Even that short opening—where instead of The Dawn’s songs, the hottest trending tracks were woven in—was more than enough for PD Jung Junhwan’s intent to come through loud and clear.
He probably meant to use Kang Ichae as bait.
No one in this room could possibly be unaware of that. Yet, as everyone cheered without betraying a hint of unease, Baek Jijun felt a wave of nausea rise in his chest.
To hide his discomfort, he covered his mouth as though suppressing a cough and quietly observed the situation. Soon, the stage lights turned on, and comedian and professional MC Lee Jeongwoong walked out.
“Hello! I’m Lee Jeongwoong, your host for Song Camp Season 3!”
He loosened up the atmosphere by joking about his past—how he’d once tried releasing a self-produced song and crashed spectacularly.
“Season 3, excluding the introduction stage, will consist of three missions in total. Each mission will have a different theme, and both the details and evaluation methods will be revealed on the spot. The participant who earns the highest total score across all missions will win the competition—and take home a grand prize of one hundred million won. The winner will also become the main feature of a behind-the-scenes special episode.”
Everyone reacted with surprise at the mention of the prize, but Baek Jijun could only scoff. None of the people sitting here were desperate for pocket money.
What they all wanted was recognition—public awareness.
Once they gained that, whatever they were planning behind the scenes would naturally fall into place later.
That was how this industry worked.
“Well then, before we waste any more time, shall we begin the initiation round?”
Show your genius!
The words flashed across the screen, and with a metallic swish, the curtains on the left side of the set drew back.
There were six temporary booths, each equipped with a high-end computer and composing gear.
“You’ll have one hour to compose the first verse of a song. The genre is up to you. For evaluation, you may perform the piece yourself, or you can have one of our assigned vocalists sing it for you. Afterward, the top three entries chosen by internal voting will receive an early hint for the first official mission.”
Baek Jijun exhaled a stunned sigh before reflexively turning toward PD Jung Junhwan. The round, genial man’s face was practically glowing with excitement.
An hour, huh...
Whether rapper, idol, or songwriter—anyone who had ever created something new knew how much patience and suffering it required.
So this initiation was basically—
“Can we pick any booth we want?!”
Just as Baek Jijun’s thoughts were aligning, The Dawn’s youngest, Jung Dajun, shouted his question.
“Yes, you can use whichever booth you like.”
For some reason, the eyes of The Dawn members gleamed sharply at that response.
“Please move to your booths. Once all preparations are complete, the start signal /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ will appear on the screen.”
While Baek Jijun sat frozen, unsure what to do, the others began passing him by one after another.
“Uh...”
Only then did Baek Jijun finally stand and move to a booth.
Well, this is... something.
If this had been about presenting a “reproduction” rather than genuine “creation,” it wouldn’t have been all that hard.
Any composer with some experience would have a few unreleased tracks or beats tucked away. With that kind of base, throwing together a song that sounded decent was child’s play.
That was surely what most of the contestants here were planning. Their relaxed, confident smiles only reinforced his assumption.
But Baek Jijun didn’t feel like doing that. Not out of guilt or moral principle—
It’d just be boring.
He simply found it uninteresting.
Still, this is a ridiculous mission. Guess they’re confident in editing it well afterward.
He sighed inwardly, when a faint whisper nearby caught his ear.
“Ichae, didn’t you prepare anything?”
The mention of a familiar name made his ears perk.
“No.”
“Why not?!”
“Because I used everything up while working on our full-length album...”
Ah. So the pantry’s empty.
Hearing that, Baek Jijun felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. He knew all too well how anxiety-inducing it was to face a composing session without any reserves to fall back on.
“It’s fine, Kang Ichae. You can do it.”
“What?! Hoyun hyung being kind and warm-hearted?!”
“Who are you, and what did you do with him?!”
Even though it was a simple statement, Kang Ichae covered his mouth like he was deeply moved. Seo Hoyun smiled faintly and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You just need to grind, and it’ll come out.”
Cruel!
Baek Jijun, who had once finished a master’s degree, suddenly felt his trauma of being tormented by professors resurface. Trembling without knowing what to say, he watched as Seo Hoyun kept talking with that bright smile.
“Kang Ichae, make it unique but mainstream, calm yet lively—a song overflowing with inspiration.”
“Jijun, I need a short piece for the next orchestra collaboration. Flashy yet simple, trendy yet classical—make me something like that.”
“You can do it within an hour, right?”
“You’re a talented friend, surely a day’s enough.”
Utter nonsense.
Grinding his teeth at the memory of those horrific words from professors, Baek Jijun lifted his head—only to find Seo Hoyun looking right at him.
