Episode 26: Festival? Funeral?
“Is this a festival?”
“No, it’s a funeral.”
That’s probably how the other contestants feel.
They’re not openly showing it, but the fifth contestant stepping up to the box after Taeoh moves with noticeably light steps.
‘Of course… the four worst opponents are conveniently knocking each other out.’
Sure, Yang Seunghee and Noh Jiyoon, both Round 1 all-passers, and Park Juan, a Round 2 all-passer, are waiting in the wings.
But having stumbled once, they might seem easier compared to us.
Meanwhile, Taeoh, the final nail in this grim matchup, slumps beside me like a drenched retriever.
Normally, I’d try to cheer him up, but I can’t.
I’m part of this funeral too.
‘Or maybe, in Taeoh’s eyes, I’m the grim reaper.’
If he’d been paired with Eom Dongkyu or Kim In, he might not be this deflated.
Taeoh, always high-energy except when Lee Ahjeong called him out, is crumbling because his opponent is me.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have told him about EUJN.’
The guy who joined because of my song might fall by my hand.
And with Eom Dongkyu or Kim In waiting in the revival round, it’s no easy path.
‘If this happens… Seo Yoonje’s the one who benefits.’
With his sabbatical forgotten, if Taeoh unmasks before Seo Yoonje, he might join MyWay before I do.
“Yes, all eight matchups are set.”
As I glance at Taeoh, Song Jaeryung’s voice announces the completed brackets.
“Now, let’s finish the story from earlier. Season 3 had an overwhelming number of talented contestants, raising the judges’ standards far beyond expectations. As a result, many who’d have passed in other seasons couldn’t join us here. And Round 3 might be no exception.”
Her words pause there.
But it’s not hard to guess what’s coming.
I was just thinking about “insurance,” and even the sulking Taeoh snaps his head up.
“If things stay as is, only nine will advance to the finals—two fewer than past seasons. So, we’ve prepared a special rule. The five unused X-Passes will give the seven who fall in the revival round a final chance.”
As contestants audibly swallow, Song Jaeryung grins, as if expecting this reaction, and continues.
“Of course, using X-Passes like before would be problematic. For Round 3, an X-Pass requires at least two judges to activate it. If only one judge uses it, it’s void, and their X-Pass is lost. If three or more use it, excess passes are lost too. If someone gets all judges’ X-Passes, the special rule ends there.”
I didn’t see this coming.
So that’s why Song Jaeryung’s got those dark circles.
“This special rule will be formalized in future seasons. Two conditions: Round 3 doesn’t fill the 11 finalist slots, and at least two judges have X-Passes left. Since this is a special rule for this season, we need your consent. If even one contestant objects, it won’t apply to Season 3.”
Who here would reject this chance?
This rule could be the last shot to shed this cumbersome mask spectacularly.
Given Round 3’s unpredictability, no one can guarantee they won’t benefit.
‘Not even me.’
There’s a chance Taeoh could have an epiphany, deliver the performance of his life, and crush me.
And more importantly—
‘This is fun.’
The rule risks controversy, but it’ll likely spark more positive buzz.
It could be Season 3’s biggest draw.
“We’ll give you plenty of time to think. Let us know your decision with your song choice. Confidentiality is guaranteed. Oh, and you know Episode 1 airs next week, right? Please watch live. That’s all for today’s shoot. Great work, and we’ll see you in three weeks for your amazing stages.”
A small round of applause follows Song Jaeryung’s bow.
As it fades, I raise my hand.
“Yes, Number 1. Something to say?”
Her slightly trembling voice meets the piercing stares directed at me.
But I’ve been through too much to care.
“I picked my song before coming. I was gonna tell you before leaving anyway.”
“Oh, really?”
“So, about that special rule? I’m saying now—I’m for it. It’s a good rule.”
My preemptive strike draws a brief silence.
Sure, I broke the secret vote rule, but—
‘What, is the election commission gonna arrest me?’
No way I’d ruin a plan they agonized over this much.
Let’s see someone oppose this now.
“I was gonna say something too, but Number 1 beat me to it. I’m for it too.”
Kim In joins me, and with that, the funeral-like atmosphere turns into a true festival.
***
Round 3’s song choice is free.
But it’s not entirely up to the contestant.
Blind Singer is both an audition and a show.
In a program balancing business, the producers’ input matters.
A singer’s or song’s fame directly impacts ratings.
Few viewers love every contestant.
Spending 90 minutes for one, maybe two or three favorites is inefficient.
‘An unknown singer’s unknown song by a non-favorite? I’d change the channel.’
Round 1, you watch everyone since favorites aren’t set.
Round 2 has themes, so it’s fine.
But by Round 3, with favorites locked in, losing viewers is easy.
That’s why Round 3 prep gets an extra week compared to Round 2.
Too obscure a song? They’ll cut it and make you pick another.
‘I’m an exception, though.’
For a top-pick contestant—someone viewers won’t ditch regardless of the song—producers usually allow it unless the original artist is controversial or the lyrics breach social norms.
