God Idol Project: Hope [GIPH]

Chapter 1

※ All place names, units, characters, etc., in the story are fictional.

"Sing the song, 'It's a damn fine day.'"
Muttering that to myself, I stepped out of the hospital's front gate. Squinting against the sudden sunlight, I raised my hand to shade my eyes.

Ever since I was born, my regular check-ups, which came around like holidays, always revealed no change.

"Of course."

Even though I thought "as expected," I couldn't give up a sliver of hope. If there was one thing I truly wanted in life, it would be a normal voice.

I was born with a congenital vocal cord defect. When I first cried, my parents couldn't rejoice. The doctor who heard my cry immediately sensed something was wrong and rushed me to a pediatric specialist.

That's how I was diagnosed with a congenital vocal cord anomaly. Thankfully, it wasn't painful, but the baby's vocal cords were too fragile for surgery.

How much pain did my parents suffer, having to listen to their own child's terrifying, devilish cries? If it were your child, how would you feel?

The irony of being startled by my own crying and bursting into a frightened wail—how strange that must have been.

It was only natural that I became an almost mute child. Was it the price I paid for having my voice stolen?

I, who was cursed with the voice of a demon, ironically had ears that longed for the beauty of sound more than anyone else.

Perhaps that's why, instead of focusing on the noise coming from my own throat, I became obsessed with the enchanting melodies of classical music. As time passed, I became a serious music addict with eclectic tastes.

When I was eight years old, I was given the possibility of a surgery that could improve my voice. Despite my parents' worries, I stubbornly insisted on having the surgery.
I was nothing but excited and happy—until I confirmed the result after recovery.
Was it the backlash from my high expectations?

The result was devastatingly disappointing. While objectively softer than before, my voice was still one that instinctively evoked terror in anyone who heard it.
It was a deep, raspy voice lower than the average adult male's, mixed with irregular metallic noises, creating a hoarse, unpleasant sound.

The wind-like wheezing that made it difficult to distinguish clear pronunciation was another issue. The voice from the throat of a young elementary school child was a sound straight out of hell—enough to cause a jarring disconnect.

Even the doctor and nurse present at the time couldn't bring themselves to speak. That said everything. Those who experienced my voice couldn't hide their gut reactions of unease. Their body language spoke volumes about the fear they felt.

"I guess I'll have to live without a voice."
That realization hit me then.
People born with disabilities live on. So, who am I to complain?
Sure, it's uncomfortable, but it's not life-threatening. That's how I consoled myself.
Maybe I had naturally learned that there are some things you just have to give up in life.

After that, I voluntarily became mute. I fully replaced my voice with instruments.
My parents, however, were determined to teach me to speak out loud, even though I didn't want to. They insisted that there was a difference between not speaking and being unable to speak.

But to practice speaking with my horrifying voice every time?
Though I was stubborn too, I couldn't resist my mother's lists of reasons why I should practice speaking, nor could I turn away from my father's tearful pleas.

I eventually accepted my parents' persuasion on the condition that I practice alone in my room. Even so, I often stormed out, unable to endure the 10 minutes of noise pollution each day.

Through my parents' persistent efforts, I somehow managed to make sounds that people could understand. At least I didn't hate my own voice anymore.

I guess I just got used to it. Though I still dislike it, I've learned I can't get rid of it....
Today, too, I visited the hospital as part of my annual ritual, clinging to that faint hope. But I think it's finally time to give up. It's time to stop begging for a miracle.

With a bitter smile, I put on the headphones hanging around my neck. I just wanted to hear something beautiful.

Or maybe, as long as it wasn't my voice, anything would be fine.
With a bitter reflection, I adjusted the violin case slung over my shoulder and headed toward the crosswalk in front of the hospital, quickening my pace as the light turned Chorok.

"?!"

Suddenly, a scream pierced through my headphones, followed by a sharp tug on my arm.

My legs stumbled in the direction of the pull, and the violin case hanging from my shoulder swung down, almost hitting the ground.
"Ugh..."

As I calmed my startled heart, I straightened my body. In the middle of the crosswalk, I saw the young man who had grabbed me. The motorcycle that had ignored the signal was already disappearing in the distance.

This man had saved me.

