Now That I Have Become a Woman, I Am a Vtuber - Chapter 84

The last recording ended surprisingly smoothly.

Well, after enduring countless rounds of feedback over a long time and having adapted to the composer’s relentless critiques, handling the remaining minor feedback was now easy for me.

“Is it really over now?”

“Yes, it’s finished.”

It’s finally over.

It feels so nostalgic.

How long has this project been going on?

It started around the same time as the second single of the Celestial Project. It sure has been a long time.

“Shall we go for lunch first?”

“Sounds good.”

Even though it was a bit late, it was still just barely lunch time, so we left the recording studio and moved back to the lobby.

Sitting at the large table in the lobby, I noticed the notes that had been left there from earlier.

Come to think of it, what was he writing here?

I took a quick glance at the notes, which seemed to be written by Moon Chang-shik, but the handwriting was so messy that it was hard to decipher.

“What are you looking at so intently?”

Just then, Moon Chang-shik, who had followed me out, spoke up when he saw me.

“I was curious about what you wrote here, but your handwriting is quite terrible.”

“…As long as an actor can act well, that’s what matters.”

“Well, you do seem to act quite well.”

He really is good.

Young, tall, handsome, and even a great actor—it’s no wonder he’s a successful actor.

Plus, he’s passionate, which is why he became a top star.

“It’s only natural. Besides, the notes I made here aren’t that important.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I just wanted to ask about things I imagined a real composer might think about while acting.”

Wow, every time I see it, he’s truly dedicated to his craft. It’s impressive, almost to the point of admiration.

“The director shooting the movie with you must be pleased.”

“Pardon?”

“With an actor this committed to the role, they can capture every scene exactly as they envision, if not better.”

Moon Chang-shik was genuinely amazed by the sincere compliment.

“Didn’t expect you to be capable of such compliments.”

“Well, I’m a master of eloquence.”

I shrugged my shoulders as I said that, and the composer, who had come into the lobby a bit later, responded.

“Eloquence or not, with a good voice, you’re already halfway there just by speaking.”

“A good voice is part of eloquence too.”

“Didn’t I train your vocal skills?”

“Are you claiming credit for my vocal coach’s achievements now?”

“Oh dear, in our industry, claiming credit is a bit of a sensitive topic.”

… Ouch, he really got me there. I raised the white flag right away.

“Okay, I’ll take that back. But why did you come out so late?”

“I was about to leave, but I remembered a few final touches, so I just did a quick check before coming out.”

“Oh… I’m looking forward to it. If it does come out, when would that be?”

I had heard earlier that there were no immediate plans to release it, but maybe there’s a rough idea of when?

“I really don’t know. I’ve heard from an insider I know that the major idols are preparing for their comebacks.”

Oh no… major idols are a tough competition.

In this era where songs are judged by the charts, they’re like runaway 8-ton dump trucks with no brakes. In other words, most people who go up against them end up crushed.

Speaking of major idols, one person comes to mind.

“Composer, do you happen to know Lee Hyun-joon?”

“Oh, you mean the guy from Beasts?”

As expected from a composer well-versed in this field, he instantly came up with the group name.

“Oh, you know him.”

“Of course, I even gave him a song once.”

“Really?”

He’s even given them a song? Just how extensive are this composer’s connections?

“Yes, I heard it sold pretty well. I still get calls from him every now and then.”

It really shows that talent attracts people. Just look at this composer—he’s got such skill that people from all over keep wanting to stay in touch with him.

“Did you receive a premium beef gift set during Chuseok?”

“How did you know?”

“I just took a guess.”

So receiving premium beef around Chuseok is kind of a group-wide thing, huh? As expected from idols, they really know how to build goodwill.

“You have a good sense. What would you like for lunch?”

Lunch?

Now that he mentioned it, we do need to order something…

I think we’ve ordered from almost every delivery place around here at least once.

“Mr. Moon Chang-shik, are you okay with any particular diet?”

As I was considering the options, I naturally thought about Moon Chang-shik, the actor. He seems a bit slimmer than before; is he allowed to eat whatever?

“Oh, it’s fine. Since I’ve already reached my ideal physique for filming, maintaining it isn’t hard.”

“Oh… feeling confident?”

“…What kind of food are you planning to order?”

“How about jjajangmyeon with some tangsuyuk on the side?”

“That should be fine… it has carbs and protein too.”

Oh… seems like this much is okay?

Since I got his approval, I quickly took the composer’s phone to place the order.

The delivery arrived faster than expected.

Maybe because we ordered just as the lunch rush was ending? It seemed they were able to prepare it without any delay.

I picked up the delivered jjajangmyeon and tangsuyuk to put on the table, but then, a forgotten muscle ache jabbed at me.

“Ouch.”

“Are you hurt somewhere?”

The composer asked, noticing my discomfort as I quickly set the food down and pressed on my throbbing arm.

