Episode 33: You Ghosted Me!
‘I knew this was coming…’
From the moment he brought up that day I recorded the guide and left early because Zia was waiting, I sensed this was coming.
It’s not unusual for a judge to recognize a contestant.
This industry is small, and in a show like this with razor-sharp talents, the outliers are people like me, Taeoh, or Park Juan.
Eom Dongkyu, Kim In, and Yang Seunghee are obvious.
Lee Sangwoon, maybe due to his backup dancer experience, seemed to clock Noh Jiyoon by Round 2.
But making it this obvious? That’s only possible because it’s Bang Hokyung.
“Wait, hold on, hold on! Judge Bang Hokyung, you’re going too far!”
“Oh, is that too much? My bad. I got carried away hearing a familiar voice.”
Ji Sehyuk belatedly reins him in, while Bang Hokyung scratches his head, feigning innocence.
‘Even if it’s his first variety show, Bang Hokyung?’
He’s cunning enough to wield his “old-timer” image like a fox.
No way he’d crash someone else’s party just to cause chaos.
‘He and PD Hong must’ve already sorted this out.’
They’re using the EUJN card this way.
Makes sense—next week’s live finale will reveal faces anyway.
This is the last chance to drop breadcrumbs about Blind Singer’s Number 1 and EUJN.
And with Bang Hokyung here?
‘Hong Hyunwook’s probably thanking his lucky stars.’
Eujn’s identity—name, age, appearance—is still hidden.
Curiosity about that face will drive viewers to tune in for the finale.
Hong Hyunwook might’ve even begged Bang Hokyung to do this.
He’s sitting calmly now, but inside, he’s likely throwing a ratings party.
“Ugh, whatever. PD Hong will edit this, right? Let’s hear it. I’m curious about Number 1 too.”
Ji Sehyuk, earpiece relaying Hong Hyunwook’s voice, proves it.
“Edit this out” means “this is definitely airing.”
“It’s a famous story that Judge Bang Hokyung pays session fees upfront for musicians he likes… and you told him not to call for six months?”
“Not at first. After our first session, I felt my limits clearly. To keep singing, I needed to build myself up, so I asked for three months.”
“Wait, your stories don’t match.”
“After three months of prep, I saw Blind Singer’s contestant call and asked for three more.”
“So Bang’s right. Number 1 ghosted him!”
Sally, snapping back, chimes in, and Bang Hokyung smirks, taking the jab.
“Not quite ‘ghosted.’ It was for good music, and they’re making great music here, so it’s moot. I felt it then, and I feel it now—Number 1’s a singer I can’t critique or touch. Dragging it out wasn’t so bad. Soon, they’ll be too big for that guarantee, but I’ve already got a free pass, right?”
Sure, Bang Hokyung can afford endless free passes.
Not just because he makes great songs.
‘Everything in my current situation started with him.’
Meeting Seo Yoonje.
Moon Sookhee appearing before Zia.
Blind Singer Season 3 becoming a bigger festival than I knew.
It’s all a snowball from Bang Hokyung recognizing my worth.
I’ve got some shame—I know who to thank.
As I think this, Lee Ahjeong grabs the mic.
“Four months ago, a song by Judge Bang Hokyung… that reminds me of someone.”
“Hmm, that one?”
“Oh, I remember!”
“I think I know the song.”
Yoon Ichae, Lee Sangwoon, and Ji Sehyuk respond in turn to Lee Ahjeong’s comment.
At this point, they’re not even trying to hide it.
“Who? Am I the only one out of the loop?”
Sally, left out, whines, but quiets after Lee Sangwoon whispers to her.
Seems she doesn’t know EUJN.
With a wry smile, Lee Ahjeong turns to me and continues.
“It was a memorable song—how did I miss it? Probably because Round 1’s impact was so huge. The songs were so different. Rounds 1, 2, and now 3—Number 1’s chameleon-like charm was already shining before this show even started. It’s chilling.”
Lee Ahjeong sets down the mic, wrapping up her critique.
No other judge speaks.
Unlike the eager back-and-forth of Rounds 1 and 2, the atmosphere’s shifted.
Ji Sehyuk looks briefly flustered but regains his flow.
“If there’s nothing more to say, shall we move to results? Let’s bring Number 2 back to the stage!”
At Ji Sehyuk’s call, Taeoh bounds up with his signature springy steps.
“Feels like the first day. Why do you look so happy? Think you’ll win?”
Ji Sehyuk, unable to resist, asks, and Taeoh replies brightly but vaguely.
“No, I’m not sure.”
Ji Sehyuk looks thrown by the mismatch.
“Then why do you seem so happy?”
