Episode 29: Here We Go!
I stare at my phone.
‘How can even the B-cuts be this gorgeous?’
I thought Shin Doyeon’s words were just flattery, but they weren’t entirely empty.
The distinction between A-cuts and B-cuts feels meaningless.
I’d love to set one of these goddess-like photos, crafted by Shin Doyeon’s hands, as my phone’s wallpaper, but Zia would never let that slide.
So, this magical visage remains tucked away in my and Moon Sookhee’s galleries.
‘Model, huh…’
It’s a tough job, honestly.
The self-discipline rivals that of an idol.
Those soft, plump cheeks Zia’s losing? Forget about them.
But Shin Doyeon’s offer is a golden opportunity some would kill for.
The problem? Zia’s completely dismissing it.
“Modeling’s not for just anyone. If I said I’d do it, people would say any dog or cow could be a model. Forget it. I’m not doing it, so don’t bring it up again.”
A week ago, as soon as we got home, Zia said this while wiping off her makeup, shutting down any mention of modeling since.
Tossing Shin Doyeon’s card into the trash was part of that.
‘If Zia’s that firm, I should probably give up…’
No job, especially in entertainment, can be forced on someone unwilling—I know that better than anyone.
If Zia says no, I can’t push her.
Still, there’s one reason I tucked Shin Doyeon’s card into my wallet.
‘Her eyes that day.’
The way Zia suddenly transformed, effortlessly striking poses.
‘That wasn’t reluctance.’
She might not realize it, but I can tell.
Why?
Because her eyes when I sing are exactly the same.
“Sigh…”
If she’d rejected it vaguely like other things, I could’ve schemed with Moon Sookhee.
But her flat-out refusal leaves me stuck, just sighing.
Then—
“What’s with the big sigh?”
Zia approaches, holding a bundle of canned beers.
Her tone is casual, but her glinting eyes say she knows exactly what’s up.
“Nothing, really.”
“Ugh, Han Yujin, here we go again. Come here.”
Bringing up modeling now would be picking a fight.
I wave the white flag first, and she smirks, plopping onto the bed behind me.
“How did I not think of this?”
Since the shoot, Zia’s been obsessed with tying my hair.
That day, it was for the passport photo to show my features, but I generally hate tying my hair.
“Tying it pulls my scalp.”
“And who cleans up your shedding hair?”
It’s not that I don’t want to clean—it’s that Zia swoops in like a ghost before I can.
Saying that might earn me a smack, though.
“There. Done.”
Her clumsy attempt with a cheap hair tie isn’t half bad, so I close my eyes for a moment.
Then—
“Oh, it’s starting.”
Zia’s excited voice shifts from behind to my left.
I glance over, and her phone on the table displays a logo:
[Blind Singer, Season III]
Thanks to AZ’s judging and stories about Eom Dongkyu, Yang Seunghee, and Kim In, it’s the hottest show lately.
Today’s the premiere of Blind Singer Season 3.
“So many commercials.”
Zia mutters, sipping her beer.
She knows commercials reflect a show’s hype, so this is just her impatience to see me.
But even the endless ads eventually end.
The screen darkens.
Click, click.
The sound of heels echoes, and a silhouette appears.
As it reaches the center, a spotlight floods the stage.
Ji Sehyuk.
“A singer. Someone who creates and performs music with their voice.”
His calm definition of a singer marks the start of a 10-week epic.
“Past, present, and future—the essence of a singer lies in their voice, an unchanging truth.”
Colored lights flicker on, banishing the darkness.
A simple stage, unadorned, yet poised to dazzle with the power of song.
“A journey to find that essence! The one audition where name, face, and age are cast aside, and only the voice matters!”
The lights illuminating the stage spotlight a logo.
Until then, shrouded in darkness, it finally shines, revealing the name everyone’s been waiting for.
“Blind Singer Season 3! Here we go!”
With that voice, a gentle weight lands on my shoulder.
