A heavy silence fell inside the private room where everyone had gathered.
“…”
For a few seconds, all they could do was stare blankly at HS until he took a seat.
“Well, HS is…”
Won Jin-seop was the first to speak.
“In every way, he really is something else.”
Lee Young-ah nodded and echoed him.
“Truly amazing.”
The others just kept bobbing their heads, too stunned to form words.
What is with them?
Hyun-seung tilted his helmet, unable to grasp the mood.
“Sorry I am late, traffic was heavy….”
Thinking their reaction came from his tardiness, he bowed lightly in apology.
But the real reason was different.
“Are you sure you are comfortable like that?”
Even at a private wrap-up dinner with no cameras, he had arrived wearing his helmet.
Producer Kim Young-ho broached the issue with care.
“It will be hard to eat with the helmet on….”
“Ah, right.”
“There is only us here, feel free to take it off.”
All eyes turned to him. Except for CP Go and PD Kim, no one had ever seen his face, so curiosity was natural.
Lee Young-ah in particular was brimming with anticipation; during filming she had glimpsed classic good-looks behind the goggles, and online she had seen the “HS composite sketch.”
At last…
The room was so quiet the gulp she swallowed echoed.
However, Hyunseung dashed her hopes in a flat voice.
“No.”
Pressing down on the helmet to show his resolve, he added,
“I only came to fill the seat, I am fine without eating.”
Go Hyun-deok licked his dry lips and spoke next.
“We wanted to treat you properly. You helped us enormously with ratings… it is a shame.”
When HS gave no answer, the CP laughed awkwardly.
“Well, another chance will come.”
Seeing his hands rubbing together, Hyunseung could read the man’s mind clearly. They wanted him back for Season 2.
He had no interest in sweating for hours under the helmet again. Live-show days, when there was no chance even to take it off, had been the worst – a steam-sauna hell.
“Do you drink?”
“Not really.”
Producer Kim raised a bottle.
“At least one toast together would be nice….”
“Then I will have just one.”
As soon as HS lifted the glass with both hands, Kim filled it to the brim.
“Thanks to every one of you, we achieved the highest ratings ever for an audition program.”
Whether sincere or not, nobody could tell.
Clink.
Glasses met in mid-air while each held different thoughts.
“Everyone here worked hard.”
“I swear I will never be a judge again.”
“Right, until Season 2 calls,” someone teased, lightening the mood.
Hyunseung turned a little aside, lifted the helmet, tossed the shot in one go, then set it down again.
“It would be wonderful if all of you returned for Season 2,” the CP said, sneaking a glance at HS.
“And to have another wrap-up dinner like this…” PD Kim chimed in, pushing again.
Won Jin-seop suddenly leaned over with a sly grin, bottle in hand.
“Another drink?”
“I do not enjoy alcohol.”
“Really…?”
Undaunted, he pressed closer.
“Then at least clink with me.”
“Fine.”
Clink.
Right on cue came the expected request.
“Would you give me a song? I am thinking of a new album….”
Unable to flatly refuse in front of senior Kim Gwang-jin, he chose vague words.
“Let us talk about music later.”
“Oh, great,” Won Jin-seop beamed and returned to his seat.
Across the table Lee Young-ah squirmed, obviously dying to speak, yet he pretended not to notice.
Coming was a mistake.
Surely she also wanted a song. None of the singers here, except perhaps Kim Gwang-jin, truly made his fingertips itch.
Kim Gwang-jin might be different…
He glanced at the veteran on his right, reminded of old master Lee Du-seok, maybe because of that quirky text message style. The more he imagined, the more he wanted to play that aged instrument.
After the party had warmed up, Jayble excused himself.
“I need some air.”
Moments later, Hyun-seung rose too.
“I will step out for a breath as well.”
He followed to the quiet garden behind the restaurant. Jayble, back turned, had just put a cigarette to his lips.
Ssssk.
Flame flared, their eyes met in the dark.
“Oh—”
Startled, the cigarette dropped.
“I came out for a smoke.”
“Pardon?”
“Air, I mean.”
Embarrassed, HS scratched the back of the helmet – rrrk rrrk – making an odd rasp.
“Want a cigarette?”
“No thanks, I do not smoke.”
Awkward pause. Smoke twirled up. Yet the silence felt comfortable rather than tense.
Jayble exhaled and began,
“I heard you are quite young. I myself began composing around your age. Back then I felt the world lay under my feet. With wealth and fame so early, what was there to fear?”
HS listened quietly.
“I was intoxicated by myself, convinced no one could match me.” Then he chuckled softly.
“That was a delusion. Only now have I realized a true rival might exist.”
He glanced at HS; no malice lay in his eyes.
“I looked down on you at first, even felt hostile. I will not apologize; rivalry naturally breeds that. But I admit it now.”
“If I apologized for inviting Master Moon as secret support, let us call it even,” HS replied.
“Do not. It would have changed little. Apparently, you have become my Salieri.”
“Is that so.”
“Even Mozart needed Salieri to push him. So, when is your next solo album?”
“I plan to spend time with family, then think.”
“Everyone will be waiting. Shall we head back?”
He stubbed the butt, turned, then paused at HS’s voice.
“Excuse me. One question keeps me awake.”
“What is it?”
“Your 1968 guitar seen in the teaser… You own it?”
“Yes, I won it at auction. You noticed?”
“I have searched for that model for years.”
“Not for sale, I am afraid.”
HS nodded, having expected it. Jayble pondered, then said,
“I will let you play it someday if a chance comes.”
“I hope that chance comes.”
“You can play, right?”
“Better than most guitarists.”
Just as Jayble turned, HS called again.
“Really sorry but, in your Mozart–Salieri analogy, who is who?”
“Obviously I—” he began, but HS cut in with a laugh.
“Comparing yourself to Mozart sounds a bit self-indulgent.”
“Figure of speech. Who do you think is who?”
“Well, by age and everything else, looks like I am Mozart.”
“Excuse me—?”
“Master Salieri, please go in first. I have a call.”
He waved his phone and walked off.
“Why that little—” Jayble exhaled a helpless laugh. Watching the retreating back he remembered what a famous conductor once told him:
“People say they were enemies, but perhaps Mozart and Salieri were indispensable to each other – rivals some days, partners on others.”
A smile curled across Jayble’s lips. He felt as if he had just seen Amadeus from behind.
Back in the room Go Hyun-deok fretted.
“Why is HS not back?”
“Maybe he left because it was uncomfortable.”
“I will look for him,” PD Kim said, standing.
“Wait, I need some fresh air too, I will go,” Lee Young-ah cut in quickly.
Tonight I must say it.
She hurried into the corridor, heart pounding. Had he really gone? No, there he was in a sky-blue shirt ahead. No helmet – she hesitated.
This is my chance.
She tapped his shoulder.
Pat pat.
The man turned; their eyes met.
“Eep.”
Her smartwatch buzzed violently.
Heart rate high.
Above 120 BPM.
Please calm down.
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