“Wow….”
The dazzling ceiling lights reflected off the blank glaze in her dark, slackened eyes.
Had she ever been anywhere with this many people in her whole life?
No, never. She had never even been to the amusement park everyone talks about.
“…Miss Lee— Miss Yun Jae-yi!”
While she was spaced out, someone nearby called her; turning her head she saw a man wearing a staff badge, his face twisted in irritation.
“Ah— yes…!”
“I called you how many times. Didn’t you hear me?”
The woman he was rebuking was
Yun Jae-yi, a contestant who had cleared the Seoul-area second preliminary and come for the final third round.
Yun Jae-yi bowed her head in front of the man and kept mumbling, “S-sorry, I’m sorry…”
“Here. Stick this on the front of your T-shirt.”
Shaking his head as though she were hopeless, the staffer thrust out a sticker printed with her contestant number.
To onlookers it might seem he was over-reacting to a slow answer, but there was a reason.
Right now the Seoul final prelim venue was a sea of nearly a thousand contestants and staff.
So many people, so little time.
In that pressure-cooker, even one contestant like Yun Jae-yi who “wasted time” could fray staff nerves.
“Sigh…”
Feeling all those eyes on her inside the waiting room, Yun Jae-yi dropped her gaze to the floor.
Deprived of the light, her dark pupils lost focus again.
“E-excuse me…”
At last she rose, grabbed a staffer’s sleeve, and squeezed out a voice.
“I’m sorry, but if my turn isn’t right away could I run to the restroom?”
“Yes, go ahead. But don’t stay too long.”
The staffer added with a reluctant face,
“And if you’re thinking of quitting, you have to tell us first.”
Yun Jae-yi shrank further, nodded, and hurried out of the room.
“Haah…”
She darted into a stall, crouched, and buried her head between her knees.
Why am I so timid…
Even one sharp or curious glance made her shrink and curl up. She knew—she herself found it pathetic.
“Mum, Dad…”
She called for parents she had never once called while alive.
The words echoed into nothing and scattered.
“It would’ve been nice if you were here today…”
The year she was born both parents died in an accident.
After that she bounced from one relative to another, nerves stretched at every glance. Her wariness became a survival instinct—essential when you have no one to lean on.
Bleak, but matter-of-fact…
Even she, who had never wished for anything, came to want just one thing.
Music. Desperately, madly, she loved it and wanted to do it.
Yet that desperate wish shattered on reality.
“If you want lessons so bad, earn the money yourself!”
She thought once she was grown she could study in the wider world, but there were no parents to back the dream, no money for tuition.
Yes.
It was like a kite whose string had snapped, yet she kept the dead dream afloat.
With an old acoustic guitar a teacher at the cram school gave her—said they didn’t use it—she kept writing songs of her own.
No one listened.
Failing audition after audition, she even swore to sell that last guitar along with the dream.
Then she saw the recruitment ad for K-Sing Star. She didn’t know why, but an overpowering urge rose: she had to enter.
She had no idea if a girl as shy as her could even open her mouth on such a show.
Still, an odd confidence welled from deep in her chest. Just once, she wanted to sing before a crowd.
That had been her feeling, yet…
Standing in this audition hall packed with rivals, in front of Korea’s top singers, would she manage a single bar?
From the warm-up sounds in the waiting room, they all seemed formidable. Could she survive?
The blood-spraying survival show was about to start.
One elimination and it was over. Her exit might air on TV; she’d be branded a loser.
If that happened she might never sing in front of people again. Panic washed over her. Should she quit now, as the staff suggested?
No—no.
“But I came all the way here…”
The deeper her thoughts went, the lower her face sank.
“Contestant two-eight-three?!”
A hurried female voice called from outside the restroom.
“Contestant 283—are you in there?”
283? Sounded familiar. She stared at her T-shirt; the sticker on her chest bore that number.
“Y-yes! I’m here!”
“You’re on soon!”
“Uh, well—”
“Please come out!”
Yun Jae-yi finally unfolded her crouched body.
She unlocked the stall door and stepped out.
“O-okay, I’m coming!”
“HS-ssi, you’re giving out almost nothing but fails, aren’t you?”
Lee Yeonga asked without lifting her eyes from the paperwork.
“In my view they lacked both skill and promise, so I failed them.”
His blunt reply made her answer, “Right, of course.” The air in the resting judges’ room grew taut.
Truthfully it was Yeonga alone sustaining the staring contest; HS kept scanning files as if she didn’t exist.
Leafing through a dossier, Kim Gwangjin exclaimed, “Oh? Looks like Go Jun-su’s kid brother is entering.”
“Go Jun-su—the ‘monster vocalist’ everyone’s talking about.”
“Wonder if the brother sings as well.”
“Well, blood will tell. At least the basics.”
Though it was break time they all kept checking the next contestants’ forms.
Swish, swish—
Only pages turning for a bit.
“I’m excited about this person.”
“Who is it?”
“Edison Kim—a foreign-show finalist.”
Yeonga, spotting a familiar face, explained in an excited tone.
