Thunderous cheers rang out while the big screen flashed the faces of the two people who had made the Top 2.
“The finalists who will face off in the championship round are—”
The judges, as though they had half-expected the result, smiled pleasantly and offered light applause.
“—Kang Hajun and Yoon Jaeyi!”
Hajun did look a little surprised when his own face appeared on the screen, yet he had more or less foreseen this outcome.
He had expected to reach the final himself, and he had also expected Jaeyi to be there.
Yes.
Watching her stage again today, he realized it once more: that woman had been born for this.
It was the innate quality that HS called “being an instrument.”
If he had not heard Lee Young-a’s advice today he would surely have felt another dose of relative deprivation while watching Jaeyi perform, because her stage had been perfection itself.
Now, after accepting her, his mind felt calm.
But he had not the slightest wish to hand her first place.
Whoever finished first in the semifinal would get first pick between the songs composed by Jable and HS. If Jaeyi took first, she would certainly choose HS’s song, so Hajun had to win this round.
He absolutely did not want to let HS’s song slip away.
“We will announce the total scores and see who finished first.”
Hajun clasped his hands tight and waited for his name to be called.
Petty as it sounded, he wanted to win this time even if it was only by the pre-votes and the text votes.
He did not care if people grumbled that he had not won with singing ability; just this once he wanted the victory.
Please…
He glanced sideways. Jaeyi, evidently feeling exactly the same, had her eyes squeezed shut and her fists trembling.
“And the contestant who takes first place in today’s semifinal, together with the priority to choose the final song, is—”
A scream of joy and sorrow mixed with excitement erupted from the audience.
“A miracle has happened!”
At the word miracle, Hajun whipped his head toward the screen.
It can’t be…
Filling the huge screen was Yoon Jaeyi’s face, tangled with astonishment and delight.
“Yoon Jaeyi wins first place, beating Kang Hajun by one-hundred-and-twenty points!”
She pointed to herself in disbelief, asking, “Me?”, and Hajun bowed his head.
He had to keep his face straight, he had to congratulate her, yet it was strangely hard to tell the woman beside him—who was wiping tears from her cheeks—that he was happy for her.
The MC tried to move things along.
“Please save the tears of joy for a moment. Our judges, Jable and HS, have written an original song each for the final. Miss Yoon, because you finished first, you will listen to fifteen seconds of each track and then choose the one you will sing.”
At that, Jaeyi’s eyes shone again.
She had been waiting for this moment; now she only had to pick HS’s song without hesitation.
“But,” the MC added.
Everyone’s eyes focused on him.
“Until you make your choice, you will not be told whose song is whose.”
Both finalists turned to him in shock.
“Pardon?” “Sorry?”
The MC ignored them and continued with the prepared script.
“Since both are written by top-class composers, we know each piece will be excellent, but it will be your debut song, so choose carefully.”
Perplexity spread across Jaeyi’s face.
She had run straight toward HS’s song without a second thought, and now an unexpected barrier stood in her way.
If no one told her whose track was whose, and the titles showed no names, how could she know?
Meanwhile, Hajun felt a strange thrill.
If she picks Jable’s piece…
The desire he had given up reignited the moment the screen had shown Jaeyi in first place.
Yes, HS’s song was unrivaled, but telling them apart from a fifteen-second intro was nearly impossible.
If Jaeyi happened to take Jable’s track, HS’s would fall right into his lap. That alone would be enough.
“Here is the first song.”
Fifteen seconds of music flowed from the speakers.
“Now the second.”
Both excerpts cut off like a teaser, leaving the crowd groaning in frustration.
The two singers must have felt it even more keenly.
“There is not much time. Miss Yoon, the decision please.”
The MC pressed her; the broadcast schedule was running out.
Hajun saw her profile stiffen in deep thought.
From my side it might have thrown me into panic, he mused.
Yes, both tracks were gorgeous, capable of catching the ear in only fifteen seconds.
But his longing for HS’s work had grown from admiration into attachment.