Was I distracted because of the hospital visit that had left me unsettled? Or was it the song in my headphones that had entranced me? Whatever the reason, I had just narrowly avoided a traffic accident.

When I took off my headset, the man led me to the other side of the crosswalk. Without even realizing it, I followed him, and he checked me over to see if I was hurt.

"Are you okay? It looked like you were coming from the hospital, but you almost ended up going back."

Exactly.

I bowed deeply to express my gratitude. Normally, one would just say thank you, but in my case, I tend to show my thanks with a material gesture.

Checking the time, I saw it was lunchtime. Without a word, I grabbed his sleeve and pointed to a nearby restaurant serving seolleongtang (ox bone soup). Thankfully, there was a restaurant close by. If there hadn't been, I would've had to buy him a bunch of instant food from a convenience store as a thank-you.

"Huh? Are you saying we should eat? You're offering to treat me?"

When I nodded, the man gave a small laugh but followed me quietly.

How could he just follow along so easily in this harsh world? Tsk.

Silently judging him, I led the man into the seolleongtang restaurant. The door opened with a greeting of "Welcome." Looking around, I spotted a kiosk.

As expected. I knew this seolleongtang chain would have a kiosk. In regular restaurants, if I don't want to speak, I have to rely on body language. And this isn't even a foreign country where the language is different.

For that reason, I prefer restaurants with kiosks or food delivery apps.

After ordering, I stared at the man, and he, taking the hint, ordered the same seolleongtang.

I paid with my card, and while waiting for the food, we sat at an empty table.

"Thanks for the meal. It feels a bit weird to have a younger person paying, but I'll just accept this one meal, alright?"

When I nodded with a slight smile, the man smiled brightly in response.

"You were really in danger earlier. No matter how green the light is, you should always be careful. Good thing I have quick reflexes, or my heart would've dropped out of my chest."

His voice flowed like velvet, as soft as the song of a first love. Out of all the people I've met in my life, his voice was one of the most beautiful.

But it wasn't just his voice. How could a man in his twenties speak with such warmth and tenderness? It made me feel like a child, even though I wasn't one.

"Oh, here it comes. I didn't feel like eating alone today, so this worked out well. Thanks for rescuing this lonely guy. I've been eating alone for days, and the food has been getting stuck in my throat. But today, I think I'll actually enjoy it. Oh, have I been talking too much? Hurry and eat, grab your spoon."

Why did I feel so grateful? It's not like I was watching a video on my phone for entertainment.

Suddenly, feeling a sense of déjà vu, I watched him as he diligently ate his seolleongtang.

This man wasn't fazed by the fact that I didn't speak. Usually, people would feel curious and either ask directly or show their confusion. But he acted as naturally as my own family.

Does he know someone like me? Or is he just naturally considerate? Whatever it was, I appreciated it.

Suddenly, feeling hungry, I took a big spoonful of rice. The man chatted between bites.

"You play the violin? I've always wanted to learn, but I found the guitar difficult enough. You're wearing a school uniform, so you must be a high schooler? Or a middle schooler? These days, it's hard to tell since kids grow so fast."

Middle schooler? With my height?

When I furrowed my brow, the man burst into laughter, only to choke on his food and quickly drink some water.

"Haha, you're a high schooler, aren't you? Judging by your reaction, I know for sure. Kids your age don't like being told they look young. If you were in middle school, you wouldn't have frowned like that. Am I right?"

Is it because of the age gap? It's annoying how easily he can read me. Do all adults do this?

"Sorry, did I offend you? You can stop pouting now, haha."

Why were my lips pouting without me realizing it? I quickly fixed my expression.

"You speak with your expressions. You're really expressive. My first impression of you was that you seemed cold, but your face is so dynamic. It's kind of a charming contrast."

His compliments were cringeworthy. Do people really talk like this in real life? Who is this guy anyway? My curiosity grew.

Given how smoothly he spoke, maybe he works in a field that requires persuasion? Or is he a host or something?

As I was coming up with guesses in my head, the man beat me to the answer.

"Was that too cheesy? My group members used to nag me all the time, but I couldn't fix it. It used to be my strong point, but maybe I should tone it down now. It's a bit of a TMI, but I used to be an idol. Since you're into music, I thought I'd tell you."

