Episode 53: Going Public (2)
“With that, Blind Singer TOP 7’s nationwide busking tour, Unmask Tour Seoul performance, comes to a close! The next location’s a secret, but stay tuned!”
Noh Jiyoon’s closing remarks signal the end of today’s performance and filming.
“Wow, Jiyoon-noona, when did you learn the djembe?”
“Just for stress relief when I had no gigs. Three years, and I got this good.”
“Man, you were so cool. Should I try it too?”
“Forget it. You’re already swamped with Sangwoon’s lessons, aren’t you?”
As I head backstage, catching Noh Jiyoon and Taeoh’s playful banter, Um Dongkyu calls me in a low voice.
“Yujin.”
I stop.
“That couple earlier—do you know them? You kept looking their way.”
I glance toward the audience seats.
The spot where the haggard, disheveled man sat is now empty.
“No, first time seeing them. Just caught my eye. Do you know them, hyung?”
“Know them, sort of.”
Um Dongkyu briefly eyes the empty seat before continuing.
“When our band started, a hyung helped with our music. I know the guy through him, just casually. Heard he’s been out of touch, so I was wondering if I should check on him. Not a big deal, don’t worry.”
He pats my back lightly, and I nod in response.
He smoothly shifts topics.
“By the way, Taeoh’s something else. Fly High, Flower Blooming Under Moonlight—if someone else sang my songs like that, I’d be crushed. No wonder you two took first and second. Good work. See you next week.”
“Yeah, thanks. See you then.”
Taeoh’s probably fired up for the idol path I can’t take, but Um Dongkyu, unaware, waves and heads to his next schedule.
I watch his back, then turn again, scanning the thinning crowd for a slouched figure I know won’t be there.
‘I’d recognize him anywhere.’
My earlier words were a lie.
Though he looked different from my memories, I couldn’t miss that face.
A colleague I worked with for 15 years at Starlight—Gong Jiu.
When Polaris debuted, Gong Jiu joined Starlight as an in-house composer.
His lack of credentials sparked gossip, but once it was revealed he crafted Rising Star’s melody, the talk vanished.
He was key in transforming Polaris’s senior boy group, Altair, from mystique to a friendlier image.
Though our music styles differed, we bonded over countless exchanges.
That’s why I was as shocked as when I first met Suhyuk.
I threw out that comment instinctively, staring at Gong Jiu the whole time.
‘Jiu… he looked rough. Makes sense, though…’
In my original life, Gong Jiu would be canned at Starlight by now.
The reason he’s here?
‘There’s no place for him at Starlight now.’
With Kevin Lee still standing tall, unlike his downfall in my past life.
“Tch…”
“What’s wrong?”
Suhyuk approaches cautiously as I chew on my regret.
“Nothing. Let’s go. Where’s Taeoh?”
“Juan-hyung took him already.”
“Got it. Let’s head out.”
I take a sip of the water Suhyuk hands me, but the bitterness lingers.
‘I really can’t do anything.’
In my past life, I ousted Kevin Lee from Polaris’s production, ensuring Gong Jiu’s work stayed his, even if it never saw the light.
Now, I’m powerless.
If Gong Jiu goes public, I could support him as an artist, but knowing his realistic streak, he’s unlikely to speak up.
“Hoo.”
Sighing softly, I get in the car and refresh an app tab.
Views: 4. Downloads: 3. Comments: 0. No change.
Kevin Lee checked it once, I did once, and I showed it to Baek Kyungmin once.
The demo Gong Jiu posted for feedback remains buried in the dark corners of the internet.
It’s enough to raise suspicion, but—
‘Can Jiu handle the fallout?’
Polaris’s fandom isn’t much different from others.
The blind vitriol from fans would crush Gong Jiu’s soft heart.
‘Kevin Lee will crash on his own.’
The timing for exposing doubts is when his sexual assault scandal breaks.
I lack the influence to gather evidence, but a scandal that big will erupt eventually.
Whether Gong Jiu can hold out until then is another question.
