‘Is this for real?’
When the earlier performers’ songs had been playing, most of them seemed so busy just trying to adapt to an unfamiliar genre that no one had expected much—me included. I’d assumed Baek Jijun would be the same.
【—I’m losing my resistance】
But that illusion crumbled like a sandcastle before the tide the moment I heard Baek Jijun’s “Moonlight.”
A melody spread out—an arpeggio guitar line laid over a crisp, textbook shuffle rhythm, with a buoyant synthesizer layered on top, raising the dreamy mood to its peak.
【Moonlight that shines even in the sun,
A candle that burns even without a wick】
The lyrical words blended in, spreading through the air in a haze of ecstasy.
【Tell me, Am I meant for you?】
Kang Ichae’s judgment had been right.
Baek Jijun was a genius.
‘This is going to be tough.’
Unlike the first round, the second evaluation couldn’t rely on luck or scenery to boost the performance. Everything that could possibly give away hints was kept secret, ensuring that results would come down purely to the music. Rankings would be decided by judges’ scores and online votes, both conducted blindly.
【Come in, let’s dance, between the moonlight (Moonlight—)
Like the lovers captured in a painting,
Let’s hold hands forever】
As the melody reached its climax and I glanced toward the members, I doubted my own eyes.
【The more we touch, the thirst grows,
The deeper the senses become】
He was expressionless, but—
【I’m losing my resistance】
—for some reason, it looked as if Kang Ichae were falling apart.
***
“Thank you for your hard work!”
After handing their mics back to the staff, the members finally started to talk more comfortably.
“Uh, we got feedback on the mid-evaluation... What should we do about it?”
“Hmm, I think Ichae-hyung’s opinion matters most right now. We don’t have much time left.”
The Dawn’s second-round song had received decent feedback—praised for its rich harmonies, emotional undertones, and elegant arrangement.
“Honestly, is there anything left to fix?”
It was good. So good that if someone had offered to make it the album’s title track, I would’ve agreed.
Baek Jijun’s song had been overwhelming, sure, but Kang Ichae had also more than proven himself in chamber pop—a genre he’d never composed in before.
Yet while we exchanged opinions, Ichae pulled his cap low, folded his arms, and stared at the floor. His fingers tapped his forearm in a steady rhythm, as if measuring something.
“Ichae.”
As I silently watched him, Sung Jiwon furrowed his brow and called out to him.
“...Ichae?”
“Uh, huh?”
His chin lifted a beat late.
Realizing everyone’s attention was on him, Ichae forced a small smile.
“Ah... what, you want to tear the song apart and redo it?”
...No, no one said that.
I elbowed Kim Sunghyun beside me without taking my eyes off the front. Reflexively, he blurted out,
“Let’s just... eat first and think later.”
=Didn’t that seem weird just now?
“Right? Look at the time already.”
=Yeah. Fucking weird.
While Sunghyun and I exchanged silent subtext, Ichae quietly patted the maknae’s head, masking his mood behind calm gestures.
“...Hey, I’ll go grab a drink real quick.”
“...O-okay, see you.”
Leaving behind Sunghyun’s hesitant answer, I stepped out. If PD Jung Junhwan was half the chain-smoker I remembered, he’d probably be outside smoking right about now.
‘Ichae lost control of his expression during Baek Jijun’s song earlier.’
Having appeared on three survival programs already, there was no way he’d be rattled by the thought of provocative editing.
So if he’d failed to keep his emotions in check—
‘Is facing Baek Jijun that burdensome for him?’
I walked briskly past the QBS back gate, heading down a familiar side path, until the usual smoking area came into view. I craned my neck to look around—no sign of PD Jung Junhwan. I was just about to turn back when I heard movement, and someone peeked out.
“Waaah, Professor~!”
Holding a cigarette in one hand, Baek Jijun greeted me with a bright smile.
Before things could get annoying, I tried to give a brief greeting and slip away, but he quickly caught on, inhaled sharply, flicked his cigarette butt into the bin, and hurried to block my way.
“Ah~, sorry, it smells, right?”
“It’s fine. Did you need something?”
He waved his hand to scatter the smoke, hesitated, then unzipped the sports bag on his shoulder and pulled out an Aeronautics album.
“Um, if you’re not busy... could I get your autograph?”
“Ah, of course. Who should I make it out to?”
“To Jijun!”
I popped the pen cap with my mouth and began signing, but froze mid-stroke, looking up in surprise.
“Personally, the B-side ‘Wave’ is my top pick! But the title ‘Flight’ was incredible too! The lyrics, the rhythm, that addictive hook—it’s all so good! The interplay between the vocals and rap is just insane~~!”
Baek Jijun spoke endlessly, his hands clasped together, as if oblivious to the fact that I was staring right at him.
“And in ‘Wave,’ the line ‘If we meet again, I could fall in love at once’—that’s the best part!”
“That’s my part.”
“Haha, yeah... that’s why I love it so much. I really want to work with you, Seo Hoyun.”
