Chapter 175

A brisk sound of an electric guitar rang out.

Accompanied by the backing music, the melody began to resonate.

Since it was an unfamiliar song, most of the audience and panelists responded with puzzled expressions.

It was as if Seoyeon had chosen an old animation song from long ago.

However, back then, there were at least some people in the audience who would exclaim, “Ah, I know this!”

Since it was such a famous song, even if it had been rearranged, there were still plenty of people who would recognize it.

Rather, the majority of reactions were more along the lines of, “I feel like I’ve heard this somewhere… Is this a cartoon song?”

Because of that, many people found it unique. Even though it felt a bit awkward, no one was as bewildered as they were now.

The show *Masked Singer* isn’t a place to debut original songs.

Naturally, the audience comes to hear how the singer will perform an existing song, not to listen to something strange.

And Seoyeon knew that much.

‘This…’

But Seoyeon realized something the moment the electric guitar sound filled the stage.

As the Ashen Crow grabbed the microphone and the music started playing, Seoyeon understood—it was a song she’d heard before, and not long ago at that.

“CD? What’s this?”

Jiyeon’s house had an old PC.

A PC that still had a CD drive.

These days, most PCs don’t even have slots for CDs anymore.

People rarely use them, and unless you specifically order the part separately, there’s no way to run a CD on modern devices.

“Apparently, it’s a game CD.”

“Joo Sooyeon, you keep bringing random things.”

“It’s a memory game my parents made when they were in high school.”

“You might find something interesting if you randomly pick things up. It’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it?”

Jiyeon’s sharp criticism softened immediately.

Seoyeon narrowed her eyes as she looked at Jiyeon, but Jiyeon only subtly avoided her gaze.

After all, how was she supposed to know the CD would contain something so significant?

Besides, it was the first time Seoyeon had heard that her parents had ever made a game.

Had they been part of a game development club in high school?

Well, thinking about what they did now, it wasn’t entirely surprising.

Chik.

Anyway, Seoyeon was able to run the old CD using the outdated PC at Jiyeon’s house.

While considering whether to purchase a device to read the CD, she ran into compatibility issues once again.

After all, it was uncertain whether a self-made game from ten years ago would run on the current operating system.

Still, thanks to Jiyeon’s old PC, it managed to work without a hitch.

“This is…”

Jiyeon quietly muttered.

The game itself was a surprisingly simple, nostalgic piece, filled with the charm of old-school gaming.

The special part?

“There’s an opening?”

A song played as the game started.

No specific title was given; it simply had “opening” written in the corner of the screen.

The song was relatively calming, fitting for the typical fantasy RPG style. It was a track that cheered on adventurers embarking on their journeys.

But for some reason, the voice sounded familiar to Jiyeon.

And it wasn’t long before she realized:

“Could this be Yeo-hee?”

Seoyeon seemed unaware, but Jiyeon, who had always been a fan of Yeo-hee’s music, could vaguely feel that the singer’s voice was remarkably similar to Yeo-hee’s.

Of course, the skill level couldn’t compare to the current Yeo-hee, but considering it was from high school, it was an impressively well-sung piece.

“Could it be…”

Thinking about it, they had been classmates, hadn’t they?

Back then, she had just thought of Yeo-hee as a regular classmate, but after hearing this song, something felt different.

If nothing else, Yeo-hee wouldn’t have participated in the game’s creation unless they had a closer connection.

So, what kind of relationship did they have?

Jiyeon glanced at Seoyeon sideways, wondering if she had noticed.

However, Seoyeon merely listened quietly without any particular reaction.

Opening.

Judging from the clumsy visuals accompanying the song, it seemed to have been added in a hurry.

It was more like a collage of illustrations, often referred to as a “mad movie.”

But the mere existence of an intro song was special in itself.

It was a game that exuded innocence, trying its best to check all the boxes.

The song, strangely evoking a nostalgic tug at the heartstrings.

Seoyeon raised her head.

She looked at the singer who had just stepped onto the stage, after she herself had just finished her performance.

The Ashen Crow.

Or rather, whoever she was, she definitely had some connection to Sua or Young-bin, given her knowledge of this song.

Could it be?

Though doubts arose, this song seemed to confirm it.

Opening.

Even without a title, it felt perfectly fitting for what the song represented.

An opening song.

With more maturity, the voice sang out on the small stage, echoing out to the world beyond.

