97 – Two Geniuses with Strong Pride (14)
97 – Two Geniuses with Strong Pride (14)
This freshman concert was an event everyone in the practical music department—students and teachers alike—was looking forward to.
The freshman concert was always anticipated, since it was the first stage where you could gauge the freshmen’s skill. But this time, the anticipation was unusually intense.
And there were two main reasons for that.
First was the fight between the top-ranked student and the runner-up. Of course, it wasn’t that rare for the practical music department’s top-ranked student and runner-up to have a bad relationship.
Seolwon Arts High students generally had strong pride in their talent and plenty of confidence. And among them, the top-ranked student and runner-up were the most extreme cases. Naturally, both their pride and confidence were sky-high.
So the top-ranked student and runner-up were always hyper-aware of each other and clashed all the time. But there had never been a pair like this year’s freshmen who fought so openly.
At most, it used to be a quiet battle of nerves. That was why not just the students, but even the teachers were seriously interested.
After all, nothing was more entertaining than watching a fight.
Second was the fact that the runner-up was Yoon Hajun’s younger sister.
Yoon Hajun’s younger sister—the one tied to the “legendary stages” that showed up at every event and festival.
That younger sister was the runner-up, and the top-ranked student who beat her—
It was only natural for the hype to keep climbing with no ceiling.
In a way, Yoon Hajun was at the center of all that anticipation. And since Yoon Hajun was also the reason the top-ranked student and runner-up started fighting in the first place, that wasn’t exactly wrong.
And right now, what was Yoon Hajun—the center of the freshman concert—doing?
“Hwaaaam.”
He was yawning, long and lazy.
His eyes already looked drowsy, and somehow looked even sleepier than usual. Watching him, Han Goyo asked in a worried voice, “Are you okay? You look really sleepy.”
“I didn’t sleep much yesterday, so I’m kind of tired.”
“What, did you make a song yesterday? Or don’t tell me—you couldn’t sleep because you’re worried about your sister’s stage?”
At Yoon Hajun’s answer, Kim Taeyoung—sitting across from Han Goyo—burst out laughing as he spoke. Yoon Hajun clamped his mouth shut.
Kim Taeyoung’s face turned flustered. “No way. Are you serious?”
Seriously? He couldn’t sleep because he was worried about his sister’s stage? Yoon Hajun, of all people? The guy who ignored messages because he was sleeping even when it was his own stage? Is he actually an idiot?
While Kim Taeyoung was thinking that, Yoon Hajun lightly furrowed his brow.
Was it because he hadn’t slept properly yesterday? Or because it was almost summer and the sun was hot and the air was humid? Or just because it was hot?
There could be a lot of reasons, but he definitely felt more sensitive than usual.
While Yoon Hajun forced down the irritation rising in him, the true stars of the freshman concert—Choi Jinho and Yoon Suyeon—had finished their rehearsal and were waiting for the other students to finish theirs.
“Phew.”
Choi Jinho let out a deep sigh, lifted his head, and looked at Yoon Suyeon. Yoon Suyeon still wasn’t looking his way.
And for some reason, he really didn’t like that.
So arrogant.
She was just the runner-up, and she was wearing that relaxed expression.
He was planning to smash that relaxed look on the real stage.
He hadn’t seen Yoon Suyeon’s rehearsal, but it didn’t matter. His stage would be far better, no question.
“I’m looking forward to today’s stage.”
“Yeah. We finally get to hear Jinho sing.”
“First place is obviously Jinho. What song did you prepare?”
Hearing his friends sucking up beside him, Choi Jinho put on a confident smile. Then he stood and spoke in an easy, relaxed voice.
“You’ll be shocked when you hear it.”
Yeah. Everyone here would be shocked.
Not just by his skill.
Choi Jinho had brought an original song to this stage—a song he would normally have sung at the practical music department concert. The one he was most confident in, and the one he cherished the most.
He had brought that song to the freshman concert.
It’s a waste to use it here, where there aren’t any industry people and there isn’t even a real audience…
But if he wanted to teach the runner-up—who didn’t know her place—what reality looked like, he had no choice.
