chapter 10
The fact that it insisted on filtering the words made it feel all the more suspicious. Anyone watching might think I wasn’t trying to save Jeong Hwan-jae, but was just itching to curse at him.
Given the situation, I didn’t even dare to expect anything better.
This score has been automatically registered to the personal data of user “Yeom Yea-ah.”
From now on, you may use the ability: “Sing from Stored Songs.”
Would you like to sing now?
For a moment I wondered—had I just awakened a new ability? Before I could answer myself, sheet music spread out before my eyes. Notes spilled into my ears like an old music box, as if telling me to follow along.
Lyrics, like the kind you’d see at karaoke, floated across my vision. It was a complete guide—as if to say, “Sing this now.”
“Through that briiiight, endless tiiiiime… I will knooow youuuuu…”
The worst rhythm, the worst pitch, the worst ability to keep up with the guide. Singing a song I’d never heard before, with only this flimsy reference, was near impossible.
I couldn’t even stay in tune with songs I’d heard a hundred times a day, ones I actually liked. And this was a song composed only for me? Singing it perfectly in one try was ridiculous.
Still, this was a moment where I’d take even a cat’s paw for help.
“For our gloooorious, fuuuutureeeeee…!”
Skill effects began to flare around me. At the same time, a status window I had never seen before burst into view, filling the air.
Extracting past records from the Valkyrie Network.
A musician from a fallen civilization wishes to pass on their legacy to the Healer of Melody!
The Healer of Melody does not meet the required status to inherit the full data. Partial cache accepted.
I’d sung countless times since my awakening, but I’d never seen a window like this before.
So… do these special effects only trigger when I sing songs acquired from the Random Music Box?
Casting conditions met. Correct skill wave output detected.
Searching for skill matching current vocal wave.
—Activating “Chorus of the Military Band!”
May Balder’s divinity be with you!
Even though I was singing far worse than usual, the notes pouring from me were more complete than any skill I’d ever activated.
The glowing notes shot like a storm into the heap of monsters. The instant they touched, brilliant light scattered in every direction, burning the monsters away. The notes pressed onward until they latched onto the body of Jeong Hwan-jae, who stood upright at the center.
Visibly, he bore no wounds. Notes circled him endlessly, and I kept singing without pause.
“Yeom Yea-ah.”
“Ahhh, ooooh, what kind of ridiculous lyrics are thiiis, oooooohhh…”
“Yeom Yea-ah.”
I’d been so wrapped up in my own voice I didn’t notice Jeong Hwan-jae come close, placing a hand on my shoulder.
Startled, I coughed and looked up. Even close up, he seemed perfectly fine—no injuries at all.
Wearing his usual array of gear, he looked at me with a mixture of puzzlement and a hint of admiration.
“Guildmaster! Even if these monsters don’t physically injure you, how could you act so recklessly? What if I hadn’t been able to use my ability? Were you planning to just stand there for hours?”
“I thought a few hours would be fine.”
“…”
If I’d been closer to him, I might’ve yelled, Are you serious?! Instead, I just sighed and started walking. After that commotion, the dungeon was now eerily quiet.
He glanced around, as if looking for a topic, then spoke again.
“Since we’re here, you should pick up whatever you want and put it up on the auction site. The herbs from this dungeon only grow here and in one other place. On the black market, they’ll sell well.”
“You say ‘black market’ so casually… is that really fine?”
“Even Association staff come here from time to time.”
With nothing more to say, I awkwardly followed his lead, gathering herbs into my pouch. Just this alone would cover several months of my rent.
“Did the healing work properly earlier?”
“Not just healing—it also gave me a slight stat buff.”
“…What?”
“With practice, it’ll be incredibly useful.”
He should’ve said that sooner! I shot up from the ground, dirt still under my nails.
So if I sang songs from the Music Box, they didn’t just heal—they could apply buffs too? I’d need to ask him how to open those random boxes as soon as we got out.
He suddenly extended his hand to me. Wiping mine clean on my coat, I hesitantly took it.
“Guildmaster… how was my singing?”
“The effect was undeniable.”
“No, I mean—how was the actual singing?”
“…”
The hand clasping mine trembled faintly. I quickly opened my stat window.
Singing: F-
“I’ll practice harder!”
“…I’ll see you home.”
His knife-sharp answer stung, but all I could do was smile.
The days after that were spent adjusting to guild life—learning how to handle situations properly, and what facilities each building offered.
The Guildmaster even arranged a soundproof room for me, so I could practice singing alone. The building had many such private units, originally intended for hunters, and one was given to me right away.
I practiced until my throat bled, and finally managed to raise my Singing from F- to a plain F.
“Still… it seems a little difficult for others to listen to.”
“So basically, unbearable.”
The Guildmaster often stopped by to listen carefully to my songs.
Though he never showed it outright, I knew plenty of people were vying for his time. The fact that he carved out moments just for me—it made me feel both grateful and embarrassed, which drove me to try harder.
Sometimes he even brought me items I could resell at the market.
The 16 units of ‘Celestial Grass’ you registered on Miracle Mall have been sold.
After a 4% fee, the earnings have been deposited into your account.
From morning, I was in high spirits. I thought I’d just made enough for a few months’ rent—but no, it was far beyond that.
Enough to cover an entire year’s rent in one go. Granted, I had chosen the cheapest, most rundown apartment available.
Hey~ you said you’re moving out next month, right?
I’m coming by to check the place today. What’s the door code?
Okay.
I made up my mind. With the money I’d saved and this new windfall, I would move.
I’d even read somewhere that with a certain payment, you could request guild dorm housing.
Yes. I’ll move in there. Even if it’s pricier than my current rent, I’m earning plenty now.
My life was finally looking up. At least, that’s what I thought—until right before work.
They say as people get older, they develop a habit of humming to themselves, putting little tunes to even meaningless phrases.
But I don’t think that’s it. I think it’s just a Korean trait. I don’t have data for other countries, so I can’t prove it, but still.
Even while restocking shelves at the convenience store, late at night when no customers came, I always hummed—deciding where to put things, sighing over expired stock. Without singing, those hours would’ve been unbearable.
Still… maybe I should break that habit.
Because today, this happened.
“Which flooooor are youuu going tooo?”
I hummed just under my breath. But unfortunately, a hunter happened to pass by.
I was only following the sacred national habit of Koreans… but he wasn’t wearing earphones. He heard me.
Just one line. That was all.
“Excuse me! Wait, hold on!”
“Ah! Miju! Miju, snap out of it!”
And then—he fainted.
