Episode 39: Let’s Have a Blast!
“Huh?!”
As I step onto the stage, voices ripple from the crowd.
Ji Sehyuk, representing their curiosity, speaks up.
“Yujin-ssi, you’ve changed a lot today?”
I smile silently, and his energized voice follows.
“First, your hairstyle’s different. You tied it back?”
Unlike when I took photos with Zia, my hair’s now secured with a headband, keeping it neat.
Just tying back the messy strands levels up my visuals dramatically.
“And your fashion… wow, it’s a total transformation!”
Ji Sehyuk’s gaze shifts to Lee Sangwoon, who—
“…?”
—is gaping, unable to hide his shock.
“Judge Lee Sangwoon, any comments?” Ji Sehyuk teases.
Snapping out of it, Lee Sangwoon grabs the mic.
“That’s the one, right, Han Yujin?”
I just smile as he eyes me up and down.
A black bomber jacket with gold-thread embroidery, a loose-fit boxy tee, and street-style cargo pants.
“Last week, I said I wouldn’t be shocked if you brought a dance track. You didn’t actually bring one, did you?”
His words spark laughter from the audience.
“Now that you mention it, Yujin-ssi, no guitar today?” Ji Sehyuk adds.
Technically, I ditched the guitar last week, but why ruin the vibe he’s building?
“I felt everyone was getting used to me with an instrument, so I left the guitar behind today.”
My nod triggers another wave of cheers.
Waiting for the noise to settle, Ji Sehyuk continues.
“Now that I think about it, your stages have always had different vibes, but you with a guitar felt natural. Last week, you had a bass, and I recall guitar accompaniment. Is this stage like that too?”
I shake my head.
“No, I cut the guitar from the arrangement this time. I wanted to show a different side of my music. For today’s song, I planned an instrumentation that suits it better than a guitar.”
“What, are you really dancing?”
Lee Sangwoon’s Adam’s apple bobs dramatically, prompting stifled laughter.
Ji Sehyuk jumps in.
“Yujin-ssi, why aren’t you denying it? Are you actually dancing?”
Dodging a straight answer feels more fun here.
“Why don’t you see for yourself on stage?”
“If you say that, how can we not get hyped? Right, everyone?”
““Yes!!””
The deafening cheers answer Ji Sehyuk’s question to the cameras.
Grinning widely at the energy, he turns back to me.
“So, what song did you prepare today?”
“The song I’ve prepared is…”
Thud!
The stage darkens, cutting me off, as light floods behind me.
“Trezit’s ‘Invincible.’”
My words on the screen silence the packed studio of nearly 1,300.
Only my voice echoes.
“‘Invincible.’ From the first listen, it made my heart race. I want to take it further and deliver a melody that makes everyone’s hearts race. Let’s all have a blast today.”
As the interview plays, Lee Sangwoon’s jaw drops further, unguarded.
I worry he might drool, but then—
“Kyaaaa!”
Cheers erupt from those who recognize the song, snapping him out of it.
“Trezit’s an idol group! ‘Invincible’ is a dance track!!”
Amid Lee Sangwoon’s scream-like outburst, I sit on a specially prepared prop, smiling quietly.
Today, I’m ready to shake things up in a whole new way.
***
Chae Sua, a second-year student in the Traditional Arts Department at Seoul National University of Arts, enters her apartment with a sullen expression.
“What? I thought you were drinking late tonight,” says Chae Suhyuk, her roommate and brother, mouth full of chicken.
Sua, plopping down beside him, grabs a drumstick with an irritated tone.
“Dunno. Everyone bailed.”
She shoves the drumstick in her mouth without hesitation.
Normally, this would spark a sibling brawl, but Suhyuk, instead of fighting, quietly opens a delivery app to order another chicken.
‘No time to fight with this pig. I need to watch Blind Singer.’
With Sua already on edge from her canceled plans, he doesn’t want to ruin his newfound joy.
“Hey, what’s this crap you’re watching? Give me the remote.”
“There’s beer in the fridge. Drink if you want.”
“Oh? Nice.”
If only she’d come after his top pick’s performance.
But if a few chicken pieces and beers can keep her quiet and distracted, that’s a win for Suhyuk.
