#21. Teddy Bear Doll (4)
"I've never showered my girlfriend with expensive jewels like this before. You need to know that. Feel honored, got it?"
"Of course you do."
"……."
That was true enough. All the effort Bianca put into dressing up the teddy bear doll was just for her own satisfaction. It wasn't like it made a huge difference for the doll itself. It was already plenty cute— the accessories just made it a tad cuter.
"And yet you love me anyway."
"Would that other person love me like you do?"
"Pfft, what massive confidence."
I can give you everything I have. So why don't you give me everything you've got too?
？ ？ ？
◈ ●●●●●◐○○○○ (55%)
'Finally crossed 50%?'
I'd been getting a bit worried since the progress was slower than expected, but when I checked after waking up today, it had jumped past 55%. It didn't climb much at first, but now it's shooting up fast in the later stages. Once this hits 100%, Bianca will become a doll that can't refuse my commands.
It felt kinda shady using an item like this on a person, but when I thought about the damage it'd cause if I didn't... yeah, good call.
"Please wait here."
"Got it."
The web drama shoot was wrapped. Kang Jun's Hwang Sang-ho hooked up with Minyeong noona's Kim Ji-hye. Turns out Hwang Sang-ho really was a chaebol third-gen, but as an illegitimate son, and my Yoo Eun-taek ended up in prison. But they left it open for a season 2—the final scene had a guy suspected to be Eun-taek's little brother staring at Sang-ho and Ji-hye walking arm-in-arm.
The comments section exploded because of it. Even the members asked about it when they saw. Season 2?
'Season 2? I've got to head overseas soon—no way.'
Fans were dying for a season 2, but who knows if it'll happen. The writer and director didn't seem too serious about it anyway. Why end it like that, though?
'The reason's pretty ridiculous. They didn't want their created world to just end with the word "complete."'
So they tacked on that season 2 bait at the end. It worked—people were more hyped for a sequel than thinking oh, there's a prince at our school and done. The writer and director's scheme paid off.
Anyway, right now I was in a broadcasting station waiting room. Outside was total chaos and bustle. Recording was about to start here soon.
The Mask Singer.
Today was the recording day for the Mask Singer we'd prepped for so long.
'This mask is stuffy.'
My nickname was [White-Haired Prince on Black Horse]. Long white hair cascaded down to my waist, swaying gently, and the custom-made black horse doll perched demurely on my shoulder. Personally, I was glad I'd gone custom on the black horse. If I'd had to use the production team's one dangling from my belt on stage, I'd have been pissed. This custom one had a cool mane.
"Want some water? Not too stuffy?"
"I'm good. Can't take the mask off in the waiting room, right?"
"Interview guy's coming soon. We'll do that and take it off. Want me to lower the AC?"
"Yeah, a bit more please. This outfit doesn't breathe."
It was getting cooler out, but this non-breathable getup had me sweating bullets. Still, no popping the mask—the hair was attached to it. Might look cool, but managing waist-length white hair as the wearer? Not easy.
"Excuse me. Mind if I grab a quick interview?"
"Sure."
A staffer came in for my solo interview. Quick hits on why Mask Singer, goals, messages for members, stuff for the show. Probably a few seconds on TV, but filming took forever.
"Duet rehearsal with your opponent next. Keep the mask on, head out as-is and wait for rehearsal. You can take it off after, but stay inside—no going out. Security's key, you know? Need anything, have your manager handle it."
"Got it. I'll handle my own moves. No worries."
I followed staff directions out of the waiting room straight to the stage for rehearsal.
"Oh! This guy's my opponent?"
My round 1 opponent was already on stage.
"No chatting too much."
Staff tried to shut it down quick, but my opponent—clearly a broadcast vet—brushed it off like nothing.
"C'mon, we met—can't even say hi? Hello? Whoa, built like a tank. Who is it? Lemme hear your voice—say something."
"……."
Snarky as hell! I don't watch much TV, so even hearing the voice didn't ring a bell. But that cocky attitude was grating.
"Singer? Kinda pretty-boy vibe. Idol maybe?"
