Chapter 10 ….
The gate to success opened, and I extended my arm, signaling Yu Joo-ye to go in first.
She glanced at me once, nodded, and stepped into the building ahead.
Leaving behind the applause and cheers from the stage, we entered what would become the studio—inside the prison set—and the cameras caught our every move.
Joo-ye made a V sign with her fingers, and I smiled as I passed by the camera.
At the end of the hallway, a staff member chuckled lightly and handed me a bottle of water.
“Congratulations.”
I accepted the water, bowed my head, and thanked them.
“Thank you.”
My chest was still pounding.
To steady my breathing, I headed to the restroom at the far end of the hall.
At the sink, I let cold water run over the back of my hands, trying to calm myself.
Countless spectators had focused on my—and our—performance.
Seeing each expression, every subtle reaction, sent shivers through my entire body.
Singing could feel this overwhelmingly moving.
The cheers I had never experienced in my previous life, the audience’s excitement as they focused solely on the music itself.
And the performance—it all aligned perfectly: the music, the singing.
Something I could never have achieved in my previous life was happening right now.
Overcome with emotion, my solar plexus ached, and the tip of my nose stung.
Then, the stall door clicked open, and someone stepped beside me.
Our eyes met in the mirror, and I instinctively opened my mouth.
BPM’s lead producer, Lee Jae-sung?
The judge who had grabbed the microphone first on stage earlier.
I bowed reflexively.
“Hello.”
He gave a slight nod, smiling as he washed his hands.
“You’re a high school senior, right?”
“No, second year.”
“Do you go to a vocal academy?”
“No, not really.”
He turned off the tap and looked at me through the mirror. Then he spoke.
“You were really good.”
Caught off guard by the sudden praise, I was momentarily speechless.
“I was curious about how you subtly adjusted your tone in the high note transitions… is that talent?”
Talent—what a supreme compliment.
“…Thank you.”
“And it’s not just the high notes. You filled the mid-to-low parts with emotion; the density… wow…”
“You’re flattering me.”
“Flattering? These days, contestants think being pitch-perfect and on beat is enough, but they can’t balance the emotion with rhythm inside that. You did.”
“Ah…”
“And you didn’t attend an academy? Then that means you instinctively know how far to use your own vocal color.”
Lee Jae-sung, now looking at me with awe rather than just admiration, grabbed a paper towel and dried his hands.
“Incredible. I’m very curious about the singer ‘Park Do-ha’ who instinctively draws the audience’s heart.”
“Thank you.”
Overwhelmed by endless praise, I didn’t know what to say. I bowed, and he patted my shoulder in encouragement.
“I’m looking forward to it. I want to see you sing solo. I hope it resonates as it did today.”
He smiled warmly and left the restroom.
Once the door closed, the space was quiet again.
Hearing Producer Lee Jae-sung say he was looking forward to it made the back of my neck feel hot.
When I stepped out of the restroom, Yu Joo-ye, leaning against the wall, straightened up and approached me with an embarrassed smile.
“Oppa… no, senior… what should I call you?”
Muttering to herself, she then lifted her head.
“Anyway, is it okay that I waited?”
“Ah, yes.”
I shrugged.
“I felt awkward moving alone, and I also had something to say.”
“What is it?”
She looked me straight in the eyes and continued.
“First, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were two years younger than me and called you ‘oppa’ on my own.”
“No, it’s fine. I probably made it look like that because I asked you to do a few things.”
“It wasn’t asking… honestly, you were teaching me.”
Correcting my words, Yu Joo-ye suddenly bowed her waist.
“Thank you.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Flustered, I helped her back up.
Even as she straightened, she kept thanking me repeatedly.
When I nodded in acknowledgment, she got serious.
“I’m being honest. It’s not just out of politeness. Actually… that trembling in the high notes, you know?”
She carefully brought up the topic.
I listened quietly, making sure she didn’t feel embarrassed.
“…That’s been a real concern for me for a long time. I’ve met quite a few vocal trainers, attended four different academies, had consistent private lessons, but it never really got fixed.”
I turned my head to look at her. Hesitating, she held a water bottle and continued.
“Whenever I hit high notes, they tremble. My breathing leaks, my voice becomes thin, it sounds like crying… Every audition, that part would hold me back. I could pass preliminaries, but the finals were so hard to get through.”
She smiled faintly, but her past frustrations were evident.
“I was often told, ‘You can’t control your breathing,’ or ‘Your vocal cord support is weak.’ Teachers pointed it out a lot, and I felt it too, but no one exactly told me how to fix it.”
I listened silently. She continued.
“One teacher even told me to give up singing. ‘What kind of singer can’t hit high notes?’ they said.”
Her words made me frown slightly. She sighed quietly.
“After that, every time I hit high notes, I’d get scared. Even a small tremor made me think, ‘I guess I can’t do it.’ I came thinking this was my last chance… and then…”
Seeing Yu Joo-ye tear up, I felt awkward.
I had pushed her hard to succeed, yet she was so grateful.
