“Has everyone confirmed their battle opponent?”
A few contestants glared daggers at Kim Seong‑jun, feeling as if his question was rubbing salt in their wounds.
What kind of cosmic joke is this…?
For some of them that match‑up list felt no different from a flat‑out rejection slip—no wonder tempers were fraying.
Just then—
“Wow—this here’s practically the group of death!”
Kim Seong‑jun, voice dripping with exaggeration, strode to the monitor for the HS line.
“Ah! You could say these two are the hottest contestants of the whole season, and now they’re head‑to‑head—!”
He put on a shocked face even though he knew exactly what was written there.
“Yun Jae‑i, who got HS’s Super Pass, versus Kang Ha‑jun, who received the fastest yes from HS!”
The other contestants murmured “Ohhh—” in response.
Kang Ha‑jun himself remained calm‑faced.
“Ha‑jun, you’ve been paired with Yun Jae‑i this round; can you share how you feel or what your resolve is?”
Seong‑jun thrust the mic toward him.
“Hmm… how I feel, my resolve…”
“Is it difficult to talk about—?”
“I’ll do my very best, whatever the result.”
With that flat reply Ha‑jun bowed his head once and walked to a corner.
Matching the two had clearly been the producers’ ratings‑driven mischief. Fine. Since the dice were cast, he would simply do his utmost to obtain the outcome he wanted.
Time ticked on—three hours total. In that span of time, he had to finish an arrangement and rehearsal perfectly. No room for distractions. Whoever the opponent was, whatever the producers intended, his only task was to survive and win HS’s recognition.
I must…
Just then, his back‑pocket phone started vibrating nonstop.
[Road‑Mgr Hyung]
You’re up against Yun Jae‑i?
The mission song’s “Let’s Walk Together,” right?
I’ve arranged it in your key.
Let’s_Walk_Together_arr.mp3
It was a message from the road‑manager the company had assigned him.
“…Ah.”
Barely ten minutes after the song had been announced, and an arrangement file was already in his inbox.
How did he even know? Have they got spies among the staff?
Glancing around in case anyone saw, he shielded his phone with his hand and reread the message.
Is this okay? His thumb hovered over the file icon, circling without tapping.
Yes, he had advantages as the scion of a wealthy family, but he’d never finished anything without his own effort. He’d even turned down LS Ent.’s offer of an immediate debut and chosen the trainee path.
True, compared with others his trainee period was cosmetic at best, but he had sworn to debut on the strength of overwhelming skill.
Yet this—breaking the rules mid‑competition—wasn’t it cheating?
A foul…
Every contestant had been given the same three hours. But thanks to belonging to an agency, he alone could skip arranging and focus purely on rehearsal.
Technically agency trainees weren’t supposed to enter at all…
Still, he had vowed to climb by his own power, no gimmicks. It was about pride—and conscience.
“Phew…”
Torn, he raked a hand through his hair. At that moment—
“We’ll see everyone again in roughly three hours! Good luck out there!”
After finishing brief interviews, Kim Seong‑jun boomed his farewell and left the hall.
The clock of blood and tears had now begun. How each person used those three hours would decide—not victory, survival.
Slumping into a corner chair, Ha‑jun unlocked his phone once more.
Let’s_Walk_Together_arr.mp3
Biting his lower lip, eyes darting, he happened to spot Yun Jae‑i a short distance away, sitting cross‑legged. To his surprise, her face was lit with a broad smile.
Have I ever seen her smile?
On the bus, at arrival, in the hall—she had looked ready to cry, never to laugh. Was that confidence?
He clenched the phone. Why had he even hesitated? Win or lose is decided in moments of resolve.
This is a battlefield without weapons.
“I have to win, I have to win…” he murmured like self‑hypnosis.
Conscience? Lower it for a moment and that’s that. Besides, he wasn’t the only trainee here; surely others were getting help from their agencies.
“If I sing well and earn recognition, that’s enough.”
His finger stabbed the file; the arranged track started playing.
Two hours flew by.
“Already two hours gone.”
“What? Seriously?”
“Why is time sprinting?”
Contestants began groaning. Only one hour remained before showtime.
One hour…
Ha‑jun kept laser focus amid the chaos, pouring everything into practice.
