Chapter 9 ….
Before stepping onto the stage, I took a deep breath.
I hadn’t had the time to perfectly polish my own part, having spent all my energy training Yuje and coordinating our duet.
Especially in the high-note transitions—the subtle resonance, the lingering “aftertone”—I hadn’t touched them.
But that was intentional.
On this stage, what I needed to focus on wasn’t a “perfect solo,” but a “perfect duet.”
My rich, smooth mid-low tones would support Yuje’s unstable high notes.
On top of that, I would cover her resonance with my voice so that her delicate tones wouldn’t waver, creating an emotionally steady line.
That’s why I intended to perfect the “tuning” on this stage.
Just before her high notes began to tremble, I would support them with my harmonies, opening a path of resonance to catch her breath at the right timing.
During her shaky moments, I would wrap the stage with my voice like a subwoofer, guiding and leading the performance.
Finally…
Thump, thump.
The spotlights on the rooftop stage fell upon us.
The audience of countless participants, the judges observing from the top of the Colosseum, and dozens of cameras and broadcast drones were all aimed at our performance. The MC’s voice rose above it all:
“Stage 39 and 153 of Voice League: Final Sound, beginning now.”
The piano’s low notes flowed gently across the stage, slicing through the quiet.
I nodded and met my fellow contestant’s gaze before starting to sing.
“This heart that has to let you go…”
My mid-low tones flowed through the microphone, resonating across the speakers all the way to the judges. The audience gasped.
At that moment, someone at the edge of the Colosseum lifted their head, and Yuje’s part began.
“Like a sharp wind…”
Her voice trembled slightly, but I carried it forward into the next line.
“Coming to me with cold words…”
I gently wrapped her shaky high notes with my mid-low tones.
She closed her eyes for the next phrase, but as her pitch threatened to slip, I quickly added harmonies and covered it. A wave of admiration rippled through the audience below.
Success.
Yuje’s voice was thin, but over it, my timbre added thickness, like applying ink over a fine line.
Not something that could be achieved by training alone—this was tuning that only a vocal trainer, guiding a student, could accomplish.
“Memories of holding each other…”
“Times when we protected each other…”
As the harmony began, at the points where our notes collided, a subtle resonance emerged.
One judge lifted a fingertip to their lips, nodding along with the melody.
Then came the climax:
“That’s why I could let you go…”
Yuje’s high note soared.
“Because it’s love—for me—”
Her voice wavered on the high note, and I immediately covered it with harmonies.
“Because it’s love—”
I held my breath deep in my chest, and just before her high note would shake, I released my note one beat earlier, pressing the air. The two notes overlapped like a single curve.
The judges in the stands subtly shifted.
The judge at the far end leaned slightly forward.
No extravagant high notes, no special technique—just one note covering her tremble, embracing the entire stage, merging our voices as one.
Beyond tension, silent “wow…” escaped a few lips below the stage.
As drones captured us from above and their red lenses passed over our chests, I felt certain:
“We’ve captured their attention.”
The song reached its climax, moving into the high-note section—the most vulnerable part for Yuje.
I adjusted my breath to guide her through, opening the resonance path again. Then it returned to my part.
“This farewell, this pain…”
Every syllable carried deep emotion. The density of my mid-low notes was solid.
The breathing techniques I had practiced for the preliminaries held the pitch in precise balance, and I leapt into the high notes.
“If it makes me stronger—!”
A clear, straight boyish tone sliced through the air, filling the rooftop space and radiating the song’s main theme.
In that moment, Yuje’s eyes reflected awe and wonder as she added harmonies, and gasps erupted from the audience below.
One judge leaned forward slightly, putting down their pen. Another smiled knowingly.
Yuje caught my note. Though slightly shaky, my high note had transmitted resonance to her, solidifying her tone.
We moved back into the harmony section.
My mid-low tones laid the foundation, and her clear high notes overlapped.
The stage completed itself, and the song ended.
The microphone remained silent for a while after the performance.
Only our breaths echoed on the rooftop, the quiet lingering like a resonance.
