48 – Festivities (5)
48 – Festivities (5)
48.
On stage, Han Goyo sang.
I stared at her, blank.
As Han Goyo sang, the audience was overwhelmed. Even Suyeon watched with her mouth slightly open.
Everyone was crushed beneath the weight of Han Goyo’s performance.
Everyone—except me.
Han Goyo’s greatest strength, no matter what anyone says, is her emotional pull. The way her voice shakes your heart just by listening. That raw, aching emotional line.
But right now… what about Han Goyo’s singing?
It was different from usual. There was nothing—no emotion, no depth.
She was only trying to crush everything beneath her overwhelming talent.
I frowned.
Han Goyo was anxious.
Why?
I couldn’t understand. With talent like hers… what could make her so desperate?
—Because there is no song for me.
On stage, Han Goyo continued to sing. Using that exceptional talent, unleashing dazzling technique.
“I don’t want to listen.”
I muttered quietly.
For the first time, I didn’t want to hear Han Goyo sing.
This wasn’t the Han Goyo I knew. And I didn’t mean that in a good way. I meant it in the worst way.
Overwhelming talent. Solid fundamentals. Powerful vocals. Her voice filled not just the stage, but the entire schoolyard.
But to me, it didn’t feel like singing. It felt like shouting.
My ears were exhausted.
Then, her emotions spiraled out of control. Her expression twisted. Her grip on the mic tightened.
But none of that emotion entered the song.
She wasn’t focused on the music at all.
Right now, Han Goyo wasn’t trying to communicate anything through the song—she was trying to prove something with her skill.
What was she trying to say?
“She has everything, and yet she still tries to take even what I have. It’s unfair.”
That’s what she’d said about Suyeon.
I looked at Suyeon sitting beside me.
What did Han Goyo see… in Suyeon’s rehearsal? What could she have seen to say something like that?
Soon, Han Goyo’s performance ended.
People began to applaud.
But I couldn’t bring myself to clap.
As the composer of “Blame,” I couldn’t acknowledge that stage.
That wasn’t “Blame.”
That wasn’t the performance I wanted from Han Goyo.
The version she sang during rehearsal was far better than this.
On stage, our eyes met.
Han Goyo looked like she was on the verge of tears. She bit her lip, fists clenched tight. She was furious.
She must have realized it herself—
That what she had just shown… was the worst performance of her life.
You said I would know.
That’s what she told me.
But I don’t.
People say there are things you can understand without words… but there are also things you can only understand if someone says them.
Han Goyo walked off the stage.
I watched her, blankly.
Then the second stage began—the first-year representative of the Traditional Music Department.
I’m sorry to say this, but I don’t remember a single thing from that stage.
Han Goyo’s shocking performance left me unable to focus on anything.
And then—the third stage. Kang Seonghun’s.
A heavy, groovy hip-hop beat. Followed by a tropical house melody that seized everyone’s attention.
On stage, four girls sang and danced to the beat.
Kang Seonghun’s greatest hit.
A song that shouldn’t exist for another six years—
“Flowing.”
“Wow, this song is so good!”
Suyeon said, nodding along in excitement.
I nodded honestly.
Seonghun had told me to look forward to it. And Taeyoung had told me—Kang Seonghun had been deeply inspired and shocked by me.
In other words, this song—which shouldn’t exist yet—was born because of me.
Seonghun, with no knowledge of the future, created it through sheer effort alone.
I let out a small laugh.
As expected, Kang Seonghun… really is incredible.
I turned to look at him in the audience. He wasn’t wearing his usual confident smile. He looked deadly serious.
Seriously… this school has too many geniuses.
At this rate, even my scholarship might be at risk.
That, I cannot allow.
I clenched my fist.
I don’t know why Seonghun sees me as a rival… but I have no intention of losing to him.
His performance ended.
He clenched his fist.
I knew exactly how he felt—when the stage you imagined in your head becomes reality… it’s electrifying.
If singers get their thrill from performing on stage, composers get their thrill when a singer perfectly brings their song to life.
As I was thinking that, Seonghun suddenly approached me.
He spoke in an excited tone.
“Did you see my stage?”
“Yeah, I did. It was amazing.”
I nodded honestly.
Seonghun froze, apparently taken aback by the compliment.
“O-Of course it was! Just wait! I’m going to write even better songs so I won’t lose to you!”
Pointing at me, he said that—then ran back toward the stage.
I let out a helpless laugh.
…That’s it?
He came all the way here just to say that?
“He’s weird.”
“Right?”
I nodded at Suyeon’s mutter.
Our school really was full of strange people. Too many of them.
Are they geniuses because they’re weird, or weird because they’re geniuses?
The stages continued.
I feel bad saying this, but none of them left a strong impression.
As expected, the only real threats were Kim Taeyoung, Jin Sohyang, and Kang Seonghun.
The one I thought would be the greatest threat—Han Goyo—had, for some reason, crumbled on her own.
I felt relieved.
And at the same time… worried.
I should probably have a serious talk with her.
I pulled out my phone to text her, but Suyeon tugged on my sleeve.
“Oppa, we need to get ready.”
“Already? It’s that time?”
“Yeah.”
I put my phone away and stood up.
Han Goyo. Seonghun. Sohyang. Taeyoung.
And every stage I’d just seen—
I erased them all from my mind.
Right now, the only thing I needed to focus on was Suyeon’s stage.