‘All I can do is pray he doesn’t give up.’
That’s why I sang so hard, enough for Um Dongkyu to think it might break him.
With 15 years of Starlight camaraderie gone for Gong Jiu, all I could do was sing a song to say, “Hang in there.”
“Even in the raging storm,
Don’t stop your wings—fly high.
You’ll shine brightly where everyone can see.”
Though the storm torments you now,
If you keep your wings beating, you’ll shine one day.
You have that strength.
“Only the lonely moonlight shines on me,
Gathering the sad tears in my eyes.
I just wanted to shake off the deep red pain
Lingering by your side.”
It feels like no one sees you now,
But someone out there aches for your tears.
So don’t hurt for too long.
I poured my heart into singing, hoping that message would reach him.
‘Sure, a song or two won’t fix everything.’
But I trust my voice.
It once captivated billions—surely it has that much power, right?
As I move to pocket my phone,
“Huh?”
A misclick refreshes the screen, revealing a change.
[Views: 5, Downloads: 4, Comments: 1]
[MCMP: What’s with Kevin Lee? Thought it was inspiration, but straight-up copy-paste?]
Thinking I misread, I swipe to refresh again.
[Views: 162, Downloads: 161, Comments: 73]
[MCMP: What’s with Kevin Lee? Thought it was inspiration, but straight-up copy-paste?]
[UpstairsGuitar: LOL, knew that jerk Kevin Lee would get caught someday 😂]
[kkokkio: Polaris is done for too.]
[SunnyDolmen: Keep fighting, OP. Plagiarism must be stopped.]
…
In moments, the shift is explosive.
“Hyung, something up?”
Suhyuk, stopping the car, asks cautiously.
“No… what… what’s this?”
Stammering through the shock of the rapid change, I feel a smile spread across my face.
***
Buzz. Buzz.
Ignoring the relentless notifications of comments on an old post, Gong Jiu calmly closes his laptop.
“Jiu-ya… you okay…?”
Jung Eunhye, watching him, asks tentatively.
“You can’t back out now, sunbae. You said we’d go public. I acted because you promised a good lawyer. No running away.”
Instead, Gong Jiu leans back in his chair with a relieved expression.
The chair’s front legs lift slightly, rocking as he sways to a rhythm in his head.
The wistful smile is gone.
That alone fills Jung Eunhye with gratitude, but his sudden shift baffles her, and she raises her voice.
“Who’s running? I’ll get a top-tier lawyer, even if I have to take out a loan. Y&I—how’s that?”
Her voice sounds angry but is laced with emotion.
Gong Jiu, sensing it, straightens up and glances at her.
“Thanks, sunbae. For not letting me give up. For bringing me here today.”
“Huh?”
“Honestly, I was ready to quit music. Look—I even booked a ticket back home. I planned to watch this show and leave to live a normal life.”
He pauses, sighing deeply, but it’s not heavy.
With each breath, his relief deepens.
“That keyboardist… Han Yujin, right? After Fly High, our eyes kept meeting. Maybe it’s just me, but it felt like he saw my situation and was cheering me on. Flower Blooming Under Moonlight felt like he was saying to cry it out and let it go. Guess INFJs can’t help assigning meaning to everything.”
“Jiu-ya…”
“Then I saw you, sunbae. I felt bad making you worry. If I’m quitting music anyway, why not take a swing at Kevin Lee?”
“Good. That’s right. Why should you suffer because of that jerk?”
Jung Eunhye, barely holding back tears, hides her reddened eyes by hugging Gong Jiu and patting his shoulder.
His faint trembling courage resonates through her.
“Sniff.”
“Why’re you crying? People’ll think you got plagiarized.”
Her tears finally spill, but Gong Jiu feels his trembling ease.
The mysterious singer’s voice, sending inexplicable warmth his way, pushed him forward.
But the strength to keep going comes from the small woman crying for him now.
“Thanks, sunbae. I’ve got a goal.”
He murmurs with gratitude.
“I want to write a song worthy of that singer… Han Yujin.”