Zia’s eyes, burning with determination not to miss a glimpse of me, catch the corner of my vision.
I smile softly, humbly accepting the weight.
And then—
“Look, there you are!”
As a frame capturing all 80 contestants appears, Zia points to the far-right corner.
It’s so small, you’d struggle to recognize me even without the mask, but her finger doesn’t hesitate.
It’s fleeting, though.
The screen shifts to Ji Sehyuk’s greeting and judge introductions, and Zia’s hand falls back, aimless.
“So many people… you’ll barely get screen time, Yujin.”
“Can’t help it. There were 80 of us then. But I’ll get focus at least twice.”
Once during my stage, once during Taeoh’s.
If nothing else, the moment I calm Taeoh down is guaranteed to air.
“Twice? Okay, I’ll watch comfortably until then.”
Zia nods, but—
“Hey! There you are again!”
Spotting me in every fleeting frame, Zia makes me burst into laughter.
***
Meanwhile, at a pub somewhere in Seoul, glasses clink.
“Here’s to surviving this scorching summer, everyone!”
Led by Jeon Seonwoo, MyWay’s rookie development team is holding their quarterly gathering.
“For the newbies, I’ll say it again: drink what you want, and if you’re tired, head out. You’ve got the taxi fare I gave you, right? I’m not kidding or being sarcastic—don’t force yourself to stay. If you’re done, don’t even say goodbye, just go.”
“Jihoon-ssi, he’s serious. If you don’t believe it, follow me. I’m having three drinks and leaving.”
“Yura-ssi, if you’re tired, leave with Manager Park. We don’t nitpick about that stuff.”
Jeon Seonwoo’s words, backed by Manager Park and Assistant Manager Oh, make the two newbies’ eyes spin.
The other team members just burst out laughing.
They know, no matter how many times they’re told it’s fine, first-timers always stay until the end.
And when only Jeon Seonwoo remains to settle the bill, they realize, “Oh, he was serious.”
They’ve all been through it.
As the unceremonious toast fades and people slip away quietly, an unusual gathering begins.
“♫ ♬~”
A faint song cuts through the noisy atmosphere, grabbing their attention.
Silence follows.
The melody’s familiar, but the voice isn’t, so everyone but the newbies glances around.
Realizing it’s coming from the large TV on the pub wall—
“This job’s curse never quits.”
“Same. Any good singing pulls my ears and eyes now. Heh.”
Grumbles, not entirely serious, ripple through.
Even so, their gazes lock onto the white-masked figure holding a mic on the screen.
“That’s Blind Singer? First episode’s today?”
“Oh, yeah, you’re right. It’s today.”
“Ugh, this pisses me off.”
Jeon Seonwoo’s rare sharp tone freezes the newbies.
Assistant Manager Oh lowers their voice, soothing them.
“He’s just worried the CEO will poach someone else. He gets touchy when the CEO personally scouts artists. You’ll get used to it, so don’t mind him. Eat up.”
But what newbie takes that at face value?
Realizing their own words ring hollow, Assistant Manager Oh chuckles.
The song that grabbed their ears ends.
“Everyone, ignore it! Just eat! Don’t give it a second thought!”
“Team Leader, you’re the one who needs to chill.”
“Fine, I’m done caring.”
Jeon Seonwoo and Manager Park’s banter sparks another round of laughter.
But trying not to care only makes you care more.
“Wow, that kid’s good.”
A southeastern accent’s exclamation at the next contestant’s song pulls their ears back to the TV.
Thankfully, this voice is familiar.
“Dongkyu?”
“Yeah, sounds like Eom Dongkyu.”
“Heard on the forums he was on Blind Singer. Guess it’s true.”
A song even more captivating than the last.
As the screen flashes to their CEO, Seo Yoonje, eyeing the contestant sharply, Jeon Seonwoo’s face hardens uncontrollably.
