Episode 5
The pub I chose, *“Extremely Wonderful,”* was run by a man of massive stature.
“You’re the girl who came looking for me?”
“Yes. I want to work here.”
At my words, he spoke to an employee wiping cups nearby.
“Have we taken down the job posting yet?”
“We took it down yesterday.”
After the employee glanced at me and replied, the owner turned his gaze back to me.
“Sorry, miss. We’re not hiring right now.”
It was obvious he didn’t want to talk much. Still, I pressed on.
“Even for someone who sings on stage?”
“You’re here to be a singer?”
I quickly nodded. His expression, which had been indifferent until now, shifted. He looked me up and down again with a faint curiosity.
“Can you sing well?”
“Yes.”
I answered briefly, leaving no room for embellishment. He stroked his abundant beard. I sat upright in my chair, quietly waiting for him to speak.
His deliberation seemed long, and then, suddenly, a *ding* sounded from behind me.
I didn’t turn, considering I was in an interview, but the owner glanced over my shoulder and waved one hand.
“You came early for once.”
“Early? Don’t say that so rudely.”
A lively, bright voice echoed through the quiet pub. Someone then plopped into the chair next to me.
“When have I ever been late for the stage?”
Only then did I turn slightly to see the face of the person.
Her dark, freely flowing hair and deep skin tone caught my eye first. That alone made it easy to recognize her.
She was the singer who had performed the first time I came to this pub.
As soon as I noticed her deep black eyes, they were fixed on me.
“Who are you?”
She stared me down, eyeing me from head to toe. The owner answered for me.
“She came looking to work here as a singer.”
“A singer?”
She looked me over again, almost rudely. I met her gaze without averting my eyes. Just as I was starting to feel annoyed, she shouted.
“Ah, I remember! You’re the girl who came here a week ago and stayed all night, right?”
I was taken aback by such blunt speech from a young woman. The owner intervened.
“A week ago?”
“Yes. I noticed a young, pretty girl sitting alone in the otherwise packed pub. She stayed there until I finished work and left.”
“Really?”
When the owner asked an employee, he hesitated before nodding.
“She came here fairly often, didn’t you notice?”
The singer suddenly leaned toward me.
“But now you say you came to work? Did another pub send you to spy?”
The owner’s gaze sharpened at the word *spy*. I looked straight at the girl who had suddenly appeared to disrupt things.
“No, I didn’t.”
She leaned back and smirked.
“Well, it’s not like this place is that great. Even if someone was spying, they’d have the wrong idea. This place was popular once, but it’s in decline now. Right, boss?”
The owner’s face fell. She laughed loudly at his reaction.
I alternated my gaze between them, hoping she would leave soon.
But she had no intention of going. Instead, she tapped my back lightly a couple of times.
“Just kidding. Don’t glare at me so much.”
Then she propped her chin on the table and addressed the owner.
“So, what are you going to do? Audition her today?”
“I was thinking of hearing her sing, since she came anyway. How about tomorrow at this time? Is that okay?”
I was about to reply yes, but she spoke faster.
“Josh isn’t here yet, right? I’ll accompany her on the piano.”
“You?”
“I got here early for once.”
She winked at me and suddenly stood up.
“Do you have a song prepared?”
Caught off guard by the sudden pace, I followed her, hesitating for a moment.
I knew the songs now. But…
“I don’t know the title.”
“What?”
Those walking toward the stage stopped and looked at me.
It was true. Even with my limited musical knowledge, I knew I couldn’t sing hymns in a pub. Folk songs weren’t a good choice either. So, for the past week, I had learned the songs performed by the pub singers.
Before their puzzled expressions turned to suspicion, I hurried onto the stage. I carefully sang the first notes.
The first person to recognize my song was the singer. I was singing the song she had performed the first day I came.
She smirked, then immediately sat at the piano and began to play at the right timing. She watched me closely, playing gently, and I sang the verses I remembered, improvising where necessary.
The performance ended quite naturally for an impromptu attempt.
“Not bad.”
