The Hit Song of This Life Is Revenge - Chapter 21

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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This Life’s Hit Song is Revenge
Episode 21
“O-OH-! Miracles are countless.”
The soaring high note rang through the venue, sweeping past the judges’ table.
Moon Jung-woo’s gaze sharpened into a narrow pierce.
On stage, the trainee continued to sing without a single flicker of discomfort on her face.
“Huh- woah- woah-.”
The melody flowed seamlessly, scaling even higher.
Even though it was a raw high note belted out without any accompaniment, her voice never cracked.
‘The depth supporting that tone from behind…’
Moon Jung-woo’s brow suddenly furrowed.
“We turned off the MR, right?”
“Huh? It sounds like it’s still on.”
At his words, the other judges, who had been completely spellbound, turned their heads.
The mission they had been briefed on was explicitly to cut the MR during the climax.
Moon Jung-woo immediately studied Lee Jae-i’s expression.
She looked completely immersed, her face showing absolutely no sign of agitation.
That very composure only fueled the confusion.
Audio glitches were notorious for rattling even seasoned veteran singers.
‘And a rookie who hasn’t even debuted can pull that off?’
Moon Jung-woo slipped on the earphones resting on the table.
Her voice came through much clearer now.
No matter how hard he listened, there was no overlapping sound.
“Are you sure there’s no MR?”
“Yes. Listening through the earphones, it’s definitely cut.”
“Then why does it feel like I can still hear the melody?”
It was an illusion born only when someone hit the pitch with absolute, flawless precision.
Only after consciously reminding himself that the backing track was gone did the emptiness of the sound finally register.
The second verse began.
“C-countless. Countless nights. Countless words.”
The lyrics rippled through the eardrums, sending a sharp shiver down his spine.
The quiet, measured voice took complete hold of the venue’s atmosphere.
As the emotion deepened, the judges held their breath.
Watching the same stage, Son Hyun-joo’s mind began to race.
The production intent had been clear.
It was supposed to be a device to catch her off guard, but Lee Jae-i remained utterly unshaken.
“Audio director! Check it quickly. Turn off the MR right now! That’s better than having to re-shoot.”
“I told you, it’s not playing!”
Having been asked the same question multiple times, the audio director snapped.
Hyun-joo snatched the headset herself and pressed it to her ear to check.
Hearing it through the headset made it even more undeniable.
The voice of just one person was dominating the entire space.
‘Is this for real?’
Amidst the vortex of illusion, Jae-i brought the final line to a lingering, resonant close.
“I remember every single day as only you…”
A brief silence followed.
Before the host could speak, Moon Jung-woo picked up his microphone first.
“Did you not realize the MR cut out in the middle?”
“I knew.”
At Jae-i’s response, a collective gasp escaped the lips of the other judges.
Moon Jung-woo followed up.
“How did you stay so calm?”
“Audio accidents can happen at any time.”
At those words, Moon Jung-woo narrowed his eyes into a curious, subtle smile.
Jae-i had answered calmly, but her fingertips were slightly damp with sweat.
Acting was definitely the harder part.
Trying to swallow the truth that she already knew caused her voice to tremble minutely.
Regression hadn’t made her entirely shameless, after all.
Jae-i switched the hand holding the microphone, clenching and unclenching her fist.
As that gesture flashed onto the large screen, the judges nodded in understanding.
“She was nervous, after all.”
“Right? She didn’t look it at all while singing.”
In the eyes of the judges, that tiny gesture actually made her look more natural.
The host cut into the moment.
“This mission hid a mechanism where the MR was removed during the climax. Shall we proceed with the judges’ feedback?”
The composer judge took the microphone.
“To be honest, I thought the MR hadn’t been removed at all.”
“Her vocalization is rock solid, and above all, the lyrics are incredibly clear.”
“Agreed.”
A chorus of agreement echoed the praise.
Even the cold-hearted Moon Jung-woo offered soft feedback.
“To think a singer with this level of talent exists… it’s enough to make one feel a sense of crisis. I look forward to your future stages.”
At such unprecedented high praise, even more surprised voices erupted from the judges’ panel.
“Haven’t you been a bit too deeply moved?”
After exchanging a few lighthearted jokes, the judges’ expressions turned serious once more.
Following a brief consultation, they signaled toward the host.
“What is trainee Lee Jae-i’s evaluation score?”
Jae-i’s eyes shifted to the massive screen.
Watching the judges’ expressions and the venue’s reaction, her mind felt significantly more at ease.
Yet, her heart still pounded.
Because she couldn’t possibly know exactly what score she would receive.
She knew she shouldn’t be arrogant, but she couldn’t help the anticipation.
The moment she gripped the microphone tightly, the text flashed.

