After receiving the song from Yeonwoo, Hayeong worked hard on writing the lyrics.
But as she worked on it, she found it too overwhelming to do alone, so she enlisted the help of Soyeon, who had a talent for writing, and together they completed the lyrics.
"Finally…!"
"But is this really a song made by Yeonwoo? Really?"
By this point, Soyeon already knew about Yeonwoo’s true identity.
Not only were Hayeong and Soyeon long-time friends, but Jiyeong had also noticed Soyeon’s video editing skills on YouTube and proposed hiring her as an editor for SSHIN’s official channel. During their discussions, they signed a non-disclosure agreement and revealed Yeonwoo’s identity.
"Yeah, it is."
"Wow… There really are geniuses out there. How can a six-year-old…?"
"The song is really good, right?"
"Exactly. Since we finished it, why don’t you sing it for us?"
"Should I?"
Hayeong paused, about to sing right then and there.
"…Let’s go to the studio and sing it there. You come along and listen too."
"Go to the studio?"
"Yeah, since we’re at it, we should let the composer hear it first."
At those words, Soyeon lit up with excitement.
"Alright, let’s do that. It’s been a while since we’ve seen our pretty Yeonwoo."
The daycare where Hayeong and Soyeon worked, and where Yeonwoo attended, had a two-week holiday starting from Christmas week until the new year.
Of course, children from dual-income families or those with other circumstances still attended during the holidays, but Yeonwoo did not go during the break. Instead, she practically lived in the studio.
"Don’t call Yeonwoo pretty. She’ll get upset."
"I know. But honestly, her looks are unreal."
Hayeong looked at Soyeon with a mix of pity and exasperation.
"I knew you were obsessed with appearances, but even with a kid?"
"Hey, Yeonwoo’s on another level. When she grows up, it’ll be chaos. Girls will flock to her just for her face."
"Ugh."
Hayeong sighed, brushed off her seat, and stood up.
"Where are you going?"
"To the studio. I need to let Yeonwoo hear this."
"Ooh, let’s go! Now!"
Chae Hayeong and Jo Soyeon hurried to the studio.
Just a few steps from the daycare, the studio was where Yeonwoo now "worked," spending her days with her aunt and grandmother decorating a Christmas tree.
"Wow, preparing for Christmas?"
Soyeon cheerfully approached and subtly placed an ornament on the tree.
"Yep. Yeonwoowanted trees at both home and the studio."
At Jiyeong’s explanation, Soyeon smiled warmly at Yeonwoo.
"Teacher, that’s my job."
Yeonwoocarefully took the Snow Queen figurine from Soyeon and hung it on the tree.
"You like the Snow Queen, Yeonwoo?"
"She sings well."
Liking a character for their singing voice—typical of Yeonwoo, who lived and breathed music.
With Hayeong and Soyeon’s help, the tree was finished in no time.
"Ready? On three, we light it up!"
Hayeong spoke to Yeonwoo like she would to the daycare kids, holding her attention.
As Yeonwoo stared at the tree with sparkling eyes, everyone smiled at her adorable focus. Finally, the tiny lights flickered to life.
"Whoa…!"
Yeonwoo gasped at the multicolored glow.
"It’s pretty."
Heo-ok watched fondly from behind her.
Jiyeong smirked and nudged her mother.
"Remember when Mom said we couldn’t have a tree or Santa gifts because we were Buddhist?"
"…Did I?"
Heo-ok flustered under Jiyeong’s teasing.
Yeonwoo whirled around, horrified.
"Santa doesn’t come to our house?!"
"Huh?"
All eyes turned to Yeonwoo, whose pupils trembled with panic.
The adults immediately glared at Jiyeong, who backtracked hastily:
"N-no! We’re not Buddhist anymore! Santa will come!"
"Really?"
"Y-yes! Right, Mom?"
Heo-ok, still a practicing Buddhist, sighed.
"Sure. Santa will definitely come."
But Heo-ok, who would rather turn away from Buddha than disappoint her grandson.
Heo-ok, who had suddenly abandoned her faith, glared at Ji-young, but Ji-young averted her gaze and spoke to Yeon-woo.
“What do you want Santa to bring you, Yeon-woo?”
All eyes turned to Yeon-woo.
With Christmas Eve just two days away, Ji-hoon had already purchased his gift, but they asked in case he wanted something different.
Yeon-woo blurted out immediately:
“Emperor Saurus King!”
“What’s that?”
“…King? What did you say?”
As Heo-ok and Ji-young looked bewildered, Chae Ha-young chimed in from the side:
“It’s a popular combinable robot toy among kids these days.”
“Yeah! I’m the only one who doesn’t have it! Hyung-jun, Jun-young, and Young-min all do!”
…They hadn’t anticipated this.
The gift Ji-hoon had prepared after discussions with Heo-ok and Ji-young was none other than a new master keyboard.
While they’d previously used Ji-young’s 49-key keyboard, this time it was an 88-key model plus two MIDI controller keyboards with more detailed controls.
It was meant for Yeon-woo, who’d been absorbed in composing—yet what he truly desired was a gift befitting a six-year-old.
“S-Santa must’ve heard! He’ll bring it, right?”
Ji-young forced a calm tone.
Ha-young and So-yeon gasped upon hearing this, crossing their arms into an X shape, but the damage was done.
“But didn’t you finish writing lyrics? You came to let us hear them, right?”
