Episode 17: All-Pass (2)
That cool, heavy sensation.
Seven cameras trained solely on me, countless spotlights pouring down.
This stage.
It’s not a stage with tens of thousands watching, but the unique thrill of a live performance—distinct from a recording studio—is, next to time with Zia, the most precious thing to me now.
Despite the space being similar, stepping up one stair transforms the air, distinct from backstage.
As I take my rehearsed position, Ji Sehyuk approaches with light steps.
“Alright, Contestant 1. Wow, that hairstyle’s… unique.”
Being an MC is tough.
To call this ratty hair “unique”?
Under my mask, I offer silent condolences for his forced word choice, but my body moves differently.
“Is it? I don’t really care about my hair…”
Scratching my head, I catch Lee Sangwoon’s slight frown from afar.
A choreographer and renowned fashionista, he must find my beggar look unbearable.
Seo Yoonje just laughs.
He’s the other mastermind behind this hair disaster, so he’d better.
Ji Sehyuk’s struggle continues.
He needs to make this interview shine, but my response cuts off any follow-up.
His TV veteran instincts kick in, though, and he pivots.
“Now that I think about it, Contestant 2 was next to you, right? Got an all-pass—what’d you think?”
“Oh, he seemed really nervous, so I was worried, but he relaxed and gave a great performance. I’m glad.”
“Oh? Were you the one who calmed him down?”
“Nothing big, just a few words. I’m grateful he spoke so kindly.”
“How do you think you’ll do?”
“No idea. I’m pretty nervous too. Just gonna do my thing and get off.”
“You seem plenty relaxed to me. Alright, let’s hear your song!”
I nod, and Ji Sehyuk steps away.
The stage darkens instantly.
A staffer rushes in, sets up a stand, and slots in a mic.
Others check my in-ear and sound, then dart off as quickly as they came.
“Phew.”
I step forward and blow lightly into the mic.
It’s my stage ritual.
The sound check’s done, but I confirm the breath’s volume through the in-ear, then pull a pick from my pocket.
That’s the cue.
The stage fills with red light.
Dang, dadang.
A steady strum, neither fast nor slow.
A bossa nova-jazz intro rings out, and then—
“!!!”
Sally’s eyes widen.
I knew she’d get it first.
She’d recognize this song’s transformed vibe instantly, given its original artist was an idol she worked alongside during Applime’s peak.
“The night’s grown late.
The bus stopped running.
Can’t catch a taxi either.”
Starting low, the verse makes AZ, Yoon Ichae, and Lee Sangwoon gape as they recognize it.
Kim Kwangyong tilts his head, but Seo Yoonje whispers the answer.
Meanwhile, Sally hits her button and leans back to enjoy the song.
Emergency’s “Why’d You Come to My House?”—a second-gen boy group hit about a clumsy young man bringing his lover home late at night.
“Let’s go to my place.
Just have a coffee.
Just in case, I got your favorite
Mango juice too.”
Back then, Emergency’s innocence made older fans’ hearts flutter, but there’s no naïve college kid here.
This is a slick, ant-lion-like bad boy luring an innocent woman.
Did they catch the character I’m playing?
The P above Lee Sangwoon’s head glows white.
“Why’d you come to my house?
Why won’t you take off your coat?
If you’re just gonna sip coffee,
Why not go to a café?”
The lyrics, from a guy’s perspective, feel a bit cringey.
A touch pathetic, maybe.
Emergency faded into obscurity without breakup rumors, but their ability to turn such lyrics into youthful romance was impressive.
Yet, adding a hint of irritation flips the song’s vibe 180 degrees.
Yoon Ichae, chin propped on her elbow, entranced, presses her button with that same elbow.
I cut the second verse entirely.
Time constraints aside, its lyrics didn’t fit this concept.
Instead, I fill the gap with a guitar solo.
Speeding up the bridge’s melody, I ramp up the mood.
The sticky, sultry notes make Kim Kwangyong, still tilting his head, chuckle and slam his button.
Now the bridge.
Since I used the original bridge as an interlude solo, I fill the empty spot with a familiar melody—the children’s song that inspired this track’s title.
“Why’d you come to my house, come to my house, come to my house?
Why won’t you take off your coat, take off your coat, take off your coat?
Keep sipping coffee like that, sipping like that?
Fine, I’ll call you a taxi, just go home.”
A bouncy tempo, completely different from before.
I trim and weave in the rap part’s lyrics to match.
They didn’t see this shift coming.
Laughter erupts from the judges’ table, and AZ, bursting with amusement, slams her button with both hands.
“Why’d you come to my house?
Why won’t you take off your coat?
If you’re just gonna sip coffee,
Why not go to a café?”
The chorus loops back to the original vibe.
As the guitar races toward the end, five judges enjoy it carefree.
Seo Yoonje, though, watches me with sharp eyes from start to finish.
“Yes! Contestant 1 secures a five-pass, advancing to Round 2 of the finals!”
My first stage since coming back ends with just one flaw.
Or is it even a flaw?
***
“Whoa, what was that? What did I just hear?”
Sally clutches her head, muttering.
“Twisting it like that? Is this guy insane?”
Lee Sangwoon lets out a glowing compliment.
“Huh. Music’s always fresh, isn’t it? Huh.”
Kim Kwangyong reflects on his own career.
Long after the performance ends, no judge reaches for the mic.
Hong Hyunwook, heart pounding, signals Ji Sehyuk.
