Dream Barn
Inside the Carnival van racing through the night, the blue glow of a smartphone flickered across Ria's face.
What she was watching was the Voice of Legend Episode 2 highlight reel that had just gone up on YouTube.
"Hehe. This is seriously insane…"
On the screen, Han Jiyoung, dressed in a black qipao, swayed with elegant precision to senior Kang Soyoung's Invitation.
How can a person even look that pretty?
She wasn't an idol who'd trained professionally as a dancer, and yet the stage presence Jiyoung radiated was overwhelming. She looked like someone who instinctively knew how to use every line of her body to drive a crowd wild.
She's way more talented as an idol. I really wish she'd just come be our team's center.
Entertaining the ridiculous fantasy, Ria scrolled through the comments.
Ever since the photo of Jiyoung and Ria in the practice room had gone public, the current in Velvet Night's fandom had flipped a hundred and eighty degrees. Fans who'd been all claws at first had watched Ria treat Jiyoung warmly and, one after another, started accepting her—even welcoming her. Some corners of the fandom had even spun the rumor that the two of them had been best friends since their trainee days, but the timeline didn't match. Ria and Naeun had only entered as trainees after Jiyoung left Luminous.
Ria uploaded a capture of Jiyoung's stage to her Instagram Story—and jammed a giant heart emoji dead in the center.
Alright. Time to catch at least a power nap…
Ria tipped her stiff neck back and closed her eyes. Touring the country for performances left her feeling like ten bodies wouldn't be enough. The Dream Concert a few days earlier, especially, had been the kind of schedule that sucked the life straight out of you—making the rounds to greet endless seniors, never dropping her guard for a single second under cameras that never stopped rolling. A top idol's seat was dazzling, but it was also a hard place that demanded you carry the weight of that light.
That was when it happened.
"Unnie, look at this."
Velvet Night's maknae, Byeol, sitting in the next seat, poked Ria in the arm.
"Huh? What is it? I'm sleepy, Byeol…"
"No, just look. Isn't this Jiyoung unnie?"
At Byeol's bright, insistent voice, Ria's eyes snapped open. On the tablet Byeol held out, a fan-uploaded video from the Dream Concert was playing—not a shot of a singer onstage, but a fleeting sweep of the VVIP section in the audience.
"Wait…?"
In the footage, a woman in a black ball cap pulled low and a mask sat watching the stage. Most of her face was covered, but Ria was certain.
"It is! That's Jiyoung unnie!"
Ria shouted and sat bolt upright.
"Why is Jiyoung unnie there? That looks like Kang Soyoung sunbaenim's seat, right?"
Byeol asked, eyes round with curiosity. Ria's heart was already hammering out of control.
What? Did she come to see me? Did she sneak over, busy as she is, just to monitor my stage?
A stupid smile spread across Ria's face again. She was half a second from screenshotting the frame and pinning it to her Instagram Story. But her finger froze near the screen.
The last time she'd posted the qipao photo, Jiyoung had scolded her half to death every time they met.
You can't do that.
Idols have to act with some sense.
How is Kim Taesung even managing these kids? There's no foundation here.
Ria shook her head hard at the lingering afterimage of Jiyoung.
W-what if she gets on me about this one too?
This time it wasn't a leak—it was a clip already circulating among the fans. Still, if she got an earful again, she was going to feel pretty wounded. In the end, Ria took it out on the nearest available target and snapped a warning at the maknae beside her.
"Byeol, shh. Do not put this on your Story. Got it?"
Byeol, who'd been staring at the tablet, looked at Ria like she'd lost her mind.
"Am I you?"
"……Huh?"
Snap.
Byeol slipped on her sleep mask with practiced ease, sank deep into her seat—and was out cold in under ten seconds.
In the quiet of the Carnival van, Ria glanced back and forth between the phone in her hand and the sleeping maknae, and pouted, a little sheepish.
Two days passed faster than expected.
In a stretch of barely forty-eight hours, a strange bond had formed among the contestants. It was a survival show where they were supposed to meet as enemies and tear into each other—but the memory of cooking meals together, breathing the same air, and talking music had dulled the sharp edge of that rivalry, if only a little.
That was only true, though, up in the mountain pension.