"……."
"No answer? Must be it. You'd shake your head otherwise. Haha! Heard production was going easy on you, but no need to go this far. Pairing an idol in round 1? They'd call it heartless. Idol fandoms are insane."
"……."
What nonsense.
"Do your part so I don't get hate. Keep votes close. If you crush me too bad, I'll feel bad."
Assuming victory, naturally.
'Definitely a singer.'
Openly dissing idols, no guilt.
"Idol making it here means you pulled strings, huh? Body's decent too, right? Bet you're good at that."
Sleazy now. Sexual harassment territory.
"How'm I doing? Baby. Mask hiding who I am? Shame. If you knew, you'd be all 'thank you, noona!' clinging on."
Ears rotting just listening. Ignore. She won't unmask me today anyway.
"Rehearsal starting!"
In-ear in. MR kicked in. Eyes closed, focus. Gripped the mic tight.
？？？
She'd been a singer for over 20 years, Bae Tae-rang. Once the top dog, but time dragged her down. Two decades made her songs stale, familiar to the point of boring. Every track felt the same. Too distinctive, but that distinction wore thin.
Albums that charted Top 10 easy now struggled for Top 100. She did drama OSTs now—not her power anymore without the drama boost.
'What's the problem?'
Everyone knew she sang great. But sales tanked.
Why?
'I'm the one sick of you all!!!! You damn bastards!!'
Why won't they listen?! What's missing?! My songs are perfect!!
She'd lived diligently, but the public ignored it. When they fawned, calling her the goddess of song!
So she decided on Mask Singer. Hide the face, judge pure skill. Win and prove it: See? My songs are flawless! Your choice not to listen was wrong!
Production welcomed her—her skill undeniable!
Recording day. Round 1 opponent? Whatever. She'd win. Too obvious to state.
'Knew it'd go like this—why's it turning to shit?! Fuck fuck fuck!!'
Grit, grit, grit!
"What the hell kinda guy is he?"
First hearing his voice, her breath caught.
'What did I just hear?'
Unbelievable. Too shocked—didn't remember how she sang. Now post-rehearsal, she couldn't sit still. Crisis shaking her.
"Damn production team!! Shouldn't have trusted these station bitches!!"
That skilled? An idol? Bullshit. Promised consideration, then screw her over?
She stormed out to the PD.
"Whoa! Rising Fire Dragon! Can't just roam like this!"
"Outta my way, punk!"
Wham! Shoved the staffer, closed on PD.
Ripped off her mask.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm the baffled one. No Hee-kyung-ssi. Security program's key—ripping mask here?"
"You said you'd go easy! So why's my round 1 opponent that monster?!"
"Opponent not to your liking?"
"You said consideration!!"
"We did plenty. You sing great. Scared of some green kid? No shame?"
Green kid?
"You know my situation and pull this? Looks like some hot young thing! Match me with that, result's obvious!"
"Here, fame and face mean zilch. Pure vocal battle. No issue. No confidence in your skill?"
"…!!"
No Hee-kyung froze. Confidence? In her singing?
'My songs are perfect. No way no confidence!!'
Should've boasted. Her pride: Never outdone in song.
But words stuck. Throat choked.
'All 'cause of that rehearsal song!! Damn it!'
PD saw rehearsal too—knew why she hesitated. Embarrassing. He didn't say, but knew.
Face burned red.
'I'll lose. Get crushed!!'
Run. Pointless against obvious defeat.
As she edged back, PD's eyes flashed.
"Not thinking of bailing? Rehearsal ending soon. Recording starts."
"M-me? Bail? What nonsense. Ha! Haha!"
"Good. That's the spirit."
His glare said run and face payback. Her spot in broadcasting shrinking. No gigs, now beef with station PD?
'Fuck, fuuuuck!!!'
No escape. Forced mask back on, trudged to waiting room.
Then, a door opened.
"Oops, sorry."
"Damn... Huh? You!"
Nearly bumped a guy from a waiting room. Frowned hard—then spotted the man inside. No mask, but same outfit. And that black horse doll on shoulder? Impossible to miss.