Episode 34: Sour Grapes
As summer’s heat fades and autumn chills the morning air, a man waiting for his coffee overhears a conversation.
“Did you watch Blind Singer yesterday?”
“Yeah, I almost cried when they saved Number 2.”
“Number 37 too, but honestly, Number 2 falling would’ve been absurd. If either dropped, the viewer boards would’ve exploded.”
The man, Baek Kyungmin, nods quietly at the two women’s chat.
Number 2’s youthful voice, evoking nostalgia, has the second-largest fanbase among Blind Singer contestants.
If bad matchups had knocked them out before the finals, the backlash would’ve been fierce.
‘Number 37 wasn’t finale-unworthy either.’
But the rules meant choosing one over the other.
Hong Hyunwook’s ace move was rewriting those rules.
“There’s still some noise about it.”
“Well, it’s hard to argue against favoritism claims.”
Criticism of the convenient rule change exists, but with Blind Singer’s current buzz, it’s like a pinch of chili powder—adding just the right spice.
“But who’s Number 1? I couldn’t figure it out.”
“Oh, it’s floating around online. What was it… EN-something?”
“What, MBTI?”
“Hold on, I’ll check.”
‘Eujn, probably.’
Baek Kyungmin barely resists jumping in.
If it were two guys talking, he’d have joined without hesitation, but his lack of immunity to reason around women holds him back.
“Here it is—EUJN.”
Typing “Number 1 contestant identity” into a search bar yields countless articles.
Speculation about Number 1 floods communities, easy pickings for click-hungry reporters.
“Second Time With You—the OST singer.”
“Wasn’t that Ko Yo-han?”
“Ko Yo-han sang one version, they sang another. Two versions.”
“Oh… are they hot?”
The conversation’s sudden swerve makes Baek Kyungmin stifle a laugh.
“No idea. EUJN has no profile—face, real name, age, nothing.”
“What, a VTuber? A faceless singer’s so old-school.”
“But if they’re even decent-looking, that voice makes them hot, right?”
“True. That skill level’s basically singing hotness.”
To suppress his laughter, Baek Kyungmin pictures EUJN’s face.
‘That talent, that personality, and that face?’
Even with a messy haircut exuding decadent charm, they’re proof the world’s unfair.
‘And their girlfriend’s pretty and kind. Ugh… must’ve been a hardcore independence fighter in a past life. No other explanation.’
The thought, defying karma and merit, wipes away his amusement.
“‘Wanna Go Home’, your drink is ready!”
His nickname rings through the café.
“Ha… haven’t even started work, and I already wanna go home…”
Chuckling at how his nickname shifted the women’s topic, Baek Kyungmin grabs his coffee and heads to work.
Soon after—
“Hey, hyung, you’re here? So stingy—only got a drink for yourself?”
Seeing Han Yujin, an uninvited guest already at his computer, Baek Kyungmin can’t help but grin.
***
Four weeks.
The time to crown Blind Singer’s winner in the final round—and to prepare for it.
One of those weeks passed quickly.
“Zia didn’t say much about yesterday’s stage?”
Three weeks since Round 3’s shoot, with time for rest and finale prep, the aired episodes have caught up to reality.
“Yeah, not much.”
Actually, there was something.
‘Travel for You’, perfect for wedding proposals, sparked a moment.
‘Good thing I prepared the ring.’
When I pulled it out after the stage, Zia will overjoyed.
But for Baek Kyungmin’s morale, it’s a secret I can’t share.
‘Not a proposal, though.’
Just a realization that in our seven years together, we’d never gotten couple rings.
‘The proposal will be on a trip, just us, with the right mood.’
Getting the rings wasn’t hard—I used money saved for travel.
“I wanna go too. I’ve never been on a plane. But Yujin, a trip abroad right now’s bad timing. Focus on the stage, and we’ll travel after the show, okay?”
Facing Zia’s words, I couldn’t push back.
‘I’m not spilling the regression thing.’
My repertoire’s ready, just waiting to be performed.
