Chapter 8 — Music Without Chorus

Gia Linh sent the recording via a portable hard drive, but An did not open it at Mach Nuoc. They went to Tung's lawyer's office, where there was a network-connected computer and a system that recorded every operation. Lawyer named Hanh, about forty years old, speaks quickly and does not like vague words.

“If the company wants to use Le Chi's voice as a model, they must have a document defining the scope of rights,” Hanh said. "If there is not, we cannot conclude there is a violation, but we can ask the court to block its release until verification."

Linh sat next to An, both hands holding the bag strap tightly. “If you provide the recording, the label can sue you for disclosing assets.”

“What did you sign about the data?” Hanh asked.

“The contract says all recordings during the session belong to the label.”

“That doesn't mean they can use a third-person voice.”

An looked at Linh. “Do you want to continue?”

Linh was silent. She is young, but not naive. The label's contract pays for her family, and her singing dream is in their studio.

“I want to know what I'm singing on,” she said.

Hanh nodded and made a receiving record. An checks the file. The recording is more than ten minutes long, with three layers of vocals: Gia Linh singing the lead, a female voice that has been blurred, and the voice of the instructor in the background. In the middle part, a few syllables are clearly visible in the voice. It's the same sentence Le Chi said in tape number 07, but the speed was slowed down to match the new melody.

“They are using real voices,” An said.

Nam stood behind, not coming closer. Hanh asked him to sit down.

“Did you know this voice class existed?”

“I only know there is a trial version.”

“Does anyone sign the trial version?”

"I do not know."

“You answered 'don't know' quite a lot.”

Nam looked at An, then said: "Because I chose not to know."

The room fell silent. Hanh doesn't let her emotions linger. "That is an important difference. In the minutes, we will clearly state that you worked at the studio on August 16, had access to the multi-channel version, but did not sign to confirm the use of Le Chi's voice."

Nam nodded.

When they left the office, Linh asked to talk to An privately. She pulled An down the stairs, where the sound of the air conditioner could not cover the sound of cars on the street.

“I'm scared,” Linh said. "Not only am I afraid of losing the contract. I'm afraid that if I go public, people will think I know everything and still sing."

“How much do you know?”

"I think it's a sample. Mr. Quang said the company bought the rights from an old producer. I didn't ask for the name. I just wanted a good song."

"Wanting a good card doesn't make you feel guilty. But from now on you have to ask."

“If you were in my position, what would you do?”

An looked at his palm. "I will save all documents, will not delete messages, will not accept statements on behalf of anyone. And I will tell the truth about what I know, not adding what I don't know."

Linh nodded, her eyes were red but she didn't cry. “Do you think Mr. Nam is ugly?”

“I think he was a coward.”

“Different?”

"Viciousness is choosing to harm others. Cowardice is seeing harm to others but still avoiding looking. Both have consequences, but they are not the same."

Linh returned to the car. An stood on the steps and saw Nam waiting below. He didn't ask about the conversation.

“Hanh asked me to write a report,” An said.

“I will write.”

“Don't write it as an apology.”

"I know."

“Write like someone who was there.”

Nam looks out at the road. "I once heard Le Chi and Lam arguing. Lam wanted to release the recording. Le Chi wanted to negotiate to keep control. I think they will find a way. Then Duc Minh came and told everyone to disperse. I left the room first. That's the part I always don't want to remember.”

“What did you see when you turned around?”

“The door is locked. Le Chi stood in the hallway, holding a stack of papers. She told me: ‘If you hear a sentence is cut, don't write the missing part yourself.’ I didn't understand.”

“What now?”

“Now I think she's saying don't turn the truth into an easy-to-tell version.”

An did not answer. Two people walked through a row of food stalls. Nam bought two bottles of water and gave An a cold bottle because he knew she would feel uncomfortable drinking cold drinks at work. That small gesture caught her off guard for a few seconds.

Tung called and reported that he had found Le Chi's address through Mrs. Diep. Le Chi lives in a coastal commune in Bac Lieu, teaching music to children at a cultural house. Ms. Diep said she agreed to receive the letter, but did not agree to meet.

“We send copies, don't go looking for them,” An said.

Nam shook his head. “I have to talk to her myself.”

“You want to apologize?”

“I want to know what she wants the music to do.”

“That's her question, not yours.”

Nam was silent. An realized she couldn't force him not to go, just as he couldn't force her to believe. They can just set boundaries and see if the other person respects them or not.

That night, An returned to Mach Nuoc alone. She opened Linh's recording and extracted the blurred voice. The sound spectrum shows that Le Chi's voice is not just sped up; Some consonants were cut, changed order and then merged into the new verse. This is not simple sampling. The company used her voice as raw material to create a non-existent person.

Securely save a photo of the sound spectrum. At the end of the file there is a section that has not been rendered yet: Le Chi's voice says "the way back does not repeat" and then stops. No music in the background. That sentence is the same as the original title.

She heard it again through the vibration table. The vibration from the voice stops at the word "repeat". The last part of the sentence is missing, but behind it there is a very low sound, like someone placing their hand on the strings of a piano.

The phone displays a video call from an unknown number. An did not catch. The caller left a twelve-second recording. In the video, a man opens the dark warehouse door and takes out a tape labeled "Le Chi 12". Before the video ends, he turns towards the camera. That's Tran Duc Minh.

