Chapter 7: A Voice That Refused to Disappear

‘Why does he only ever scream?’

Seung-ju had no idea that the broadcasting station had deliberately denied him proper roles as a form of harassment.
He couldn’t understand why someone with such a good voice was made to scrape and tear it until it gave out.
Then he learned that from his second year onward, Seon-yul had developed vocal nodules and was no longer even given monster roles.
That was where the career of voice actor Kang Seon-yul ended.

Seon-yul didn’t even have the most basic social media accounts.
Even when Seung-ju checked the SNS pages of YBS’s 14th class, there was no trace of him.
It was as if they were intentionally avoiding mentioning his name.
Seung-ju knew neither his face nor his personality—only his voice and his name—but after chasing those traces every day, the oddities kept piling up.

[Title: (Voice Actor) What’s Kang Seon-yul up to these days?

Author: Anonymous1

Everyone from WBS 14th class is doing well, but there’s one guy with no news.]

└[Anonymous2: Who’s that?]

Years later, searching for Kang Seon-yul brought up a single post with three views and one comment.
Seung-ju clicked it around twenty more times out of sheer curiosity, bringing the view count up to twenty-three, but no new comments appeared.

‘I want to hear more…….’

No matter how much he gathered, it was never enough.
From one-line bit roles to dozens of monster parts, he listened to the few recordings that existed over and over until he memorized them all.
Not just the lines, but the exact moments he inhaled, swallowed, opened his mouth, and closed it—every fragment was etched into his memory.

He knew his obsession wasn’t normal.
But… he wasn’t harming anyone, so was it really a problem?
Seon-yul didn’t even know he existed—and probably never would.
Justifying himself that way, Seung-ju forced his limp body upright and removed the headphones pressing down on his ears.
He’d calmed enough that the hallucinated voices were gone.
He wanted to live immersed in Seon-yul’s voice, but he had to ration it.
If he grew too used to it and it stopped working, nothing scared him more than that.

Instead, Seung-ju extended the antenna of the radio sitting on the headboard and tuned the frequency.
From the bulky radio that looked twenty years out of date came a burst of static, followed by a clean male voice.

[Shk—chzz—…This product’s ergonomic design allows it to thoroughly massage even hard-to-reach areas.]

“…Huh?”

Seung-ju’s body jolted at the familiar voice.

[With adjustable pressure for each area and finely controlled heat and vibration functions, it’s highly effective in relieving shoulder pain.
A revolution in the massage industry—introducing Everybody’s new product, researched and developed by a professor from Hanguk University’s Department of Physical Therapy!]

After listening for years, there was no way he wouldn’t recognize that voice.
Seung-ju scrambled to find his phone.
It was new audio—something he hadn’t heard in ages—and he couldn’t afford to miss it.
As he flailed around on the bed, his elbow slammed into the radio.

Crash.
The radio tumbled off the bed.
Cracks spread across its plastic casing, and its internal parts scattered across the floor.
Even the carefully tuned frequency slipped, filling the room once more with harsh static.

[Chiiii—.]

It had been something his late mother used, but that didn’t matter right now.
Unable to find his phone on the bed, Seung-ju padded barefoot over broken plastic and sat down in front of the computer.

At the very least, he’d heard the company name clearly.
Seung-ju went to the massage company’s YouTube channel and clicked on an advertisement uploaded a few days earlier.
The tone was much brighter than the audiobook where he’d first heard him, but it was unmistakably Kang Seon-yul.
Because the ad included instructions for using the new product, Seon-yul’s narration went on far longer than usual.

‘It’s long……!’

Seung-ju immediately downloaded the video, extracted the audio, and saved it in a folder labeled “2024 Kang Seon-yul,” along with the upload date.
He didn’t forget to make a backup, just in case.
A small smile crept onto his lips—

—and then he saw it.

[Narration: Mike]

In tiny text at the bottom-right corner of the video, the narrator’s name appeared and vanished.
Seung-ju rewound the video and watched that moment carefully.
Mike?
There was no way this voice wasn’t Kang Seon-yul’s.
Then… could it be that Kang Seon-yul was working under the nickname “Mike”?

Seung-ju flooded the portal sites with searches.
Mike.
Voice actor Mike.
Recording mic voice actor.
Mike narration.
Ad narration Mike.
Mike acting.
The results didn’t appear neatly under a single keyword—but Seung-ju’s obsession, honed by years of searching, cut through the noise.

