Chapter 163

After Seoyeon’s concept for *Masked Singer* was decided as “Bo Falabit,” Producer Shim Kyung-ho said:

“I’ll send you the detailed schedule once it’s ready!”

And with that, he left. It seemed he was quite pleased with Seoyeon’s participation in *Masked Singer,* as his steps were unusually light.

However, there was one important matter.

“I guess I’ll have to keep an eye on *Masked Singer* for a while.”

Of course, Seoyeon watched *Masked Singer.*

But in her previous life…

Though Seoyeon had delved into various video media, she hadn’t often watched *Masked Singer.* Simply put, the show of singing while wearing a mask wasn’t particularly helpful for her.

Seoyeon watched various video media only to memorize the emotions expressed in them. Naturally, with her face covered by a mask and her singing not resonating emotionally with her, Seoyeon only skimmed through *Masked Singer* quickly, just folding through it.

There wasn’t much to learn—just the surprised faces of panelists, their expressions of shock, the gazes of those moved by the songs.

Even that had been it, until the show turned into a sort of celebrity rehabilitation program, which Seoyeon stopped watching altogether.

“Mom, have you seen *Masked Singer*?”

“Yes.”

It was the weekend. Seoyeon had been watching *Masked Singer* from morning, because mistakes were not an option for a program she was about to join.

Moreover, after Seoyeon had started to really feel emotions, her perception of the show had changed drastically. She now understood why *Masked Singer* was such a popular program.

Amazingly, it was about discovering the true identities behind incredible voices. The catharsis of revelation was undeniable.

“Jiyeon should join if I do.”

Both rising actors and comedians often appeared on the show. Although Jiyeon wasn’t exactly obscure, she wasn’t well-known either.

Still, she had played fairly recognizable roles in cable dramas before Seoyeon took center stage, making her well-known in Yeonhwa High School’s community.

Yet, appearing on the program would surely be beneficial.

“Darling, come see this.”

Since it was the weekend, Young-bin, who had been lounging around, entered the living room scratching his belly. When Sua gestured him over, he lazily glanced around with a strangely guarded gaze.

It was a behavior he’d developed after filming *Golden Goslings.*

“Today, there’s no camera. I swear.”

Apparently feeling reproached, Sua said so, and Young-bin finally slumped onto the couch. But he kept nodding off, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

“Tch.”

Sua looked displeased by his reaction. After all, she was an avid fan of *Masked Singer* and wanted to share the experience.

‘Occasionally, dad seems oddly uncomfortable when she calls him “darling.”’

In fact, Seoyeon knew this. Sua tended to call Young-bin “Oppa Young-bin.”

Perhaps that’s how they addressed each other when they were dating.

Alternating between observing the two and watching *Masked Singer,* Seoyeon learned that a new participant had made it to the “King” challenge.

The mask was adorned with black crow feathers. Given the heavy plumage, Seoyeon wondered how unbearably hot it must be. The crow’s attitude seemed rather lackadaisical, as if it had been forced to appear against its will.

Trying to energize the situation, MC Song Byung-soo put in extra effort, but with little success.

“Did she not want to appear?”

Judging from the reactions on various online communities, it wasn’t surprising that the feedback wasn’t overwhelmingly positive.

– Why show up if you’re going to act like this?

– So much care went into the mask design, but it’s wasted on her.

– The songs she’s sung so far are nothing special, and her voice lacks any distinguishing flair.

– Still, she sings pretty well, so cheers to her!

Given those comments, whenever her identity was eventually revealed, there’d likely be backlash. Seoyeon found this demeanor unimpressive as well.

Seoyeon approached everything with full commitment, and naturally disliked half-hearted efforts.

However…

“Then, let’s look forward to an amazing performance!!”

At Song Byung-soo’s announcement, music began to play. Seoyeon immediately became engrossed.

It was a rather old song, and quite familiar to her—an opening sequence from *The Moon That Hid the Sun*, rearranged into a more upbeat metal version.

The crow grabbed a guitar that seemed purely decorative, revealing ungloved hands partly hidden by feathers. It appeared that the lack of gloves was for playing the guitar.

People’s attention shifted to the crow, who leaned into a standing microphone.

