Chapter 3 …
Inside the subway, people’s gazes were still following my face.
The model-level appearance buff was a bit burdensome, but it felt satisfying—like a regret from my past life was finally being resolved.
An appearance advantageous for becoming a singer.
But what kind of tone would this nasal voice produce?
One week until the audition preliminaries…
A strange body with a strange voice.
“First, I should at least hear the sound.”
Figuring out the limits of this body was the first step.
When I arrived home, it seemed my parents weren’t back yet.
On the dining table sat the stir-fried pork rice that had been there when I left earlier.
Before checking my tone, it would be better to put my body in the best condition possible.
The oiliness worried me a little, but this much should be fine.
Eating too much before singing isn’t good, but neither is eating nothing at all.
If you eat too much, it presses on the diaphragm and makes breathing shallow. If you eat nothing, low blood sugar reduces concentration.
Sound comes from breathing, and breathing is directly tied to the body’s condition.
Both an empty stomach and a full stomach are bad for the vocal cords.
Even before, I had seen countless kids collapse from hunger right before going on stage, and others clutch their stomachs from being too full and fail on the high notes.
In the end, what matters is the balance between energy and space.
The stir-fried pork rice tasted better than expected. I wanted more, but I held back.
After washing the dishes, I took a sip of water—just enough so the inside of my throat wouldn’t be too dry or too wet.
As I walked into my room, I checked my voice.
Before opening my mouth, I took several deep breaths.
The trigger for diaphragmatic breathing. My abdomen trembled slightly, but the diaphragm felt dull—like a sleeping beast.
Hmm… someone who sings, and yet this sensation… still isn’t awake.
“Alright, diaphragmatic breathing is out. Next, ah…”
I lightly released a sound.
At that moment, my expression twisted as if I’d heard something I shouldn’t have.
The breath didn’t drop below the uvula—it stayed trapped in the nasal cavity, buzzing.
“Hmmm~~~.”
I added pitch to the sound.
The dull, nasal-centered tone became even worse.
“…This is more serious than I thought.”
But I had heard voices like this before.
When you work as a vocal trainer, countless hopefuls come with their own problems.
A voice is a singer’s identity. If they can’t find it, they can’t stand on stage.
“Alright. I’ll find the best tone for this nasal voice.”
I thumped my chest and stomach.
* * *
Once in the room, I first checked the equipment available for practice.
Compared to the quick glance I had taken at dawn, Doha’s room was surprisingly well equipped.
On one wall were sound-absorbing panels. Next to a tripod and lighting for recording practice videos stood a small home-recording setup—an audio interface, microphone, and monitor speakers arranged like a mini booth.
“The equipment’s better than I expected.”
Then why are the basics of vocalization completely missing?
I grew suspicious.
Curious about how Doha usually practiced, I played a recent recording he had made.
A familiar melody flowed out: “Higher.”
But the voice layered on top of it sounded suffocating—like someone singing while wearing a mask.
In the mid-low range, it had a strange vibration like it was resonating inside the nose, with almost no resonance elsewhere.
The sound kept leaking through the nose, each syllable blurring together and weakening its delivery.
At the climax, the vocal cords failed to close, producing a metallic noise before scattering into the air.
This is serious. It’s not even like a mosquito buzzing.
It was like someone had blocked their nose and forced sound out only through their mouth.
Even a goat wouldn’t cry like this.
Each phrase scattered like air escaping from the nostrils, the flow of notes breaking off mid-sob.
Just listening to it made my ears itch in irritation, and even when emotion was added, it grated like a rusty metal robot moving.
“A vocal technique like he stuffed a resonance chamber inside his nose.”
Then I noticed a diary on the desk.
Flipping through it quickly, I reached the last unfinished page.
The handwriting, written while dancing and singing without rest, was filled with suppressed rage—smudged by sweat and tears.
“Minsoo thought I wouldn’t hear him, but I heard everything he said to Tae-oh.
‘Tell Doha to give up singing and just be a dancer.’
That bastard. I make all the choreography… I’m the one who trains everyone for dance practice.
Now they’re saying they’ll remove my parts too?
Then what happens to my place in the audition?
Ha… are they telling me to step down on my own?
That’s cruel… I want to say I’ll quit right now, but I don’t have the confidence…”
Suddenly, Doha’s final moment crashed over me.
My heart tightened and my vision went black.
Hngh.
The pain and resentment he felt at death surged into me. I couldn’t breathe.
I remembered the way Doha had looked in front of the mirror, suffering like that.
The pale face of a boy who died cursing his own voice stared back from the mirror.
For a long time I just stood there, trying to steady my breathing.
“Doha… I’ll save you.”
Before I knew it, I had made a promise to a soul that no longer existed in this world.
* * *
In my memories, Doha had practiced more fiercely than anyone to eliminate his nasal voice.
Then it must be a problem with the vocal organs.
