Chapter 2 ….
The horn of a cargo truck tore through my eardrums.
Bang!
My body bounced up and shot into the air.
Is this the end?
In that instant when the world flipped upside down, the thing that came to mind was my student’s stage.
The child I had taught for the very first time.
Under dazzling stage lights, that child perfectly controlled the vocal organs exactly as I had taught, producing a heavenly voice.
On that stage where I had never once stood myself, my student’s song was shaking the hearts of the audience.
“I wouldn’t be standing here without my vocal trainer, Teacher Oh Sun.”
Listening to my student’s interview, I realized something.
The cheers he received, the applause, the thrill of the crowd—
none of it could ever belong to me.
It was also the moment I accepted that “a life behind the stage is my life.”
I had debuted countless trainees, yet never once stood beneath the spotlight myself.
The brilliant light always belonged to my students.
And I remained in the shadows behind the stage, cultivating them.
That was my life.
And then—
Thud!
My body slammed to the ground.
Ugh…
I couldn’t breathe.
Even when I tried to inhale, the air wouldn’t reach my lungs.
My consciousness collapsed as if I were sinking deep beneath the surface of water.
The gray forest of buildings faded beneath my eyelids.
Even the faintest breath couldn’t reach me as I was swallowed by darkness.
And slowly, my consciousness began to blur.
But then—
“Gasp!”
The crushing weight on my body suddenly disappeared.
Cold air rushed in.
I opened my eyes.
An unfamiliar ceiling.
Unfamiliar walls.
My eyes moved blankly.
Am I in a hospital?
I clenched and unclenched my fists. I moved my toes.
My senses were perfectly clear.
But hadn’t I just been overwhelmed by pain strong enough to kill me?
I lifted my hand to check if it was intact.
But…
These weren’t rough, thick hands.
They were slender fingers—smooth and clean.
Wait… are these my hands?
Startled, I moved them and touched one with the other.
The sensation was clear.
They were definitely my hands.
Panicking, I kicked the blanket away.
Long, slender legs appeared.
I got off the bed and stood in front of the full-length mirror beside the desk.
Under faint sunlight, a strange boy stood there.
A sharp jawline.
Cool, large eyes.
A straight nose bridge.
Full lips.
And above all—
Around 180 centimeters tall.
A well-balanced body.
He looked like a model.
Is this a dream?
I raised my hand and slapped my cheek.
It hurt.
Not a dream.
A reality that felt unreal.
I checked the textbook on the desk.
“Yeonje High School – 2nd Year – Park Do-ha.”
Beside the textbook was a notebook.
Inside were sketches of stage movements, along with lyrics—like choreography notes.
On the bookshelf were vocal training manuals, music theory books, and neatly organized audition materials sorted with index tabs.
I turned around and looked at the room.
A square, tidy space.
One wall was covered with idol posters.
Around them were countless printed screenshots of videos of Park Do-ha practicing, and colorful sticky notes stuck everywhere.
“Make the expressions more dramatic.”
“Put strength into the fingertips.”
“Eyes sharp like blades. This time, pass for sure.”
I looked back at the mirror.
Next to the mirror was a lighting stand and a filming tripod.
Underneath them lay sweat-soaked practice clothes, crumpled on the floor.
In the corner were overturned dance sneakers.
Don’t tell me… I entered someone else’s body?
Then what happened to me?
I picked up the smartphone on the desk to look for information.
On the lock screen was the same face I had just seen in the mirror.
Suddenly—
A sharp pain seized my head, as if someone grabbed my brain with their hand.
At the same time, unfamiliar memories flooded in like a collapsing dam.
“Park Do-ha, with that voice you can’t be a main vocalist.”
“Do-ha, I heard you failed another audition. Why not just quit?”
“The visuals are good, but that nasal voice…”
“Teacher, please fix my voice. Please…”
They were Park Do-ha’s memories.
A high school student who dreamed of becoming an idol.
A kid famous since childhood for his dancing skills—good enough to appear on a talent discovery program.
But his distinctive nasal voice constantly held him back, making his idol dream seem distant.
He practiced vocal correction whenever he had free time.
Since the upper grades of elementary school, he had changed vocal trainers repeatedly, trying to fix his voice—but it never improved.
As proof, all the walls of Park Do-ha’s room were soundproofed.
And in his memories, his parents fully supported his dream.
His mother especially.
She accompanied him to countless auditions and even took extra shifts at work to pay for lessons.
He also had friends.
Friends who shared the same dream.
They formed a team called “Flying High” and participated in various festivals, hoping to rise as idols.
They praised Park Do-ha’s dance skills and visuals.
But his nasal voice was always the problem.
And the most recent memory—
“Park Do-ha, we decided to go to the Voice League audition without you.”
The final notice from his teammates.
Overwhelmed with despair, Do-ha had cried out desperately.
“Please help me… If only my voice changes, I’ll do anything…”
So that’s why I entered this body?
Then what about me?
What happened to me?
I picked up Do-ha’s smartphone.