And then…

Seoyeon momentarily doubted her ears.

Too bad?

No, quite the opposite.

Amazingly good.

In fact, the preceding masked singer seemed amateurish by comparison. The vocal clarity was striking.

Generally, a clean tone might be seen as monotone or lacking personality.

But it has the advantage of appealing to broader audiences. This clean, effortless high note, combined with skillful control, left Seoyeon momentarily speechless.

Unlike acting, which could be harder to evaluate emotionally, singing ability is easy to assess just by listening.

While Seoyeon’s own acting prowess may not have always resonated deeply, the reactions she had noticed on audiences watching her performances now played out vividly within herself.

“Wait… where have I heard this before?”

Though Seoyeon wasn’t an expert at identifying singers by voice alone, something felt familiar. Maybe it was among the recent songs Jiyeon had played for her…

“Ah, mother.”

Sua, upon hearing the voice, looked slightly flustered. But it was only to that extent.

Both Seoyeon and Sua waited silently until the crow’s performance ended.

“Wooh! That was absolutely amazing!”

“Wow, I’m shocked!”

“Oh my, Ashen Crow is incredibly cool!”

The title “Ashen Crow” was what the audience called the performer. Amidst universal praise, the community forums that had previously criticized her flipped their opinion entirely.

Naturally, she earned a unanimous victory, practically a clean sweep.

As a result, her opponent’s confidence visibly wavered.

“Maybe after a long time, we’ll have a king who can hold the throne.”

A long reigning champion is inducted into the ‘Hall of Fame.’ Given the current capabilities of “Ashen Crow,” Seoyeon believed she might indeed reach that level.

After learning to sing herself, Seoyeon could instantly recognize the performer’s remarkable talent.

“Yeah? Sure. She’s incredible.”

But Sua’s response was strangely odd. Her mouth twitched nervously, though she didn’t seem particularly upset.

After a moment of darting glances, she turned to glance at Young-bin, who was still sprawled on the couch with his eyes closed.

It was unclear if Young-bin was asleep or awake, but Sua asked him anyway.

“How did you like the song? Wasn’t it amazing?”

Finally opening his closed eyes, Young-bin yawned and replied.

“She’s always been good…”

And with that, he promptly nodded off again, snoring softly.

“Always…?”

Seoyeon thought back to Young-bin’s words. They didn’t simply convey recognition of the singer, but carried a tone of effortless familiarity, as if this voice was something he often heard.

With that implication lingering, Seoyeon turned her gaze back to the TV screen where Ashen Crow was being presented with the crown of the new king.

“If she retains the crown for long enough…”

Perhaps Seoyeon would get to see this lethargic figure again when it was her turn to appear on the show.

***

While preparing for this new variety show, Seoyeon visited the Hollow Studio frequently.

She sought Na-hee’s help for her *Masked Singer* preparations, but also wanted to watch Na-hee’s acting.

Na-hee was an actor in the drama *Sky Garden*, playing a friend of the character Yoo-joo that Seoyeon was portraying.

“If Seoyeon stands beside me, the flaws are more obvious, right?”

Na-hee often said this earnestly, genuinely meaning it, not merely flattery.

Standing next to Seoyeon, naturally her performance would be compared. This had been evident since the days of *Dream Future*.

When acting alone, comments were usually quiet, but acting with Seoyeon led to an increase in reshoots.

“Since you’re both on-screen together, Na-hee’s presence seems weakened. Maybe a scene alteration could help?”

Director Kim Pil-seok of *Dream Future* had even made this comment. Fortunately, her acting noticeably improved once Seoyeon regularly watched it.

“Show the character more clearly! You’re not conveying enough emotion!”

Director Kim Il-soo often called for retakes with these words. Yet, compared to the old complaints about her fading presence, Na-hee had undoubtedly improved.

“…What does Seoyeon think?”

“Her acting has improved a lot, I think.”

“No, I mean with *Sky Garden.*”

Seoyeon was relaxing after practicing her singing, while Na-hee was practicing her acting.

“Are you really alright? I worry every time I take on a drama role.”

“What if I mess it up?”

Such concerns. But Seoyeon was relatively less troubled by such worries.

“Because I already know what *Sky Garden* is.”

