Chapter 42: Master, please stop reading.

For someone in their late twenties who had graduated years ago, high school knowledge might have been long returned to the teachers.

But as long as she sat in a learning environment, some lingering fragments buried in the corners of her brain could still be awakened.

However, that only applied to the first-period Japanese class—after all, it was her college major.

By the time second-period math rolled around, she decisively gave up.

Resting her cheek on one hand to pretend she was paying attention, she doodled little stick figures in the margins of her notebook.

Meanwhile, Fujii Sakura sat beside her, back straight, diligently taking notes.

When the bell for second period rang, Haruka promptly began packing her bag.

“Haruka, you’re leaving?”

Fujii Sakura stopped writing and watched her stuff textbooks into her bag, a hint of reluctance in her eyes.

“Yeah, I have work to do later this afternoon.”

“…Will you come tomorrow?”

Haruka slung her bag over her shoulder and tilted her head thoughtfully.

“Maybe. I’ll try, if I don’t have any morning gigs.”

“Okay!”

Fujii Sakura nodded obediently and vigorously, then looked up at her with those bright eyes, blinking without breaking eye contact.

Seeing her like that—like she was about to wag her tail at any moment—Haruka’s heart softened.

She couldn’t help reaching out and gently patting her head, as if soothing a puppy.

“Alright, I’m just busy with work. I don’t usually come that often anyway, it’s not like it’s the first time.”

The moment she finished patting, Haruka’s brain seized up, and she yanked her hand back like she’d been shocked.

But she noticed that Fujii Sakura didn’t seem bothered at all; instead, she squinted contentedly and nodded.

“…”

‘Guess pretty girls get special privileges. If he were still that gloomy shut-in guy and dared to do this, he’d be charged with some crime the next day.’

Haruka gave a sheepish smile, waved goodbye to Sakura, and left.

—

9:28 AM.

At the agency, Haruka changed into a comfortable outfit in the changing room, then headed to the Artist Management Department on time to meet up at Ritsu’s desk.

Ritsu held a printed schedule and a folder in his hand.

“Right on time.”

He glanced at the time on his phone and got straight to the point.

“Let’s go.”

“Okay!”

The two walked side by side toward the elevator.

When they reached the first floor, Uehara already had the familiar white minibus parked at the entrance, waiting.

Haruka sat in the back and buckled her seatbelt skillfully.

The vehicle started smoothly and drove out of Shibuya Ward, where Stras Agency was located, heading toward Minato Ward, where the record label was based.

As she watched the scenery scroll backward outside the window, Haruka’s heartbeat began to speed up uncontrollably.

What, you think she was swooning over her manager again?

No way.

It was purely because she suddenly realized that her first official job after her comeback was really about to happen.

The interview at the magazine last time was just a warm-up at best.

This time, she was truly going to stand on the battlefield as the idol Hoshino Haruka.

The recording studio they were going to was an absolutely formal and professional place.

The sound recorded there would be turned into an industrial-grade product, released and listened to by hundreds of thousands, even millions of people.

She didn’t know the fundamental difference between recording a song in a studio, recording on her phone in her messy room, or singing a cappella in the practice room.

But she knew one thing—no matter what, she absolutely could not tarnish the reputation of Hoshino Haruka.

“Ritsu.”

“Yeah.”

Ritsu, in the passenger seat, didn’t turn around.

“What song are we recording today?”

“The new arranged version of ‘Himawari’ (Sunflower).”

Ritsu flipped open his folder.

“The record label made an acoustic arrangement of this song. They removed the synthesizers and arranged it with just acoustic guitar and piano. It’ll be the first trial release after your comeback.”

“Why this song?”

“Two reasons. First, this is your most popular and representative work. Using it as the first release after your comeback will send the strongest, fastest signal to the outside world that ‘Hoshino Haruka is back.'”

Ritsu’s tone was steady and professional.

“Second, the acoustic version focuses more on singing ability and emotional expression. There’s no need for high-intensity dance choreography. It’s a pure vocal work, best suited for your current physical condition.”

Haruka nodded silently.

‘Himawari.’

She had listened to it countless times and could write the lyrics from memory with her eyes closed.

It was one of Hoshino Haruka’s representative songs.

Back when he was Matsumoto Hidetoshi, it was his ringtone for quite a while, and he even howled over it many times at karaoke.

“Manager.”

“Yeah.”

“I have a question.”

She hesitated for a second, then decided to ask it anyway.

After all, pretending to know something she didn’t would only make things worse.

If Ritsu pressed her, she could always use the ‘car accident amnesia trick’ to bluff her way through.

“Uh… about this recording, what’s the specific process? I feel like I only have a very vague impression… haha, I really can’t remember.”