“Wow, this song? Your picks keep exceeding expectations. You’re good to go.”
Not just me—Taeoh, Kim In, and Eom Dongkyu could pick anything and likely get a pass.
My choice isn’t obscure, though.
It’s so major Song Jaeryung knew it from the title alone.
‘Nobody would be clueless about this song, unlike Emergency or Applelime, right?’
It’s not a chart-topper like ‘Why’d You Come to My House?’ or ‘Pink Shoes’, but it’s the kind that reliably climbs the charts every certain season.
A song I couldn’t help but avoid before my regression, for reasons different from Pink Shoes.
But now, I’m confident I can sing it better than the original artist.
This time, I plan to keep the arrangement minimal to preserve the original vibe, so the three-week prep feels almost too generous.
That doesn’t mean I’m free, though.
If anything, I’m busier than when I was just prepping stages.
***
“Do we really have to go this far?”
Zia, showing rare discomfort since my regression, doesn’t hide her expression.
Meanwhile, my face, pulling her along by the hand, must be beaming.
“Yup. Gotta do it.”
“Haa…”
Zia sighs deeply at my firm response, but I’m not budging on this.
I even enlisted Moon Sookhee for this, and she was thrilled, fully backing my plan.
“Well, if you really don’t want to, I can’t force you… but Moon Sookhee prepared all this. Won’t she be disappointed if we back out?”
Among the countless things I owe Moon Sookhee, one is giving me a trump card that always works on Zia.
Next to my signature tteokbokki, it’s a move she can’t resist.
The moment I mention Moon Sookhee, Zia stops resisting and walks beside me.
Surrender.
She knows better than I do that any resistance is futile once I summon Moon Sookhee.
“But when we get home, I’ll make tteokbokki. Loaded with fish cakes and boiled eggs.”
“What am I, a middle schooler? You think I’d fall for that?”
For someone saying that, she’s already smacking her lips.
I swallow the retort and instead link arms with Zia, throwing in some light aegyo.
“Come on, don’t be like that. We’ll use these photos for a decade. Wouldn’t it be nice to look good?”
Zia’s face flushes red at my aegyo, and she clams up, just walking along.
That’s right.
Today’s the day we’re getting our passport photos taken.
Zia thought a quick ID-style shot at a nearby studio would do, but—
‘No way I’m letting that slide.’
I’m done leaving half-hearted records of Zia.
Top-tier makeup, hair, and studio—I’m aiming for profile photos usable anytime, anywhere.
Moon Sookhee, agreeing with me, arranged it all, overriding Zia’s protests.
‘Seo Yoonje might’ve helped, but Moon Sookhee’s contributions feel bigger.’
Sure, Seo Yoonje got Blind Singer fast-tracked and pumped up hype with AZ, but it doesn’t feel like he’s shaping my character much.
Moon Sookhee’s support for Zia feels more impactful.
‘Though Seo Yoonje’s probably building me up slowly, given his position.’
Either way, Seo Yoonje or Moon Sookhee, as a couple, they’re a unit.
Both are helping us immensely, and that’s what matters.
This place is part of that.
“Wait, Yujin, this place is too much. I’ll talk to Moon Sookhee.”
A shop where more people arrive by car than on foot.
Moon Sookhee made the reservation, but I paid.
Zia hesitates, overwhelmed by the shop’s grandeur, stepping back.
But—
“Yes, Moon Sookhee-nim. It’s Yujin. Zia says this place is too much—what should we do?”
“Put Zia on!”
I’d already dialed Moon Sookhee, anticipating this.
Her booming voice, loud enough for Zia to hear, forces another white flag.
“Welcome!”
“Hello. Reservation for Woo Zia and Han Yujin.”
“One moment… Yes! Woo Zia-nim, this way. Han Yujin-nim, please wait.”
Zia’s styling was pre-arranged through Moon Sookhee, so I happily hand her over to the staff, half-zombified, and wait.
“Han Yujin-nim? This way, please.”
A male designer, exactly Sally’s type, guides me.
“Wow, you’ve really let your hair go.”
My current mop must’ve triggered his hairstylist ethics, but—
“No cut today. Just a slick-back ponytail vibe, please.”
“Got a plan, huh? Alright, I’ll do it.”
This place works with MyWay and other agencies.
The designer dives in without fuss at my brief instruction, and I smile.
Then—
A familiar voice.
“Hello!”
Lee Ahjeong, energetically bowing to every staff member, appears in the mirror.
It’s not odd she’s here, so I start to look away—until our eyes meet through the glass.
‘Huh?’
A chill runs through me.
Lee Ahjeong’s smile, blooming the moment our eyes lock, feels like it’s hiding something.
“Oh, startled you? This shop’s exclusive with MyWay. AZ comes here, and Hylliy’s crew is inside too.”
The designer, misreading my reaction, adds lightly.
I knew that.
‘The problem is…’
That mischievous-smiling Lee Ahjeong is heading where Zia disappeared.