Idol of the Heavenly One - Chapter 4.2

 

“Well…”

 

“Hm? What? Did you just say ‘well’?”

 

But perhaps my answer was different from what they had expected, because the four of them looked flustered and asked me again.

 

Still, my answer remained firm.

 

“I need to graduate from a good university, get a job, make money, and be filial to my parents. I can’t be sure about a job as uncertain as being an idol.”

 

Just getting excited wouldn’t change anything. With the lottery no longer a sure thing, I couldn’t waste time on a profession with such an unclear future.

 

As far as I remembered, trot singers were more popular in the future than idols. All I ever heard were stories of trot singers making hundreds of billions.

 

Even though that idol group YEARZ was said to be the best in that world, honestly, if it weren’t for Lee Ji-eun, I wouldn’t have even known such a group existed.

 

I only came here because Moongbaek begged me to come with him, and even dragged my father along, but this was just to have something to write in my self-introduction letter — I had never seriously considered it.

 

“Well…”

 

They probably thought I was arrogant.

But what could I do? It was the truth.

 

“You must worry a lot about the future.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with being prepared ahead of time.”

 

“You really are like a little old man. Alright then, you’ve worked hard.”

 

Still, they didn’t seem like bad people.

They had that cool attitude of, “It’s a shame you won’t come, but we’ll be fine without you,” as they told me I’d worked hard, so I simply bowed my head in thanks and left the room.

 

“How did it go?”

 

My father was waiting right outside the door, clasping his hands together, greeting me with an eager look.

 

“I don’t know. I just looked at the camera a few times, sang a song, and that was it.”

 

“Sang? My Myeong-hyeon actually sang a song?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Really? My Myeong-hyeon sang in front of other people?”

 

It seemed my father found it astonishing that I had sung in front of people.

 

Well, it made sense. Since I was a child, I had never even hummed the nursery rhymes that every toddler went crazy for.

 

“Yes, I sang. Bang—”

 

“Hm? Bang?”

 

Wait a minute.

Did I just make a huge mistake?

 

Just as I was about to tell Dad the singer and title of the song I had sung, I suddenly thought — did this song even exist yet?

 

I quickly pulled out my phone to search it.

 

Phew.

 

Thankfully, the song and singer matched.

 

“Hm? Why? Did the audition not go well?”

“No, I’m not sure. They just told me to go home for now.”

 

So this song and singer had avoided the butterfly effect. Good.

 

It would have been terrible if the song had disappeared or the singer had changed because of me, since it was a song that once defined an era.

 

“How was it?”

 

On the drive back home in my father’s car, I knew exactly what he meant by that question.

He was asking what it felt like to sing in front of people.

 

“Just, you know.”

“Was it fun?”

“It was a valuable experience.”

 

It really was a valuable experience to sing in front of people.

It made me wonder if I would ever get the chance to do that again in my life, not because I was forced to sing at some work dinner but by choice.

 

Of course, I knew that wasn’t what Dad was asking.

 

He probably meant—were you nervous, or did you actually enjoy it more than you expected?

 

“Haha. Our Myeong-hyeon even speaks so beautifully. Did you get nervous while singing? How did it feel?”

 

As expected.

 

“I just sang because they told me to.”

“Hahaha. That’s so like my Myeong-hyeon to say.”

 

Dad sometimes told me, “There are times when you seem more like an adult than me, Myeong-hyeon.”

I guess he was feeling that now.

A normal kid probably would have whined about how nervous they were.

 

“But…”

“Hm?”

“I kind of thought maybe I was good at singing.”

“Really?”

“Yes. They clapped for me.”

“Seriously? Wow. Dad’s never even heard you sing, so I’m dying to know!”

“I’m not going to sing for you.”

 

I turned my head toward the window, ignoring my father’s obvious intentions.

I had only added that last comment because I sounded too indifferent, but it seemed like it would only make things troublesome later.

When we got home, Mom would probably join in and demand I sing all day.

Damn it, I needed to nip that in the bud.

 

“Even if I sing well, it’s useless. Being a singer is a job with an uncertain future. Only a tiny fraction of people succeed. It’s not a stable lifelong career.”

 

So I cut things off in advance, saying that I had no interest in being an idol, and even less interest in singing for anyone.

 

“Hm. But Myeong-hyeon, if the reason you won’t try becoming a singer is just because the future seems uncertain, then Dad disagrees.”

 

“Why do you think that?”

 

“Life never goes exactly according to plan. You’ll always end up living while drawing an uncertain future in your mind. So, since that’s the case, I think it’s good for you to try everything you want to try while you can.”

 

“Of course, if you don’t feel any interest in becoming a singer, then you don’t have to do it.”

 

It was different.

 

Dad was only in his early forties now, but he thought differently than I did in my past life.

 

He was living with a more romantic view of life.

 

It must be because of the family he had shared life with so far and would continue to share life with in the future.

 

“But if you ever find a dream later on, I hope you won’t give up and will definitely try.”

 

In my past life, I had been too busy just putting food on the table for myself, so I had drawn only a future that was safe and certain— there had been no room for romance, let alone dreams.

 

“Yes. I will.”

 

Would it be alright to have a dream in this life?

Even so, being an idol was definitely not on the list of possible careers.

 

After all, a dream still had to pay enough money.

I couldn’t take on a high-risk, uncertain career.