Taking a brief pause to steady her emotions, she added:
“It’s all thanks to you! I think singing on stage will be a little less scary now. And earlier, when the high notes trembled, thank you for covering with harmonies. It felt like, ‘I’m right here, sing freely.’”
I chuckled at how her interpretation made her seem braver than she felt.
“And your vocal tone… it’s very clean. I keep hearing it in my head.”
Yes, hearing that, even my ears felt warm.
I tilted my head, and she looked down slightly.
“Maybe because you don’t push with force but dig in with emotion? It’s really warm. That warmth makes me want to keep listening… Can that be learned?”
“I don’t know.”
I shrugged. She looked up and nodded.
“It must be talent, right?”
Well, it wasn’t necessarily talent. I had nothing to teach her, so I just looked at her.
She seemed like she had more to say.
“I’m curious about your solo stage. What emotions, how you move people’s hearts again.”
Was it admiration as a colleague? Curiosity as a singer?
“So… I’m looking forward to the finals! I’ll cheer for first place!”
Yu Joo-ye raised both fists in a fighting pose.
“I’ll cheer too.”
“The waiting room for the finals is over there.”
Finally, having finished her purpose, she led me along.
Perhaps because only the successful contestants were gathered, the rooftop, which had been tense earlier, was now relaxed in a gentle way.
I exchanged glances with the smiling participants congratulating each other and took a seat in the waiting area.
On the screen in front of the waiting room, the ongoing stage performance was being broadcast.
Since these were future rivals, those who had advanced to the finals watched seriously.
Still, there was a sense of composure in those holding the tickets to success.
At that moment, a production team member wearing a hat approached, carrying our luggage.
“Thank you for your hard work. The filming for finalists ends here. Congratulations on advancing to the finals.”
Though it seemed like he was just reading from a script, I grabbed the heavy suitcase he brought, and Yu Joo-ye received her bag.
“We’ll provide individual notices for upcoming mission formats and filming schedules. You can stay to check the final lineup of finalists, or go home if you wish to rest.”
“Thank you.”
Once the staff left, Yu Joo-ye asked me:
“What will you do?”
“I’ll stay a bit longer.”
“Not tired?”
“I’m fine.”
I was curious to see which voices would remain in the first round.
While observing rivals’ tendencies, I needed to prepare how to showcase my own vocal charm.
“I need to manage my voice, so I’ll head out. Any tips to share?”
Her eyes lit up.
“Just focus on the basics I mentioned earlier.”
“Ah…”
Though disappointed, she knew that consistent practice was the only way to improve.
“Thank you for your hard work.”
I turned my gaze back to the stage, preparing for the next mission.
“See you in the finals.”
Yu Joo-ye lingered for a moment, watching me leave with the crowd.
In a small conference room dimly lit with gray light, PD Ha Ji-hoon stood before a large board with the contestants’ name tags.
At the table sat the head writer, the directing PD, and three judges.
“The studio qualifiers are complete. Now, each participant will escape from the underground prison and move upwards.”
PD Ha pointed to the lowest floor on the building blueprint.
“Starting from the lowest basement cell. Participants ascend through the competition. The first round of the finals begins here.”
The writer added:
“This mission is ‘Choice’ and ‘Cracks.’ Eight rooms total, four participants per room. Judges, please choose a ‘room leader’ for each room.”
“So the leader can be eliminated too?”
Judge Lee Jae-sung asked.
“Yes. That makes it more interesting, right?”
“Wow, that’s ruthless!”
“You can’t let them relax just because they did well once.”
The judges sighed in unison, glancing at each other.
“The key to our program isn’t just singing ability, but who can create the narrative best.”
“Then we can’t pick purely by scores.”
“No, you just need to apply the right criteria.”
“Should we rank the leaders by studio advancement scores for simplicity?”
“Looking at the score sheet: Park Do-ha, Yeon Ji-soo, Kim Tae-eun, Lee Yu-i, Kang Jin-seo, Kyung Woo-chan, Ha Ji-yul, Ryu Si-eun. But Park Do-ha is very young.”
In response to Producer Lee’s question, Jeong Min-ha nodded.
“Yes, that’s a lot of pressure.”
Recalling the youthful, delicate voice, Lee Jae-sung crossed his arms.
“Well, looking at the duet stage design and emotional control, she’s very skilled. She even controlled Yu Joo-ye, who’s older, well.”
“That’s one-on-one. Now they have to lead three people.”
“Exactly. Isn’t that why we should pick her? A young high schooler as a leader. Viewers will be drawn to the youngest leader title.”
PD Ha strongly insisted, and Producer Lee nodded.
“I agree. A tree that will grow well shows signs from the start.”
“Yes. Picking leaders by score is fair, and then the leader selects the team?”
“No, that wouldn’t be fun.”
“Then how should the team selection work? Senior judges, your opinions are needed.”
The writer smiled mischievously at the judges, subtly flaunting the pressure of choosing contestants that fit their program’s unique identity.
