Episode 11: Tambourine?
“Come on, last one! For real this time! One more!”
The bald trainer’s high-energy voice echoes through the gym.
That egg-headed guy said 20 reps ages ago, and I’ve long since passed that. How many times has he repeated “last one”?
“Hrrgh!”
Gritting my teeth, I push against the heavy plate pressing down on me, engaging my glutes, quads, and hamstrings. Barely maintaining proper form on the leg press, I finish the set, and only then does the trainer slide the safety pin into place.
“Okay! That’s it for today. Great work!”
“Thanks. You too.”
As I lower my trembling legs from the machine, the trainer flashes a bright smile and pats my shoulder.
“Yujin-ssi, you’re something else. Not a single whimper?”
‘Well, I’ve been at this for nearly 16 years…’ I can’t exactly say that.
I just give an awkward smile, and he throws up double thumbs-up.
“Man, I should’ve taken a ‘before’ photo when you first came. A before-and-after with you now would be perfect for advertising.”
“My modeling fee’s steep. Think you can afford it?”
“Hahaha! Didn’t think of that!”
His hearty laugh reminds me of the last photoshoot I did. I don’t recall the exact amount, but it was in the hundreds of millions.
Not that this gym needs that kind of ad—it’s just a joke.
“Oh, she’s here. I’ll get out of your way. Make sure to stretch before you leave!”
Still chuckling, the trainer spots someone and disappears. Over his shoulder, I see Zia waving lightly.
“You’re here?”
“Whoa… is this really my Han Yujin?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Instead of answering, Zia pokes at the thigh peeking out from my loose gym shorts. Honestly, I’m dying here, but I flex on purpose, and a “Wow” slips from her lips.
“I mean… I knew your legs were good, but how do they get this ripped so fast?”
“Hard work?”
“Tch, so you’re saying I should go die trying?”
Zia glares at me, alternating between eyeing her soft waist and thighs.
Her reaction sets my heart racing, and before I know it, I pull her into a gentle hug.
“Hey, people are watching!”
She says that, but doesn’t push me away.
To be fair, there’s no one around to see.
As we stand there quietly, Zia’s gaze shifts to a TV ad hanging in the corner of the gym.
“So… is that really okay?”
“Oh.”
The “that” she’s talking about stems from a secret pact I made with Seo Yoonje three months ago.
In that moment, the conversation from that day comes rushing back, vivid as ever.
***
“Yujin-ssi, I’m talking to you like you’re already family. Keep this a secret.”
After confirming no one was around, Seo Yoonje lowered his voice.
“Blind Singer Season 3. It’s starting soon.”
That’s a bit different from what I remember.
“They’re in the middle of casting judges. How do I know? They asked me to be the anchor judge.”
A question immediately pops into my head.
Why?
Seo Yoonje has judged countless audition shows, but never Blind Singer.
“They said, ‘If you’re in, we’re good to go.’ But I turned it down. Like I said, I was planning to take this year off. But if you’ll go along with my plan, Yujin-ssi, I’ll say yes. That should kickstart production. Maybe three months from now, they’ll start recruiting contestants.”
His words snapped the scattered puzzle pieces into place.
‘So that’s it.’
The time discrepancy between the Blind Singer I remember and the one Seo Yoonje’s talking about? It’s because of him.
I recall Blind Singer Season 1 doing okay, Season 2 blowing up, and Season 3 riding that wave with tons of attention.
Unlike the earlier seasons, which had decent but not stellar judges, Season 3’s vibe demanded something bigger.
In that context, there aren’t many musicians who could handle the role of lead judge, anchoring the panel.
Talent aside, someone with the know-how to steer a show from years of TV experience?
‘Well, there’s hardly anyone.’
Maybe in a decade, but right now, no one comes to mind.
Before my regression, Blind Singer recruited contestants in the fall, half a year later, with airing starting the next year. Probably because they had Seo Yoonje in mind, but when that fell through, it delayed everything.
And with that, I understood why Seo Yoonje wanted to delay the contract.
“So I’d be a contestant there, with you as a judge. But if a label’s CEO is judging, and their artist is competing, it’d raise fairness issues. That’s why you’re holding off on the contract.”
Seo Yoonje grinned.
“Honestly, it wouldn’t matter if you competed under MyWay. I wouldn’t be able to help you directly, but from what I’ve seen, winning wouldn’t be an issue for you, Yujin-ssi. Unless you got hit by a truck or something.”
Yeah, sure.
That kind of “truck” accident isn’t happening.
‘My level’s not a truck—it’s a cargo plane.’
That “accident” is someone else’s problem, not mine.
“But if I don’t join, the show’s production will drag on too long. At least until the hype from my absence fades and they find someone else for lead judge. You’re not exactly pressed for time, Yujin-ssi, but you don’t want to wait that long, right?”
Fair point.
Rebuilding my body in six months is already tight, but—
‘With Seo Yoonje’s help…’
It wouldn’t be too hard to shorten that timeline.