Yeon-woo asked Ha-young amid the commotion.
“Mhm, I did. Want to listen?”
“Yes! Oh, wait—I need to finish something first. I’ll be right back!”
Yeon-woo dashed into his studio.
Seeing this, Ji-young turned to Ha-young and So-yeon:
“What’s with the X sign? Why’d you do that?”
“Emperor Saurus King’s insanely popular! It’s sold out everywhere for Christmas—a total shortage crisis!”
“A sh-shortage?!”
“Yes! No stores have stock. Pre-orders are impossible, and resellers on Gaji Market are charging triple—it’s hopeless!”
“What…? It’s just a kids’ toy… I thought it’d be online…”
As Ji-young despaired, Heo-ok asked gravely:
“Is there truly no way to get it?”
“None…”
Jo So-yeon nodded in agreement.
“Unless you go to Japan.”
Heo-ok and Ji-young’s ears perked up simultaneously.
“Japan?”
“Yes. It’s originally a Japanese product.”
“Is that so?”
Their eyes met.
Heo-ok gave a resolute nod and dialed her phone.
“Himari?”
[Teacher!! Oh my God, you’re calling me?! What’s wrong?]
“That King—wait, Emperor? What’s it called again?”
“In Japan, it’s Ryusentai Kingusaouzer.”
“Thanks. [Ryusentai Kingusaouzer? Can you get that toy for me?]”
[Huh?! A sentai robot… Oh! For Yeon-woo’s Christmas gift?]
[Yes. It’s impossible to find here.]
[Leave it to me! I’ll buy every mecha from the main unit to all side units!]
[Thank you! Once secured, send them here—no, shipping would take too long. Maybe send Ji-young—]
[No need! Perfect timing—I’ll deliver them myself tomorrow! I’ve missed Yeon-woo!]
Though startled by Himari’s spontaneity, Heo-ok agreed and hung up.
“What’d she say, Mom?”
“Himari will get them and deliver them herself. Thank goodness.”
“Whew! But… in person?”
“She says she wants to see Yeon-woo.”
Ha-young stared speechlessly at their exchange.
To exploit Uesugi Himari—one of this era’s greatest musicians, a jazz chart-topper revered worldwide—as a glorified courier…
This family’s connections never ceased to astound.
As the scale of Yeon-woo’s Christmas gift (not the present itself, but its delivery) escalated beyond reason, Yeon-woo emerged from his studio.
The adults feigned nonchalance, ushering him into the recording studio.
Chae Ha-young entered smiling, but reality struck upon seeing the vocal booth:
‘Ah… My lyrics…’
For the first time since her practical music coursework, she’d have to sing self-written lyrics in that booth—
Before a panel of three generations: Shin Heo-ok, Shin Ji-young, and Shin Yeon-woo.
But the three generations are on a whole different level.
My heart races as if I’m back on one of those audition shows I watched as a child.
Among them, Yeonwoo—the song’s owner—takes a seat.
In an instant, her sharp eyes gleam, transforming her from a six-year-old into Yooin.
Jo Soyeon, witnessing this transformation for the first time, instinctively covers her mouth with both hands.
“Shall we begin, Teacher?”
—Huh? Y-yes!
Inside the recording studio, their roles reverse.
Yeonwoo becomes both mentor and producer, while Chae Hayoung stands as student and singer.
Chae Hayoung, maintaining formal speech to separate professionalism from familiarity, steadied her resolve.
If she faltered here, Yeonwoo would hound her with that terrifying gaze until satisfied.
To call it fear of a six-year-old would be a laughable understatement.
‘And besides…’
Hayoung glanced beyond the booth and shuddered.
All three generations stared at her with identical piercing eyes.
Cold. Sharp. Unrelenting.
Not just Yeonwoo—even Jiyeong’s usual ditzy demeanor had vanished.
Beside her, Heo Ok radiated an aura surpassing even Yeonwoo and Jiyeong combined.
‘Proof of their devotion to music.’
‘I’m no different.’
Chae Hayoung clenched her fists.
—Ready, Yooin!
“Let’s begin!”
The intro of Yeonwoo’s composition flowed through the studio.
Chae Hayoung closed her eyes, swaying to the beat before singing memorized lyrics:
—Evening sun fractures the river… I walk across its shards…
The melody embodied its intended essence—a weary office worker’s journey home.
Lyrics crafted by Chae Hayoung and Jo Soyeon melted seamlessly into the music.
Three minutes later, Hayoung emerged from her trance as the伴奏 faded.
—So… how was it?
Jo Soyeon answered with a silent thumbs-up.
Hayoung turned to the three generations.
“I thought it was good! Mom?”
“Lyrics worthy of our Yeonwoo’s composition.”
“Vocals were striking too.”
“My student would’ve earned an A+.”
Two approvals.
One remained.
The critic who mattered most.
Yeonwoo organized her thoughts before speaking.
“The lyrics work.”
“They harmonize with the song.”
“But Teacher—”
“Shorten the third verse’s final sustain.”
“Your pitch dipped below the伴奏 during the climax.”
“Raise it.”
“Second verse’s second line drifted off-beat.”
“Intentional?”
“I prefer strict tempo.”
“And…”
The lyrics passed.
Her singing? Not quite perfect.
Yeonwoo’s surgical critique drained color from Hayoung’s face.
‘Even my college professors weren’t this brutal!’
Against this prodigy, Chae Hayoung stood no chance.