“Uh, judges? Gotta do your jobs.”
Ji Sehyuk’s nudge finally prompts their hands to move.
“Alright, let’s hear from Sally, who hit pass first.”
Ji Sehyuk smoothly takes control, and Sally grabs the mic like she’s about to devour it.
“When Emergency was promoting Why’d You Come to My House?, Applime was at our peak too. I’ve heard this song countless times. But… I never imagined it could sound like this.”
Sally pauses, sighing, pushing the mic away.
“This song’s about a guy who’s desperate, right? That desperate charm won Emergency tons of noona fans. But Contestant 1’s version…?”
“Our version?”
“Hey, don’t nitpick! Anyway, 1’s version makes the woman desperate. Listening to this, he feels older than me.”
Unfazed by Ji Sehyuk’s playful jab, Sally presses on.
“Listening to this, I’m like—how could you just sit there in your coat? How can you just drink coffee? Right now I’d—”
“Whoa-whoa, Judge Sally! We’re PG-12 here! Calm down, calm down! I think Judge Sally’s overheated a bit, so let’s go the other way. Judge Yoon Ichae?”
Seeing Sally nearly cross a line, Hong Hyunwook grins, picturing a caption in Gungsuh font: “Blind Singer adheres to broadcast standards.”
Yoon Ichae, taking the mic, ponders before speaking.
“I thought about it, and the best word for this stage is ‘mature.’ There was this internet thing—‘when a man looks sexy.’ Like, holding a parking ticket in his mouth while reversing one-handed, or roughly loosening a tie. That’s usually the mature charm of an older guy. I’d add one more: the veins on a forearm while playing guitar…”
“Come on, is this an audition or a dating show? AZ, you’re not like this, right?”
Despite his urgent interruption, Ji Sehyuk’s voice brims with mischief.
He knows focusing on the female judges maximizes this stage’s impact.
“Haa… I understand where Sally and Yoon Ichae are coming from. I feel the same. I was… entranced.”
“Entranced now, huh? And this is supposed to be feedback?”
AZ, fully aware, plays along with Ji Sehyuk while raising a point the others missed, cutting him off with a raised hand.
“I’ll be honest. Looking at Contestant No. 1 right now—he’s not sexy at all. None. But when I recall the performance, even that plain loose-fit T-shirt felt unbelievably attractive. Then I realized—I couldn’t even remember the original version of ‘Why Did You Come to My House.’ To me, this version feels like the original now. That’s how much we were entranced. He ended the stage perfectly with this arrangement. If the performance was flawless, what else is there to say? Just that—it was sexy. That’s all.”
With that, AZ set down the mic. Lee Sangwoon picked it up next.
“I choreographed this song.”
“Right, Sangwoon teacher did it!”
“So, if you count who’s heard it most, I’m probably in the top two. Back then, I couldn’t imagine this concept. Now I’m kicking myself for not thinking of it. I feel like I’ve got a long way to go… Like AZ said, I’m enchanted too. Great performance.”
“Thank you.”
My white mask dips briefly, then rises.
Kim Kwangyong pulls his chair closer, leaning in, mic in hand.
“Yoon Ichae said ‘mature,’ right? That’s the perfect word. You can see the depth in how he commands the stage. Especially the guitar solo—I could tell this guy’s been doing music sincerely for a long time. And his voice care? Impeccable. Sounds young too.”
“Thank you.”
“Dare I predict, this stage might just take the highest views for Round 1. Well done.”
With all judges but one having spoken, Seo Yoonje finally uncrosses his arms and grabs the mic.
“Completely changing a song’s vibe isn’t easy. Nail it, you break even; mess it up, you’re done. But this stage showed a deep understanding of the song. You arranged it yourself, right?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Cutting the second verse was your call too?”
“Yes. The first verse worked, but the second didn’t fit this vibe.”
“Cutting it made the song shorter, but it didn’t feel that way. That’s because Contestant 1’s presence was that strong. And that bridge… God, where’d you learn that arrangement? What kind of guts? It’s an absurd matchup, but it works perfectly.”
“Hold on.”
Ji Sehyuk cuts off Seo Yoonje’s impassioned speech.
“Judge Seo Yoonje? For all that praise… you didn’t press pass.”
“Huh? What’re you talking about? Why wouldn’t I… Wait.”
“I watched you. You just sat there, arms crossed, staring. Your hand didn’t go near the button. You were completely enchanted.”
Seo Yoonje glances back, then—
Tap.
He presses the button, lighting the final P, and continues.
“Bold choices and the skill to back them up deserve results. This was an all-pass stage. I’m looking forward to the next one.”
“Yes! Contestant 1, with Seo Yoonje as the only holdout, advances to Round 2 with a five-pass! Head to the qualifiers’ room to enjoy your slightly slightly lacking victory!”
“What’s with the nitpicking? I pressed it! Call it an all-pass!”
“Sorry, just got word from the crew—nope. Five-pass it is.”
Seo Yoonje shamelessly played it off, but Ji Se-hyuk matched him beat for beat, as if they’d rehearsed it.
Ji Sehyuk casually name-drops the PD, while Seo Yoonje plays the sore loser.
All because he was the one enchanted.
“Damn kid’s just too good-looking, that’s what.”
Watching his top pick walk off nonchalantly after turning a five-pass into something more valuable than an all-pass, Hong Hyunwook can’t help but laugh uncontrollably.