The moment she got home, Jiyoung set the game console down first. The time for fooling around was over. She sat in her studio chair with a throat-care bellflower root juice pouch clenched in her teeth.
And at last, the day of the Round 3 performances dawned.
Audience members holding thirty percent of the vote packed the seats wall to wall. Backstage, the twenty contestants were each assigned to one of the ten rival waiting rooms the production team had prepared.
Han Jiyoung / Yoo Sia
Yoo Sia stood in front of the mirror, mouthing along as she warmed up her throat, then snuck a glance at Jiyoung. The tension on her face was obvious; she broke the silence first.
"I'd like to win if I can. Honestly, though, I don't think it's realistic."
"Weren't you the one who asked to be nominated against me because you wanted revenge?"
At Jiyoung's half-joking question, Sia flinched and shook her head hard.
"That's not it! I just… I want you to acknowledge me, unnie. Revenge? What are you talking about…"
"I'm kidding. You looked nervous."
"……Yes."
At Jiyoung's offhand reassurance, Sia gave a small nod.
At the same moment, lights burst across the stage in a spectacular flare as the MC appeared.
"Alright! At last, Voice of Legend Round 3—the nominated one-on-one death match—is underway!"
The roar of hundreds of audience members shook the arena. But for all the dazzling production, the people in the front rows barely seemed interested in the MC's hosting; they were too busy whispering among themselves.
"Hey, did you hear? Han Jiyoung's going up against Yoo Sia today."
"For real? Isn't Yoo Sia the one who got eliminated in Round 2? Guess she crawled back through the wildcard."
The woman beside him narrowed her eyes and chimed in.
"Right? Watching Episode 2, she was seriously unlikable. Acted like she had all this skill and then got demolished by Han Jiyoung's team. Personality seemed off, too."
"Isn't she just going to get wrecked by Han Jiyoung again this time? How does she even show her face."
Most of the audience was running on negative sentiment toward Sia. While they savored their venom, the MC rolled the show forward with practiced ease.
"This round, the winner is decided by seventy percent judges' scores and thirty percent votes from you, the audience sitting right in front of me! Judges—today's bracket is brutal. Any stages you're looking forward to?"
"Every stage, but since it's a nomination match, I'm especially looking forward to the contestants' fire."
Judge Park Jinwoo answered sharply; Kang Soyoung and Terry Oh mixed in light jokes and kept the heat of the room tuned just right.
"Then let's introduce the legend who will open our first stage!"
The display board flashed, and contestant Han Doyun's profile photo and interview clip rolled out.
When the interview ended and the shot of him bowing politely passed, a murmur rose here and there through the seats.
"Wasn't Han Jiyoung supposed to be first? I saw online that Jiyoung was number one."
"The production team is baiting us again. They never show them in order—they always twist it like this."
"Han Doyun? Oh, the ajusshi who rapped on Han Jiyoung's team last time? Why is he suddenly doing country?"
"What's country, even? Like those Western movies? Sounds boring…"
Audience members were already fiddling with their phones or chatting with the person beside them, looking thoroughly uninterested.
That was when it happened.
Every light in the studio went out at once, and pitch-black darkness settled over the room. As the murmuring noise faded, a bright country-style track cut through the silence—and a single pin light hit Han Doyun at center stage.
Checkered shirt, worn overalls, a cowboy hat pulled down over his head—he looked every inch a farmer out of the Old West.
"Alright, everyone—give this a listen! This is the song that holds my dream!"
The moment he launched into the first line like a call, the gazes of audience members who'd been halfheartedly tapping at their phones began, one by one, to turn toward the stage.
"Oh? Wait—this is kind of fun?"
"I thought country would be boring, but this isn't bad."
People who'd been standing with their arms folded, watching like critics, started tapping their toes to the beat. Up on stage, Han Doyun already looked like he'd forgotten every eye on him. The stamp of his feet locked into the drum beat and started heating the air of the studio.
And then, at last, as the song climbed into its highlight—
Holy Mama Mama Papa, I looked inside my mirror.
I lived so hard, but everything's empty—
Run Away gain gain gain—!
The camera closed in on him. As he sang and plucked at his guitar, the veins stood out sharp and clear along his neck.
Before they knew it, the audience was nodding along, surrendering their bodies to the music without even realizing it.