Chapter 7 …

“After identity verification, you will move immediately.”

As soon as I entered through the iron gate, staff members dressed neatly in prison-guard uniforms—almost like military attire—were waiting. Filming had already begun.

“Name?”

The guard checking the list lifted his head and scanned me. Without realizing it, a crisp, military-style voice burst out of me.

“Park Doha!”

“ID?”

At his request, I took Doha’s student ID out of the small bag slung over my shoulder. He compared the roster, the ID, and my face before briefly saying, “Sign,” and pushing the list toward me.

I signed in the empty space beside my name and number. He then handed me a name tag.

“Participant number 39, Park Doha. Attach the tag to the left side of your chest and move forward following the person ahead.”

The moment he finished speaking, the iron door to the left clanked open.

I wiped the sweat from my palms onto my thigh, stuck the participant number tag onto my chest, and walked through the gate.

Inside was a passageway surrounded by wire fencing, like something out of a foreign prison.

Cameras were mounted above the corridor.

Beyond the fence, guards stood with their caps pulled low, holding batons and staring fiercely at the participants.

From the depths of my memory, recollections of my previous life surfaced.

Back then, no one tried to hear my voice.

I stood behind cameras holding scripts, watching the contestants rehearse and organizing feedback.

At the time, it felt only natural that my voice would never echo on a stage like this.

‘But things are different now.’

Now I was standing on this prison-themed stage as a contestant.

At that moment, a broadcasting drone flew low over my head.

The red recording light pointed at my forehead like the muzzle of a gun, sending a chill down my spine.

“Remember this! This is a prison. A place where you display your talent and survive hellish training with your rivals to become a singer!”

The host’s voice boomed through a loudspeaker as he explained the concept of the show. The contestants began murmuring.

“Silence!”

A guard outside the fence slammed his baton against the metal mesh.

Soon we reached a staircase leading up to the rooftop, attached to the building’s outer wall.

The stairs were steeper than they had looked from afar.

As we started climbing, heavy breathing could be heard from both ahead and behind.

“It’s dangerous. Don’t let go of the handrail.”

A guard stood at every corner of the stairs, guiding us safely.

Finally, after stepping onto the last stair, we reached the rooftop—and a wide open space spread out before us.

The rooftop was larger than expected.

At the far end stood a hexagonal black stage.

Three sides of the rooftop had gray stand seating installed. In the middle of the stands were the judges’ seats and the production area.

‘Is this a colosseum?’

As I stepped down toward the waiting area, I noticed a huge red circular mark embedded in the floor.

“Welcome to the Hell Vocal Trainer Center.”

Back then, I hadn’t realized how brutal it was even before the main competition began, since I wasn’t training them yet.

Well… maybe that was why they hired me as a vocal trainer.

Many broadcasting staff who came to recruit me would hear my reputation and step back in surprise.

But PD Ha Ji-hoon from my previous life brightened the moment he saw me.

My appearance fit perfectly with the image of an “instructor from hell.”

Thanks to that, I received plenty of malicious comments and insults.

Just as bitterness started to creep in, a staff member’s loud voice rang out.

“Please go sit in the chair with your number.”

Following the guard’s instructions, I moved to the waiting seats in front of the stage and found my spot.

Under the chair was a small snack basket labeled with my number.

I caught my breath, took out a bottle of water from the basket, drank it, and looked around the stage.

At one side of the rooftop railing was a fire-escape slide.

At its entrance stood another guard holding a baton.

‘Was that where eliminated contestants left?’

My gaze naturally shifted to a door on the opposite side.

‘And the ones who passed probably entered the prison through that door.’

I recalled memories from my previous life.

At that moment, someone dropped heavily into the seat beside me and grumbled.

“Seriously. I came here to become a singer, not to be treated like a criminal. They’re pushing us way too hard. This place is insane.”

Leaning back in the chair and staring at the sky, he panted while complaining. After catching his breath, he met my eyes.

He gestured toward my water.

I nodded toward the area under his chair.

He immediately sat upright, rummaged through the snack basket, found an energy drink, and gulped it down.

Then he said,

“That fire slide over there… is it some kind of punishment?”

He asked as if seeking agreement, but I just shrugged.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be a singer audition program? Feels like I ended up on some variety show. Are they going to make us sing while sliding down that thing or something?”

He laughed, but I didn’t know how to respond.

Though honestly… that kind of thing wasn’t impossible.

If it were PD Ha Ji-hoon from my previous life, he’d drag in a corpse if it meant higher ratings.

But what could I do?

Right now, I had to step onto the stage he created, and the most urgent thing was to make an unforgettable impression with undeniable skill.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Suddenly an alarm blared, and the rooftop entrance door automatically shut.

With a loud clank, the iron door locked from the inside.

Then we heard shouting from participants who had been climbing the outer stairs.

“This can’t be happening! Please open the door! The door!”

“It’s dangerous! Please step away from the door! Anyone who fails to arrive within the time limit will be escorted home safely!”

“No! No!”

Despite the desperate cries, the door did not open.