“I watched that show; his voice is really good.”
“If you say so, I’m interested.”
“He’ll hit Top 10 here, I guarantee it.”
Kim nodded thoughtfully.
“Mm, I see.”
He turned left and asked HS.
“Do you know this Edison Kim?”
“Yes, I saw the show.”
“Then do you think he’ll reach the Top 10?”
Beside him, Yeonga’s eyes narrowed; it sounded like Kim trusted HS’s eye over hers.
“Hmm.”
HS tapped the table with his forefinger, pondering.
“Not sure. He wasn’t a contestant I paid much attention to.”
Yeonga, displeased by the vague answer, shot another question.
“Then who do you expect will make the Top 10?”
“Me?”
“Yes. Plenty of celebrity relatives and big names signed up—let’s each pick a candidate. You can choose someone we’ve already seen.”
Both she and Kim stared at HS, curious whom he’d name.
“I…”
Unlike before, he immediately held up a single sheet.
“Number two-eight-three.”
Echoing him, Yeonga muttered “Two-eight-three?” and looked until she found that application.
Softly she read the name at the top.
“Yun… Jae-yi?”
Who in the world is that?
The moment Yun Jae-yi stepped into the hall for the third round, the question hit her.
She knew Kim Gwangjin and Lee Yeonga were judges from this stage on… but who was the man wearing a helmet?
Meanwhile Yeonga was studying Yun Jae-yi like a hawk; the sticker on her chest read 283. Yes—this one.
The person HS picked as a Top 10 candidate.
“Could you give a brief self-introduction?”
“Uh… I live in Seoul, I’m twenty-five… My name is Yun Jae-yi. P-please be kind.”
Yeonga scratched her neck in frustration; the quavering, mumbling voice was worse than any primary-schooler’s.
“You seem very nervous. Try to sing as comfortably as you can.”
“Comfortably?”
“Yes, as comfortably as possible.”
She cooed like a kind judge, yet dropped her gaze to the next file—she expected nothing.
Plop—
Yun Jae-yi suddenly sat cross-legged and hugged her guitar.
“What are you doing?”
To her it was an old habit before singing, but to everyone else it was unexpected.
“You said to sing comfortably…”
Watching her sit, Kim Gwangjin smiled faintly; Yeonga stared in disbelief.
The helmet man’s expression was unreadable.
Yun Jae-yi adjusted her guitar, steeling herself. Her first attempt must not become a regret.
This hard cold floor felt like her reality, but enduring it was the only way to stand upon it.
She shifted her gaze to the helmeted stranger. Not meeting eyes, unable to see a face, strange confidence bubbled up.
Maybe this was her chance.
“One, two…”
She tapped the guitar body to set the count.
The strum began—slow, somber.
Her voice that rose over it was the same.
—Don’t look at me with pity.
Even as she sang her eyes clung to the helmeted man. Thinking only he existed calmed her.
Whether he was watching or not she couldn’t know, and that strangely soothed her.
Gradually—very slightly—her breath settled and strength came to her tone.
“Stop, stop.”
With a sharp string squeal the song broke off.
“I think that’s enough.”
Lee Yeonga had raised her hand to cut it.
“Hmm…”
She scratched her chin and glanced around. Kim’s face mirrored her opinion. She extended her sight to HS’s profile—his helmet hid all.
Why had HS said he expected this woman?
To her, Yun Jae-yi showed no talent as a vocalist. The voice was attractive, yes, but the mumbled pronunciation scattered the sound like dust. Add the heavy gloom…
Nor was the song itself extraordinary; nowadays any amateur could write those chords. Guitar-playing, likewise, nothing special.
What was it?
Burying the puzzle, Yeonga took the mic.
“I’m not sure if the problem is the song or the singing, but your own charm never came through. It’s a no from me.”
She left it at that.
“The color of your voice is appealing, yet you lack the skill to bring it out. Regretfully, no.”
Kim hit his fail button. Two red X’s lit.
“Ah…”
Still seated, Yun Jae-yi heard the judgments cascade; her head drooped like a wilting flower.
Then—
“HS-ssi, won’t you say anything?”
Yeonga’s taunting remark made Yun Jae-yi snap her head up.
HS?
Her widened eyes fixed on the helmeted man. Was he truly the composer HS? The creator of Let’s Walk Together and Dear my Beethoven she’d listened to till her ears crusted?
Thump, thump, thump—
Her heart drummed out of time. If she heard “fail” from him it would crush her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think of something else.
A third red X was all that would happen anyway.
“HS-ssi, H—”
A staffer off-camera waved a sketchbook, frantically mouthing Give feedback!
Despite their zeal HS remained silent—so still one wondered if he was dozing.
“HS-ssi, please say—”
Just then he cut off Yeonga.
“I have one question.”
Every gaze swung to him. What would he say after keeping them waiting?
Was he really asleep?
Yeonga folded her arms: let’s hear this.
At last—
“In prelims, we can use the Super Pass, right?”
What came from HS’s mouth was neither critique nor rejection.
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