Episode 44: Feeling Good Now?
239 points.
A score that feels like it deliberately left one point for the finals.
Satisfied, I head to the waiting room, pausing my strides when the crowd thins.
“Working with me for real—was it less impressive than you thought?”
My earlier “you’re in trouble” was 80% a joke, but there’s 20% sincerity in wanting to clarify Suhyuk’s stance.
“No way! It’s the opposite—you’re way better than I heard! My job satisfaction’s through the roof!”
Suhyuk protests, indignant.
The guy who was looking for a hole to crawl into earlier now raises his voice—those words must be close to genuine.
‘If that’s acting, he should be an actor, not a manager.’
I tuck that thought away.
Since I’m not trying to embarrass him, I get to the point.
“Then why are you clinging to that ‘temporary’ label the company already dropped?”
“Oh…!”
“That kinda stung. I want to keep working with you, but it feels like you don’t.”
I give a small smile to ease his tension—he’s gaping like he’s been struck by lightning—and resume walking.
“If that’s not the case, fine. Don’t go around saying ‘temporary’ anymore.”
Of course, Suhyuk had reasons for mentioning it.
Getting business cards from big shots like Song Jaeryung and Hong Hyunwook must’ve flustered a rookie manager just starting out.
But instead of explaining, he says,
“Sorry, hyung. I won’t do it again.”
That’s all.
“There’s a saying—kids are their parents’ mirror. It’s not exactly the same, but a manager’s a celebrity’s mirror too. If you act all timid, people will talk behind my back later, you know?”
“Didn’t think of that…”
“Anyone can tell you’re a rookie just by looking, but do you need to advertise it in a bad way? Even as a newbie, confidence looks better. Where’s that fire you had when we met, saying you could handle it despite your age? I liked that. Bring it to work too.”
“Yes, sir.”
That’s just a fraction of Suhyuk’s strengths, but it’s enough.
His face softens as he responds.
Good enough.
“Alright, that’s the end of it. What can you do? You’re stuck managing my schedule from now on. Get used to it.”
“Yes… Wait, what?”
Suhyuk, nodding at first, raises his voice in surprise.
“I’m doing that?”
“Who else would? You’re not planning to make me do it, are you?”
“No, it’s not that! I heard when you sign officially, you’d get a chief manager!”
Oh, that’s why.
Fair enough—if I were walking the typical celebrity path, Suhyuk alone wouldn’t cut it.
A senior manager to guide him would be necessary.
But—
“Do I need a chief manager?”
Who says I’m taking the typical path?
“I’m not doing that many shows.”
Variety? Eh, maybe.
I’ll do ‘Unmask Time’, Blind Singer’s follow-up show, but other variety? No plans.
Music shows? Me?
Solo artists can go, but I’m sick of that scene.
At most, maybe late-night music talk shows, radio guest spots, or YouTube web variety?
That’s the extent of my schedule.
Adding more staff would be a waste.
Heck, I’m not even sure I need a stylist.
I might even have to worry about Suhyuk getting pulled for other artists’ schedules.
Even if Seo Yoonje offered a chief manager, I’d refuse.
“Why not? The tide’s high—time to row!”
Suhyuk might not get it, but I’m not budging.
“Why? It’d cut into my time with Zia.”
The reason MyWay’s my top choice? They don’t force artists into money-driven schedules.
‘And right now, the songs I want to sing can only come from being by Zia’s side.’
Like how I chose ‘Falling Star’ as my first original song post-regression, bypassing countless proven hits.
Of course, I know.
The attention on me now will fade once Blind Singer’s hype dies down.
To share the new songs I’ll write by Zia’s side with more people, I need to maintain some level of spotlight.
But here’s the thing.
Do I need to hustle for that myself?
I see an easier path.
With that thought, I open the waiting room door.
“Hyung! Another total banger!”
Not planned, but the guy who’ll walk that dazzling yet grueling path for me is right there in my waiting room.
***
The uninvited guests in the empty waiting room are Taeoh and Park Juan.
Among the contestants I bonded with after unmasking, Taeoh, Park Juan, and I grew especially close, sharing the commonality of being agency-less.
Their presence isn’t uncomfortable at all.
Park Juan, clearly having rushed here right after my performance, lays into me passionately.
“Ugh… Han Yujin, you bowl-stealing thief… Isn’t that too much?”
“Bowl-stealing thief? What’s that about?”
I know exactly what he means but play dumb.
Park Juan starts counting my crimes on his fingers.
“Round 1 of the finals. You wiped out Dongkyu and In-hyungnim’s pie.”
‘You’ll Come to Love’, rearranged with a band sound.