Assistant Manager Oh quickly adds—
“Eom Dongkyu’s already signed to a label, Team Leader.”
“Oh, really? Whew, he’s good. That one’s passing.”
Even Seo Yoonje, who’d snatch any promising singer, doesn’t poach from other labels.
Jeon Seonwoo’s quick mood shift brings laughter, even from the newbies.
Maybe it’s the patrons’ reactions, but the BGM speakers quiet down, and the TV volume rises as the screen changes.
A nervous contestant’s foot taps anxiously, then another steps in to calm them with a short exchange.
The trembling foot slows as the disheveled contestant’s earnest words hit home.
“Hey, hyung! Can I call you hyung?”
“You’re already calling me that.”
“Oh, right… Can I keep talking to you, hyung?”
The childlike innocence sparks chuckles in the pub.
But—
“Like the sunset touching my fingertips,
Today slips away from me.”
It doesn’t take long for those chuckles to turn into gasps of awe.
“Sounds so young, but they nail Yoo Haseok’s song.”
The contestant’s reaction, edited into the performance, mirrors the pub’s mood.
As conversations hush, the song rings clearer, and the team’s expressions grow serious.
“Who’s that?”
“No clue. Feels like a total unknown.”
“They’re really good.”
“Seriously. That’s exactly the CEO’s type. What do we do, Team Leader? They might come to us—”
The voice perfectly matches Seo Yoonje’s taste, and the song choice—a track from his debut era—cuts off Assistant Manager Oh’s teasing.
Jeon Seonwoo’s face is different, not his usual self.
A stunned expression, like he’s been hit hard.
Seeing him stare blankly at the TV, Oh drops the teasing and cautiously calls out.
“Team Leader? You okay? Know them?”
“Huh? Oh, no, no. It’s nothing. I must’ve misheard.”
Oh feels the conversation’s off.
‘Misheard? Why past tense?’
Contestant Number 2’s song is still playing.
But Jeon Seonwoo doesn’t seem likely to explain, so Oh turns to the newbie beside them.
“Jihoon-ssi, how many passes do you think they’ll get?”
“Uh… Eom Dongkyu got five, so maybe five?”
“Hmm. I’m betting all-pass.”
As Oh predicts, Number 2, singing Yoo Haseok’s song, secures the season’s first all-pass.
“The CEO’s definitely grabbing that one.”
“Maybe. But with that skill, aren’t they already signed somewhere?”
“Hmm. Bored—should we look them up? I’m heading out.”
“Alright, see you tomorrow, Kim.”
As one team member slips away, a new contestant appears.
Messy hair, almost too much, the one who briefly appeared earlier.
“Man, people who look like that usually sing insanely well.”
“That’s such a cliché. Isn’t it time it’s broken?”
Trading jokes while watching, Manager Park and Assistant Manager Oh miss it—Jeon Seonwoo’s eyes shifting unusually.
Twang, twang.
A sticky guitar riff echoes under blood-red lights.
“Whoa, Emergency? ‘Why’d You Come to My House?’”
A woman’s squeal erupts from a corner of the pub.
Others might not get it, but MyWay’s team understands her excitement.
The song, with details in the subtitles, is transformed beyond belief.
But what’s truly unbelievable comes next.
“Night’s getting late.
Buses are done,
No taxis in sight.”
A voice so sultry it could fit a man, dripping with a seductive charm that draws shrieks from the pub.
“Ha, haha. This one’s a game-changer…”
“Wow, insane! Ripping it from the verse?”
“Text Kim. Forget the last one—find this one first.”
“They’ll dig up the details themselves with that level.”
This isn’t rookie talent—it’s beyond.
The unfamiliar voice draws not just awe but incredulous laughter.
Maybe they’re too captivated by the seductive tone that enchants all.
“Huh? Where’s the Team Leader?”
Laughing at their CEO getting roasted by the MC, they snap back to reality, only to find Jeon Seonwoo’s seat empty, save for a lone company card.