Baek Jijun was in an excellent mood.
The moment he sat in the driver’s seat, he opened the glove compartment and pulled out one CD case from the many packed tightly inside. It was an old-fashioned method, but Baek Jijun preferred it that way.
Today’s driving song {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} was The Dawn’s full-length album Wish.
【The careless words I said stick to me like heat,
like a lotus whose breath has died.】
“Ahh, those lyrics are good.”
The number one in the Copyright Association was, of course, Lim Hyunsu, who had created countless masterpieces with idols and singers alike—but Baek Jijun’s talent in the ballad field alone was not insignificant.
Unlike Lim Hyunsu, however, he hated appearing on camera.
There was no special reason for it.
He simply found the flood of attention after an appearance exhausting, and he wanted to focus solely on music rather than those distractions.
That was why, even when he had been contacted after Song Camp’s production was confirmed, Baek Jijun had politely refused.
“I’m sorry. I think I’m still too inexperienced to show my face there.”
= Not going.
For Song Camp Season 2 as well—
“I’m a bit too busy...”
= Yep, not going.
Even for Song Camp Season 3—
[The number you have dialed is turned off. Please leave a message after the beep....]
= Nope, absolutely not going.
Perhaps rumors spread through the broadcasting world that Baek Jijun turned down every offer; before long, not just Song Camp but all other programs stopped contacting him entirely.
Even though he was signed under a reputable agency, he lived in self-chosen seclusion out in the countryside without a manager—until the day he met with Lim Hyunsu after a long while.
“I heard you turned down Song Camp again this time?”
“Yeah.”
“Good choice. Anyway, I heard Kang Ichae is appearing with his group this season—”
“What?! Holy sh—!!”
“What, what’s wrong with you?”
Ignoring Lim Hyunsu’s appalled reaction as she pulled her upper body back, Baek Jijun immediately pulled out his phone and called PD Jung Junhwan.
Then he declared his willingness to appear.
Of course, the desire to meet his idol was strong—but there was another motive behind it.
【Let us dive till the end,
until we rise to the surface to breathe.】
“His voice is so good.”
He wanted Seo Hoyun to sing one of his songs.
Waiting for the signal light, Baek Jijun unconsciously hummed along to the melody, his lips curving as he thought.
He had recorded many of his own songs himself, though he often passed them to other top vocalists in the industry. Compared to those singers, The Dawn’s skill level wasn’t particularly extraordinary.
But, just as artists each had their own muse—when Baek Jijun first heard Seo Hoyun’s low, mellow tone, he had felt as if struck by lightning.
‘Though he didn’t seem very eager, back then.’
When the light turned green, Baek Jijun pressed down on the accelerator. After safely arriving at the broadcast station, he entered using the staff badge he’d received in advance. On his way toward the second-floor waiting room, he spotted a familiar face.
“Jijun?”
“Huh?”
It was Kang Woorin, the singer-songwriter who had made back-to-back summer hits over the last two years and was steadily building his reputation.
“Senior, fancy seeing you here.”
“Seriously, you’re impossible to find these days.”
Kang Woorin grinned as he walked up.
“I really didn’t expect you to show up, considering how much you hate TV appearances. It’s been a while since you’ve filmed something, but you don’t look nervous.”
“Haha, of course I’m nervous. If I mess up, I’ll be the butt of family jokes for the next fifty years of holidays.”
“Come on, you’re being modest. You could easily beat everyone else here.”
It wasn’t exactly a compliment he could take comfortably, so Baek Jijun only smiled awkwardly. Kang Woorin slung an arm over his shoulder and lowered his voice curiously.
“By the way, I wanted to ask—anyone you’re personally keeping an eye on?”
“The Dawn.”
“Huh? Kang Ichae?”
Kang Woorin tilted his head, clearly caught off guard by the answer.
“Uh... why?”
“They’re fresh and good.”
Baek Jijun’s firm tone made Kang Woorin’s expression twist slightly. He dropped his arm and crossed them instead, nodding as if understanding.
“Well, they are getting attention these days. But I wouldn’t say their skill matches their hype—...”
Kang Woorin stopped mid-sentence and rubbed his chin.
“...Ah, forget it. Shouldn’t have said that. Anyway, let’s both do our best.”
“Yes, you too, senior.”
Apparently realizing it was best to drop the topic, Kang Woorin just gave Baek Jijun’s back a few pats and walked ahead. Watching him go, Baek Jijun let out a small sigh.
‘He hasn’t changed.’
Just as strict with himself as he was with everyone else—
If something didn’t meet his standards, he simply refused to acknowledge it.
‘Will The Dawn be all right, I wonder.’
Kang Woorin wouldn’t be the only one reacting that way.
In this industry, creators’ pride was sky-high. That pride often birthed great work—but whether intentionally or not, it also turned their judgmental gaze and sharp criticism toward others.
‘There must be plenty of nasty talk circulating lately, too.’
He was a little worried, though he hoped it was just needless concern as he made his way back toward the waiting room.
【The Dawn & Baek Jijun】
Seeing the name tag on the door made his heartbeat quicken.
He hurriedly straightened his clothes, cleared his throat, and carefully turned the knob.
“Ah! Hello!!”
The one who greeted him was The Dawn’s youngest member.