And since he had brought a song he cherished, he intended to show them clearly.
A song made by a real genius—not some fake “genius” manufactured by media like Yoon Hajun.
He would show them what a real genius was.
“Alright, everyone—since we’re starting soon, let’s move to the audience seats.”
At that moment, the teacher running the stage clapped loudly and spoke.
The students got up and started moving from the waiting room to the audience.
And just as the freshmen were about to head to their seats—
Creeeak.
They heard the small theater’s door opening.
At the sound, the students’ eyes went to the door. And as the door opened, the practical music department’s second-years started filing in.
The first-years swallowed.
They’d only been enrolled for three months, but even they knew something about the second-years.
The second-years were special.
And famous.
Especially—
“Hey, that’s Han Goyo.”
“Isn’t that Kim Taeyoung next to her?”
“And that’s Kang Seonghun in the back, right? I heard he’s working with an idol this time.”
The fame of the people entering the small theater was no joke.
Second-year top-ranked student Han Goyo, and runner-up Kang Seonghun.
Plus Kim Taeyoung, who switched majors from classical and was now training as a trainee.
And though she wasn’t attending today, the current hottest idol, Jin Sohyang.
The very people who made the second-years get called the “golden class.”
People said the stages they showed at events and festivals were among the best stages the practical music department had ever produced.
And there was one more person who was just as famous—maybe even more famous than them.
As another male student walked in, the students’ murmuring grew louder.
“It’s Yoon Hajun.”
“He’s really skinny.”
“He’s taller than he looks on TV.”
The reason this year’s top-ranked student and runner-up started fighting.
Seolwon Arts High’s “once-in-a-generation” genius.
A producer who signed a contract with a company at only seventeen.
A composer good enough to receive the “Successful Student” scholarship.
A director who staged performances people called “legendary.”
Yoon Hajun.
At his appearance, Choi Jinho swallowed.
On TV, he looked extremely languid—but in person, he looked less languid and more sharp.
So that’s Yoon Hajun…
He’d cursed him out while fighting with Yoon Suyeon—calling him a media-made genius, saying he was all hype—
But seeing him in person, for some reason, his mouth wouldn’t open.
Just then, Kim Taeyoung—standing next to Yoon Hajun—grabbed Yoon Hajun’s shoulder and started whispering while looking in their direction.
Don’t tell me they’re talking about me right now?
Kim Taeyoung even pointed this way with his finger.
It probably was.
Yoon Hajun slowly turned his head toward where Choi Jinho was.
Choi Jinho tensed hard and stared back.
Their eyes met.
Is he going to say something to me?
But Yoon Hajun turned away with an uninterested expression—like Choi Jinho wasn’t even worth his attention. Then he went to his seat and sat down.
Choi Jinho blinked, stunned.
What—did he just ignore me? After hearing about me from his sister?
The disbelief turned into anger.
If he’d cursed him out, Choi Jinho could’ve accepted it. But to ignore him like he was nothing?
Fine. So that was how he wanted to play it.
Go ahead. Keep ignoring him.
He would only be able to act that superior until today.
I’ll see whether you can still sit there like that after your sister gets crushed by me.
Choi Jinho ground his teeth toward Yoon Hajun.
And whether he knew it or not, Yoon Hajun sat in his seat, yawned hugely, and looked down at the freshman concert schedule.
Huh?
What is this?
“Why are the freshman representatives’ stages last?”
Normally, the opening stage of the freshman concert was done by the freshman representative—meaning the top-ranked student. But this time, for some reason, the top-ranked student and runner-up’s stages had been pushed back.
“Oh, that? That’s because of her.”
At Yoon Hajun’s question, Kim Taeyoung laughed and pointed at Han Goyo.
Yoon Hajun blinked.
The order changed because of Goyo?
“Last year at the practical music department concert, Han Goyo did the opening stage and a lot of the later stages got overshadowed, remember? People talked about it with the freshman concert too. So starting this year, they’re making the top-ranked student and runner-up’s stages the ending.”
“Hm.”
Yeah, there had been a lot of talk back then. He just didn’t expect the order to change because of it.
“But why is Suyeon last? If it’s like that, shouldn’t Choi Jinho be last?”
