translation by mourningmoor
<Survival, Music Genius>
One of the judges, singer-songwriter Yoon Jooeon, was feeling a bit uncomfortable with the current situation.
Having participated as a judge in the previous season, Yoon Jooeon had a special pride in <Survival, Music Genius>.
He had been involved as a consultant since the planning stage of the program and, as a judge, had discovered incredible talents.
Musical geniuses who had been buried in obscurity due to lack of opportunity were brought into the world through his efforts, and they had achieved remarkable success so far. It was impossible not to feel proud.
The process was fun, and the results were encouraging, so the program could be considered a success. And, of course, at the center of it all was Yoon Jooeon.
He thought this season would flow the same way.
But from the start, there was trouble with PD Ki.
PD Ki had included idols in the participant lineup. And not just any idols, but the trending ones who were being highly praised.
Of course, there had been idol participants in the previous season as well. But their fandoms were weak, and their skills were mediocre, so they were eliminated early.
It was a tough challenge for idols, who mainly performed on stage with flashy performances, to compete against the lawless underground musicians.
It was a natural outcome, and it suited the nature of the program.
But this time, from the very beginning, there was a directive.
No matter what, the three idol participants had to survive until at least the third round.
The reasoning was that all three had massive fandoms that would drive viewership.
Yoon Jooeon, of course, opposed this. There was a risk that the audience would see the program as being manipulated.
He didn’t want to tarnish the program he had worked so hard to create in such a way.
But his opposition was ignored, and the higher-ups forcefully issued the order.
And now, his eardrums were being assaulted by participant number 43, Kwon Taei, singing a rock version of Rouder’s song.
“This is annoying.”
He muttered under his breath.
He knew his every move was being captured on camera, but he trusted that they would edit it out.
So, taking advantage of the moment, he threw his pen in frustration and leaned back in his chair.
Then, lyricist Lee Nayoung, sitting next to him, whispered quietly.
“It’s even more annoying because he’s being compared to number 42, right?”
Like a seasoned lyricist, she hit the nail on the head.
Number 42, who had performed earlier, made Taei’s singing hard to listen to. No, it wasn’t that Taei couldn’t sing, but the comparison was just too stark.
Taei himself seemed to feel it too. Rumor had it that he was better than this, but his voice sounded unclear, and his pitch was unstable.
He must have been intimidated by the talented performer who went before him.
“If you’re a pro, you should act like one. Getting caught being intimidated on stage is so amateurish.”
Yoon Jooeon, who had responded to Lee Nayoung, flipped through the participant list with a bored expression, as if he didn’t want to listen anymore.
Being forced to pass someone like this was just frustrating.
“Isn’t there another idol besides him?”
Yoon Jooeon asked, and another judge, Jung Young-ha, answered.
“He’s the last one. Kang Ichan, the one PD Pyo Cheonhee is grooming.”
At the mention of PD Pyo, Yoon Jooeon nodded and looked through the documents. Taei’s singing no longer reached his ears.
Then, as if remembering something, he flipped through another stack of documents.
“Wait. Isn’t number 42 also from PD Pyo’s company?”
Number 42, who had performed earlier, was also from Blade Entertainment. He was a trainee composer or something.
“Yes. He’s from PD Pyo’s company.”
“Wow. PD Pyo Cheonhee really is PD Pyo Cheonhee. That guy earlier was pretty good.”
The judges exchanged comments, and Yoon Jooeon silently nodded, staring intently at the photo of number 42.
His appearance was as dry as dried pollack, but his sensibility was extraordinary.
Yoon Jooeon then slowly scanned number 42’s documents.
“Name: Go Dajin, company: Blade Entertainment, special notes: none, no debut planned. What’s with all the ‘none’?”
If he had known this, he would have asked more questions during the Q&A session earlier. He had just thrown out random questions and ended the interview without even listening to the guy’s answers. If he had missed the name too, that would have been the end of it.
In the end, Taei’s performance ended without Yoon Jooeon properly listening, as he was too busy looking through Go Dajin’s documents.
Then, Lee Nayoung whispered.
“But you still have to ask questions. He’s the participant the director is most interested in.”
That was the biggest problem.
The fact that the director was so fixated on that guy. Unless something unexpected happened, Taei would have to be placed in the top three.
Managing his expression, Yoon Jooeon picked up the mic.
“Being from New York, your English pronunciation is good.”
It was an honest assessment.
Taei, who had lost his composure from the start, had nothing worth praising except his pronunciation.