I stared at Baek Jijun, who was radiating pure, shining sincerity. When he finally noticed my silence, he scratched his cheek awkwardly.
“Ah... did I go too far?”
We hadn’t talked much before, but it was obvious he was bright and easygoing. Watching him interact with others, it was clear he was perceptive and sociable.
On top of that, his musical instincts were sharp. Broad range, solid skills.
Even in that ridiculous initiation mission, he’d managed to compose his own melody in minutes and win first place.
I’d thought his choice of a trot-style ballad back then was just strategy to rank higher, but after hearing today’s song—
“Seo Hoyun?”
—that theory completely collapsed.
‘He just... has confidence.’
Confidence that whatever the genre or theme, he could make it work flawlessly.
“...No.”
Finishing the autograph, I handed the album back to him slowly.
“I’m just grateful. I’m sure you get offers all the time, but it’s an honor that you’d want to work with me.”
“Aha, I guess you’ve caught on. It’s embarrassing, but I’m actually a huge fan of your tone.”
“My voice is pretty common.”
“How can you say that?! A voice like yours is rare even if you search the whole world!”
His face, always glowing with warmth, twisted in shock.
Such exaggeration. I let the words wash over me, but Baek Jijun frowned slightly, paused, and asked,
“Hmm... Seo Hoyun, when you meet someone, where do you think a person’s life shows the most?”
“My bank account records.”
“...Wow, that’s... profoundly true....”
He looked stunned by how fast I’d answered. Then, scratching his head, he went on,
“Me, I listen—to every sound they make. You can tell what someone’s lived through, what matters to them. Your voice—it’s young, but it carries time. Maturity.”
What the hell is he talking about.
Judging from his awkward laugh, my face had shown exactly what I was thinking.
“You look like you think that’s nonsense. It’s hard to explain, but... ah, right. It’s like several years of life are packed into you. At least ten more than my own age.”
“What?”
“So the aura you give off, the way it feels—there’s something fascinating about it. Like no one else could ever imitate it.”
‘What is this guy?’
He nailed it dead-on just from that?
A chill crept up my spine.
“Did I offend you just now?”
“...No, not really.”
“Good, I’m glad.”
Even while gauging my reaction, he kept chattering.
“Honestly, I’ve been a bit lost lately, but I feel like if I worked with you, I could make something truly amazing. I’ll match any genre you want! Even something sexy like ‘Act Natural’ from Perfect Singer would be great—”
“Baek Jijun, aren’t you more of a ballad specialist?”
“Eh~, you saw today, didn’t you?”
He flashed a confident grin, all teeth.
“I can do everything. If you just say yes, I’ll /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ write you a song no one else in the world could sing.”
That pale, shining face held both ambition and certainty. The look of someone who knew an offer like that was hard for any singer to refuse.
“I don’t say things like this to just anyone, you know.”
He hummed lightly.
“When Song Camp wraps up, you’ll have more time, and maybe I’ll get my chance—”
Then he stopped mid-sentence, eyes going wide.
“...Or maybe not...”
Following his gaze, I turned slowly.
There, leaning against the back door of the QBS building with arms crossed, was Kang Ichae—watching us in silence.
“......”
“......”
“...I-I guess not, huh, ha-ha, ha-ha-ha!”
...Fuck.
‘Perfect timing, as always.’
Under the brim of his black cap, every trace of his usual smile was gone, replaced by a look so sharp and grim it even unsettled me, someone who saw him every day.
Baek Jijun, clearly unaccustomed to Ichae, rolled his eyes nervously in every direction.
“Uh, w-wow! Suddenly a call!”
He fumbled out his phone.
“The screen’s black.”
“My manager!”
“You don’t have one.”
“Got one yesterday! Anyway, bye!”
Hey.
He spun around, darted past me toward the back door, and gave Ichae a polite nod.
When Ichae tilted his eyes in acknowledgment, Jijun seemed to relax a little, smiling as he slipped into the building.
Left alone with Ichae, I glanced at him sideways. He’d probably heard everything—or even if he hadn’t, the situation spoke for itself.
Before he could say a word, I beat him to it.
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t say I’d do it.”
Even though I hadn’t done anything wrong, I felt oddly guilty.
“Ah... that just now.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“Why not work with him? It’d be good publicity.”
“...Huh?”
“If you were going to refuse because of me, don’t. Just go ahead.”
I’d expected maybe irritation, teasing, even mild jealousy—but his voice was calm, indifferent.
As he pushed back his cap and ran a hand through his hair, he added casually while opening the door,
“Phew~, I’m starving.”
“...You’re hungry?”
He nodded and started walking ahead. I followed, still uneasy.
‘What’s with him.’
People don’t change overnight. So why did he seem so detached, almost serene—like Sung Jiwon.
As I tried to recall anything that might explain it, Ichae suddenly stopped, turned, and looked at me.
“Oh, right. Hyung.”
“Yeah?”
“About Song Camp.”
His eyes curved softly, his tone quiet and smooth as silk.
“Even if it kills you—come out on top.”
