Vol 1 Chapter 18 – Overlapping Songstress【Vol 1 – Turning Point】

“I don’t know the god who abandoned me.
You’re the one who saved me in the depths of hell. That’s why I love you so deeply.”

I sang those words over and over. A song about abandoning God and pledging love to a demon. But weirdly, it felt like a love song meant for Min-san. The lyrics basically said: “I don’t care about the god who threw me away. You rescued me from hell. That’s why I’m obsessed with you.”

To me, “God” was basically my parents. And “you”? That was Min-san.

Embarrassing? Totally. But once I shoved that feeling aside, I sang like my life depended on it. Part of me wanted her to get it. The other part prayed she wouldn’t. If she actually understood? I’d want to vanish. But I kept singing anyway—pouring all my creepy gratitude into it.

“Rin-kun, that was incredible! You’re almost there!”

I nearly collapsed with relief. She didn’t notice a thing.

“No, not yet! This isn’t good enough!”

My voice had been dead until now. This was just the beginning.

It was morning. After breakfast, we’d started rehearsing for the recording. I’d sung the song ten times since last night. Finally, the Latin didn’t sound like a cat choking. But it still wasn’t perfect.

“Rin-kun, you sing like a pro…”

Min-san said that, but I didn’t believe her. Because…

“Choir songs take forever to get right, don’t they?”

We’d drill the same piece for months. But I loved it. Every repeat made the melody claw deeper into my brain, dragging me into its world.

“Hmm… Wanna try again?”

I stood at the mic while Min-san sat at her computer, headphones on.

“Yes!”

I started over.

The song was about a heretic singer dumped by God. She falls into hell, meets a demon at the bottom, and becomes obsessed. The demon gives her “happiness,” so she ditches her faith to sing for him forever in some icy prison.

Sound familiar? Min-san wasn’t a demon, but she’d saved me from the cold. I’d sell my soul to her in a heartbeat. Without her, I’d be dead.

“Wow! That was way smoother! The clunky bits are gone!”

“Heh, thanks!”

But it still wasn’t enough. The singer’s emotions were supposed to be raw. I needed to bleed into the song—make it hit even if no one understood the words.

“Break time! Lemonade?”

Min-san handed me her homemade stuff. Honey’s good for your throat, but straight honey’s gross. Lemon makes it drinkable.

Fun fact: Ryu-san suggested the honey. I owed so many people.

“Thanks! Oh… Are they charging you for the song?”

The question just popped out.

“Nope! Mama never asked for a composition! Ryu-kun did that himself!”

“Ah… right.”

Total lie. Sure, Min-san didn’t ask, but Ryu-san framed it like a “favor.” Once I made money, I’d shove payment down his throat anyway.

“Hey! Let’s visit Ryu-kun! You might have hidden talents, Rin-kun!”

“No way…”

But my pitch wasn’t terrible. Otherwise, why would a pro send me backing tracks out of nowhere? Why would Ryu-san compose a whole song unasked?

“I want you to meet the real Ryu-kun! His face’ll be priceless!”

Min-san giggled, eyes sparkling like a kid planning mischief.

“Back to practice!”

“Starting the track!”

From that morning on, my life became Malum Diva 24/7. I’d make this song my masterpiece.

Afternoons were for J-POP cramming. I was hopelessly behind. To handle fan requests, I had to memorize everything. But the harder I tried, the dumber I felt.