessons in high school. I attended a music academy.”
“Ah, I see.”
Yeonwoo nodded, glanced briefly at something, then turned to Chae Hayoung and asked,
“You know when you sing sometimes…”
“Hmm?”
“That’s not your real voice, is it?”
“Huh…! How did you know?”
Do geniuses notice things like that?
“Just a feeling.”
So it’s true.
“Teacher, please sing with your real voice.”
“Huh?”
Yeonwoo stood up and sat at the piano.
“Do you know this song, Teacher?”
The intro flowed from Yeonwoo’s fingers. It was unmistakable—Kim Beom-shin’s Cold Night, a song that had topped the charts for weeks. She recognized it instantly, having recently covered it herself.
“I know it.”
“Sing it! With your real voice! I’ll accompany you.”
As Yeonwoo continued playing and stared expectantly, Chae Hayoung fidgeted before reluctantly opening her mouth.
Chae Hayoung’s true singing voice was a deep, androgynous low register—strikingly at odds with her delicate, poetic appearance.
Yeonwoo stared at her in mild shock.
The contrast between her fragile beauty and her gender-neutral voice was utterly unexpected.
It felt as though blue fairies were springing to life from her vocals.
Then what about Kim Beom-shin’s fairies?
She was even reacting in ways she hadn’t shown to Hadass.
Just as she was about to examine Shunji’s fairy—
“Yeonwoo!”
A grandmother’s voice called out.
Both Yeonwoo and Chae Hayoung stopped and turned.
“Oh! Grandma, hello!”
“Hello.”
Chae Hayoung greeted Heo-ok, then flinched when she noticed the figure beside her.
An elderly man.
His rough appearance, the scar on his forehead, and his large, sturdy build reminded her of a gangster.
The way he stared unblinkingly at her was unnerving.
“Ohoho.”
The man suddenly laughed—a peculiar, grating sound—and said to Yeonwoo,
“You have sharp eyes.”
Japanese?
Not a thug but a yakuza?!
She didn’t understand the words, but when Heo-ok chuckled at the man’s remark and called Yeonwoo over, the girl rushed to her grandmother.
Heo-ok hugged Yeonwoo, then said to Chae Hayoung,
“I heard the singing and came to listen. You have a lovely voice.”
“Thank you… Haha…”
Chae Hayoung bowed awkwardly.
Heo-ok flashed a cryptic smile before quickly leading Yeonwoo away.
On the way home after leaving the daycare center, Tateyama Shunji suddenly spoke up.
"[Nakagami Ayuna came to mind.]"
"[Now that you mention her name, I can see why.]"
Nakagami Ayuna.
She was a woman who dominated the Japanese music scene of the 80s alongside Mitsuda Seriko, whose name and songs were also known in Korea.
If Mitsuda Seriko is remembered as the greatest idol in Japanese music history, Nakagami Ayuna was the foremost and original Utahime (song princess) representing the 80s.
Utahime—literally "song princess"—carries a meaning similar to "diva," but in Japan, it is a title of even higher prestige, reserved only for the greatest female singers who have reached the pinnacle of their craft.
Tateyama Shunji was comparing such a singer to Chae Hayoung.
"[Her appearance and voice immediately remind me of her. Your grandson has not just musical talent but excellent taste.]"
"[Thanks to my grandson, I’ve listened to some recent songs and realized her style might seem too old-fashioned to succeed in Korea now. Unless we were back in Ayuna’s era.]"
At this, Shunji tilted his head and said,
"[Then why not find a place where she does fit?]"
"Huh?"
As he spoke, greed shimmered in Shunji’s eyes.
The hunger for talent that began with Yeonwoo had now extended to Chae Hayoung.