An idol? Like those people who sing and dance on TV? This guy was an idol?

I must've had a puzzled expression on my face again, because he continued.

"It's true. We put out a single, but it flopped, so you probably don't know. Isn't it kind of interesting?"

It was. It was fascinating to meet someone from such a niche profession in person. It felt like meeting an intangible cultural asset or something.

But I couldn't bring myself to say that, so I just pursed my lips.

Well, I guess it suits him.

I listen to all kinds of music. I started with classical but now enjoy popular music too. I listen to pop songs and even occasionally folk songs from other countries.

Because I listen to such a wide variety, I probably missed his fleeting idol track.

To become one of my favorite songs, a piece has to have "expression." But factors like tone, voice control, and skillful modulation were also important.

In those areas, this man seemed to be a master. I could tell even without hearing him sing.

"If you search for 'Cleary' you'll find photos of me. Although you'll probably see more skincare products, so try adding 'Jeong Hyun-oh' to the search."

When I searched for 'Cleary Jeong Hyun-oh,' the images came up. It was definitely him, the man sitting right in front of me.

The stage photos were harder to recognize, but the profile picture was clearly Jeong Hyun-oh.

I glanced back at my phone. He was twenty-six, nine years older than me.

There were several articles about the group disbanding. It seemed that even the news of their disbandment hadn't made much of a splash.

"Wow, you really were a failed group."

As I was trying to figure out how to offer some words of comfort, his expression didn't seem dark at all. He wasn't embarrassed or sad.

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't disappointing. We were lacking in many areas, and luck wasn't on our side. But I gave it my all, and I'm proud of that. Plus, I love singing and dancing so much that I'd probably still be an idol even if I could go back. Of course, I'd debut under a different agency and use a different approach. And of course, I'd bring my members along."

Hyun-oh, who had been lost in thought for a moment, finished off his seolleongtang.

"I've been talking too much, haven't I? Sorry. But you know how it is, when someone listens well, it makes you spill your heart out. So it's not entirely my fault, right?"

His light brown hair framed his eyes as he smiled warmly.

Hyun-oh looked like the kind of guy women would call handsome.

He didn't have any strikingly unique features, but there wasn't a single part of his face that didn't work together perfectly. He had the kind of face that makeup artists would love to work with.

More than anything, his smile was kind and left a good impression.

Suddenly, his past stage photos, covered in gaudy makeup, overlapped with his current face.

Why did they put such terrible makeup on him? His bare face looks better. Was he forced to go along with it because he had no choice?

"Shall we get going if you've finished eating? Do you need to head back to school?"

As we left the restaurant, he handed me a piece of candy.

One peppermint candy sat in the palm of my hand. Instead of putting it in my mouth, I bit my lip.

There was no reason to hold him back. If I said goodbye here, that would be it. Normally, that's how things would end.

But I...

I want to hear his music. I want to talk with him.

For me, music is conversation. Although it's unfortunate that it's often one-sided, I always enjoyed the stories told through different voices.

I felt like Hyun-oh hyung would tell me a kind and gentle story.

A small sense of anticipation began to rise within me, but at the same time, I hesitated.

Hesitation means that my rational side thinks it's not possible, while my heart wants it.

In the end, I gave in to the growing desire inside me.

"Please sing."

It wasn't until after I let out my dreadful voice that I realized what I had done—abruptly asking him to sing without any thought. I hadn't considered anything before blurting it out.

Hyun-oh hyung had just been asked to sing by a complete stranger who didn't even tell him their name. If it were me, I'd be baffled, too...

Waiting for his response after speaking so impulsively made me feel foolish. As I nervously ruffled my hair, he gently grabbed my wrist to stop me.

Rather than looking bewildered, his expression seemed more amused. It didn't feel like he was mocking me, though.

"Your first words to me aren't even a greeting, but asking me to sing?"

Despite my hellish voice, he didn't make any negative remarks. Even though most people would naturally feel repulsed, his eyes held curiosity rather than judgment.

Hyun-oh hyung laughed heartily, as if he found the whole situation refreshing, and his laughter was so free it made even my heart feel lighter.

"Tell me your name, and I'll sing for you."

"...Ham Iwon. Seventeen years old."

Later, I would come to realize that this meeting had indeed altered the course of my life.