“No, it’s just muscle pain.”

“Looks like you’ve been working out lately.”

“Yeah, it’s killing me. The company told me to learn dancing.”

“Dancing? Hm…”

Wait, why does he look like he’s thinking about something?

Surely there isn’t choreography for the new song, right? I haven’t even practiced the guitar score he gave me last time—if there’s choreography too, I’m done for.

“Don’t tell me there’s choreography for that song?”

“There wasn’t originally, but I’m considering it. I’m thinking of hiring a choreographer…”

Oh no, that would be the end of me.

“Just so you know, I’m really bad at moving my body. I did jump rope in dance lessons.”

“…Is it that bad?”

“Yes, don’t think of me as an average adult. Imagine I’ve been bedridden for about ten years.”

I might be exaggerating a little, but honestly, I can barely dance at all.

“…Got it.”

Only after my blunt response did the composer nod with a hint of regret and help set up the food again.

Phew… that was close.

Just as I let out a sigh of relief and tore open the plastic on the jjajangmyeon, Moon Chang-shik, who had been quietly listening the whole time, suddenly spoke up.

“Suhyun.”

“Yes?”

Ah, right. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned learning to dance in front of him?

Oh well. If he asks, I can always just tell him I’m a virtual streamer. There’s no point in hiding it now; it’s not like Moon Chang-shik is the type to spread rumors.

“Are you interested in a small acting role?”

But his question was entirely different from what I’d expected.

“…A small role?”

“Yes, I was talking to the director in private the other day, and he mentioned wanting to add a scene. But they didn’t have anyone in mind for it, so he asked if I knew anyone to recommend. That thought just popped up as I was watching you.”

So, he’s been thinking about that this whole time? But a small role… this is way too sudden.

“Uh… what kind of scene?”

“Exactly like this one.”

“Huh?”

“Just a shameless top star casually chatting with a producer in the beginning.”

Ah… I can imagine what kind of scene he’s talking about. But…

“I’m neither shameless nor a top star, though.”

I’ve never learned how to act.

For me to stand in front of a camera, I’d need a role that requires no acting at all, and this one doesn’t quite fit, does it?

“You’re shameless enough and, besides, you look like a top star already, don’t you?”

Oh…

A top star acknowledging that I look like one… Can I brag about this somewhere?

“So, are you interested? I think you’d look great, and you’d probably pull off the role really well.”

I appreciate the offer, but… isn’t it a bit late for me to start something like that? I even wore a hat on a variety show because I felt uneasy about my face being on screen.

“Well, it’s just that… I’m not too comfortable with media exposure.”

“…Why not?”

Moon Chang-shik tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. As someone whose job revolves around being in front of the camera, he really didn’t seem to get it. Why? Well, wouldn’t it be inconvenient if people started recognizing me later on?

But somehow, explaining this felt a bit embarrassing…

“It’s just that I’m content with where I am now. I feel like if I get too much attention, it’ll just make things more tiring.”

I tried to word it lightly, but Moon Chang-shik still looked at me with a curious expression, as if something had clicked within him. His eyes almost seemed to blaze as he continued speaking.

“Are you truly someone who’s content with the present?”

“…What?”

Someone content with the present? Well…

“Does someone satisfied with the present come all the way to a studio to record so passionately like this?”

“Oh…”

Right?

Why am I putting so much effort into recording this new song?

“Are you sure you’re not just avoiding it? Saying, ‘I’m content with where I am, so I don’t need to do it.’ Like that.”

I didn’t have much to say in response to the words flowing from Moon Chang-shik’s mouth.

And before I could even think of a reply, he continued.

“I see things a little differently. There’s no reason not to do it.”

In a cinema filled with hundreds, in a restaurant at times, or even in someone’s living room. The powerful words and sentences emerging from Moon Chang-shik’s rich voice sank into my ears, the same voice that had captivated people and drawn them in.

“A person is a torch that burns just once in a lifetime. If you’re going to burn, wouldn’t it be better to burn brighter?”

His words drew my full attention.

He’d been easygoing until now, so I hadn’t noticed, but he was indeed a true top star.

A person who could instantly draw the focus of those around him.

“Not just a torch that lights the door, the hallway, or nearby surroundings. A blazing torch that brightens a village, a city, even a country.”

After a brief pause, he locked eyes with me and spoke again.

“In my opinion, Suhyun, you have what it takes. You could be the beacon that lights up not just a city but an entire country. Why hesitate to let that light shine?”

With that, Moon Chang-shik leaned back in his seat, as if he’d said everything he had to say, and resumed mixing his slightly soggy jjajangmyeon.

And as he stirred his noodles, I sat there, speechless, unable to lift my chopsticks.

Oh… was he always like this?

Who in the world offers a bit part in such a dramatic way if it’s not even a lead role?