“I did my best. If I lose, it’s not because I failed—it’s because hyung was better. No regrets. Winning’s great, but even if I lose, I feel like I’ve got a new goal. That’s why I’m happy.”
Though his face is hidden by the mask, I can almost see Taeoh’s eyes sparkling.
‘So Taeoh.’
In my past life, Taeoh’s songs were loved for their overflowing confidence, inspiring others.
Seeing that in him now, my lips curve upward.
“Oh, Number 2, did you figure it out? Number 1’s identity?”
“Yeah, I knew by Round 2.”
“Really?”
“Yup, for real. That song’s my absolute favorite—I was listening to it on my way here.”
Taeoh puffs out his chest like he’s uncovered something grand.
‘You only knew because I practically spoon-fed you.’
The thought surged to my throat, but I barely held it back.
‘If they insert our two-shot from that day here, it’ll be perfect.’
The judges’ dazed faces and the untold truth from that day would make for a delightful treat for viewers.
At that moment, Seo Yoonje picks up the mic.
“Before the results, one final word…”
“Yes, go ahead, Head Judge.”
“This match is probably our toughest challenge as judges. It’s not about like or dislike—hardly anyone would dislike either performance. Nor is it about skill. It’ll come down to slight differences in taste and expectations. Those are likely the deciding factors. Both contestants were phenomenal, and I sincerely hope both keep making music.”
Seo Yoonje’s earnest plea earns a solemn nod from Ji Sehyuk.
“Now, if you want Number 1 to advance to the finals, press the red pass button! If you want to hear Number 2 in the finals, press the blue pass button! Judges, please make your choice!”
Ji Sehyuk’s voice, brimming with tension, fills the studio, but—
“Haaa…”
“Sss…”
Instead of button presses, only heavy sighs echo, as if all the world’s worries are packed into them.
“The judges are struggling, but a decision must be made.”
Even Ji Sehyuk, who’s said to host this show for the fun of teasing judges, can’t poke at them now.
How much time passes?
Not long in reality, but it feels like eons at the judges’ table.
Then—
“Ugh… if I come back here, I’m not human…”
Click!
Yoon Ichae’s muttering accompanies a faint button press.
And then—
Click-click! Click!
Five more presses follow, as if waiting for someone to break the ice.
“All-pass! The eighth contestant heading to the live finals is—!”
Ji Sehyuk’s cry declares a narrow victory that feels like a landslide, as blue lights flood the red-lit studio.
“Number 1!!!”
***
“Number 1 is really EUJN?”
The ninth to join the winners’ waiting room rushes to me with the question.
“Yes, that’s me. I’m a big fan of your songs, Eom Dongkyu-sunbae.”
“Oh, no way! I loved that drama so much. It’s an honor.”
The winner of the revival round, where only one survives, is Eom Dongkyu.
‘Experience really shows in moments like this.’
His stage against Kim In clearly accounted for the possibility of defeat.
If he’d performed his revival round stage in the main match, he and Kim In might’ve switched places—so powerful was his performance.
Taeoh showed effort too, but his revival round paled compared to Fly High.
In the end, he’s left among the seven awaiting the final chance.
“But! This season offers one more opportunity—the Rescue Pass!”
Ji Sehyuk’s dramatic announcement intensifies the stage lights.
He explains the Rescue Pass, a rebrand of the five remaining ex-passes.
The judges, unaware of this rule until now, gape at the special-rule buttons handed out by staff.
“The key is how many Number 2 grabs. Honestly, their matchups were brutal.”
Kim In voices what everyone’s thinking.
Next season, knowing the Rescue Pass exists, judges might strategize to save multiple contestants.
But this season, it’s a surprise, so if judges hold back expecting others to vote, a deserving contestant could fall.
A true dilemma.
Of course, everyone here feels if it’s not Taeoh, no one else stands a chance for the Rescue Pass.
It’s just a question of whether Taeoh gets three or fewer, leaving room for others, or four or more, taking it all.
Coincidentally, Taeoh’s number is the lowest among those left.
Whether he’s the sole beneficiary or shares the chance will be decided first.
“Number 2, please remove your mask and introduce yourself.”
As Taeoh fumbles off his mask, the stage’s dark scoreboard lights up.
Then—
Bbam-bbam-bbam! Bbam-bam!
A slightly tacky fanfare blares, and the scoreboard flashes with “Rescue” in bold letters.
“Yes! The first in line gets the rescue hand! The judges sending Number 2 to the finals are—!”
Gulp.
A deafening silence fills the waiting room and stage, so quiet you could hear someone swallow.
Then, someone mutters softly as golden “P”s flood the scoreboard.
“Well, that’s it.”
All five remaining hands reach for Taeoh.
The number of singers for the final stage is set at ten.