[Freelancer Monster, FrMon.]

[Male voice actor for acting, ads, narration, characters—top-quality recordings provided! – Mike]

[★☆☆☆☆ (1 star)]

“Found you.”

Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Seung-ju’s heart began to pound violently.

***********

Drip.
Drip.
Shhhaaa—.

Raindrops struck the window, quickly turning into a torrential downpour.
On the yellowed wallpaper of the ceiling, marked by old water stains, droplets slowly formed.
Seon-yul took a plastic basin from the bathroom and placed it in the middle of the room.

It had been six months since the ceiling first started leaking.
The landlord kept delaying repairs, claiming the building was too old and renovations would cost too much.
Seon-yul had even checked with the downstairs neighbor, but only the rooftop unit leaked like this.
When he bluntly asked if it was because only the rooftop unit was affected and not worth fixing, the landlord fumbled his words and lowered the maintenance fee from eighty thousand won to fifty thousand.
Seon-yul planned to move once the contract ended this summer.
Whether he could find another studio apartment in Seoul with a three-million-won deposit, 350,000 won monthly rent, and 80,000 won in maintenance fees was another matter entirely.

“Haa…….”

Maybe it was because of the one-star review.
Not a single request came in until the new seller promotion ended.
He considered apologizing for not mentioning the additional fee beforehand and asking the buyer to revise the review, but he couldn’t bring himself to beg.
No matter how important client satisfaction was, he’d delivered work far higher in quality than the samples he’d posted.
That was why he couldn’t understand the buyer’s reaction—and more than anything… his pride was hurt.

[My precious son~~ Mom’s short 300,000 won on her card bill^^ I’ll pay you back on payday]

[Rooftop bachelor maintenance fee 50,000 won not received. Pay by tomorrow.]

[(City Gas Bill) Usage period: Feb 3 – Mar 2]

[National Health Insurance overdue payment notice]

Money kept bleeding out even if he did nothing, and his ankle still throbbed every time he moved.
It felt like someone was gripping his leg and refusing to let go.
For a moment, his father’s face flashed through his mind at his mother’s message about being short on cash—but thinking any further might overload him.
Seon-yul shook his head hard, driving the thoughts away.

Plink… plink….

The sound of water dripping from the soaked wallpaper echoed as it hit the basin.
Thinking that he wouldn’t have been able to record anyway with that noise, even if work had come in, eased his frustration just a little.

‘Just rest today.
I’ll work again starting tomorrow.’

He didn’t have the luxury of using his ankle as an excuse anymore.
Starting tomorrow, he had to earn money somewhere—anywhere.
Only then would his family feel reassured.

The promise he’d made to his late maternal grandmother still echoed in his ears.
Your poor mother… what will she do.
Poor thing….
Holding his hands, she’d murmured those words.
Seon-yul had answered her with a steady, dependable voice.
Don’t worry, Grandma.
I’ll take care of Mom—and Unyul too.
She’d nodded faintly and passed away.

‘Hang in there.’

Unaware that his unyielding dream and harsh reality were twisting together into shackles, he steeled his resolve once more.

Ding.

His phone screen lit up with a popup.
A new message had arrived.
It was a notification from FrMon.
Color returned to Seon-yul’s blank face.
Even with a one-star rating, an inquiry had come in.
He hurriedly opened the message—then froze.

[BraveSeal777: ㅇ]

A single, meaningless consonant.
The typing bubble pulsed as if the other person were still writing, but five minutes… ten minutes passed with no follow-up.

[BraveSeal777: ㅇㅇㅏㄴ]

After nearly twenty minutes, the next message was just another jumble of consonants and vowels.
Tch.
Another nutcase?
Unable to hold back, Seon-yul typed a sharp reply.
The moment he hit send, a message from BraveSeal777 arrived first.

[BraveSeal777: Hello, Voice Actor.
The script is a bit long, but would it be possible to commission you?
Your voice is so good that I really want to entrust this to you.
It’s fine if it takes a long time.
It’s not for commercial use, but I can pay more than the standard fee.
The messages above were typos.
Please think it over and reply whenever you’re ready.
I’ll be waiting!!]

[Please stop. If this continues, I will report and block you.]