As Sua heads to the fridge, leaving the room empty for a moment…
“I’ve prepared Trezit’s ‘Invincible’ for today.”
Chae Suhyuk clamps his mouth shut at the sound from the TV.
‘Invincible? Insane!!’
Trezit, an eight-member boy group, and their signature song Invincible.
Even for guys who aren’t fans, the song, now a year old, is iconic enough to linger in Suhyuk’s playlist.
And now, that song is in the hands of the hottest singer around.
Suhyuk’s eyes gleam at the TV, while Chae Sua, shaking her head at his enthusiasm, rummages through the fridge for beer.
But the narrow fridge yields no cans.
‘Ugh, that jerk Chae Suhyuk.’
Thinking her brother tricked her, Sua’s about to explode when—
Dum-dum. Dum dum. Dum. Dum.
It’s not the familiar pungmul drum rhythm she knows, but a beat she can’t help but recognize flows from the darkened TV.
‘Did I hear that wrong?’
During a brief silence, she wonders, but—
Dum dum!
A mechanical beat cuts through, and then—
Bbiririri~!
The unmistakable sound of a taepyeongso proves it’s no mistake.
Vivid, colorful lights burst forth.
A man sits on an ornate chair, revealed in the glow.
“Whoa! Is he for real?!”
Suhyuk shouts in awe as the gold embroidery on the man’s black bomber jacket sparkles under the lights.
“No need for words like ‘give up.’”
A voice riding a transformed rhythm—no, a melody—reaches Sua’s ears.
‘Is that a ssangjinpuri melody?’
Mixed with electronic sounds, it’s hard to catch, but the fierce, scraping voice on that melody hooks her, drawing her toward the TV.
“Run! Run!
Wherever you are, I’ll race there!
Following the path in the sky to the world’s end!”
From ssangjinpuri to jajinmori.
Familiar rhythms unfold in ways Sua never imagined.
But the transformation doesn’t stop there.
“I won’t fall here.
Not if you’re with me.
This is INVINCIBLE.”
Beyond the heavy vibration of a jing, the taepyeongso swirls into a hwimori rhythm, and—
“This is INVINCIBLE.”
The geomungo’s jungmori rhythm emerges seamlessly.
Fast, then slow.
Amid dizzying electronic sounds and dazzling lights, Korea’s ancient traditional sounds open a festival.
The festival’s star, draped in a black bomber jacket like a royal robe, reigns from a throne-like chair.
“Those guys beside her? They’re not enough.
Give up, settle for that.”
“This is the groove! This is gukhip!”
Suhyuk, clueless about the dongsalpuri rhythm, shouts about grooves and gukhip.
Ignoring him, Sua listens as—
“All I see is you, everything else is Invisible.
Racing to you again, I’m Invincible.”
The geomungo’s jungmori rhythm carries the lyrics, and Sua can’t deny it.
This is the music she’s longed for, and more.
Suddenly, she’s grateful for her friends who bailed on plans.
If she hadn’t come home, she might’ve missed this singer forever.
“Han Yujin.”
No need to ask his name—it’s been on the screen the whole time, impossible to miss.
“That guy’s older than you. Call him oppa,” Suhyuk teases, instinctively poking at his sister.
But no iron fist falls on his head.
Bbiririri~
KKang! KKang!
To Sua, the taepyeongso and kkwaenggwari blending in the hwimori rhythm’s finale matters more.
The accelerating melody signals the song’s end is near.
As expected—
The taepyeongso and kkwaenggwari meld with electronic sounds.
A majestic rhythm, reminiscent of an insagut, fades as the performance ends.
Kung. Kugugung kung!
Han Yujin, resting his chin on the throne’s armrest, mic set aside, stares at the camera—a perfect finale.
“Whoa! He killed it! Gotta be first place again!”
Suhyuk, breathless with excitement, shouts.
Clap clap clap clap clap!
““Kyaaaaa!””
Unceasing applause and cheers erupt everywhere the camera pans.
“And that was Han Yujin’s Invincible!”
Ji Sehyuk’s short, powerful final call seals it.
Through it all, the man never breaks his gaze from the camera, etching himself into Sua’s eyes.
In her 21 years, this is her first deok-tong moment—a fan obsession born.