The arrangement stayed close to the original—key adjusted, a climactic ad‑lib section added. He hunted Seo Jini’s live clips, recorded himself, replayed, crafted his own ad‑libs.
Yes, the company arranged it, but performance was on him.
“Ah, damn…”
Usually mindful of image, he rarely swore, but deep concentration erased the cameras from his mind. Every time the sound wasn’t right he scowled and pounded his chest.
Sweat soaked his T‑shirt. Pausing to flap it dry, a thought struck:
How’s Yun Jae‑i doing?
Scanning the crowd he finally located her. His mouth fell open.
She’s still at that?
She was neck‑deep in arranging—lips sealed, strumming guitar, scribbling on sheet music spread over the floor. Only an hour left…
When will she rehearse?
Maybe she didn’t know how to arrange and was stuck? He’d heard she’d had no formal training.
Not my problem.
He shook off the distraction. Reinforced his vow:
I will show HS I’m the better instrument.
And dived back into practice.
The 1‑on‑1 battles began. With each match losers mounted.
“The tenth and final elimination for Team Jayble is Lee Woo‑jeong. Regrettably, Woo‑jeong must pack and head home.”
They were now called only “eliminated” as they were hustled from the hall, cameras tailing them even in defeat.
“Let’s take a short break!” came the announcement.
Yi Young‑ah flopped face‑down on the desk.
“Ugh, hearing the same song twenty times in a row is exhausting. With so little prep time everyone’s arrangements end up just key changes—it’s all blending together….”
Kim Gwang‑jin patted her shoulder.
“We’ve judged nearly eighty singers today. You’d be tired even if they weren’t the same song.”
“What’s hardest is having to drop one in every pair. Some losers keep sticking in my mind…”
Won Jin‑seop leafed back through sheets.
“Really? I’ve had pairs where I wanted to drop both.”
“Exactly,” Jayble nodded vigorously. Young‑ah “Hmm‑ed,” then snapped her head toward HS.
“How about you, HS?”
“Same here,” he said blandly.
“You wanted to drop them both?”
“Yes. Six of one, half‑dozen of the other.”
“No one you felt was just unlucky tonight?”
“Not really.”
“Maybe they only messed up this round because of nerves.”
“Could be.”
No one could see his face behind the helmet, but the curt answers made Young‑ah itch. Just as her patience frayed, HS murmured inside the visor:
“Nerves, no prep time, ‘this isn’t normally me’… Those are excuses. They walked into the jungle of their own will—if prey’s in front of you, you fight tooth and nail to hunt it.”
He spoke softly, only for her ears.
“To survive in this jungle.”
A shiver ran down her spine as their gazes met through the goggles. Come to think of it, across three long shoot days, he had hardly turned toward her at all.
Damn, he’s handsome… She blushed at the stray thought.
Their first encounter hadn’t been pleasant. She’d doubted his judgment when he Super‑Passed a contestant she felt unqualified. Seeing the dramatic payoff next round had forced her to take off her tinted glasses.
Soon only one match remained.
“Yun Jae‑i versus Kang Ha‑jun…” Jin‑seop whistled.
“Last slot, biggest clash—musician versus artist, you might say.”
“I was waiting for these two as well,” Kim Gwang‑jin admitted, patting HS’s back.
“And HS discovered them both—he does have an ear.”
“Overpraise,” HS replied. “Besides, anyone could see Ha‑jun’s born star quality.”
“True. Shame one of them has to leave tonight—”
He trailed off with a click of the tongue.
Just then—
“The marquee matchup of the brutal HS Group—Kang Ha‑jun versus Yun Jae‑i—begins now!”
Blazing lights; Kim Seong‑jun’s voice at full power.
“Yun Jae‑i, please wait stage‑side. Kang Ha‑jun, straight to position.”
Yun Jae‑i moved to a chair at the wing. From there the judge’s desk looked closer, twenty chairs behind—though nine were empty, their occupants already eliminated.
“Did rehearsal go well with so little time?” Jay‑ble asked gently.
“I did my best,” Ha‑jun answered crisply, then closed his eyes. The accompaniment flowed in.
Whoa…
Surviving contestants let out involuntary admiration the moment his song began.
Leave a Reply