“No idea.”
Kim Taeyoung shrugged.
Yoon Hajun made a small, thoughtful sound.
Well, it wasn’t bad if Suyeon was last.
Just then, the bright stage lights went out, and the first performer walked onto the stage.
The freshman concert was really starting.
Yoon Hajun shifted and sat up straighter.
“That kid’s good.”
Kim Taeyoung whispered in his ear while watching the stage. The voice tickled his ear in a way that annoyed him, so Yoon Hajun reflexively shoved Kim Taeyoung’s head back.
“What’s your problem?”
“Your breathing sounds annoying.”
Yoon Hajun said it and looked back at the stage.
The student singing right now was a first-year boy from Class 8, and Kim Taeyoung was right—his skill was solid.
But didn’t the order get way too scrambled?
Last year, they split Class 7 and Class 8 into Part 1 and Part 2.
This year, they mixed them completely—half of Class 7 and half of Class 8, spread across Part 1 and Part 2.
That would make it hard for teachers to evaluate too.
Seriously—Goyo’s karma runs deep.
While he was thinking that, the boy’s stage ended.
Huh.
When you were preparing a stage, two minutes felt pretty long.
But as an audience member, it felt nowhere near enough.
It left him wanting more.
They kept watching, then took a lunch break, and Part 2 began.
Yoon Hajun, Kim Taeyoung, and Han Goyo talked while watching.
Their shared opinion was that everything felt a little lacking. Well, they were still first-years, so that was expected.
Still—details were missing.
If they polished it just a little more, the stages would be far better.
It was frustrating in a lot of ways.
Even so, there was something fun about it—freshman innocence, and fresh attempts that beginner composers would try.
Then a girl walked onto the stage.
She looked really cute.
Her face looked familiar.
Did I see her on TV? If so, would she debut as an idol or something later?
It wasn’t like Yoon Hajun knew every singer active in Korea. He only knew the really famous ones, or singers with a distinctive “weapon.”
Especially idols—there were so many debuting every year that memorizing them all was basically impossible.
Music started through the speakers.
Yoon Hajun made a small sound.
The girl had picked the hottest song right now: Hwayangyeonhwa’s second title track, 『UH-UH.』
A very bright, upbeat song.
It suited her image.
Then the girl started singing.
And Kim Taeyoung immediately frowned hard and muttered, “That’s not it.”
Yoon Hajun nodded slightly.
Her singing itself wasn’t bad. She was a Seolwon Arts High student—of course she could sing.
But her cutesy act was too much.
The way she deliberately clipped her pronunciation, and the voice itself—it felt fake.
Like she was saying, “I’m cute~” so blatantly it was off-putting.
But the only ones reacting like that were Yoon Hajun and Kim Taeyoung. Everyone else watched with warm smiles, like she was adorable.
Well, using your image was important for idols. By that logic, it was a smart stage.
Still, it didn’t make him want to work with her. He didn’t like that kind of fake style.
Natural cuteness, like Suyeon’s, was better.
After the girl’s stage ended, the performances continued.
Yoon Hajun checked the schedule.
It was almost Choi Jinho’s turn.
A male student finished and stepped off.
Yoon Hajun crossed his legs and rested his chin on his hand.
Seeing his posture, Kim Taeyoung checked the schedule too, then smirked and leaned back arrogantly.
And Choi Jinho walked onto the stage.
Choi Jinho scanned the room with a haughty expression. Then he found Yoon Hajun and stared straight at him.
His gaze looked like it was burning.
“Yeah. He’s looking at you.”
So it wasn’t Yoon Hajun’s imagination.
Yoon Hajun smiled a little and said to Taeyoung, “What’s wrong with him?”
“No idea. Maybe he’s wary because you’re the rival’s brother. Or he just doesn’t like you. They started fighting while trash-talking you anyway.”
Ah, right. That.
It was so trivial he’d forgotten.
Kim Taeyoung’s voice sharpened, like it still pissed him off. At the same time, Yoon Hajun saw Han Goyo clench her fist.
Seriously—he said he was fine, so why were they making a bigger deal than him?
