The interim evaluation round before the TOP 10 selection…
—or rather, the TOP 11 selection, once it was quietly amended inside the production team—was held.
Yet the hall was filled not with heat, but with an icy chill.
“Your song choice doesn’t fit your voice at all—feels like the two of you are working separately. Choi Jong-u, you get a grade C.”
Like ventriloquist dummies, the judges only opened their mouths to recite the script they had been handed.
“Everything was fine, but your pitch in the high notes was shaky. Lee Hyun-ji, grade B.”
No matter how good a performance was, if the singer had been pre-marked for elimination the judges found a flaw and pointed it out.
That meaningless judging went on only a short while.
Yoon 2Jaeyi…
Lee Young-ah cast a sidelong look toward the corner, where Yoon Jaeyi waited with a score in her hands.
Officially listed as one of the TOP 11…
It seemed she had signed with LS Entertainment. Given her talent, that made sense, yet a vague discomfort dried Young-ah’s mouth.
“Why are you drinking so much water?”
Kim Gwang-jin, seated beside her, lowered his voice.
“My throat’s kind of parched…”
Young-ah rubbed her neck and forced a rueful smile.
“Next, Kang Hajun. Please step to the center.”
Kang Hajun—brought back to fill the spot of the contestant who had quit—walked forward with relaxed steps.
“All four judges named you unanimously for revival. How do you feel?” Won Jin-seop asked, exactly as the script demanded.
“I still can’t believe it. Since it’s a miracle of a second chance, I’ll fight for my life.”
Kang Hajun, too, answered in perfect textbook style.
He was revived and immediately marked as TOP 11…
Young-ah glanced at his face, then back down to her sheet. All she really had to do was hand out an A.
Resting her chin on her hand, she waited for his song to start.
“You had less practice time than the others, but please do your best.”
What a lie.
Young-ah frowned at Won Jin-seop’s use of the word fair.
She had experienced this sort of thing in many audition shows, but this time the corruption sickened her more than ever. She found herself wishing K-SingerStar would just end, vowing never again to take an audition-program gig.
The accompaniment to a song every Korean knows by heart began.
Toward that blue-lit sky, let’s run…
Kang Hajun’s voice overlaid the intro.
“Oh?”
Though he wasn’t even using a mic—this was only the interim—the solid voice filled the hall.
“He’s gotten even better.”
“You’re right.”
Some judges whispered in surprise. Young-ah lowered her hand and focused on the singing.
What happened?
Only a little over two weeks had passed since the 1 : 1 battle round. She’d assumed top-tier vocal trainers were working with him, but his growth exceeded even those expectations.
She stole a glance at HS—he showed not the slightest reaction.
Is this that man’s doing?
Back when Seo Jini met him, her skills had also skyrocketed.
Whatever the reason, the improvement was astonishing. People always said vocal habits were nearly impossible to fix, yet Kang Hajun sounded as though his instrument had been rebuilt.
“Kang Hajun, you really came out with your sword sharpened!”
“Honestly, this borders on miraculous.”
“I’d say he’s a leading candidate for the win.”
Won Jin-seop, Kim Gwang-jin, and Jayble finished their comments in order.
“Good work,” HS added tersely, his entire critique.
“Ah—Kang Hajun…”
Realizing it was her turn, Young-ah hurriedly grabbed the mic.
“I want to applaud the way you took yet another step forward. Well done.”
She meant it. Pre-selection or not, his performance left nothing to fault. A genuine smile crept across her face.
“Thank you!”
Having pulled an all-A, Kang Hajun folded at the waist until the hall rang with his thanks. For a brief moment he gazed at HS, eyes shining like a dog asking, Did I do well?
“Next, Yoon Jaeyi. Please come forward.”
Returning to his seat, Kang Hajun met Yoon Jaeyi in passing.
“Do well,” he murmured, eyes burning.
