Finally, Yu Jeuni Emerges

Finally crawling out, Yu Jeuni. "What a sinful bastard. A real sinful bastard." A man sat in his office, muttering to himself. His gaze wasn't on the monitor, but on his smartphone. The screen showed Kim Seryeon.

"How the hell did a guy end up looking like that?" He was barely 17. Right in the middle of his growth spurt, and already perfect. Just a photo alone would draw eyes, but the kid could compose music too. The kind of guy no one could hate. The problem? He'd chosen this moment to drop new music.

'Why hip-hop of all things!'

Lee Junhwan, the head PD of Show Me. A late-30s veteran who'd eaten his share of the industry grind. Right now, he was suffering from a vicious caffeine-fueled migraine.

'Why now, of all times!'

It felt like a bulldozer crashing into a back-alley diner. He'd always dismissed underground rappers whining about Show Me and big media as sore losers, but experiencing it firsthand? Suddenly, he got the empathy thing.

'This is gonna shred our buzz.'

From ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the network's perspective, an audition show was a massive project. If it flopped, heads would roll. They had to tread carefully, like listening for falling leaves. And right now, Kim Seryeon was sucking up all the hype from hip-hop fans and the public with his insane traction.

As he clutched his head, a playful female voice cut in from the side. "Why are you staring at that boy's photo like that? You gay or something?"

"No, it's not like that."

Baek Hyojin. Early 30s. She'd gone bob-head and come back looking rough around the edges. The scriptwriter for Show Me, this massive hip-hop reality theater production. She'd started writing novels on some weird site back in middle school, so her vocab was always oddly progressive.

Her eyes lit up as she recognized the face on the smartphone screen. "Oh! That's Kim Seryeon. I love that kid!"

"That's exactly the problem!"

"He's handsome, cute—what's the issue?"

Even the writer was like this? Lee Junhwan felt his gut twisting.

"He dropped a new hip-hop track."

Baek Hyojin knew about it, of course. She just saw it differently. "It's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not like Show Me stops the whole hip-hop scene. Rappers outside the show drop albums, do features—that's been happening forever."

Just one single? Enough to make a major network audition sweat bullets?

"Maybe you're overreacting, PD."

"No."

"Sometimes outsiders blow up and we bring 'em in for finals features to tie into the lore."

"No. This is totally different."

Lee Junhwan leaned in, dropping the bombshell. "You know that rapper Hanbam?"

"Yeah. He collabed with Seryeon."

"Just confirmed with the directing team—he auditioned for our show and got cut."

"Ah...?"

Baek Hyojin froze, instantly grasping it.

"Why didn't I know?"

"Three-second cut in prelims. No edit point, no footage, no presence."

"So no edit data left."

"We gotta dig anyway. They keep all raw footage."

A fact the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠production hadn't caught. Hanbam had been a contestant. And post-elimination, he'd dropped a track with Kim Seryeon that exploded. Slip in a glimpse of Hanbam now? Buzz. Ratings. Seryeon fans flooding in. Sweet trickle-down.

"So, Hyojin."

"No."

Reflex rejection, but writers had no veto power.

"Let's give this Hanbam guy a little extra screen time."

"No way."

"If we want the show to kill it, don't we have to?"

"Don't."

Broadcasters would sell their souls for ratings. Clear fan inflow on the table—they couldn't just total-edit it out. Sure, Baek Hyojin had her say.

"We air the first episode tomorrow!"

Tomorrow? How?

"We still gotta do it."

"This isn't some 2000s drama side-script. What era is this, the Fifth Republic?"

"Make it happen."

"I can't!!!"

But mouth said no, body said yes. Three minutes later, the writers were scrambled, hunting Hanbam footage ASAP.

"Found Hanbam's bit!"

"Receive channel has his interview vid uploaded—rip it now, get permission later!"

"That okay?"

"No time. Roll!"

"Producer evals? No mentions of him—how?"

"Grab lines from other contestants, Frankenstein it!"

"Genius!"

The tail end of the first week of September. Schools reopened, the sweltering heat finally broken. Show Me, the hip-hop survival audition, aired its debut.

"Hey, it's starting!"

My mom, Lee Hyeseon, plopped down in front of the TV. Ever since getting hooked on Star's Birth, she binged every audition show. Now that I was doing hip-hop, she was buzzing even with Show Me right there.

"Different from High Lab, right?"

"Yeah. That's high schoolers; this is adults."

"Like Hip-Hop University?"

[Preliminaries - Gymnasium Live]

The opening shot swept over thousands of contestants. Only one in ten would pass and snag a necklace. And of those, one in ten would survive the fire to hit round two. Most got no screen time here. Hanbam would've been one—axed after one breath, three-second cut.

But in national hip-hop, schemes and backstabs ruled. Amateurs didn't survive.

"Hey, isn't that the guy you worked with? Hanbam?"

Hanbam's footage was loaded. His name flashed first—network favoritism confirmed.

"He sings real nice."

"Yeah, he's good."

Hanbam had music chops.

"But Seryeon, is that rapping? Sounded like singing with autotune slapped on."

Problem: he bombed live. That's why the three-second drop. I kept quiet—no spoilers for Mom—and watched.

I chuckled and replied.

To spell it out: Hanbam's elim was weeks ago, but now the world knew. For audition contestants, external activities were restricted by broadcast security and contracts. But official airtime lifted that.

The original fans had been breathlessly waiting for on Receive, nearly passing out. Time to drop the full version.

Now was the time. I slid to the computer and started the email. Erasing the mysterious question mark by the title, filling in the real name.

Tap. Tap.

Hanbam's dreamy sing-rap carries the front half, but the back half we'd kept locked tight. From 2:30, the vibe flips completely. 'Cause a killer shoegaze-feel electric guitar solo rips in.

Click.

Yu Jeuni herself seals the deal.