39. Elimination and Farewell
"That guy from earlier must be the gallery admin, huh?"
Of course, the Seo Siyeon minor gallery was the community I monitored the most.
With no official fan cafe or agency yet, there was no central hub for my fandom at this stage, so the gallery and Twitter had to fill that role.
Twitter pretty much ran itself among the fans, so that was fine, but the gallery's vibe really depended on the admin's personality and how they handled things.
"Hope this guy's as nice in person as he seems."
If so, he'd be perfect to keep on as an admin even after we launched an official fan cafe down the line.
I kept hopping around various communities to check reactions to my performance.
Twitter had my name dominating the real-time trends, and negative comments were nowhere to be found.
Sure, there was some hate tacked on because of my friendship with Lee Hye-na, but it was cute-level stuff at best—post it publicly, and it'd get ratioed into oblivion.
The bigger communities were all glowing about my stage too.
"She did great, obviously." "Right? Our Siyeon's the best!" "Eek!"
I nearly dropped my smartphone with a pathetic yelp at the voice that suddenly barged into my self-muttering.
Lifting my head toward the sound, I spotted Yoo Seolha standing there with a pout, already snatching my phone.
"Tsk! You shouldn't visit bad sites!"
"...It's not a bad site."
"This level totally qualifies as bad."
"Honestly, no community's clean."
"But this one's pretty well-moderated."
I suddenly felt like dying, debating whether the very community I'd been ego-searching was "bad" or not.
"So, Siyeon. You watched our stage, right? You didn't skip it just to check reactions, did you?"
"O-of course! I watched everything. Even the clips again!"
Blooming had nailed another flawless performance. Honestly, at this point, even if the drums or keys wobbled a bit, the bass and vocals covered it effortlessly.
And they never made any major mistakes—just minor slips that didn't affect the ensemble at all.
Yoo Seolha's vocals were still top-tier quality, captivating everyone as always.
Joo Jinwoo, fresh off his own stage, had delivered 100% of his usual prowess too, showing a slightly different edge from two rounds ago.
Only Han Seong-sik and Baek Yu-yeon's stages left.
One of them was almost certainly getting eliminated—99% odds.
"What do you think, unnie?"
"Hm? Oh... Seong-sik ajusshi and Yu-yeon unnie?"
"Yeah."
Yoo Seolha said it like it was obvious.
"Safe bet's Seong-sik ajusshi. But..."
"You got a bad feeling? Like something unexpected's gonna happen."
I agreed with her.
Baek Yu-yeon's style was one-of-a-kind, impossible to find anywhere else.
It was both her strength and her weakness.
Her signature pansori tone and raspy voice could evoke those heartbreaking historical drama moments if handled right—but botch it, and it just became grating noise.
Her stage quality varied wildly based on song choice and her condition that day.
That song, though. It was solid.
A total no-name OST with under 10,000 views.
From some historical drama last year on a cable channel no one watched—ratings way under 1%.
Born in the wrong place, just like Seo Siyeon from that Incheon hellhole orphanage.
But some things, given the right shot, could shine with their unique charm—like Siyeon.
And maybe this time, her pick—"Plum Blossom"—would be it.
Baek Yu-yeon's stage bet on spatial weight over visual flash.
The intro hit with a gut-wrenching wail from the haegeum pouring through the speakers.
That sharp edge I'd felt working with traditional sessions in my past life clashed weirdly with Jamsil Gymnasium's modern sound system, creating an eerie dissonance.
Dry ice fog hugged the stage floor low, and Baek Yu-yeon stood motionless in the mist, clad in a long white dress evoking a mourning shroud.
Her usual squirrel-cute face looked possessed by ancestral grudge right then.
-In the end, you lose without even reaching my arms.
The first line exploded out, and chills raced up my spine.
Her voice cracked rougher than usual, but it fueled her feral intensity instead of poisoning it.
The nasal pansori style could've come off corny, but she chewed and spat each syllable like a madwoman howling at the void after losing her love—goosebumps prickled my arms.
-You said you'd brave the blizzard to come to me, yet you scatter as petals—how?
The chorus kicked in, revealing the staging's payoff.
A massive LED screen behind her showed a single plum tree; as she hit her high notes, crimson petals like blood showered across it, blanketing the stage.
"......Whoa."
Yoo Seolha beside me muttered with her mouth agape.
Baek Yu-yeon didn't force her highs pretty—she scraped her vocal cords raw with explosive bursts, pushing the song's pathos to the brink.
It wasn't a plea for attention; it felt like overhearing a woman who'd lost everything, screaming into the abyss.
When the instruments cut out in the final bridge, leaving only her voice, the gym went dead silent—not a breath.
-Even when spring comes, I'll live on in that winter.
She stretched the final note long, head bowing, and the swirling red petals slowly settled to the floor.
Blooming and I joined the audience in applause after the stage ended.
Baek Yu-yeon must've been in peak form today. Even digging up that obscure historical OST was a perfect vocal match.
A fluke of flukes.
Whatever Han Seong-sik ajusshi pulled next, topping this emotional punch looked tough.
And if we're splitting hairs, her fandom's bigger too...
A mid-30s office drone couldn't compete with a cute early-20s girl for fanbase depth.
Han Seong-sik had needed to crush her vocally, but she'd overdelivered.
"Whoa! Great job, unnie!"
"Stage was killer."
While Han Seong-sik prepped, a beaming Baek Yu-yeon entered the women's waiting room.
She flopped exhausted onto the sofa post-all-out performance.
"Ughhh... I'm dying."
"You earned it with that stage."
She grinned back at me.
"Thanks, Siyeon."
After that, Han Seong-sik ajusshi delivered a solid show too—an operatic number with his insanely high notes creating pure magic.
But the result: Baek Yu-yeon's win by about 2,000 votes.
"Everyone, great work. Never dreamed a guy like me would get this shot. Time to head back to normal life. Keep succeeding and dropping great songs, all of you."
He seemed bittersweet about it, figuring he was too old to chase entertainment full-time.
Plus, promotions at work were coming fast, and he had the bosses' trust—quitting now would've been messy.
"If Seolha takes over the company, I'd run into you plenty—shame. Haha."
"Ugh... I can't do that stuff. Just act like you know me if we meet, since you've got my bro."
He knelt to meet my eyes.
"Wishing you all the best ahead, Miss Siyeon."
"You too, ajusshi."
"Hope you remember there was a guy like me."
"...Of course. Your vocals are top-notch."
Honestly, it was a shame he wasn't pursuing singing—talent like that deserved it.
He'd probably blow up at his company from this, but over time, fewer folks would recall singer Han Seong-sik.
"Hit me up if you ever wanna sing again."
"...Thanks."
He shared a quick word with Joo Jinwoo last.
"Take care, sunbae-nim!"
"Haha, what sunbae? Just a geezer graduated over 20 years ago."
And just like that, another one left the dorm.
With people vanishing one by one from this massive mansion, it started feeling like a horror flick.
But before the farewell vibes could linger, the next stage loomed—just a week away.