The Way Back
In the previous four death matches, once the contestants finished their interviews and left the stage, the winner would emerge through the opening gates after only a brief stretch of tense background music.
But the fifth and final match—the one set to crown the semi-finals—was different.
One minute passed. Then two. The longer the delay stretched, the more restlessness settled over the faces of the audience packed tightly into every seat.
Even the lights that had been drifting across the stage seemed to lose their way in the growing silence, circling aimlessly through the empty air. At last the MC standing at the edge of the stage touched his in-ear monitor and lifted the microphone.
"Ah, it seems Producer Seo Geonwoo's final decision is taking a little longer than expected. Ladies and gentlemen, please wait just a moment longer."
Unable to hold back any longer, murmurs rippled through the seats.
"Hey, why's it so slow? They should've come out by now."
"Did Han Jiyoung get cut? I heard Producer Seo Geonwoo usually prefers powerful vocals for his own songs…"
"No way Han Jiyoung got eliminated. She's the biggest talk of the show right now!"
"This is Seo Geonwoo we're talking about. That man doesn't care about buzz. And Kang Minhyuk's volume is insane. You never know."
"Ugh, just come out already…"
While the audience's nerves frayed, the four judges seated at the panel watched with eyes that burned with an intensity they had never shown before.
They had already witnessed both Han Jiyoung and Kang Minhyuk perform Track 17 during rehearsal.
Having watched Seo Geonwoo's deep deliberation up close, they fully understood why the choice was taking so long.
Hurry up and come out, Han Jiyoung.
Kim Taesung kept his arms crossed, spine straight against the backrest, gaze locked on the stage.
He had heard the rehearsal, but the emotion of a live performance was something else entirely.
Meanwhile the MC, carefully monitoring the situation, received a cue through his in-ear, quietly nodded, and stepped down from the stage.
The moment he exited, every light that had been illuminating the studio went out with a soft, sudden click.
"Oh, it's starting!"
"Here we go."
Riding the wave of the audience's anticipation, a lonely piano accompaniment began to flow.
It was the intro to Producer Seo Geonwoo's Track 17, The Way Back.
Soon a faint, bluish backlight seeped in from behind the stage.
And against that pale glow, a single silhouette walked slowly forward and stopped before the stand microphone.
Yet the lighting was so dim that the figure remained nothing more than a vague outline, half-guessed at in the dark.
Once again a hushed stir ran through the seats.
"Who is it? Is it Han Jiyoung?"
"No, looking at the shoulders and height, that has to be Kang Minhyuk."
"Isn't that a skirt? I can't really tell…"
"Ah, please… just tell us who came out…"
The audience's insides were burning black with suspense. Some clutched one another's sleeves, silently praying that the person on stage was the contestant they had been cheering for.
The lonely piano melody drifted slowly toward the end of the introduction.
Then—
Flash—!
A single pure-white pin light dropped from high above the ceiling and spotlighted the silhouette at center stage.
As the figure was fully revealed beneath that beam that cut through the darkness, the gasps that had been about to erupt from the audience transformed instead into sharp, collective intakes of breath.
Han Jiyoung, dressed in a pure white gown.
She gently wrapped both hands around the stand microphone and parted her lips in time with the piano, and the entire audience fell utterly silent.
Just as with the previous four stages, there were surely people who felt quiet disappointment or resentment that their favored contestant had not appeared.
Yet in this moment, not a single person sat with arms crossed, looking away, or voicing any complaint about the result.
Every last one of them was completely captivated by Jiyoung on stage, as if under a spell.
The message of the song was unmistakable.
The pain of parting that carves out the bottom of the heart—something everyone, like it or not, experiences at least once in a lifetime.
When that universal, profound sense of loss met Jiyoung's voice, it became an uncontrollable catalyst.
The audience felt as though they themselves had become the protagonist of the song, left alone on an empty street.
Eyes grew redder by degrees, and then, as if by prior agreement, tears began to well one by one.
Soft sniffles spread through the seats like another layer of the music itself.
As the song passed its midpoint, the accompaniment gradually swelled and drove toward the highlight.
Jiyoung leaned slightly into the microphone stand she had been gripping so tightly and released, in one breath, every emotion she had been packing down.
"—blowing coldly~~."
At the end of the lyric that had been stretching as if about to break, Jiyoung's head tilted gently back.
That was the moment. Her voice stretched endlessly into the air as though it knew no limit, transforming into an ad-lib that had never existed on the original score.