Haruka scratched her head, trying to cover it up with an innocent, awkward laugh.

Ritsu stopped flipping through the documents.

He turned his gaze to Haruka’s face, which was full of guilt.

Then, on his perpetually cold poker face, an extremely subtle, complicated expression appeared—somewhere between ‘wanting to be angry’ and ‘about to laugh at her absurdity.’

“…Just how badly did that car accident mess up your brain?”

“Hee hee—”

Haruka squeezed her eyes awkwardly.

“Forget it.”

Ritsu sighed and closed the folder.

“We don’t have much time. I’ll give you a quick rundown.”

Haruka breathed a sigh of relief inwardly.

One, she was glad Ritsu was willing to patiently explain what should have been common knowledge to her.

Two, she really had no idea about the process.

In her shallow understanding, recording a song in a studio was just putting on big headphones, standing in front of a pop filter microphone, closing your eyes, and singing, right? The process was just listening to the staff say stop—how complicated could it be?

“After we arrive at the record label, we’ll go straight to the studio. Today, we’re using Columbia’s Studio B. It’s not their headquarters’ largest main studio, but the equipment and acoustic environment are top-tier. I’ll take you and the staff through it, so don’t worry about getting lost.”

(‘So Hoshino Haruka was also bad with directions?’)

“Once you’re in the studio, the first thing is to greet the producer. Today’s producer is named Murakami. You’ve worked with him several times before, so he’s an acquaintance. If you’ve even forgotten what he looks like, don’t show it. Just nod and smile. Don’t lose basic manners.”

Haruka nodded like an obedient elementary school student.

“After greeting, you’ll confirm the microphone height with the sound engineer. Your designated recording microphone is the fixed Neumann U87. They’ll preset the pickup position, but after you enter the booth, you might need to make minor adjustments based on your singing habits and posture today.”

“Then it’s the sound check. Before formal recording, you’ll sing a few lines so the engineer can adjust the microphone levels. You also need to confirm the monitor volume in your headphones. One key reminder: the sound you hear through the monitor headphones is extremely dry—the ‘dry vocal.’ It’s completely different from the sound you’re used to hearing in your room or at karaoke, which has built-in reverb. It will sound extremely clear, even very ‘close to the ear.’ But you’ve adapted to this dry environment before, so don’t be nervous.”

“…”

(‘Adapted? Like hell I have. But I definitely can’t say that.’)

“After the sound check is fine, formal recording begins.”

Ritsu continued.

“Today’s song is about four and a half minutes long. But remember, you don’t have to sing it all in one go. In the industry, we usually record in sections.”

“In sections?”

“Yes. Record the A-section a few times, the chorus a few times, the bridge a few times. Each part will be polished over and over until the producer gets satisfactory material. Finally, the post-production engineer will splice together the best parts of each section.”

Haruka nodded with sudden understanding.

She remembered listening to many live performances and feeling they were far from the perfect sound quality of CDs.

So, the released audio sources were all meticulously ‘stitched together’ line by line.

“Also—”

Ritsu’s tone turned serious.

“During recording, the producer will give you instructions through the intercom system at any time. For example, ‘Make the emotion of this line stronger,’ ‘Hold the final note a half-beat longer,’ ‘Your breath change was too heavy.’ Don’t feel pressured; just follow them. If you feel there’s a problem in the booth or your throat is uncomfortable…”

“Say it immediately, right? I bet your next line is: ‘Let me know anytime.'”

Haruka interrupted, leaning forward and looking at Ritsu’s eyes while blinking.

“How’s that? Did I guess right?”

“…”

Ritsu was choked silent for a moment.

He glanced at her speechlessly, the look behind his glasses seeming to suspect she had secretly memorized his script.

“Also.”

He decided to ignore her interruption and continued.

“To protect the precision equipment, the air conditioning in the studio is usually set quite low. If you feel cold inside, just tell the engineer directly and ask them to adjust the temperature.”

He paused here.

“Don’t tough it out. Absolutely don’t let your throat get cold.”

“Wow, you’re so attentive, Manager.”

Haruka cupped her cheeks with both hands, deliberately exaggeratedly dragging out her words.

“I’m so moved~”

“It’s common sense.”

Ritsu stared straight ahead with no expression.

“But you specifically mentioning it proves you’re very attentive!”

“…”

Ritsu was silent for two seconds.

Just as Haruka thought she had successfully teased him, he retorted coldly:

“Your throat is worth much more than your mouth. Take good care of it.”

“Pfft…”

Haruka instantly cracked up, collapsing into laughter against the seat back.

“Get ready to get off. We’ll arrive in about two minutes.”

“Okay—okay—got it.”

Haruka made a V sign in her mind.

First battle of the day: her victory.