The owner spoke in the slightly awkward silence.
“Not bad, my foot. Tell the truth, boss. You just want to hire her because she’s pretty, right?”
Her blunt words startled me, but the owner just chuckled.
“Looks matter too. As I’ve said, my ears are exactly like the customers’. If it doesn’t suit me, you can be in charge of training her.”
“Excuse me? Me?”
The woman, who had been carefree until now, furrowed her brow for the first time. The owner, having already made up his mind, waved his hand and said to me,
“By the way, I didn’t ask your name. What’s your name, miss?”
“Amber.”
“Amber. Your voice is okay, but you can tell it’s your first time. Do you know any other songs?”
“Yes.”
Again, all songs I had learned at the pub, but I answered succinctly.
“Then, we’ll have a one-month apprenticeship. The contract comes after that. Deal?”
I wasn’t here to make money anyway, so I nodded.
“Fine. Leave the rest to her.”
The owner’s patience having reached its limit, he gestured at her at the piano and turned away.
With the employees gone, the pub fell silent, leaving only the two of us.
She spoke first.
“Where did you learn classical singing?”
I hesitated, then answered honestly.
“At the cathedral in my hometown. I was in the choir briefly.”
“Briefly?”
“I didn’t even last a year.”
“For that short a time, you’ve got a solid foundation. But you can’t sing like that here.”
She flipped through a music book on the piano.
“You’ve never sung pop songs before. How do you know this one?”
“I listened to you sing.”
“When? Last week?”
“Yes.”
“You memorized it after hearing it once?”
“Yes.”
She slammed the music book shut and stared at me. Her gaze was unlike anything I’d received before.
“Huh.”
Then she let out a short laugh.
“Come back tomorrow. I’m busy working today.”
“I will.”
She smiled broadly, like when we first met, and extended her hand.
“I overstepped, but what can you do? The boss said so. Well, let’s work together. I’m Miya.”
I slowly shook her hand.
“Amber.”
“I know.”
And just like that, she became my second music teacher in life.
—
The next day, I arrived at *Extremely Wonderful* slightly earlier than yesterday.
The bell on the door rang as I cautiously opened it.
“Hi.”
Miya lazily raised one hand from the stage. I approached her.
“I can’t come at this time every day because of my day job.”
I worked at a tailor’s until 6 p.m., and performances at the pub started at 7 p.m. Miya had asked me to arrive by 5 p.m. to use the stage, so I had to ask Mrs. Sierra for permission.
Mrs. Sierra was fine, but leaving work before business hours still felt conspicuous.
“That’s just a student’s situation.”
Miya said this, but as I stood beside her, she added casually,
“You won’t be here long anyway. This is a pub, not a music school.”
Her attire was more casual than yesterday, and she had little makeup on.
Her sharp appearance softened, revealing her naturally round eyes.
Perhaps because of her changed appearance, or because I had grown accustomed to her, her words were less unpleasant than yesterday.
Still, one question lingered.
“Do you usually talk so casually to strangers?”
She chuckled and opened her thick music book.
“If it bothers you, you can speak casually too.”
I didn’t particularly need to respond, but I didn’t dislike her words either. Correcting her manners seemed pointless now.
“Alright, then.”
Satisfied, she smiled faintly and I deliberately ignored it, taking the music book.
“You can read sheet music, right?”
“Just the basics.”
“Have you sung while reading it?”
“Never.”
My previous life’s teacher, Henry, taught me only basic theory after hearing me sing once. I didn’t mind; I only wanted to sing, not learn musical theory.
Miya raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled.
“Then you can’t play instruments either, right?”
“Right.”
She took the music book and sat at the piano.
“We need to get you on stage right away, so we’ll stick to the method you’ve been using.”
She played chords skillfully, then turned to me over her shoulder.
“But you should at least learn to read sheet music. I can’t sing every song in the world just to teach you.”
Her advice made sense, and I silently nodded. Pleased, Miya said,
“Let’s figure out your vocal range first.”
I slowly sang the notes she played on the piano.