The last thing I saw before death was a cargo truck.
Maybe the accident was reported in the news.
I searched: “Vocal trainer Oh Sun accident.”
Nothing.
Why isn’t it there?
I tried another search.
“Voice League accident.”
Huh?
It was a high-rating show, yet there were no articles?
Then I searched again:
“Trainer Oh Sun death.”
Still nothing.
“This is strange…”
Was there no accident at all?
Or was it never reported?
I changed my approach and searched:
“Voice League: Final Sound.”
The most recent news read:
“Voice League: Final Sound — preliminary application begins today.”
The article was from one week ago.
Did I go back in time?
This time I searched the academy I used to run.
“Soul Voice Academy.”
No results.
Even the famous singers I had trained couldn’t be found.
Only one or two existed—and they had debuted as trot singers, not major stars.
What on earth happened?
I was confused.
First, I decided to confirm things directly.
I should go to the academy in Seongsu-dong.
Checking the phone again, it was Saturday.
Luckily, there was no school.
I quickly changed clothes.
Just wearing Park Do-ha’s jeans, white T-shirt, and black hoodie already made the reflection in the mirror look neat and stylish.
Is this even possible?
With my original appearance, I could never have looked like this.
A smile crept onto my face.
I grabbed the wallet.
Luckily there was plenty of allowance money.
There was also a card under the name Park Kyung-min—probably his father.
Good.
When I left the room, it seemed his parents had already gone to work.
A note was left on the dining table.
“I made stir-fried pork.
You need stamina to dance and sing.
Fighting until the audition. ♥”
It was a note from Do-ha’s mother.
I let out a sigh of relief.
Meeting the family in this situation would have been extremely awkward.
Outside, I saw the neighborhood where Do-ha lived.
A typical apartment complex on the outskirts of Seoul.
The subway station was about a 15-minute walk away.
Once I boarded the subway, passengers kept glancing at me.
Even while walking on the street, people turned their heads to look.
People used to stare at me in my previous life too.
But their reactions were different.
If our eyes met, they would look shocked and quickly turn away.
But now?
When our eyes met, they blushed and lowered their heads.
It made something tickle faintly inside my chest.
Finally, I arrived at Seongsu-dong.
The building where my vocal academy had been was about 200 meters from a famous idol company.
I looked up at the sign on the 5th floor.
“Potential Dance Studio?”
The academy name had changed.
A dance academy?
Maybe the location changed?
I checked the building directory.
But there was no vocal academy listed.
Still unable to believe it, I went up to the 5th floor.
The space I once ran had completely changed.
The walls had been torn down and replaced with a large mirrored dance practice room.
“When did you start the dance academy here?”
I asked the staff at the reception desk.
“About three years ago. Is something wrong?”
“No… I heard there used to be a pretty famous vocal academy called ‘Soul Voice Academy’ here. Do you know it?”
“Hmm… I’ve never heard that name before.”
Until just days ago I had been teaching there.
And now it didn’t even exist.
I left the academy and searched again on my phone.
“Vocal Trainer Oh Sun.”
My name—which once easily appeared—was gone.
I checked every social media account.
Same result.
“This makes no sense…”
I went into a café and sat down.
While drinking coffee, I kept searching.
I searched the WebTube channel I used to run:
“Mr. Voice.”
It didn’t exist either.
My hometown.
My old schools.
The stores I frequented.
All those places existed.
Finally, I called my parents using the number I remembered.
But someone else answered.
A hollow laugh escaped me.
In this world, vocal trainer Oh Sun simply didn’t exist.
Then my phone buzzed with a message.
Min-soo:
“Do-ha, you’re not coming to practice today, right?
I know you’re trying to fix your voice, but we don’t have much time left.
So I called to tell you not to come anymore.
It’ll just make things uncomfortable for everyone.
Anyway, fighting.”
It was from Min-soo, the leader of Flying High and Do-ha’s friend.
How ridiculous.
Right before an audition, they kick him out by text—and even tell him not to come anymore?
Friends shouldn’t do that.
Either don’t prepare together from the start,
or at least say it face-to-face.
Getting expelled the moment I possess the body.
It was bitter—but also lucky.
If these were his friends, there was no point staying with them anyway.
Maybe it worked out for the best.
Now I only needed to focus on Park Do-ha’s body.
From what I saw in the memories, Do-ha’s nasal voice had always been the problem.
Because of it, he failed auditions repeatedly and was even kicked out of Flying High.
But that was Park Do-ha’s story.
I might not exist in this world.
But inside Park Do-ha’s body—
I was still Oh Sun.
The vocal trainer from hell.
A handicap like that was nothing.
And besides—
I had the skills and techniques to change it.
More importantly, the one thing I could never overcome as Oh Sun—
my appearance.
Now it had become the complete opposite.
I clenched my fist.
“I’ll prove it.”
“Flying High… you’ll regret this.”
I swore that under the spotlight at center stage,
I would release both this boy’s resentment and my own.