Jae-i’s pupils quickly scanned the numbers.
‘It worked.’
With this, the attention that would have monopolized Baek Song-ha in the early episodes could be disrupted.
“Trainee Lee Jae-i has shown us a wonderful stage. Shall we meet the next trainee now?”
Jae-i headed toward the Waiting Room under the guidance of a staff member.
Inside the empty space, cameras stood waiting for her.
A large screen was also mounted inside the new Waiting Room.
“We’re going to capture the reaction shots first, so we’ll do the interview later.”
“Yes, I understand.”
The video feed broadcasting the stage appeared on the screen.
Jae-i quietly waited for Songha’s stage.
* * *
“I’m sorry for shouting earlier.”
Taking advantage of the brief window while a staff member went to fetch the next trainee, Hyun-joo apologized to the audio director.
“No, it’s fine. I’ve been handling audio for years, and even I was fooled.”
The audio director sighed in relief, checking the equipment once more.
Just then, along with the rustle of a plastic bag, a polite greeting drifted over.
“It’s been a while, Producer Hyun-joo.”
“Ah, yes… Hello.”
Confronted by the unexpected figure, Hyun-joo froze momentarily.
It was Producer Yoo Young-jae from YU Entertainment.
Though his title was producer, rumors traveled fast in the entertainment industry.
She knew that through word of mouth, some people were already addressing him as CEO.
Without even thinking deeply, Yoo Young-jae’s influence must have been substantial in pushing Baek Song-ha.
Yoo Young-jae smiled smoothly, shaking a bag of coffee.
“I just happened to be passing by, and since the staff is working so hard, I thought I’d bring some coffee.”
Faced with his beaming smile, Hyun-joo replied immediately.
“Right. But we have to resume filming right away.”
“Of course. I won’t get in the way.”
Does he mean he’s staying?
Yoo Young-jae naturally stepped into the space without permission, treating it as his own.
Passing right by Producer Hyun-joo, Yoo Young-jae was soon up at the judges’ table, exchanging warm greetings.
His demeanor made it seem as if he were another director of the program.
‘What is it with this crazy bastard.’
Hyun-joo bit the tip of her tongue to keep the curses inside her mind from spilling out.
Right then, a radio transmission from the walkie-talkie announced the arrival of the next trainee.
“Resuming filming!”
As Hyun-joo intentionally raised her voice louder, Yoo Young-jae reluctantly stepped down from the platform.
He should have enough sense to take the hint by now.
The scene she envisioned was him exiting the filming set immediately.
Instead, Yoo Young-jae plopped down into an empty chair.
‘Wow, seriously…’
In her imagination, a thunderous order to ‘drag him out!’ roared, but Hyun-joo kept her posture low as she approached him.
“We are starting the shoot.”
“Yes, I’ll be quiet.”
When Hyun-joo didn’t offer a reply, Yoo Young-jae added with a bright, knowing expression.
“No noise, absolutely no cross-talk. And definitely no spoilers. I know the drill.”
He then went so far as to drop a cue sign, acting as if it were a program he ran himself.
She could practically hear the sound of a vein snapping on her forehead.
Suppressing her irritation with an effort, Hyun-joo asked smoothly.
“Are you staying to watch the YU Entertainment trainee?”
In response to the question, Yoo Young-jae merely stretched his lips wide into a smirk.
Hyun-joo forced her twitching eyes into a tight smile.
“Resuming the shoot! Everyone, focus please!”
Hyun-joo immediately checked the stage order.
‘Baek Song-ha is number five. Still a long way off.’
Even though it was objectively an early slot, it felt exactly that distant given her mood.
While the next stage and the one after that proceeded, the only impactful presence belonged to Yoo Young-jae.
Just as the judges’ expressions were beginning to dim, the fifth turn finally arrived.
“Next, trainee Baek Song-ha will take the stage.”
A creaking sound rang out as a chair shifted forward.
At the faint noise, Hyun-joo’s gaze flicked toward Yoo Young-jae.
Meanwhile, a staff member delivered Baek Song-ha’s performance song details.

This was a song where various cover versions had gained more popularity, leaving the original track somewhat obscured.
That also meant it was much easier to dye it with one’s own color.
Furthermore, the vocal range wasn’t high, and the chorus consisted of a rap.
It was a track that wouldn’t feel awkward even if the MR were removed.
‘Good choice.’
There could be no response more perfect than this.
Since they already knew the core intent of the mission, perhaps it was only natural.
Glancing back and forth between Yoo Young-jae and Baek Song-ha, Hyun-joo tapped the paper listing the track with her finger.
“Let’s go!”
Before long, Baek Song-ha’s stage commenced.
Thud. Thud-thud.
Along with a heavy bass line, blue lights flooded the space.
With her shoulders drawn back fully, Baek Song-ha walked onto the stage with confidence.
“I’m here now.”
A charismatic voice cut sharply across the air.
The judges’ attention locked in.
Jae-i was also piercing through Songha’s first steps on the screen.
‘Seeing you on screen… It’s been a long time.’
The girl on stage was exactly the Songha she remembered from the past.
Her appearance carried a resolve far more fortified than the previous stage.
Jae-i’s expression settled into a deeper seriousness.
As intense beats filled the soundscape entirely, the chorus finally arrived.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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