Seated, he stared at her back and muttered to himself, barely audible, “Really do well. This time I won’t lose.”
“Jaeyi, you’ll have to put your score sheet down—you can’t look at it on stage,” Kim Gwang-jin pointed out. She apologized repeatedly and placed it on the floor.
“Ah…”
Young-ah looked not at Jaeyi’s face but at the battered score.
What on earth…?
Even at a glance the paper was frayed to pieces, her fingertips dyed with pen ink—signs of how long she had clutched it.
How much has she been practicing…
She alternated her gaze between the score and Jaeyi’s hands.
“As always, we’re looking forward to another good stage,” Kim Gwang-jin said kindly. Jaeyi closed her eyes tight.
The accompaniment began.
Her voice embroidered itself upon it.
“Whoa…”
Beside Young-ah, Kim Gwang-jin let out a small gasp as though beholding a work of art. Won Jin-seop’s mouth curled upward: “That voice is pure art.”
Jayble and HS stayed silent, focusing on the sound.
Yoon Jaeyi…
While listening, Young-ah felt that sourness melt away. Regardless of backroom deals, this singer deserved to advance more than anyone.
She remembered meeting Jaeyi at the regional final.
She was terrible…
Back then, gloomy and timid, she’d disliked the girl, even felt disgusted. When HS used the super-pass she had been stunned, doubting his reputation.
But Jaeyi proved everyone else wrong. Each round she rearranged the song to suit her own voice, delivering the most distinctive, rock-solid performances.
Though it had never been spoken aloud, Young-ah now recognized her as an equal vocalist.
The song climbed toward its peak.
Yes—more, more, let it out!
Young-ah found herself silently cheering for Jaeyi to finish strong.
At last the final phrase rang:
—I’ll sing for you.
“Unbelievable…”
“Bravo!”
“This is only an interim?”
The hall burst into excited buzz.
Clap, clap, clap!
Young-ah applauded more fervently than anyone. First Kang Hajun, now Yoon Jaeyi—both had served up rapture.
“It goes without saying: grade A.”
That was the happiest judgment she had given all day.
After the interim ended, Manager Kim drove HS back to the company.
“How was the shoot today?”
“The same as always.”
“You know, they were really good.”
“Who?”
“Kang Hajun and Yoon Jaeyi.”
“Were they?”
“You judged them yourself!”
“Oh—right.”
He removed his helmet, shaking sweat-damp hair.
“Bet I look sexy right now.”
“Seatbelt.”
“Yessir.”
“Always has a comeback…”
They drove out of the lot.
“Hyunseung.”
“Yes?”
“To be honest, I was worried. I’m not A&R—I handle management. So I pay more attention to star quality.”
“Of course.”
“I never sensed any star quality in Yoon Jaeyi… until today.”
Curious, HS looked over.
“Because things moved so fast, signing her felt a little iffy. So I watched from the back while she sang.”
Manager Kim recalled the performance.
“And I saw it.”
“Saw what?”
“Her star quality.”
A satisfied smile appeared.
“Watching her changed my mind. A person doesn’t have to shine by themselves—their very voice can be the star.”
Compared to Kang Hajun, who was already almost perfect, Yoon Jaeyi’s voice carried a strength that went beyond technique—a force that mesmerized listeners.
Even now, while driving…
I’ll sing for you…
Her voice still buzzed in his ears—addictive.
“Maybe I’m swept along because you like her,” he went on, now resolute. “But I’ll raise her well.”
He now trusted HS’s ear implicitly—every artist HS picked had succeeded.
“Yoon Jaeyi’s not a plant—you don’t ‘raise’ her,” HS muttered.
“Figure of speech.”
“What’s for dinner at the cafeteria?”
“Spicy braised chicken.”
“Then step on it, driver.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If we’re late, all the drumsticks will be gone.”
Yes, HS would write another perfect song, direct another perfect session.
Looks like we’re about to get busy again.
Leave a Reply