"……?!"
In an instant the judges' panel below the stage erupted.
Park Jinwoo, who had been listening with eyes closed, snapped them open. Kang Soyoung covered her mouth with both hands in shock.
Terry Oh and Kim Taesung likewise leaned sharply forward, unable to hide their astonishment.
They all shared the same single thought.
That technique… it wasn't there in rehearsal?!
"Even if I can't say I love you, I still have to say goodbye. Woo—"
Faint veins rose on the back of Jiyoung's white hands as they gripped the stand microphone.
"I hate you so much for leaving without a single word."
With that line the first verse came to a complete close, and the mournful piano and melody took full possession of the stage.
While the interlude played, Jiyoung slightly parted her lips from the microphone and quietly turned her gaze toward the audience.
Beneath the pouring white pin light, her eyes shone with a deep, sorrowful melancholy.
"Hic…"
Suppressed sobs burst out from every corner of the seats.
People wiped at the tears that kept falling without pause, using the backs of their hands or the sleeves of their coats as if they had all agreed to cry together.
Meanwhile, at the same moment.
Even though she was the director of a major hospital, Jeong Seoyeon still occasionally took up the scalpel herself and entered the operating room.
Rising to the position of director had meant far more time wrestling with paperwork, yet she never allowed herself to forget a doctor's fundamental duty and sense of mission: saving lives.
Having safely completed a difficult surgery that had stretched across several hours, Seoyeon returned to the director's office, peeled off her surgical gown, and lightly kneaded the heavy weight pressing on her shoulders.
"Haa…"
She sank deep into the sofa in her office and closed her eyes.
As the extreme tension released, a languid, heavy fatigue wrapped itself around her entire body.
It's been a while since I did such a long surgery.
She was just about to empty her mind and rest her eyes for even a moment to ease the exhaustion when—
Flash—!
Like a stone dropping onto a still surface of water, something streaked through Seoyeon's mind like lightning just as she prepared to rest.
"……Ah!"
Her closed eyes snapped open.
Forgetting her fatigue entirely, she jerked upright and hurriedly approached the desk, checking the desk calendar.
Among the densely written hospital schedules, today's date—marked with an especially large star in red pen—stabbed into her vision.
Today is Jiyoung's stage day!
The semi-final stage her daughter was climbing with her survival on the line.
She had completely forgotten the most important day for Jiyoung—who would be more nervous and tense than ever—because she had been so focused on the surgery.
Seoyeon hurriedly checked the clock hanging on the wall of the director's office.
The hands already pointed near the end of the scheduled broadcast time.
Considering that this semi-final was airing live, Jiyoung's turn might already be over, or the broadcast itself might even have finished.
No, please…
Seoyeon quickly pulled out her phone and connected to the live broadcast channel.
Fortunately the network's official YouTube channel was also streaming simultaneously, so she could pull up the screen at once without any complicated login or process.
A short loading window spun, and then the brightened smartphone screen showed Jiyoung wearing a pure white dress.
Seoyeon carefully cradled the screen in both hands, watching the stage intently, holding her breath and listening.
At last, from between the lips of Jiyoung holding the stand microphone, the final trembling, heartbreaking line flowed out.
—I hate you so much
for leaving without a single word.
With that piercing final note the accompaniment that had filled the studio came to a complete stop.
When the stage ended and bright white lights returned to the darkened studio, thunderous applause and cheers erupted as if they might burst through the screen itself.
In the camera's close-up of Jiyoung's eyes, something transparent had gathered and glittered—whether tears from deep immersion or sweat under the hot lights, no one could say.
Watching that sight, a warm, proud smile slowly spread across Seoyeon's lips as well.
The fact that her daughter had finished an entire song on that stage meant only one thing.
Right before going on, she had received the choice of the legendary producer and proudly claimed the microphone.
In other words, her daughter's survival and advancement to the next round had been confirmed.
As relief and overwhelming emotion washed over her, a pleasant question suddenly crossed Seoyeon's mind.
How can my daughter—who normally finds men thoroughly disagreeable—immerse herself so perfectly in a song filled with the piercing pain of farewell?
To pour out so vividly a deep sense of loss she could never have experienced…
Seoyeon lightly wiped with her fingertip the tears that had begun to well as she watched Jiyoung on the screen bow deeply toward the audience.
Then her gaze drifted to the old framed photograph resting carefully on one side of the desk.
"Our Jiyoung has grown up so well. Hasn't she, dear?"