Pen and Paper Translations

T/N: Moving forward: Yun Jae-i -> Yoon Jaeyi

“Thirty minutes until shooting begins!”

The assistant director’s voice boomed through the loud hailer and echoed around the hall.

At that moment Kim Young-ho PD clapped his hands together to draw everyone’s attention.

“Before we start, could all key production staff and judges gather here for a moment?”

Because he was a sub-PD, Seong Gyu-jin stopped what he was doing and walked over to him. Kim Young-ho’s face looked perfectly relaxed—unlike his own.

“Before today’s filming, we need to ask the judges for a delicate favor.”

Just watching Kim Young-ho PD—always wearing that kind, benevolent smile—made Gyu-jin’s stomach churn.

A proper main PD ought to take control of the set in one stroke, herd everyone, and if high ratings required it, be willing to play the villain…

He’s much too soft.

From long ago Gyu-jin had disliked Young-ho. Outwardly he never showed it—Young-ho was his senior and always the main PD—but the man simply did not fit Gyu-jin’s idea of the authority or dignity a PD should have. Earlier too…

He pretended to stop me, just so he could look like the nice guy.

In the end, it seemed Chief-Producer Go Hyun-deok had sided not with him but with Kim Young-ho—and with HS.

From the little crowd gathered around, CP Go cheerily suggested they push a “TOP 11” instead of a TOP 10 for dramatic effect; that alone proved it.

“This is the list of the pre-selected TOP 11 qualifiers.”

Young-ho distributed the sheets while adding, “Today’s only an interim evaluation, so no one will be cut, but please grade in a way that won’t make tomorrow’s main round feel out of sync.”

He dressed it up nicely, but stripped of the euphemisms it meant: give the pre-arranged “drop” contestants a C, the lowest of today’s A-B-C scale.

Why so many fancy words for something that simple?

Gyu-jin was sticking out his lower lip in annoyance when—

“Hmm? HS isn’t here?”

Lee Young-ah looked around and asked.

“He had some business—he’ll be right in,” Young-ho replied. She nodded slightly.

“Real highness, that one…,” Gyu-jin muttered, just loud enough to be heard. Young-ah frowned; obviously “highness” referred to HS.

All that sucking up to HS, now you bad-mouth him behind his back…

Back in the last round, when HS couldn’t drink the sponsored water because of the helmet, Gyu-jin had wagged his tail and said, “Well, a contract is a contract, nothing we can do.”

Truly disgusting.

Young-ah instinctively loathed people who bullied the weak and kowtowed to the strong—people who said behind-the-back things they would never say face-to-face. Exactly like PD Seong Gyu-jin.

So eager to cozy up to HS—now sour grapes because it failed?

She didn’t know why he suddenly bore a grudge against HS, nor did she care. Right now, the paper in her hand mattered more.

“Haa…”

Young-ah ran a hand through her hair and sighed.

Too much.

Even in earlier rounds the staff had hinted they should be lenient with contestants already signed to agencies. She’d swallowed that. This, though—rewriting the rules so every single slot was pre-reserved, even inflating it to TOP 11—was blatant.

Did that many payola requests come in?

Given the show’s scale and hot ratings, every label must have wanted in. Still, she’d signed a contract with stiff penalties—and a clause pledging cooperation—so she could say nothing.

Filthy, but what can you do…

CP Go rubbed his hands and wrapped up: “We’ll intervene fairly heavily today, so we ask for your full cooperation.”

Young-ah forced a nod. “Yes.”

Then her eyes halted halfway down the sheet.

Yoon Jaeyi…

At the very bottom someone had scribbled “Yoon Jaeyi” in pen.

Did she sign somewhere too?

She’d thought Jaeyi fully deserved a top slot on merit. A small stab of betrayal pricked her.

Why? Maybe because she’d believed Jaeyi cared more about how she sounded than how she looked, that she still dreamed of being a singer rather than a celebrity.

Young-ah let out a bitter laugh.

Of course she’d grab the chance.

For a contestant, it was the rational choice.

---

Meanwhile, the business room was dead quiet.

“Um… excuse me…”

Yoon Jaeyi glanced from the helmeted HS to the burly stranger she’d never seen before.

“Why did you call me here…?”

She couldn’t finish. HS picked up:

“Wondering why you were summoned?”

“Y-yes…”

He scratched the hard back of his helmet and answered flatly.

“From the production’s viewpoint, there’s no need for you to pass, and you don’t have to sign with LS.”

“What? All of a sudden—”

“But watching someone worthy get kicked just for some stupid reason is annoying.”

The words were hard to follow. HS, as if bored, added crisply:

“In short, because you have no agency, they planned to drop you from the TOP 10. That’s decided.”

“Oh…”

“But don’t worry. It just changed. You’re about to sign with LS Entertainment.”

He slid a thick contract toward her.

“And you’ve been given a shot at a TOP 11.”

“Pardon…?”

“Of course, if you botch your stage you’ll still be eliminated.”

Facing the chill in his eyes, Jaeyi flinched and lowered her head.

At first she’d just wanted experience—a “challenge” to move forward. She’d been bounced at the final regional audition, then resurrected miraculously, and now the summit was almost within reach. She’d poured everything in, to live up to the judge who’d saved her.

Elimination.

The two-syllable word rammed back into her chest like lead.

I forgot I could still lose…

She’d thought she’d escaped that dark, self-loathing pit and stepped into the light—maybe she was becoming a good singer.

Had she grown conceited?

HS snapped his finger on the table.

“Hey. What are you spacing out for?”

“Ah, um—”

“Not signing?”

“N-no!”

He tapped the contract pages. “Read it properly before you sign. See if there are poison clauses, if the advance meets your expectations.”

There were none—on the contrary, the terms were the best a rookie could dream of.

Rustle, rustle.

Prodded, Jaeyi dutifully turned each sheet. Then—

“Huh?”

Her eyes froze on the advance-payment line.

“This…?”

Even without knowing standard numbers she could tell.

Unbelievable…

With this money she could pay the overdue bills, even rent a half-decent studio deposit-free.

“Not good enough?” HS asked.

“No! I mean—of course not!”

Still stunned, she muttered, “It just feels like my whole life flipped in an instant.”

A well-paved shortcut had opened on her rocky path.

“I never even dared imagine…”

HS watched her trembling hands and said off-handedly,

“Life’s like that.”

A pause—then quietly:

“Even in despair, chances pop up.”

It sounded casual, but it was advice—earned from experience.

---