***

To put it simply, it was a whim.

“Sister, are you crazy? There are so many other songs. Why this one?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Who would have guessed you’d do a song like that?”

After all, it wasn’t technically an original composition.

It didn’t fit well with *Masked Singer*, no matter how you looked at it.

“It was sung in a singing competition back then. It got some attention. A high schooler’s game theme song, you know?”

“But it’s a song without a title.”

The song was simply titled “opening.”

Plain and straightforward, without much else.

Back then, they couldn’t think of an appropriate name, so Young-bin suggested:

“Opening sounds good.”

As a song that marked their very first start.

What better title for a song encouraging adventurers before their grand journey?

Maybe that was it.

Or perhaps they were just lazy.

Looking out at the stage, there was a rabbit with a peculiar mask staring up at her. Though unable to see its expression, it appeared visibly startled.

A child who, unlike her father, seemed to have too many thoughts in her head.

Maybe she took after Sua.

Yeo-hee held the microphone in her hand.

Unfamiliar song, unfamiliar melody.

But it was alright.

A song that moves people’s emotions comes from empathy.

With *Masked Singer*’s unique characteristic, it’s strange if an unfamiliar song feels normal compared to other stages.

But the lyrics, the theme—they could resonate.

Perhaps, there might even be someone in the audience who has heard it before.

What she told the manager wasn’t a lie.

Back then, it did cause a bit of a stir after all.

A home-brew soundtrack for a high schooler’s game had briefly circulated on the internet.

Back then, copyright wasn’t much of a consideration, so it spread illegally quite easily.

“Anyway, that’s how it goes.”

She looked away from the rabbit and toward the audience.

Countless spectators.

Embedded within their rhythmic movements, she noticed two people frozen in place.

She remembered seeing them from afar during the quarterfinals, but now from the stage, they were even more noticeable.

Faces aged since the past.

Outward appearances revealing the passage of time.

The manager had told her this had become a memory.

It wasn’t a wrong statement.

Eventually, she herself had become a memory, reaching a place where they could no longer meet.

Still, she thought their changed forms were impressive, though not everything about it was satisfying.

They had families now.

And things to protect, leading to even more things to consider.

But she was still young.

She could still only remember the words you had once told her.

“Creators must remain young.”

Back then, she had been feeling down, and you had said that to her.

“I mean, literally.”

“Are you calling me a kid?”

It was likely right after her song had received harsh criticism.

There are many people who sing well, like stars in the sky.

Simply singing well wasn’t enough to survive in this world.

And when thinking about whether she could make a living off her singing in the future, it seemed hopeless.

She likely felt a bit disheartened.

“You like singing, right?”

“Liking it won’t solve everything.”

“But you must keep liking it.”

A creator must continue to love what they do.

Passion fades, so it’ll inevitably fade away over time.

Therefore, you must keep loving.

To keep liking means to preserve the heart of a child, to continue loving your dreams.

When the world wears you down and reality makes it impossible to dream, that’s when you’ve truly grown old.

When you can no longer be a child.

Because once you grow old, there’s no turning back.

When your dreams become your job, you may lose the ability to truly enjoy them.

“So, you should try to stay young as long as possible.”

Then he reached out his hand toward where she was sitting.

“There’s no need to rush.”

He seemed to be asking, “Is your dream so weak that it can’t wait even a second?”

Starting late is fine.

If you can keep liking it, eventually an opportunity will surely come.

“You sing well.”

Sometimes, a simple compliment can become the trigger for everything.

At the time, it was definitely the case.

Just hearing that she sang well from a classmate—a vague hope to continue that dream.

“I was lucky…”

Of course, it might have been an unfounded hope.

There are many people who sing well, like stars.

No matter what you want to do, there are countless competitors out there.

Being endowed with the talent to achieve your dreams is, in itself, a great blessing.

But still…

Why not anytime?

Before stepping on this stage, Yuheui had planned to sing a different song.

One that the public was already familiar with.

However, she changed her mind, because something was blatantly clear.

The moment a dream becomes a job…

He had said it before.

“Is your dream so weak that it can’t even wait a few years?”

Of course, it wasn’t.

And, he must have lived that way.

So, she hesitated.

Should she grasp reality or keep loving her dream?

Should she remain a child or grow up?

Forty.

It’s not a young age by any means.

To anyone, it’s middle-aged.