“Let’s be real, it’s not even unethical. I’d be lead judge, but my vote’s just one, same as the others. I can’t dramatically boost your chances. What I can do is help shape your character on the show.”
Now I get what he meant by “making me a superstar.”
Winning an audition doesn’t guarantee stardom.
Raw talent with a bland character? You’ll just flash and fade, even with a win.
Failing to craft a distinct character during an audition renders even a win meaningless.
Sure, my unparalleled talent is a character in itself, but—
‘Having someone like Seo Yoonje backing me makes it way easier.’
As they say, the brighter the red, the better the skirt.
This isn’t even something to feel guilty about.
I’ve judged auditions before, and you always see familiar faces.
Giving a kind word to someone you know? That’s normal.
“You know Blind Singer reveals faces once you hit the top 11, right? Honestly, that’s all you need. You dominate with your voice, then show that face—offers will flood in. You wouldn’t even need to come to MyWay. You could pick wherever you want.”
What’s he talking about?
“Then aren’t you just doing someone else a favor, sunbaenim?”
Seo Yoonje bursts out laughing.
“You’re misunderstanding my goal, Yujin-ssi. My aim is to keep a singer like you from being crushed by the world’s weight. Who cares who helps you? If you go to another agency, it’s not like I can’t hear your music. I’d still get to listen without lifting a finger—how’s that doing someone else a favor?”
His laughter, saying It’s actually a win for him, left me speechless.
The stark contrast to Lee Heekyung was undeniable.
‘What if…’
If, in my original life, I’d skipped Lee Heekyung and met this man instead, would my ending have been different?
“Even if that’s not the case, I’m half-confident you wouldn’t go anywhere else. If someone offers better terms than us, go for it. But will there be such a place? Ever heard I’ve never let a singer I’ve set my sights on slip away?”
“Why… are you going this far for me?”
Instead of an unanswerable question, I voiced another, and—
“Didn’t I say? I’m someone who’s lived chasing that same dream.”
Seo Yoonje answered slowly, with a gentle smile.
“I was unknown for over seven years. My kids’ mom went through hell back then. Watching her struggle, unable to do anything—that feeling, I know it better than you, Yujin-ssi. You can’t keep doing that. They say suffering young builds character? I hate that saying. Why seek out suffering if you can avoid it?”
He poked at the Ice remnants in his empty cup with a straw.
That small, middle-aged man, barely over 170 cm, looked like the biggest giant in the world to me.
“You asked why I’m doing this… I don’t think I could’ve made the foolish choice you did.”
“Sorry?”
“Giving up a once-in-a-lifetime chance for someone you love? If I were in your shoes, I’m not sure I could’ve been as resolute as you. Knowing that makes me feel pathetic, and it makes you look that much cooler. That’s why I’m doing this.”
No.
Could I have made that choice so easily?
It was only because I knew the future.
If I’d been clueless like back then—
‘Who knows, I might’ve hesitated too.’
And maybe regretted it even more.
“I won’t tell you to pay it forward later. That’s too cliché. Do what feels right when the time comes. Just don’t let that heart of yours change. Keep holding onto that love strong enough to give up a precious opportunity, and I’ll be proud of helping you now for the rest of my life.”
With that, Seo Yoonje stood, left me his card with a “call if you need anything,” and walked away.
For some reason, overwhelming emotion blurred my vision, making the text on his card unreadable for a while.
***
“I’ve been thinking… isn’t this, like, that thing? What’s it called… tambourine?”
Oh, this goof—tambourine, really?
“Tampering?”
“Yeah, that!”
“Nah, it’s not. I’m not signed anywhere.”
“Still… isn’t it like pre-contacting to lock in a deal with the audition winner?”
I burst out laughing at Zia’s words.
Her absolute certainty that I’d win an audition that hasn’t even started—how could I not love that?
Classic Woo Zia, the woman who bet on a Grammy for an unknown singer.
But there’s no turning back now.
Seo Yoonje solved my financial issues by hooking Zia up with a cushy job—four hours a day, four days a week, 3.5 million won guaranteed—at a café his wife runs.
He connected me to an exclusive gym with trainers even better than those who shaped Polaris’s Han Yujin, tackling my self-imposed challenge.
And by securing a long-term studio rental with Baek Kyungmin, he ensured I could focus solely on audition prep.
‘If anything, it’s not tampering—it’s a national scam.’
A survival audition where the judge and contestant are in cahoots? That’s one way to put it.
A scam that could tarnish Seo Yoonje’s legacy of positive influence in a single move.
There’s only one way to keep it from being called dirty.
And luckily, it’s not hard.
‘Crush it with undeniable skill.’
So overwhelmingly that no one can question it.
Still, I hope people don’t feel too cheated.
Who could’ve guessed a Grammy main-field winner would go back in time to join an audition?
Just bad luck, right?
With that thought, I turned to the TV where Zia’s gaze was still fixed.
[Only your voice matters! Blind Singer Season 3 confirmed! We’re waiting for your voice!]
The plan Seo Yoonje and I crafted was right around the corner.