I woke with my cheek pressed against a page of crossed-out song titles.
Morning light spilled across my desk. My neck ached, and three columns stared back at me: Ballad, Contemporary Pop, Theatrical Performance.
The ballads showcased my range but felt too predictable. The pop tracks offered energy at the expense of the vocals I wanted to highlight. Everything theatrical reminded me of EIGHT LETTERS.
I'd chosen to stand alone. Apparently, choosing what to sing was harder.
Someone knocked.
Yuhyun stood outside, dressed for breakfast. He took one look at me and winced.
"You look terrible."
"Good morning."
"Did you sleep?"
"I closed my eyes occasionally."
He stepped inside, surveying the papers without touching them. "Jiwon, you only have to submit preliminary choices by noon. Not design the entire performance."
"I know."
"Your desk disagrees." He nodded toward the door. "Breakfast in twenty minutes. Please eat something."