An age where chasing dreams is considered too late.

But, it was all fine with Yeo-hee.

She had always been a child.

And she would continue to be one.

Because she was full of regrets.

Even if she remained tied to the past twenty years ago, still a child, she could accept that.

So what? Isn’t it cool?

Just continuing to love something.

Others might call it clinginess.

Others might point fingers.

But if you can’t accept it, then that’s that.

If creation is pain, isn’t this pain part of who you are?

Isn’t being foolish and nostalgic part of who you are?

Just like the title of this song.

Because your life has always been, nothing more, an opening.

***

Seoyeon thought.

Music sometimes moves a person’s heart.

At least, it was true for her.

‘Maybe I was rushing.’

Certainly, Seoyeon had been wavering about something recently.

Why she started acting.

And about the things she once wanted to do in the past.

Her hesitation was purely personal.

She had been considering whether these dreams truly aligned with who Joo Seoyeon wanted to be.

Being a virtual YouTuber was something her past self wanted to do.

Trying to do it simply meant she hadn’t fully moved on from her past self.

If she did, she thought she might never truly become “Joo Seoyeon.”

It might sound exaggerated, but that’s how it felt to her.

Acting was much the same.

At first, it was something her parents had pushed her into, and she genuinely wanted to become a great actress at the aquarium.

But was that truly “Joo Seoyeon’s” sincere dream lately?

Meeting Yoo-na had made her realize she was still tethered to her past.

Perhaps her journey into acting was, in the end, due to lingering nostalgia for her past.

The desire to teach herself through countless videos, watching many actors.

All those actors she saw on TV.

In the movie theater, through the big screen.

She wanted to show her past parents that she was doing well.

She wanted to send a signal that she was good at it.

This doubt arose because it was possible that she acted out of a desire to show her past self.

Everything she had discussed with Min Se-hee tied into a similar context.

If only she could fully graduate from her past, she wouldn’t need to have such concerns.

That’s how she had been thinking.

So maybe she had been rushing.

Believing she had fully graduated from her past.

She thought that, by doing so, she would be able to move forward as Joo Seoyeon in a better way.

But this song seemed to deny those thoughts.

It was a funny thing—a nostalgic song brimming with longing for the past.

But the singer didn’t seem at all affected by it.

So what if it was?

It was like her worries seemed silly.

As if this nostalgia was part of who she was, completely fine.

The lyrics said something like this:

“Is your dream so weak that it can’t wait even a moment?”

Thus, there’s no need to rush.

It’s true.

If you can keep liking it, eventually, at any time, you can pursue it.

If you’re still unsure and need to think it over, there’s no need to rush. Decide later.

This song…

It felt like it was answering the lingering questions about her past that Seoyeon had been pondering.

There’s no need to force yourself to forget.

It’s not bad to have lingering emotions.

What matters is how you act with those emotions.

As long as you continue to like it, dreams will never leave you.

Not even when you close your eyes for the final time.

Until the very last guitar string was plucked, signaling the end of the song, Seoyeon kept her eyes on the stage.

Probably, she wasn’t the only one.

There surely was another person here too, someone who had wrestled with similar doubts.

***

“A bit disappointing, isn’t it? Losing by just two votes, but are you okay with that?”

“Yes.”

Slowly, Seoyeon began to remove her mask while answering.

The audience erupted with whispers upon seeing her face.

The impression left by ‘Man-Lap Rabbit’ was that deep.

Naturally, most assumed she was a professional singer.

But who would have guessed she was Joo Seoyeon!

While everyone was shocked, the Ashen Crow,

Yeo-hee ascended to the Hall of Fame as champion.

By a mere two votes.

With a somewhat wistful expression, the Ashen Crow, Yeo-hee, glanced at Seoyeon, who was being interviewed in the midst of the commotion.

Her manager was looking at her with quite a disdainful expression.

‘Isn’t it all about stronger nostalgia?’

‘Since we won, let’s celebrate with a drink.’

‘By just two votes though?’

Well, that can happen.

It wasn’t entirely clear what Seoyeon had said during the interview, but amidst the growing commotion, it felt positive.

Anyway, it was all good for her.

What she was more focused on was elsewhere.

Amidst the chaos, someone in the audience quietly gave a thumbs-up.

To him, Yeo-hee gave a thumbs-up in return and smirked beneath her mask.

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