Cutting a 3-night, 4-day trip from four weeks isn’t a big deal, but how do I say that?
Zia’s logic is undeniably right—pressing further would just be whining.
“Alright, I was shortsighted. But we’re flying somewhere this winter, deal?”
I couldn’t help but say it.
“You could be an actor. Sulking for three weeks straight, then switching to a smile when Zia shows up.”
“Come on, that’s not actor-level. Not even close.”
After sixteen years reigning as a top idol while others talk of disbandment, managing my expressions is second nature—etched into me.
‘And the one who should be an actor isn’t me…’
The passport we grandly prepared feels a bit wasted now.
But the meaning of that day’s shoot with Zia shifted long ago, so I don’t mind too much.
‘Zia’s definitely showing interest in that direction…’
The biggest change is that she no longer laughs while watching dramas or movies.
She chats happily afterward, but during, she’s dead serious.
‘Haeyoung said it best.’
Haeyoung, the only Polaris member who ventured into acting, used to laugh through dramas.
But once he started acting, he watched with a straight face, analyzing every moment.
The difference between Haeyoung then and Zia now?
‘Whether she’s aware of it or not.’
When I subtly bring it up, Zia jumps and recoils, leaving me helpless.
‘Sour grapes…’
Moon Sookhee’s words come to mind, observing Zia from a different angle.
-“For Zia now, acting is like grapes to a fox.”
Deep down, she wants to try acting, but some unknown emotion convinces her she’s not suited for it.
The moment I heard Moon Sookhee, a memory surfaced.
‘It all comes back to that day…’
The day Zia broke up with me.
That was Zia’s performance of a lifetime.
In my past life, I fell for it, but this time, I saw through it instantly—her mascara-streaked tears in the worst possible way.
-“Just watch for now. She’s not lost—she’s found something. You can wait, right? If she finds something else, support that instead.”
Moon Sookhee’s words are spot-on, so I’m playing along, pretending not to notice.
‘Ugh…’
But my frustration has one target.
‘Lee Heekyung…!’
My sulky expression? Think it’s just about a canceled trip?
‘Of course not.’
I don’t know yet if Zia has acting talent.
That day, I was too overwhelmed to gauge her skill.
‘But if Zia’s really drawn to acting…’
In my past life, Lee Heekyung didn’t just take Zia from me.
It’s clear Zia wouldn’t have stayed near the entertainment world after leaving me.
Which means—
‘Lee Heekyung crushed Zia’s dreams too.’
Was it unintentional?
Can a dream she wasn’t aware of be called a dream?
Does that speculation even matter?
Zia and I are living together now—that’s unchanged.
Would Lee Heekyung have cared about Zia’s dreams?
‘If she were that kind of person, she wouldn’t have called Zia a leech.’
My unease these past weeks stemmed from that thought.
I managed my expression around Zia because I didn’t want to think of Lee Heekyung in her presence.
‘For now… I’ll hold off.’
She’s too busy to mess with us right now.
With Zia and I cherishing every moment, do I really need to get my hands dirty toppling Lee Heekyung?
‘Not unless she touches my people.’
MyWay and Bang Hokyung? No worries there.
The priority, obviously, is Zia.
Then Baek Kyungmin and Taeoh.
‘And… maybe Polaris?’
I’m not sure if the current Polaris members feel the same, but I still owe them a debt of the heart.
“Hey, Yujin! It’s here!”
Baek Kyungmin’s voice snaps me back, and I see him lugging a huge box.
“Already? Thought it’d come tomorrow.”
“Yeah, nice timing. An extra day to practice.”
The box holds my secret weapon for Blind Singer’s first final round.
Seeing it, thoughts of Lee Heekyung vanish, replaced by visions of the stage with it.
‘I’m a born singer…’
Realizing it late, I chuckle.
“Whoa, look at that beauty!”
Baek Kyungmin, already tearing open the box, marvels at the revealed treasure.
I take it into my hands.
The Blind Singer finals are just around the corner.