If You Make the Same Mistake Twice, You're Not Human
In the heart of Gangnam, the corridor of Cheonun Pavilion—a high-end limited-reservation hanjeongsik restaurant—was utterly silent.
Each step was swallowed by the plush carpet, and the faint scent of agarwood incense spoke volumes about the place's elegance.
Lee Hajun, CEO of Blue Sky Entertainment, straightened his crisply ironed shirt collar and took a deep breath.
He prided himself on having weathered every storm in the industry and built a respectable agency, but today's meeting was on another level.
Yoo Sanghun.
The head of Yuseong Semiconductor, the titan who had recently acquired all of Blue Sky Entertainment's shares—and who would soon be his boss and investor.
This wasn't their first encounter, but it was the first time in a formal setting.
Whew. Get it together.
Thanks to a string of failures, Blue Sky Entertainment had plummeted over the past few years. Deteriorating finances forced mass layoffs, and they were even evicted from their leased agency building.
Then came this major investor.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say the company's fate hung on his investment intentions.
"Yoo Seolha, huh..."
The industry was abuzz with the fact that Yoo Seolha was the daughter of Yuseong Semiconductor's CEO. Everyone also knew that the parents of Blooming's other members were no small fries either.
Rumors like that didn't stay hidden for long.
So the purpose of this investment was fairly transparent.
He's just trying to boost his daughter.
Some might call it overinvestment, but from Yuseong Semiconductor's perspective, a declining Blue Sky Entertainment must have been a bargain.
Still, he couldn't just accept dumping all resources into Blooming. Blue Sky had a newly selected girl idol group on the verge of debut.
His goal today was to secure a promise for balanced investment.
"You've arrived."
"Hello!"
"Haha... Good to see you. No need to be so formal. Have a seat."
For a while, they exchanged light chit-chat, the kind without much substance.
As time slipped away, Lee Hajun couldn't broach the agency's operations, and soon the food began arriving course by course.
Whoa, fuck, this is insane. For real.
He marveled briefly at the ridiculously delicious food before snapping back to reality.
"Um, President..."
"Ah, mind if I turn on the TV for a bit?"
Lee Hajun's words were cut off by Yoo Sanghun's question.
A beep, a flickering screen. Soon, a glamorously decorated stage appeared.
"Ah, Singer Star..."
"It's airing today. No meeting is more important than my daughter's performance, right?"
"Ha, haha... Of course."
Having poured his youth into managing and starting his company, Lee Hajun—still unmarried in his later years—just laughed it off.
"Next up is Seo Siyeon's performance! Get ready to enjoy her elegant stage!"
Seo Siyeon.
The hottest topic among industry insiders lately was undoubtedly Seo Siyeon, the elementary schooler churning out original songs nonstop.
Some called it a scam or fake, but by now, almost everyone knew the truth.
Seo Siyeon was the real deal.
Not one of the countless fake geniuses in this business—a true genius.
If a composer with that many high-quality tracks existed, word would have spread like wildfire. So those songs had to be her originals.
That alone would etch her into history, but her singing was improving rapidly too, making her more than a monster.
"What do you think?"
"Of Seo Siyeon? She's an absurd, off-the-charts genius, obviously."
"Is that so? Everyone says about the same."
It was only natural. No industry pro could watch that without awe.
Lee Hajun stared blankly at the stage. The melody was familiar, yet strangely new.
"I heard it's a cover for this round."
"A cov... cover?"
Hearing that, Lee Hajun instantly recalled the original. The melody aside, every part had been gutted and rebuilt with new elements. No wonder it hadn't clicked at first.
"Heh. It's become a completely different song."
As he muttered, the chorus ended, and a gentle guitar interlude began.
"Hm?"
But the electric guitar sounded off—alien.
Lee Hajun set down his chopsticks and leaned toward the screen.
In the brief lull after the orchestra's majestic wave receded, Seo Siyeon stood alone center stage and plucked the guitar string.
But the sound was eerie.
No standard electric guitar could produce it—like the air itself was rippling physically.
"What the hell is that sound?"
The guitar tone pouring through the speakers was muffled like it was played underwater, yet trembling faintly like fan blades slicing air.
A rhythmic yet organic vibration.
The bizarre reverb, layering and swirling in place without advancing, matched the song's Mystery theme to chilling perfection.
"A fan...?"
Yoo Sanghun murmured with interest. The bizarre contraption Jo Naeun had made was screaming on stage through Seo Siyeon's hands.
Beyond mere distortion, the rotating blades' irregular airflow shattered the guitar's harmonics into fragments.
Lee Hajun shivered.
"Insane... Using something like that that way?"
A typical producer would have cleaned up the instruments to highlight the vocal's clear tone.
But Seo Siyeon went the opposite route.
Amid the raging orchestral rock, she precisely placed unidentified noise.
Her performance overwhelmed the audience and viewers to its close.
Suddenly, Yoo Sanghun—who had been savoring neatly grilled meat—looked straight at Lee Hajun.
"If you held Blooming and Seo Siyeon as your pair, how far could you go?"
Lee Hajun swallowed hard under that icy gaze.
"Great work!"
I bowed my head in thanks to the orchestra members I'd synced with, even if just briefly.
Moving up the ranks meant way more budget for the stage. Pulling in orchestra even for a segment was impressive.
As Kayseop taught, I nailed the eerie high-note scratches perfectly. A flawless performance.
That fan was the kicker, though.
The freakish instrument had such a unique sound—it was fun to use. Apparently Jo Naeun loved tinkering with weird stuff, and their practice room was full of similar oddities. I'd have to visit and check the sounds later.
But reaching the upper rounds made us rivals, so Blooming's help wasn't free.
'Give us a song that fits us for the next round...'
Stealing like that for just lending an instrument? Thief mentality. But since their good stage wouldn't knock me out anyway, I accepted.
I had some solid band tracks on my drive; I'd pick a fitting one.
"Everyone, come up to the stage!"
At the youngest writer's shout, everyone gathered from the waiting rooms.
All ten performances done. Time to announce dropouts.
This round had two eliminations.
With 75% viewer votes and 25% judges' scores, Singer Star's live format made predictions tough.
They only showed the top three votes in real-time—no lower ranks.
Top three: me, Joo Jinwoo, Blooming.
They were basically safe.
The risky ones are...
My gaze drifted to the two young guys staring blankly ahead, then to the woman with eyes quietly closed.
Boyfriend and Lee Hye-na.
Not close to me, they delivered unremarkable stages. Judges roasted them. Lee Hye-na might flip it with her prodigy-era fandom votes, but Boyfriend looked doomed.
Should I say something? Nah.
After what I went through, stirring that mess again? I'd be inhuman.
Thinking of Im Jihye's incident, fake comfort was worse than silence.
At least she bounced back. Good for her.
The backlash on Im Jihye lasted less than a week—bigger scandals exploded.
Word was she'd recovered mentally and was pondering her future.
May luck fill her life ahead.
Not a great connection, but wishing her happiness silently was easy.
Soon, final results dropped.
The host dragged it out with antics, squeezing in five full-minute ads. My legs ached, but I stood straight waiting.
"The final dropouts are Boyfriend and Alford Choi. Good work."
Close call.
Glancing at Lee Hye-na, she exhaled deeply in relief.