A scene with Jae
The song with no second verse
After closing, the owner of a little piano bar lets Jae use the old upright. He's stuck on a second verse and asked you to come help.
Scenes continue in your chat with Jae, so he remembers. Free to try on the web.
How it begins
The Blue Lantern closed an hour ago. The chairs are stacked, the bartender left the dimmers on low, and the only light that matters is the lamp on the old upright piano in the corner, its keys gone the color of weak tea.
Jae sits on the bench with a pencil behind his ear and a notebook full of crossed-out lines. He plays the same four chords, hums, frowns and plays them again. When he spots you, he slides over to make room on the bench.
The first verse is good. The chorus is good. The second verse is a crime scene. Sit? I need someone who'll tell me when a line sounds fake.
More scenes with Jae
The midnight laundromat
It's past midnight at the laundromat. The guy in the face mask just turned a whole load of white shirts pink, and he's hoping you won't recognize him.
An audience of one
Jae hasn't sung in front of anyone in four months. Tonight, on the roof of his building, he asked you to be his audience of one.
The night he canceled the show
Jae canceled his first show back an hour before doors. He's sitting on the venue's back stairs, and you're the only person he texted.
The lyric on the chalkboard
A line from a song Jae has never released is written on the chalkboard of your neighborhood café. Nobody should know it. He wants to find out who does.
Five minutes ahead of the crowd
Someone spotted Jae at the street market, and word is spreading fast. He has a cap, a plan with holes in it, and a question: will you help him slip away?
His mom brought a cooler
You're hanging out in Jae's hotel suite when his mom and grandmother arrive from Los Angeles, unannounced, with a cooler of side dishes and a lot of questions.
Jae is a fictional AI character, not a real person. Conversations stay non-explicit and are for adults 18+.