A Performance That Defied All Logic

Ju Seonyeong forced a smile upon spotting Seong Yujin.

"Ah, PD Seong. Yes, it was delicious. The dessert ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was especially good."

"You know Celati, right? That's the only thing we specially ordered from there. As expected from a foodie like you, Writer Ju—you noticed right away."

"Oh, really? A custom order from Celati must cost a fortune."

"Money wasn't the issue; reservations were. The moment we set the wedding date, I begged and pleaded to get it ordered. The owner there is friends with my husband."

"That explains it. So it was Director Kang's connections after all."

So it was Director Kang's connections after all?

Seong Yujin swallowed her anger at Ju Seonyeong's subtle dig.

A main writer with over ten years of experience.

Someone who'd hit it big with multiple major programs had far more influence than a third-year PD stuck handling grunt work.

Just hold it in. Today's a sensitive day for Writer Ju.

Besides, she was the one with a favor to ask.

Seong Yujin kept up light chat with a smile before casually broaching the topic.

"Wasn't today's congratulatory song great?"

"Ah, Namhun's song? It was better than I expected."

At the not-bad response, Seong Yujin thought jackpot and pushed forward.

"We didn't ask, but we're hoping Namhun oppa makes a comeback on TV soon. That's why we set up this opportunity."

"Ah, so you've been close with Namhun all along. I was shocked a retired singer suddenly stepped aside all the active ones to sing at a wedding. It had some unexpected impact, sure."

It was praise, but laced with envy and jealousy over her blockbuster wedding.

Seong Yujin, of course, pretended not to notice and brushed it off.

"Wouldn't something like today's setup get a good reaction?"

"Something like today? Ah, you're talking about Veiled Singer?"

"Yes, the buzz of a vanished singer's comeback stage."

Unlike Seong Yujin's expectations, Ju Seonyeong frowned.

"The stage itself could be buzzworthy... but Namhun doesn't have much name value. His active career was too short, right? 'Forever Only You' is well-known, but way more people don't know it's his song."

"That's true, but..."

"And ballad singers don't pull ratings these days. If he had variety appeal, maybe... but Namhun was the mysterious brooding type, wasn't he? I'm not expecting much. As you know, our show has a talent show corner too—anyone without a special skill is a problem."

Seong Yujin was dumbfounded by Ju Seonyeong's words.

Namhun oppa lacks variety sense and special skills?

Back in Evil Spirits days, it was Jang Nam who'd gone on variety shows to promote the group.

And no special skills?

The average broadcast dance routine on Veiled Singer's talent time was something he could nail with minimal practice.

Namhun was a man who'd won a b-boy world championship.

Crossdressing... probably not anymore?

With his youthful looks, good makeup might still work.

The variety moment Jang Nam saw as his biggest black mark was still legendary to Elixer fan Seong Yujin.

Does she not know Namhun and Elixer are the same person?

As she thought that, Ju Seonyeong cut it short.

"Anyway, thanks for caring even though it's another network's show. I'll mention it in the meeting."

I'll mention it.

In other words, a polite rejection.

"I'll head out now. Congrats on the wedding again."

Watching Ju Seonyeong leave the venue, Seong Yujin scoffed inwardly.

Daring to diss my oppa?

Just you wait, Ju Seonyeong.

She'd regret it soon enough.

Ju Seonyeong's dismissal ignited Seong Yujin's competitive fire.

As she ground her teeth, a wedding vendor staffer approached.

"Excuse me, bride?"

"Yes?"

"That singer who did the congratulatory song earlier... could I get ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his contact?"

* * *

Jang ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Namhun got into his car to head home, set down the fruit basket, and loosened his tie.

"Whew. Wearing clothes like this after so long feels uncomfortable..."

He hadn't felt this way even hauling hundreds of cement bags.

Feeling mental fatigue, Namhun leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment.

His debut album's title track, Forever Only You, was a song he'd practiced endlessly.

More than any Evil Spirits track.

Because only by practicing like a madman could he forget the shock of the group's disbandment.