Sure, Um Dongkyu’s one thing, but including Kim In, a heavy metal singer, in that group? Well, Kim In’s band ‘Yell’ is still a band, so let’s roll with it.
“Round 2 of the finals. Seunghee said she nearly fainted watching that.”
‘Invincible’, infused with K-pop and Korean flair.
It was different from the path Yang Seunghee and Pink Blossom tread, but Trezit’s current status is what Pink Blossom dreams of, so fine, let’s accept that too.
“And now, you. Ugh, Sisyphus? ‘Night, Stars, Winter Sky’? Did you have to take it all to feel satisfied?”
“Feeling good now?!”
Park Juan, reenacting a classic movie line, and Taeoh, echoing him, make me laugh as I respond.
“Come on, ‘Night, Stars, Winter Sky’ is a rock ballad. It’s not your thing, hyung.”
“The arrangement was my style!”
Well, he’s got me there.
I leaned into an orchestral vibe, stripping out the raw rock edge.
But Park Juan sighs deeply, slumping onto the sofa.
“Ugh… but you’re so damn good, I can’t even argue. If you were just decent, I’d try to burn you down, but I don’t even feel like it.”
“Giving up makes it easier, hyung,” Taeoh teases.
“Kang Taeoh, whose side are you on?!”
Park Juan tries to redirect his frustration at Taeoh’s cheeky jab but slumps back like a corpse.
“Taeoh’s been a Yujin fanboy from the start… Jiyoon’s the only one thriving now. Even Yujin wouldn’t pull off a performance like hers…”
From that angle, isn’t Noh Jiyoon the one who’d feel the most wronged?
I can’t spoil that, so I steer the topic elsewhere.
“What about Dayna?”
Dayna, a singer-songwriter absent from my pre-regression memories, focuses on folk songs, distinct from Taeoh.
In Park Juan’s terms, she’s someone who kept her “bowl.”
“Dayna? She just met the grim reaper.”
Pointing at the screen, Park Juan shows Dayna being interviewed by Ji Sehyuk.
“Sehyuk-sunbae’s the grim reaper?”
That good-natured guy? I ask, skeptical, and Park Juan points at me in disbelief.
“You, punk.”
“Huh?”
As I blink in confusion, Taeoh’s soft chuckle cuts through.
“Didn’t you know? Everyone eliminated in the finals went on right after you.”
“Was that how it went?”
“If Dayna gets cut too, it’s a clean sweep.”
“No way, really?”
I brush it off, but it’s unsettling.
It’s a fact that Dayna’s not in my pre-regression memories.
‘Grim reaper… huh? Maybe that’s not so bad?’
Thinking ahead, that nickname doesn’t sound half bad.
“Have some snacks while we talk,” Suhyuk says, setting a tray of refreshments on the table, having slipped out and back unnoticed.
Park Juan, eyeing Suhyuk, suddenly shifts gears.
“Should I go to MyWay too?”
He adds, self-deprecatingly, “Not like anyone else is calling.”
I can’t help but smile bitterly.
Pre-regression, Park Juan settled at MyWay, so he’ll likely end up there again.
The issue is—
“What about you, Taeoh?”
Taeoh’s the wild card.
“Dunno. Do I need to decide already?”
In my pre-regression memories, Taeoh debuted under Sunshine’s label, then went independent with his own.
But back then, he was with a band, unlike now, so things could shift.
“You can decide slowly, but it’s good to have a direction.”
“True, but my family’s been talking… My dad says do what I want, but my mom’s like, ‘You should take the college entrance exam.’”
“The exam… that’s definitely important.”
Park Juan nods, then slings an arm around Taeoh’s neck, declaring,
“Then you’re MyWay too.”
“What?”
“No agency supports that stuff like MyWay, right, manager-nim?”
“Other places do too, but MyWay’s a bit special. Hylliy Eunwoo did the exam and went to college while active. Though she took a leave right after enrolling.”
“Oh… really…”
Taeoh, intrigued, gets hit with Park Juan’s next pitch.
“And think about it—great optics. Three Blind Singer contestants joining the same agency. Headline material!”
As if Taeoh cares about that.
“What do you think, Yujin-hyung?”
I answer honestly.
“If you come to MyWay, I’d love it. I’ve got music I want to make with you.”
“Music…”
Taeoh trails off, lost in thought, when Park Juan spots Dayna’s silhouette on the screen.
“Hey, Dayna’s stage is starting. Let’s go, Taeoh. We gotta prep too.”
The conversation cuts off as Park Juan stands, and—
The semi-final eliminee?
“See? Han Yujin’s totally the grim reaper!”
As Park Juan shouts, it’s really Dayna.
****
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