Finally, a judge’s microphone was turned on.
The first to speak was Lee Jae-sung, BPM Entertainment’s senior producer, a master who had debuted countless vocalists over 20 years.
“There was a reason we paired Park Do-ha and Yuje for this stage. Their vocal ranges are completely different—one with a stable mid-low, the other with high notes in falsetto. In the preliminaries, we saw one using emotion to carry high notes, while the other’s high notes were shaky, and we wanted to see how balance could be achieved. Today, I think we got the answer. Particularly, Park Do-ha grounded his tone, led the parts, covered Yuje’s unstable high notes with harmonies, and lifted her naturally during climactic moments. He revealed his own timbre while safely guiding his partner’s tone. Not just singing well, but conducting the balance of sound on stage—it was impressive.”
“I’d like to say something too.”
The next judge, Jeong Min-ha, South Korea’s representative vocalist and singer-songwriter known for numerous ballad hits, took the microphone. She was famous for interpreting even subtle trembles on stage with delicate emotion.
“Yes, go ahead.”
“We all remember Yuje’s preliminary stage—her high notes trembled a lot. But today was different. How was that possible? It’s not something you overcome in a short time.”
Yuje looked at me, smiled faintly, and clasped her hands together.
“…It would have been difficult alone.”
Her voice was low but resolute.
“Senior Park Do-ha helped me. He pointed out what was wrong and taught me how to breathe… He understood my voice better than I did.”
“Really? Park Do-ha? What did you feel Yuje was lacking?”
At that moment, all eyes, including the judges, turned toward me.
But I couldn’t answer immediately.
Words swirled in my mind: breath leaking, high notes shaking, weak abdominal support, vocal folds not connected…
If I enumerated them all, the broadcast would eat us alive.
One wrong word, and Yuje could become a target for ridicule if producer Ha noticed.
I hesitated, then looked up at the judges a beat late.
“Uh… Yuje’s timbre is beautiful. I didn’t want to ruin that. I wanted to maximize her strengths with harmonies while making a beautiful song together.”
I answered shyly, appropriate for a high school student.
Judge Jeong nodded slowly and continued:
“I see. While many contestants were busy preparing their own stages, Park Do-ha accurately diagnosed his partner’s issues in a short time, compensated with his own vocals, and built the performance. Amazing. This is an attitude of a singer creating a stage together, even before vocals.”
Next, lyricist Han Ji-eun took the microphone.
“I saw today’s stage not as a song, but like a scene. You designed the emotional line to reach the audience and arranged it to make the partner shine naturally. Do-ha’s mid-low tones were the heart of the narrative. Thanks to that, Yuje’s high notes came alive even more. And the younger partner leading, with Yuje following so well, was impressive.”
Slightly flustered, Yuje looked at me.
“Younger partner?”
Did I really have to reveal my age? The camera focused on me, and the judges looked amused. I couldn’t lie either.
“…I’m a second-year high school student.”
A small gasp rose from the audience.
“Huh?”
“Really?”
Someone on the judges’ panel chuckled.
“…Second year?”
Yuje covered her mouth with her hands. Her face reddened.
“S-sorry… I really thought you were a college student…”
The hall was filled with gentle laughter.
“Yes. Though young, on stage Park Do-ha definitely led Yuje. His sense of interpretation, planning, and lifting his partner is at a professional level. I’ve never seen someone this age with such sensitivity. Remarkable.”
BPM’s senior producer Lee Jae-sung nodded, and MC Bae Tae-min cut in.
“No favoritism on broadcast. Time for the announcement.”
“Haha, yes. Well done, both of you passed!”
The announcement of their passing sparked applause starting from the rooftop edges, growing louder until it filled the stage.
The MC continued loudly:
“Congratulations to contestants 39 and 153. Please enter through the door on the left for those who passed. Congratulations!”
Receiving a stage and acceptance certificate I could never have dreamed of in a past life, warmth surged through me.
I quietly inhaled, stepping through the door to the applause that roared like thunder.
Finally, the first gateway as a singer had opened.