Baek Jijun smiled back at the brightly beaming Jung Dajun.
“Ah, hello. Um, where are the others?”
“Eh? Oh, right here!”
Jung Dajun pointed beside him at a large black lump. The moment Baek Jijun stepped closer for a better look, the thing began to squirm. Startled, he took a step back, but Dajun’s cheerful voice quickly followed.
“Don’t be scared! It’s not a pile of trash, it’s our member!”
As the blanket was thrown off, Seo Hoyun appeared. His pale, unmade-up face blinked slowly as if he’d just woken up.
‘Holy—those eyelashes actually fluttered.’
What was he, a CG game character?
That was Baek Jijun’s first impression upon meeting Seo Hoyun in person.
For someone used to perceiving others mostly through sound, finding himself thinking this way felt strangely foreign.
“...Where am I?”
“Hyung, wake up! We’re at the broadcast station! Song Camp schedule!!”
“Ah.”
Even his freshly woken, husky voice sounded good.
A friend who’d invited him to the Vile Trial set had told him that Seo Hoyun had been incredibly busy lately, juggling The Dawn’s comeback and the final stage of his movie filming.
“Mr. Baek Jijun, I’m sorry. I must look terrible.”
“Haha, not at all!”
“So embarrassing... Hey, get up.”
Seo Hoyun nudged another motionless lump beside him. It stirred sluggishly.
“It’s fine! This one’s our member too!”
Taking a step back again, Baek Jijun was startled to see Kang Ichae emerging—and instantly couldn’t hide his excitement.
“I’m—”
But before he could express his admiration, the dark circles under Kang Ichae’s eyes deepened and he collapsed flat onto the floor.
“......I am trash!!!”
“Uh... Mr. Kang Ichae??”
Startled by the sudden self-deprecation, Baek Jijun glanced at the others. Seo Hoyun was yawning lazily, and Jung Dajun only shook his head.
“Kang Ichae, creativity score one point. You’re trying to slack off again, same pattern as always, boring as—”
“Bangbang, shh.”
At the calm rebuke, Kang Ichae immediately stopped, then slowly stood up as if nothing had happened.
“...Out of how many?”
“Hundred.”
“Urgh...!”
Then the door opened, and Kang Ichae dove back onto the floor like lightning.
Kim Sunghyun, who’d been chatting with Sung Jiwon while eating ice cream, jumped at the sight of Kang Ichae sprawled like a frog.
“Oh—Mr. Baek Jijun, you’re he—ugh, what the hell, why’s he like that?!”
As if waiting for his cue, Kang Ichae rolled toward them, whining like a fox cub. Sung Jiwon nimbly slipped aside and seated himself beside Seo Hoyun, abandoning Kim Sunghyun to handle the chaos alone.
“Kang Ichae! Mr. Baek Jijun’s here, for crying out loud! Can’t you behave for once? Did you even greet him properly?”
What is this, his father scolding him?
With Kang Ichae clutching his pant leg, Kim Sunghyun sighed and scolded like a parent.
Baek Jijun had expected at least a bit of nervous energy from them—but The Dawn showed not a trace of anxiety or tension.
“Mr. Baek Jijun, we look forward to working with you today.”
He exchanged greetings with the others, still slightly dazed.
Since they were already done with makeup, he absentmindedly watched them prepare until a staff member guided him out first toward the first-floor studio.
He was about to pull back the curtain on the left side of the set when a staffer stopped him and directed him elsewhere. The area he was led to was empty for now. Sitting at the end of a row of chairs, Baek Jijun looked around curiously. The sound engineers seemed to be running checks, music snippets turning on and off in intervals.
One by one, the cast members filed into the studio. As everyone took their seats and began chatting, a deep drumbeat suddenly rolled through the space.
Then a huge screen flickered on.
The sound reverberated, muffled like a voice underwater—and K.Voka’s rap began.
【This ain’t lie, the truth never gets blurry
y’all done things that I don’t like
watch close, you’ll be the witness of this history】
Druruk—tak,
【Regret falls down like rain,
ah, where have you gone?】
Druruk—tak,
【Turn my Music on! Tears are Bye Bye Bye,
I’ll never love again.】
Like a cassette tape rolling forward, the transitions between songs were flawlessly stylish.
Only top-tier artists—no wonder this lineup drew awe. But just then, a familiar melody caught his ear.
【Everyone sends me signs to stop,
but I run toward you anyway.】
It was his own ballad, Signal.
After each hit song passed, blue and red lights intertwined and scattered.
【—But when that faint dawn finally rises,
we’ll talk until the sun comes up,
We can slow down the time, aren’t we?】
Then, seamlessly, Garage by NerdyFreak—written and composed by Kang Ichae—followed.
【But if you’re still scared, take my hand,
in that place we know best,
I’ll shout until you laugh in boredom.】
The intense violin filled the air, and Kang Ichae’s rap cut in.
【The dawn belongs entirely to us.】
As the lingering piano faded, embers flared across the screen, and in their wake appeared the scorched lettering:
WHO WILL BE THE WINNER?
Kang Woorin and the other participants all wore calm expressions.
Baek Jijun wanted to ask them—
After watching this, could they still think Kang Ichae was an easy opponent?
Or was he the only one here feeling nervous?