I checked the movement of my tongue and throat.
With my mouth closed, I inhaled briefly through my nose and released an “ng.”
“Ng— ah…”
The root of my tongue twitched, but the soft palate responded slowly.
The moment the sound shifted to “ah,” it spread back into the nose.
“Hm… the resonance isn’t transferring to the mouth?”
This time I opened my mouth like I was yawning and exhaled.
“Haa—”
My larynx lifted slightly.
The larynx isn’t stable, and the soft palate can’t be controlled?
I nodded unconsciously.
This is definitely velopharyngeal insufficiency (VPI).
The soft palate and pharyngeal wall aren’t closing properly, letting air leak through the nose.
This wasn’t just a bad vocal habit.
It meant there was a slight anatomical issue.
I searched the desk drawer.
Sure enough, I found Doha’s medical records.
October 3, 2023 – ENT diagnosis: Velopharyngeal insufficiency (VPI). Speech therapy recommended. Surgery may be considered in severe cases.
January 7, 2024 – Speech therapist evaluation: Slight improvement after six months of therapy. Additional treatment recommended.
Next to the medical records were notes from vocal trainers.
Looks like he met every famous teacher he could find.
Teacher Yoon Jae-hoon: Don’t produce sound through the nose. Lift the vocal cords. Use the diaphragm and resonate through the chest.
Teacher Kim Mi-young: Raise the soft palate. Approach high notes with head voice.
Teacher Son Eun-bi: Find head voice first to utilize falsetto.
I shook my head.
“Oh dear… they treated the symptoms without understanding the essence.”
In my past life, there had been a trainee with a similar issue.
David, who later became the main vocalist of the top idol group S7.
He also struggled with velopharyngeal insufficiency.
It took about six months to correct his case.
But the audition preliminaries were only a week away.
Still…
Even if it can’t be perfect, maybe it can reach a level that passes the audition.
First, I needed a systematic training routine.
A solo-singer vocal technique tailored to Doha’s characteristics.
I sat at the desk and began writing out a seven-day training plan.
Start with the basics—no, change the way the body itself is used.
Intentionally awaken unfamiliar muscles that had never been trained.
* * *
I stood before the mirror again to practice.
Quietly inhaling, I attempted “ng-ah.”
“Ng-ah~~~.”
At that moment, I understood.
“It’s like David’s case… but different.”
More promising.
When I first met David—the future main vocalist of S7—air leaked from the ends of his words, and his high notes stretched thin like threads, unpleasant to hear.
His soft palate sagged, so he couldn’t stabilize the center of his sound.
The soft palate controls airflow between the nose and mouth when speaking or singing.
If it doesn’t rise properly, the voice becomes nasal.
But Doha’s soft palate was responding.
And since the center was merely unstable…
Is this partial coordination disorder?
David’s soft palate hadn’t reacted at all.
If that’s the case, then a change within seven days… might actually be possible.
Oh—good.
Right now it’s trembling, unstable, without a center.
But if I build the core muscles of the soft palate…
“It can work.”
“…Though I’ll need an adapted version.”
I lowered my body.
Bending my knees, I inhaled while focusing on my abdomen.
Maybe I should mix the “ng-ah” training with a customized routine connecting the entire vocal muscle system.
“Ng-ah… ah… hng-ah… ah…”
Curl the tip of the tongue upward, brushing along the palate toward the soft palate.
Raise the breath from below.
Lightly curl the upper lip.
Close the vocal cords.
Tighten the breath.
Once.
Twice.
“Ng-ah… ah… hng-ah… ah…”
“Ng-ah… ah… hng-ah… ah…”
“Ng-ah… ah… hng-ah… ah…”
The sound spread through the nose—
And then suddenly—
Thunk!
Something opened.
The resonance settled firmly inside me.
The breath raised from my abdomen passed through the vocal cords and resonated in the mouth instead of the nose.
“…Got it.”
It was only a very brief moment.
But clearly—a real sound, not a nasal one—struck forward from my face.
“I have to catch this. Don’t lose it.”
I kept practicing.
By the time the sun began to rise, the sensations from my past life were returning within this unfamiliar body.
The vocal habits that once shaped my tone seemed to be reviving, adapting themselves to Doha’s vocal organs.
Eventually the backing track stopped.
The room fell silent.
My breath rose to my chin before slowly leaving my body.
Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I thought quietly.
“The sound forming in the mouth is projecting forward… so the fundamentals seem to be there. But how this voice will actually sound in a real audition space—that’s the key.”
Right now the acoustic panels were cleaning the sound, and the monitor speakers were controlling the direction.
So I couldn’t judge the room reflections or how the sound would spread.
A real stage would have slight reverb.
Speakers might blur high frequencies or compress the low end.
That’s why I decided to head to a coin karaoke booth.
I needed to check whether Doha’s changed tone would sound appealing when it reached the audience’s ears.