A staff member calmly spoke into the microphone.

“Late arrivals are not allowed to enter the stage. Please follow the regulations.”

It was a cold and clear declaration.

Some people were inside the door.

Others were left outside.

It wasn’t just luck—it was about preparation and attitude.

Even so, the pitiful cries drew everyone’s gaze toward the rooftop entrance behind us.

Amid the dramatic moment, the stage lights turned on.

Grand music blasted from the rooftop speakers.

Several drone cameras flew across the sky, filming both those who made it and those who didn’t, heightening the tension as they approached the stage.

Just as the leading drone neared the stage, the giant screen lit up.

《Voice League: Final Sound》

A flashy logo exploded across the screen in sync with a drop beat.

At that moment, MC Bae Taemin appeared from the left side of the stage.

“Welcome to 《Voice League: Final Sound》!”

As his voice rang out, broadcasting staff around the rooftop began moving, signaling the true start of the show.

* * *

“From now on, the official audition begins.”

Bae Taemin pointed toward the screen behind the stage.

The screen flashed brightly, displaying a large announcement.

– Duet Matching Audition –

Matching Conditions
Participants were matched based on ‘musical style + contrasting vocal ranges.’

Preparation Time: 4 hours
Mission Preparation Deadline: 1 PM

Smiling, Bae Taemin continued.

“We matched you by considering your application essays, musical styles, and preliminary stage evaluations.”

“For this mission in particular, participants were paired with others who have different vocal ranges.”

He slowly looked around at the contestants.

“Why did we match opposite vocal ranges? Even with different voices, rhythms, and colors—can you harmonize and become one while still proving your own value? Show us your true worth.”

Swallowed breaths could be heard throughout the waiting area.

“From now on, you will prepare a stage together with your matched partner.”

“Song selection, key adjustment, part distribution, stage composition—everything must be decided through discussion between the two of you.”

“The stage must not feel like two individuals performing separately. It must be one performance created through your coordination.”

He folded the script in his hand slightly and emphasized:

“Both of you may survive… or both of you may be eliminated. We call this the One-Body Mission!”

The contestants’ faces stiffened.

Everyone seemed to realize this wasn’t going to be an easy mission.

“You have four hours to prepare.”

“The mission ends at 1 PM. After that, stage checks will be conducted and the performances will begin immediately.”

He finished with a firm declaration.

“The results will be announced immediately on site after each performance. Carelessness—even for a moment—or an incomplete stage will not be tolerated.”

Grand music once again filled the rooftop.

The real war had begun.

“Find your duet partner. If your partner failed to enter due to being late, please come to the front of the stage. We will rematch you.”

“Now, please check your snack baskets. At the very bottom you will find a card with your partner’s number!”

The waiting area erupted in murmurs.

I quickly lowered my head and searched through the snack bag.

Sure enough, there was a small card folded in half like a ticket.

I pulled it out and checked it.

‘Number 153.’

Ugh, that seems far away.

I immediately left my row of seats and moved toward the edge of the stands on one side of the rooftop.

But as time passed, the chaotic scene made finding a partner extremely difficult.

Some people climbed onto chairs and shouted.

Others grabbed contestants and asked them one by one.

A few waved their cards above their heads, looking around desperately.

After barely pushing through the battlefield-like chaos and reaching the back row—

On the stand across from me,

I spotted a girl holding up several A4 sheets taped together, with [1] [5] [3] written on them, raising both arms.

* * *

“Hello. I’m number 39, Park Doha.”

“Yes. I’m number 153, Yoo Juye. Nice to meet you.”

Escaping the chaos, we settled into a corner of the stands.

“There’s not much time.”

I pointed at the screen.

The timer read 3:27:48.

“If we’re doing a duet, we should check each other first.”

I opened my trunk.

Her eyes widened as she looked inside.

“Wow… it’s like a mini recording studio?”

“Let’s check vocal range and tone first.”

There was no time to chat with her admiration. Time kept ticking down.

“Shall we try singing first? That way we can match our tones.”

I turned on my laptop and immediately opened a folder containing several duet songs.

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll go first then.”

“Oh, straight to the point! I like it.”

Yoo Juye sat down right away and looked at me.

I played the instrumental track. The intro started.

I took a short breath.

“This night, I’m sending you the feelings from that day. You said you loved me that day too.”

My mid-low voice flowed out smoothly.

Her eyes widened and the corners of her lips lifted.

Seeing her sway her head side to side with the rhythm, she seemed like a lively girl. That was reassuring.

At least she probably wouldn’t freeze on stage.

After finishing, I looked at her.

“Thank you. Now—”

“I’ll sing ‘Morning’ by Solip.”

I found Morning in the folder and started the instrumental.

Unlike her earlier liveliness, she placed her hands neatly on her knees, took a breath, closed her eyes, and began singing.

“I can’t hide it anymore… my heart… my heart is turned toward you…”

Inside, I let out a short sigh.

‘…We’re doomed.’

Her tone was nice, but when the song rose into the high notes, she started bleating like a sheep.