With all that practice, plus stage performances, he'd sung it over a thousand times at least.

But he'd never immersed himself in it as perfectly as today.

What was that earlier...?

The vision that had floated between groom Kang Seokho and bride Seong Yujin when he finished singing.

Even after time had passed, the scene lingered vividly in his mind.

As a kid, he'd been a prodigy who could sight-read sheet music flawlessly.

But crushed by reality, juggling jobs in scraps of time, his cognitive skills had dulled.

Yet the text he'd seen just once burned clear in his mind.

Like he'd been possessed, Jang Namhun murmured the lyrics.

"...On an ordinary day, you came to me."

Singing the full song again, the vision reappeared before his eyes.

He'd been too distracted earlier, but now he could examine it closely.

But unlike the perfect one before, this vision was utterly different.

"...Hah. Look at this."

Comprehension and proficiency at 100, but comprehensive score at 0?

The vision returning was one thing, but a zero score hit Namhun harder.

"Zero? Damn. I sang casually in the parking lot, but still..."

Two 100s, and zero overall?

Did that even make sense?

Was this for real?

Hard to accept reality.

"Now I'm fired up. Let's do it properly once more?"

But he couldn't belt it out full volume in the parking lot.

Vroom.

Namhun started the car and pulled onto the road.

"Fine. Let's see who wins. Ahem!"

This time, he properly warmed his voice and, just in case, played the MR track he'd prepared.

♪♬♪—

He sang with extra care on breathing and emphasis.

When the song ended, the vision appeared again.

Of course, singing while driving meant he couldn't fully immerse.

Still, he thought his technique was solid.

But the comprehensive score was the same.

"...Ha. Zero again?"

There was progress, though.

Now he understood this absurd superpower judge's criteria.

"To score, you need listeners."

Realizing the truth, Namhun chuckled.

A song with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no audience has no value?

It felt philosophical.

At least zeros in other categories would be harder without an audience.

—A song is merely the skill of conveying sincerity.

Thinking about it, it matched his own definition of song perfectly.

"Sigh... No clue what's going on."

Why had this weird power suddenly appeared?

Most people would agonize with headaches, but Namhun brushed it off.

"Whatever. If I'm crazy, I should've cracked long ago."

Looking back, staying sane this long was the real miracle.

He decided to see this sudden superpower as recompense for his hard life.

No time for pointless worries when survival was tough enough.

It was just a vision when singing—no hindrance to life.

"No answers anyway."

He probably wouldn't sing for crowds anymore.

Accepting the power, Namhun turned on the radio relaxedly.

By chance, it tuned to a music show.

"Candy Pop? Sounds familiar... Ah!"

Among Candy Pop's members was Hayul.

Seo Hayul was one of Namhun's vocal students.

Only about six months, but he'd invested heavily, getting her into a major agency's trainee program—she stuck in his memory.

But rumors said she couldn't last there, bounced around, and barely debuted in a small company's group.

"Right, she joined Candy Pop as sub-vocal."

Memory fuzzy, but the name jogged it.

"Hope the song's good."

For a small company's girl group with promo limits to succeed, the song had to shine.

Not deep into K-pop, but he had a public ear for good or bad.

"Hm... Melody's solid."

The company had taste—invested in a good track.

Tensing for Hayul's part, Namhun frowned the moment her familiar voice hit.

"What the hell is that?"

The domestic market was dominated by big agencies lately.

So small idols often aimed overseas too.

Hence the heavy English in lyrics...

But the pronunciation was barely intelligible.

For opera, you studied languages basics—Namhun had decent foreign ear.

Rusty from disuse, but still.

"Not enough practice?"

Sub-vocal Hayul's part was English-heavy, and she sounded insecure.

Luckily, as the live went on, tension eased—pronunciation improved, but only that.

"Struggling to keep the beat."

From teaching her, Namhun instantly spotted her issue.

She was singing without grasping the lyrics at all.

Just praying not to mess up.

"Ha..."

As Namhun felt pity.

Hayul's greeting followed.

Regret dripped from her voice.

And the vision appeared again.