Choi Jinho looked this way, sighed, and grabbed the mic.
He was about to sing.
Alright.
Let’s see how impressive Choi Jinho is right now.
On stage, Choi Jinho looked at Yoon Hajun.
That expression was overflowing with leisure—like he was about to judge him.
Choi Jinho clenched his teeth.
Fine. Try it.
A melody flowed from the speakers.
Choi Jinho, holding the mic, stepped forward.
Yoon Hajun let out a small impressed sound.
He knew this song.
It was Choi Jinho’s debut track, 『Flow』.
He didn’t expect that song to come out now.
So it was a song he’d made a long time ago?
If so, that was surprising.
No way he could compose something like that at that age.
He definitely had talent—no matter how unpleasant he was.
Choi Jinho began singing.
Mouth open, voice strong.
He sang as if he meant to fill the entire small theater.
Choi Jinho’s signature voice—wistful, husky.
The audience gasped in admiration.
But Yoon Hajun lightly furrowed his brow.
Choi Jinho’s singing style resembled Yoon Hajun’s past-life style.
A “textbook” approach to vocalization.
A clean style without flashy tricks.
His fundamentals were very solid—something you only got by training steadily from a young age, not by relying on talent alone.
And Choi Jinho had things Yoon Hajun lacked.
A voice that got huskier the higher it went—an attractive color.
Powerful technique.
As a vocalist, he was good enough to be called a textbook example.
Not a finished product yet.
He was still growing, so there were small holes.
And the biggest hole was emotional handling.
This wasn’t just a weakness now—it would be Choi Jinho’s weakness later too.
He sang well, but nothing stayed behind.
It was like—this sounded harsh, but—
it felt less like watching a “good stage” and more like watching a pure vocal flex.
That was why he couldn’t beat Kim Taeyoung.
And because he was pushing harder than usual today, both his strengths and weaknesses stood out even more—like how Han Goyo tried to be perfect at the festival and stumbled.
Yoon Hajun clicked his tongue inwardly, disappointed.
He could tell Choi Jinho put a ton of effort into it and had insane vocal power.
But that was all.
Still, only a few people—Yoon Hajun, Han Goyo, Kim Taeyoung, and some teachers—could see that level of detail. Everyone else was just blown away by Choi Jinho’s husky voice and endless high notes.
Well, from a purely vocal standpoint, there was almost nothing to criticize, so that reaction made sense.
“Aaaahhh!”
As Choi Jinho kept pouring out high notes, Kim Taeyoung sighed and said, “He deserves top-ranked, but… I’m disappointed.”
Yoon Hajun snorted a quiet laugh.
The only people who could be disappointed after seeing that stage were Taeyoung and Goyo.
Yeah—no wonder Taeyoung became a global star and always blocked Choi Jinho’s path.
And Taeyoung was the type to sing with emotion.
Of course Choi Jinho’s emotionally thin singing would bother him even more.
Choi Jinho’s song ended.
The audience erupted in loud applause.
On stage, Choi Jinho wore a satisfied expression.
Yeah.
This.
The cheers and applause after singing.
Nothing thrilled him and filled him up like this.
Feeling that, Choi Jinho looked toward Yoon Hajun in the audience.
How about now—can you still ignore me?
That was what he wanted to say with his eyes.
But Yoon Hajun’s expression hadn’t changed much—still indifferent.
And he wasn’t even looking at Choi Jinho.
Choi Jinho’s eyes went wide.
Was he still ignoring him?
But he couldn’t dwell on it.
He had to leave the stage.
From here on, it wasn’t Choi Jinho’s stage.
It was Yoon Suyeon’s stage.
At the staff’s cue, Choi Jinho slowly stepped down.
And he crossed paths with Yoon Suyeon as she walked up.
Choi Jinho looked at her.
But Yoon Suyeon wasn’t looking at him.
She just kept walking up, eyes on the stage.
Choi Jinho clenched his fist.
So the brother and sister both ignore him.
Fine.
He’d see with his own eyes what kind of “amazing” thing those siblings prepared.
With that thought, Choi Jinho headed to the audience—and Yoon Suyeon took her place on the stage.