“Have you decided?” the MC urged. “It is time to choose.”
Jaeyi squeezed the mic.
“Yes. In the final I will sing… the second song.”
Her voice quavered with determination, or was it certainty?
The screen rolled and displayed the information.
I Wish Time Would Stop
Composer: HS
Hajun blinked over and over at the huge letters. Did she somehow know it was HS’s? From the intro alone? No, impossible… This was simply incredible luck. Were she and HS truly fated?
“Since Yoon Jaeyi has chosen HS’s I Wish Time Would Stop, Kang Hajun will automatically receive Jable’s composition.”
The first song reappeared on the screen.
The Reason I Sing
Composer: Jable
So this had been the shape of fate all along.
Hajun clapped lightly with a hollow laugh. The staff, ignorant of his feelings, quickly keyed in the results.
I Wish Time Would Stop – Yoon Jaeyi × HS
The Reason I Sing – Kang Hajun × Jable
Everyone seemed satisfied with the outcome— except for one person.
A man strode proudly through the LS Entertainment lobby, humming to himself.
Anyone could guess from his radiant face that something good had happened.
“Hello, Maestro!”
“Long time no see!”
“How have you been?”
The man, showered with greetings as he passed, was Moon Beom-jae, legendary rocker.
“I am in a bit of a hurry,” he said, brushing off the small talk.
He stepped into the lift.
“So he called me first…”
In the mirrored wall he looked like a bride clutching a bouquet, excitement blooming across his features.
Last night Hyunseung had asked if he could visit the studio, and the rocker had been in this state ever since.
The lift opened. He walked straight to Hyunseung’s private room.
Knock knock.
Creeeak, the door swung open and a beautiful melody poured out.
“Wow!”
Moon froze, tongue tied.
Just the guide tones hammered into the keyboard told him the song was extremely demanding. Hyunseung had been busy with the show; when had he written this?
Clap, clap, clap.
He applauded like a soldier on parade.
“Maestro?”
Hyunseung, puzzled, called from inside.
“Aren’t you coming in?”
“You…!”
Moon wrapped him in a bear hug and pounded his back.
“To think you would write something like this!”
“Please let me go first,” Hyunseung muttered, hitting the space bar to stop the track.
“Ah, I was too happy.”
Moon released him and brushed his clothes.
“I will sing it wonderfully. Thank you.”
“Sorry?”
“I won’t disappoint you.”
Hyunseung scratched his head, finally catching on. The older man clearly thought the song was meant for him.
This was awkward.
“Actually, Maestro, that piece is not for you.”
“It isn’t?”
Embarrassment flushed Moon’s face; he laughed and changed the subject.
“I thought you’d written it for me. Anyway, you’ve been busy with the show.”
“Have you watched it?”
“A few times. Kang Hajun and Yoon Jaeyi, was it? Their voices stick in your ear.”
Hyunseung set a canned coffee on the table.
“They made the final match.”
“I read the article. Which of them do you think will win?”
He explained the situation: Jable’s song for Hajun, his own for Jaeyi. Moon stroked his chin.
“Jaeyi has the better raw voice, but the public clings to what is familiar—like Hajun’s tone. And Jable will surely write something accessible and competitive, whereas your song is not exactly mainstream. It depends on how well she handles it, but…”
Hyunseung nodded; nothing he said was wrong.
“And Hajun already has a massive fan base. These contests aren’t decided only by singing.”
The rocker took a swig of coffee and spoke firmly.
“I cannot say Jaeyi will win.”
Hyunseung smiled faintly.
“I agree. This time I cannot be certain. Unless you help.”
“Me? How?”
“What you do best.”
He tilted his head, then said “Ahh.” Of course, what he did best was sing.
“Ha-ha-ha!”
Moon laughed heartily—so that was why he had been called.
“If I lend my voice,” he said, calming his mirth, “I can picture nothing but victory.”
Their eyes met, sparks flying.
It seemed a final nobody could predict was about to be born.
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