“Right… I’ve come all the way here, I can’t just turn back.”
Yun Jae‑i fidgeted in place, her feet refusing to move, and muttered to herself.
“Phew…”
The sight of the crowd in the distance and the tour buses lined up side by side made her stomach churn.
“But I still have to go.”
In audition programs, group living is a given.
Yes—of the remaining one hundred contestants, only the TOP 10 who will reach the final round will survive a blood‑soaked survival match while living together.
The person who shares your room today becomes tomorrow’s rival, and if you can’t beat that person you’ll pack your bags and be kicked out—an awfully cruel life that starts right now.
She’d never even imagined making the top hundred, but there was no backing out at this point. Like a lucky charm she whispered “HS… HS…” and walked forward.
“H‑hello.”
Jae‑i squeezed through the crowd and addressed someone who looked like staff.
“Oh? Yun Jae‑i, you’re here!”
Because she was the contestant the production team was most focused on, the staffer recognized her at once.
“I’d love to explain everything, but we’re short on time—please board the bus right away.”
Swept along by the staff member, she climbed aboard the coach marked Bus No. 5.
Taking the innermost seat, she pulled out her phone—there were messages from her friend Su‑bin.
Su‑bin: Dude, the whole entertainment page is about you.
Su‑bin: Cam‑face doesn’t love you tho lol
Su‑bin: Weirdly proud—do well!
Jae‑i smiled faintly and typed: Thanks. As her friend said, every headline these days was about her.
Just because HS had given her a super‑pass, the public’s attention pinned her. Most comments asked whether someone of that skill level deserved such a thing—but that didn’t matter.
She had practiced herself half to death to prove HS’s eye wasn’t wrong, and she’d shown a stage she herself was satisfied with in the main round; once the broadcast aired, the storm would calm.
“May I sit here?”
A man’s voice sounded above her head.
“Ah—yes…”
She wasn’t the type to refuse flatly, so she nodded. Plenty of seats were empty; she could move later.
“Take the window.”
She started to stand so he could pass when-
“Your name is… Yun Jae‑i, right?”
“H‑how do you know my name?”
“You’re famous now.”
“Ah… uh…”
“So you do know you’re famous?”
Grinning smoothly, Kang Ha‑jun slipped into the inside seat and patted the aisle seat.
“It’s a long ride—let’s just sit together.”
“Pardon?”
“We’ll be seeing each other a long time—might as well be friends.”
Still smiling, he lightly grasped her wrist and guided her back.
“I’m Kang Ha‑jun. Nice to meet you.”
“Y‑yes, nice to meet you.”
Flustered, she sat again, face reddening, head bowed.
“You’re really shy, huh?”
“Ah, yes…”
“How did someone like that decide to enter a show like this?”
“Um, that’s…”
Keeping conversation with a stranger felt exhausting.
“Hard to say?”
As he pressed for an answer she resolved to switch seats and half rose, but…
“Buses are departing—please stay seated and fasten your belts.” called the driver.
“Looks like we’ll be side‑by‑side for the next two hours.”
“Uh… yes.”
Turning, she saw him lift the corners of his lips—a man totally different from her: striking looks that drew people, and the ease to chat with strangers. All things she lacked.
On guard, she bristled inside. Why does someone like him want to get close to me? She couldn’t stop the suspicion.
Only one way to handle this.
“Good night.”
“Eh? All of a sudden?”
“Wake me when we arrive.”
Plugging in her earphones, she closed her eyes, ignoring Ha‑jun’s bafflement.
Coaches rolled up to the training lodge on the outskirts of Gyeonggi‑do.
“Waaah—”
After the long ride contestants sprang out, stretching stiff bodies—including the show’s two hottest names, Kang Ha‑jun and Yun Jae‑i.
“Your bag looks heavy—let me.”
“No, I can carry it.”
Rejecting his kindness, Jae‑i darted away. Ha‑jun watched, frowning softly.
“Hm…”
Tilting his head, he followed her receding figure into the crowd.
What’s her deal…?
He replayed the way she had avoided him on the bus.
He had loved singing since childhood, loved living in the spotlight, wanted to be an entertainer.
But the burden of inheriting the prosperous mid‑sized company his father ran made him endure.
Then an article: his favorite artist Jayble was releasing a solo album—and betting its chart performance against… HS.
Who was HS? No personal info anywhere; only his songs. Curiosity swelling, Ha‑jun listened to them all—play, replay, repeat—until curiosity became fandom. A composer he’d never seen now started his every morning.
Why didn’t the songs get old? Mulling it over, he sensed they carried a story; each listen drew new feelings, so monotony never came.
Resolve formed.
“Father, I want to become a singer.”
It was the first time he’d voiced a wish of his own. He had always done whatever his parents asked—studies, sports, art—delivering top results.
Having been the obedient, capable son, didn’t he deserve to chase a dream once?
A dream of debuting gloriously with an HS song.
“Thank you for telling me your dream, son.”
Far from opposition, his parents moved at lightning speed. One word about LS Entertainment and a contract was signed; no endless trainee period for him.
Only after joining did he learn HS belonged to Team 2, with no real link to his Team 1, and was cloaked in mystique—seeing him was impossible.
Sure, he could leverage his parents’ power to demand a song from HS, but that wasn’t happening.
Then came the offer to enter K‑Sing Star, with the secret that HS would be a judge.
I have to nail this.
He trained from dawn till late night so HS would acknowledge his potential and give him just one song to debut.
Finally he met HS—only to hear he “lacked talent as an instrument.”
HS had said he chose singers because they were “instruments with good sound.” Therefore Ha‑jun was not such an instrument.
Then that girl…
He stared holes in Yun Jae‑i’s back.
Shy, plain, no dazzling charm—surely not a star type. HS must have given the super‑pass because her sound was good.
And that stirred… jealousy—childish jealousy toward someone recognized as an “instrument” when he was not.
Don’t let it show. Cameras were everywhere; let the nation not see his envy.
A staffer’s megaphone snapped him out of thought, leading everyone to the main hall—a bustling marketplace of 100 “survivors” and crew.
A particularly dense crowd surrounded Ha‑jun.
“You shared our prelim waiting room—remember?”
“HS hit pass before you even finished!”
Accustomed to attention, he shook hands like a presidential hopeful—but kept seeking Jae‑i in the corner of his eye.
Just then the curtain rose and host Kim Seong‑jun strode out.
“Tired? War doesn’t rest.”
Five huge monitors appeared, each bearing a main judge’s name.
“Stand under the judge you choose. Twenty spots each, first‑come first‑served.”
With no hint of the mission, contestants wavered.
Most avoided HS—too strict and his songs too hard.
As expected, Jae‑i stood alone at the front of the HS line.
The host urged them; Ha‑jun pondered. This choice could mean elimination or advancement, but it was also the chance to be judged—recognized—by HS.
Decision made, he walked as the countdown began.
10, 9, 8… 3, 2, 1!
“Time’s up! Freeze!”
His feet stopped exactly beside hers.
Jae‑i glanced at him, surprised.
Ha‑jun merely smiled.
Whatever lay ahead, he would prove the sound of his instrument.
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