Lee Nayoung felt the same.
“You were nervous, right? Taei from T.I.ONE, known as a talented idol. You were a bit shaky at the start, but you pulled it together nicely afterward. Especially the part, ‘Kiss me, darling.’ That was really good. The pronunciation…”
Again, the praise was about pronunciation.
As if by agreement, all five judges said the same thing, and Taei, who received four stars, left the stage.
Watching his retreating figure, Yoon Jooeon finally muttered.
“Three stars would have been too much.”
The other judges laughed in agreement.
“He didn’t get to show his full potential. He’s better than that.”
One of the judges tried to defend Taei, but it didn’t work. Yoon Jooeon’s belief was that a true “music genius” should be able to showcase their skills on any stage.
Taei was quickly forgotten. After him, a series of incredibly talented performers took the stage, and the anticipation for the last idol gradually faded. No matter how much PD Pyo had groomed him, as an idol, there had to be limits, right?
Just as Yoon Jooeon had completely erased the existence of the third idol from his mind after watching the 64 participants, a young man in black jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt took the stage.
If there was any effort to look stylish, it was the layered leather bracelet on his left wrist, the ear piercing, and the ring.
He had basic makeup on, but his fair skin stood out, and his features were refined and well-proportioned. His face was small, and his legs were long, giving him a perfect ratio. And, whether it was an optical illusion or not, he seemed to sparkle.
“He’s an idol.”
“Indeed, he’s an idol.”
Lee Nayoung and the other judges each added a comment.
Yoon Jooeon also nodded.
Although they had seen two idols earlier, this one was different. There was a sense of dignity in his aura, and even just standing there, he exuded charisma.
Moreover, the calmness in his expression and the coolness in his eyes.
“He’s confident.”
“Right? Everyone else came in full stage outfits, but his outfit is so casual.”
“That’s also a sign of confidence.”
Somehow, expectations were rising.
Yoon Jooeon, who had been flipping through the documents, picked up the mic.
“Number 65, Kang Ichan. Could you introduce yourself?”
But the response was unexpected.
“I was taught that if you’re a musician, you should tell your story through music.”
It was a famous quote left by PD Pyo Cheonhee, who had once dominated the industry as a composer before becoming a company CEO.
Tell your story through music.
It meant he was confident enough in his music to skip the self-promotion and get straight to the point.
“Nice. Then, let’s hear it. Kang Ichan’s story.”
* * *
I sat down at the piano.
The song I had prepared for the first round of <Survival, Music Genius> was Graphstar’s .
It’s a fast-tempo EDM song, which doesn’t seem suitable for a vocal competition.
Perhaps that’s why the expressions of the five judges weren’t exactly bright when they saw my song choice.
They might look like that now, but in three minutes, they won’t dare to make such expressions. I’m about to show them something incredible.
Actually, I hadn’t planned to go all out from the first round.
The song I originally prepared was Yoon Ahyeon’s debut song <Paper Airplane>, known as the ballad queen, and I was going to sing it with just a key change.
I had planned to just do enough to make it into the top 32, but Kwon Taei changed my mind.
In short, I’m going to dominate.
I’m going to show just how much a small, mediocre agency’s idol and trainee can do. I’m going all out.
He said the output would speak for itself.
So, while participant number 39 was performing, I called Go Dajin outside.
I bought a cup of vending machine coffee and handed it to him.
[Go Dajin, can you sing?]
[Not as well as you, Ichan-nim, but I’m not bad. My mom used to love my singing.]
[Good, that’s a relief. For this to work, you need to have the basics down.]
Then, I poured a high concentration of “musical sensibility” into the coffee. “Musical sensibility.” The Armenians called it “make them cry.”
It’s one of the musical magics. Once this magic is infused into a song, it becomes impossible not to cry. No matter how hard-hearted a person is, they’ll be moved by the emotional voice.
[Drink it. Don’t spill a single drop.]
Go Dajin, who drank the “musical sensibility” from me, ended up making all the judges cry. Not just the judges, but the production staff and even the other participants who heard his performance in the waiting room.
Taei was no exception.
Go Dajin’s performance was enough to shake Taei.
And then it was my turn.
Having changed my performance song to Graphstar’s , I decided to play the accompaniment myself since it wasn’t prepared.
As the lights changed and the cue sign dropped, my fingers slid across the keys and began to play .
But it wasn’t the fast-tempo EDM song everyone knew. It had been completely transformed into a mid-tempo bossa nova jazz style.
The atmosphere in the judges’ seats changed.