One of Hoyun’s eyebrows arched slightly before his lips curved into a mischievous grin, as if amused by the scene unfolding.
START!
59:59:13
59:58:32
59:57:44
A timer appeared on the screen as the booth doors automatically opened.
“Looking forward to it?”
Seo Hoyun slung an arm over Kang Ichae’s shoulder, threw a glance over his back, said just that—and disappeared with the members into their booth.
Left alone and blinking, Baek Jijun hesitated for a moment before stepping into his own booth. He numbly pressed the power button on the computer and put on the headset.
Damn it, why am I suddenly so rattled?
It was something he could’ve easily ignored, yet the professor’s nagging voice echoed in his ears like a looping chant.
He ruffled his hair violently as if to shake it off. Since he’d already decided not to use any pre-existing beats, he began composing purely from whatever ideas surfaced, muttering endless curses under his breath as he worked.
After wringing out every bit of inspiration and finally reaching the finishing touches, a staff member knocked on his booth.
“Please wrap up.”
“W-wait, just a moment!”
“Mr. Baek Jijun, time’s up.”
“Profess— I mean, staff!”
Though roughly complete, the result still left him dissatisfied. As he handed it over, a gloomy mutter slipped from his mouth.
“I blew it big time...”
He staggered out of the booth on trembling legs. Among the confident contestants, he spotted Kang Ichae radiating a similarly defeated aura.
Looked like things hadn’t gone smoothly for him either—he thought, until—
“Ichae hyung! You’re a once-in-a-decade genius!”
“Exactly what Hoyun wanted—unique yet addictive!”
“Yeah! You’re annoying as hell sometimes, but in moments like this, you really are a genius!”
Baek Jijun was about to tune out the noise, thinking, of course they’d say that, when he caught Ichae’s groaning confession.
“I’m not a genius... I just erased the lyrics the others wrote... And I was in such a rush rewriting them that...”
The air around The Dawn sank heavy.
Just then, Seo Hoyun, who had been talking to a staff member off to the side, gestured to Sung Jiwon.
“...Huh? Hoyun hyung’s calling Jiwon hyung. Guess he’s gonna sing.”
“Oh, me...?”
Smiling faintly as if to say, don’t worry, Sung Jiwon walked over to him.
Baek Jijun wanted to know what was happening inside the booth, but he was dragged away by a staff member for a quick interview about his own track—its concept, inspiration points, and so on—so the curiosity soon faded.
And then, the initiation presentations began.
As Baek Jijun had guessed, most contestants had come prepared; not a single piece felt clumsy. Even his own halfhearted song was received decently enough.
But—
“The Dawn, zero votes.”
—The result for the song Baek Jijun had considered genius was disastrous.
.
.
.
Wow, the night sky looks incredible tonight.
“Hey, Ichae, I told you, it was really good!”
On their way back to the company for a listening session of their new album, Kang Ichae looked completely dead inside, his eyes like a fish left out to dry.
From the back seat, Kim Sunghyun whistled and poked the top of his head.
“Why so down? Still upset about not getting any votes?”
“Th-that’s not it! Such trivial things don’t matter. What matters is that I released an unrecyclable piece of garbage into the world...”
“Come on, hyung~! We’ve made way sillier songs in our self-filmed content.”
“That was self-content!”
Scrubbing his face so hard his makeup smeared, Kang Ichae finally glanced up at Sung Jiwon, who’d been unusually quiet since filming. He’d performed flawlessly during the shoot, but once in the van, he’d sat staring blankly out the window.
“...Jiwon hyung...”
Kang Ichae’s voice was unusually cautious.
“Mm?”
“I’ll buy you dinner. Sorry for making you sing such stupid lyrics...”
“Oh, what are you saying, Ichae! The song was really great! I just—just wondering if I performed it well enough, haha—ha...”
“...”
“Haha... ha... haaa...”
“Your laugh just turned into a sigh, didn’t it?!”
With an innocent smile, Jung Dajun drove a nail straight into Kang Ichae’s heart, hanging over the seat’s headrest as he chirped.
“Hmph, I actually thought it was funny—no, I mean good! Hoyun hyung, what did you think? It wasn’t bad, right?!”
“He probably thinks it was a flop...”
Glancing at the miserable Ichae, I recalled the earlier scene at the set—
Contestants laughing at The Dawn, Baek Jijun’s stunned face, and PD Jung Junhwan smirking behind the cameras as he watched it all unfold.
I let the corner of my mouth curl up slightly.
“Hey, Kang Ichae.”
I nudged his shin lightly with my shoe. The guy looked up weakly.
A flop, huh?
“I’ll treat you to something good.”
Once the program airs, we’re the ones who’ll come out on top.
