The baby's cry pierced the quiet of the Seoul apartment. Jiyong's eyes snapped open, heart racing faster than during any concert performance.

He approached the crib, designer pajamas slightly rumpled. The baby - their daughter - was red-faced and wailing. Jiyong looked like he was about to solve a complex musical arrangement, except this time, the arrangement was a crying infant.

"Hey," he whispered, "what's wrong?"

His hands, usually confident holding a microphone, now moved with uncertain gentleness. He picked her up, immediately realizing he had no idea what to do next.

He checked her diaper - dry. Felt her forehead - normal temperature. Looked around the room, confused.

Desperate, he grabbed his phone and stepped into the hallway.

Taeyang picked up immediately. "What's wrong?"

"She won't stop crying," Jiyong whispered.

Taeyang chuckled. "Did you try singing to her?"

"I've got multiple methods," Jiyong said, sounding slightly defensive. "Watch."

He started rapping softly, a gentle version of "Crayon" - his voice low and rhythmic.

The baby paused mid-cry, seemingly listening. For a split second, Jiyong thought he'd succeeded. Her tiny face scrunched up, looking almost... judgmental.

Then she let out an even louder wail, as if critiquing his performance.

"Did you hear that?" Jiyong whispered into the phone.

Taeyang burst out laughing. "She just totally roasted you."

"She's judging my rap skills," Jiyong said, sounding both offended and bewildered. "My own daughter."

"Try another song," Taeyang suggested.

Jiyong sighed. "Maybe 'Crooked'..."

He started rapping softly from "Crooked", his voice low and careful.

For a moment, the baby paused. Her tiny face scrunched up, looking like she was critically analyzing his performance. Then, with what seemed like deliberate judgment, she let out an even louder wail.

"She's doing it again!" Jiyong whispered.

Taeyang was laughing so hard he could barely speak. "Definitely your daughter."

"This isn't funny," Jiyong muttered.