Subsequent text message: “Ask Khai Nam why he sold the last key.”

An looked at the text, then called Nam. He picked up the phone on the first ring.

“You used to sell keys?”

Nam did not ask where she heard it from. “I sold it to Duc Minh to pay for my mother's hospital bills.”

An saw the room widen, the distance between them suddenly had an additional wall.

“You said it was a key that couldn't open anything.”

“I thought after changing the lock it was useless.”

“I think too much.”

"I know."

“Don't come to the studio tomorrow.”

“An…”

“I need to work alone.”

Before she turned off the phone, Nam said: "I sold it to my mother, not to Duc Minh."

An stopped.

“He is the middleman,” Nam said. “I only found out after it was all over.”

The call ended. An doesn't know what to believe. On the computer screen, the spectrum of Le Chi's voice was still bright, a thin line cut off midway. She decided to keep the cut part in the album and not restore it with a fake melody. But before saving the project, a warning appeared: Mach Nuoc's data drive had just been accessed remotely.

Tung discovered that the Thu Duc warehouse server had been used used by a technician named Phuc, who copied data for Linh before she left the company. Phuc currently works at an audio equipment repair factory, four streets away from Mach Nuoc. An did not come to meet before Hanh sent the official request, but Phuc proactively called after reading the notice.

“I don't want to get into litigation,” he said.

“We also don't want to make you a witness if you don't agree,” An replied. “But you have the right to keep the copy you make if it is not owned by the company.”

“I made a copy at Linh's request, but her memory card was recorded as property by the company.”

“Do you have any copies left?”

Phuc was silent. An heard the sound of a welding machine at the end of the line. “I have a hard drive, but I haven't opened it since that day.”

Hanh made an appointment to meet at the office. Phuc carried the hard drive in a cloth bag, did not give it directly. Hanh made a temporary receiving record, pledging not to copy it without consent. Phuc shows the file list. There is a folder named “Linh_backup”, created the day before the teaser was created.

An asked why he kept it.

"Because I heard they removed the name in the metadata. I didn't know what to do, so I kept it."

“Did you tell Linh?”

"I sent her a text message. Then my phone was called many times from the company's number."

Phuc opened the log file. The visitors include Duc Minh, Quang Vu and an account named "admin_audio". No Nam.

Nam sat next to him, not interrupting. When Phuc went out to answer the phone, he said: "I thought I was erased from history. It turns out I was only kept where I could be blamed."

An did not deny it. She saw his account in the fake file. That may make people feel sorry for him, but it doesn't erase what he did.

Linh went to the office and saw the hard drive. Phuc gave her a confirmation that the copy was made at her request and was not released. Spiritual notes.

“Do you want to open the file?” An asked.

Linh shook her head. “I want to hear when there are members of Le Chi's family.”

Le Chi could not come yet, but she sent a representative, Mrs. Diep. Ms. Diep listened to the cut voice, then confirmed that it was the recording the Lam sisters had saved. She didn't know what the last part was about, she just remembered Lam saying it wasn't a chorus.

“So what is it?” An asked.

“One answer,” Ms. Diep said. "Lam wanted to let the sound of water go in between the notes. He said the listener would understand if no one explained it first."

An looked at Nam. He nodded, as if he had heard that many years ago but didn't have the courage to say it.

Phuc opened a piece of encrypted data. Not the singing part, but the frequency map and Lam's notes. Nodes are marked with place names: ferry terminal, market yard, hospital corridor, theater terrace. Lam built melodies from real life sounds, not from company formulas.

“We can use these notes to create an album,” Nam said.

Mrs. Diep looked at him. “Only if Lam's family agrees.”

"I know."

“You know more than before.”

Nam bowed his head.

Hanh asked Phuc to keep the hard drive in the lawyer's safe. Phuc agreed, but before leaving, he told An: "I have another file. It records the voices of Duc Minh and Quang in room B. I haven't opened it yet because I'm afraid."

“Do you want to open it now?”

Phuc looked at Linh. She nodded.

The file opens with an argument. Quang said it cannot be released if Le Chi does not sign. Duc Minh replied that as long as he uses his voice as the background, the listener will not know. One person Another asked Nam if he knew. Duc Minh said: "He knows enough to keep quiet."

There is no sentence directly admitting to removing the name, but it is enough to prove that they understand that the voice belongs to Le Chi and still intend to use it. Nam closed his eyes and listened until the end.

An asked Phuc if he could confirm the date. The logs show that the file was created after Nam left the company, but the conversation record was copied from an old machine. The data is not completely intact.

“Not perfect,” An said.

Hanh replied: "Real records are rarely perfect. It's important that we clearly state the limits."

Linh looked at the frequency map. “I want to sing songs according to these locations.”

Nam asked: "Are you sure? We may have to go to many places."

“I don't want to sing in a closed room to talk about the sounds on the street.”

An felt a new plan forming. Not Nam's comeback album, nor Le Chi's copy. It is a new work, acknowledging the inspiration but not borrowing the name to change the rights.

Mrs. Diep agreed to transfer the plan to Lam's family. Before leaving, she gave An a piece of paper with the last sentence in the note: "Don't make me a chorus just because you're afraid of silence."

That night, An sent the field recording schedule to everyone. Nam texted back: "I will go, if you allow me."

An replied: "Going as a coordinator, not as a spokesperson for Lam."

Nam replied: "Agree."