This underlying knowledge made her less anxious, though others unfamiliar with her context might think her mental resilience was extraordinary, especially since typically the leading actors’ performance significantly impacts a drama’s success. As Seoyeon was the first lead, she naturally bore significant pressure.

“I think it’ll be successful. Really. By the way…”

Seoyeon shifted her gaze, noticing members of the Summer Girls group gathered near the entrance.

“Why are you all here? We’re one big *Sky Garden* family.”

“What family?!”

Rabin, though smiling, inwardly exclaimed.

“Why does Na-hee keep bringing this monster around?”

At least recently, the strange coin folding had stopped. Earlier, every time the group arrived, the jingling sound created mass panic, but Rabin had recently managed to find inner peace.

“Don’t turn around if you hear coins clinking.”

A haunting story had spread across the Hollow Studio. Unaware of the source, many in the studio screamed in fright, but as the guilty party, Rabin didn’t find it amusing.

“Do you know what it’s like? That coin turns into a half moon!”

“So, Rabin-san…”

“Uhm, uh? What is it?”

“Isn’t Na-hee’s contract ending this year?”

“Um, yes, it is.”

At this response, Seoyeon’s lips curved softly, what Rabin thought was probably a smile.

“Got it.”

That was enough for her. Seoyeon simply replied and left it at that.

After all, *Summer Girls* was just too small for someone like Cha Na-hee to stay confined in.

***

[Money rules the world.]

[Money is the very justice that drives society!]

The formal broadcast of *Grand Game* had started.

It was a Monday-Tuesday drama. The most important benchmark for the Drama Department 2 of KMB Broadcasting Company.

Naturally, every employee of the drama division of KMB was bound to be concerned with the ratings of *Grand Game.*

“Please let it succeed! Please, succeed!!”

“Just pray it’s mediocre! No, bottom of the barrel!!”

Amidst these conflicting hopes, the results for *Grand Game* were in:

[Episode 1 Ratings 12%!! The beginning of a grand success of *Grand Game*!!]

[After *Dream Future*, KMB strikes a double hit for ratings!!]

The ratings had been exceptionally high.

Naturally, this was unwelcome news for Lee Min-hwa, the PD of *Sky Garden*. Even more so because…

“Good morning, PD Bak.”

“Ah, hello there, PD Lee Min-hwa.”

Min-hwa PD found herself inwardly cursing when the cheerful greeting came from Bak Tae-soo PD, whom she least wished to encounter this morning.

“Congratulations on the success of *Grand Game.*”

“It’s early to say. Everything’s up in the air still.”

His response was deeply meaningful. It wasn’t just casual banter or polite exaggeration. He genuinely believed it.

His slowly widening smile said as much.

“…*Sky Garden* airs tomorrow night. Looking forward to it. Let’s see if KMB achieves another hit.”

“Hitting a single again, is it?”

“Haha, a home run would be even better. With all the attention on the drama department, it’s great that you’re not worried.”

With those words, Bak Tae-soo PD patted her shoulder, turned, and walked away.

At this, the employees observing the tense situation let out a sigh of relief. They had feared a clash between the two.

“Perhaps there’s no real competition intent after all.”

“Maybe I’m just being overly sensitive.”

That’s how some thought, but Min-hwa PD touched the shoulder that had been patted, her face smiling but eyes unamused.

“He knows they’re still on top.”

Bak Tae-soo PD had the solid backing of the KMB president. But he still didn’t disregard their current drama director, Ha Tae-oh.

Rather, he showed him great respect.

“Clearly, he’s no easy adversary.”

That respect came from strength. If Bak Tae-soo PD continued his winning streak, would he maintain such humility?

Min-hwa didn’t know. But she had a solid feeling her current position wouldn’t be pleasant.

“*Sky Garden* has to succeed.”

The first five episodes of the drama had been completed. Min-hwa had reviewed every single one of them and was confident in the drama’s quality.

But whether the drama’s theme would resonate with the general public?

That, she wasn’t certain about.

“Joo Soo-yeon.”

The lead actress of *Sky Garden*, the unmatched actress who had never failed in any movie or drama she’d ever been in. Despite her short career, Min-hwa believed in her instinct.

And in the character Yoo-joo that she depicted.

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