The Hit Song of This Life Is Revenge - Chapter 28

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

My Hit Song in This Life Is Revenge
Chapter 28
It was a blank page—utterly untouched, pristine white.
“I wanted to respect everyone’s opinions.”
Baek Song-ha held the empty paper, tilting the corners of her eyes upward with a smile.
“Ah, ha-ha.”
“Yes… well.”
Someone made a sound that might have been a cough, but everyone reacted with awkward amusement.
Song-ha lifted the sinking atmosphere in a single stroke.
“Stop standing there blank-faced. Let’s decide on our song now. All of us.”
Instead of her usual gentle tone, sharp restraint cut through Song-ha’s voice.
The scattered mood snapped into focus.
As her teammates hurried into song discussions, Song-ha exhaled a short, heavy sigh.
She’d expected her teammates to be far more submissive; this didn’t satisfy her.
‘If there were no cameras, I’d straighten out this atmosphere in an instant.’
She deliberately cast her eyes downward to keep her irritation from being caught on camera.
That’s when she noticed a single voting ballot.
‘B-a-e-k. S-o-n-g. H-a.’
Someone had pressed down hard on each letter, making it unmistakably obvious.
There were even deliberate dots placed between the letters.
‘Tsk…’
So who was brazen enough to covet the center position?
She sensed her teammates’ probing stares and turned her head away.
“Keep talking.”
Song-ha responded with a carefree laugh.
‘You’re all back dancer material.’
But her true thoughts were different.
* * *
At that same moment, in another Practice Room, someone else was swallowing discomfort.
A dull, friction-like sound spread through Lee Jae-i’s team Practice Room.
Tap. Tap.
It was the sound of Choi Du-o tapping his thigh.
Lee Jae-i and her teammates breathed hard through their noses.
The other judges wore their evaluations plainly on their faces, but Choi Du-o was different.
An expression that didn’t twitch a single eyebrow.
‘What is he thinking?’
It was the moment Lee Jae-i’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Overall, you seem weak on the Performance side.”
The words fell dry and sparse.
Anticipating the criticism and advice to follow, the teammates’ eyes darted across one another, wondering who would be mentioned first.
But then,
“Well then, let’s construct the staging.”
Choi Du-o’s voice was plain and unadorned.
“R-right now?”
Lee Jae-i stumbled over her words without meaning to.
The evaluation was too brief.
He’d watched five people sing and dance, and all he offered was a single line.
The confusion wasn’t limited to the trainees.
One of the Staff members flipped his palm upward.
It looked like a signal to say more.
But Choi Du-o merely tapped his thigh lightly again.
Now all the teammates’ gazes turned toward Lee Jae-i.
The silence had barely settled in for a few seconds, yet it already felt like an hour had passed.
“Ah, before that—can we all put together a quick 30-second improvised stage? I just thought of something and want to see it right away.”
The ground felt like it was tilting slightly beneath her.
It was a sudden request.
Moreover, this wasn’t something she could refuse.
The Production Team rejoiced at the unexpected development, but Lee Jae-i and her teammates’ faces turned ashen.
An Improvised Stage to construct on the spot.
“Yes, we’ll try.”
Lee Jae-i answered reflexively, even as her mind went blank.
Her teammates’ sighs burst out roughly.
But they all knew.
There was nowhere to retreat—they could only move forward and face it.
“Ten minutes should be enough, shouldn’t it?”
Choi Du-o added an extremely unfavorable condition.
Thoughts raced quickly above her nodding head.
‘It doesn’t have to be perfect.’
But she had to nail one thing: they couldn’t appear lost and flailing.
“What do we do?”
One of her teammates laid her panic bare.
The Camera shifted slightly in direction.
Exactly the shot the Production Team wanted.
Lee Jae-i kept repeating the time in her mind.
‘Thirty seconds… thirty seconds…’
Even if she stripped away the entire intro, there wasn’t enough time to reach the Hook.
But starting from the climax would leave the ending too vague.
Then Lee Jae-i’s head tilted slowly to one side.
‘Wait.’
Short-form challenge videos.
Videos that had gone viral before she died flickered through her mind.
Right now, before they captured public attention.
‘This could actually be an opportunity.’
Those challenges worked even with simple, repetitive movements—as long as the framing was right.
The most important thing was the atmosphere.
If she layered Harmony on top like A Cappella, wouldn’t it work?
‘That’s it!’
Lee Jae-i spun her body sharply.
Her teammates, meeting her gaze, looked like their souls had been sucked away.
“Focus.”
At her terse word, the teammates finally turned their eyes to meet hers.
“Do you all know the song ‘Soft Cone’?”
“Wait, that song… you’re not seriously asking us to do that, are you?”
Kim Se-jin asked, taken aback.
“Soft Cone” was a song that became famous for its childish lyrics and dancing.
Ten minutes.
Too short to learn an unfamiliar song or master the Choreography.
For it to become a viral moment, they needed a song everyone knew, something anyone could imitate.
‘There’s no song more perfect than this.’
Lee Jae-i nodded as if confirming something crucial.
“We’ll skip the Intro entirely and structure just the Hook to make an impact.”
The teammates tilted their heads in confusion.
“That’s basically a nursery rhyme.”
Yeon Eun-soo’s sharply edged voice came at Lee Jae-i.
Lee Jae-i snapped her fingers.
“Eun-soo, don’t completely rework the existing Choreography—just Rearrange the Hook section.”
“How? So it doesn’t look like a school talent show?”
A wave of cold air swept out, and the other teammates turned to look at Yeon Eun-soo.
The atmosphere pressed down for a moment.
Lee Jae-i lowered her voice instead, calm and soft.
“Yes. Exactly like that.”
Yeon Eun-soo momentarily lost her words at the firm, slow delivery.
“Ugh. That’s so childish.”
“Which is why your role is the most important.”
This time, Lee Jae-i’s voice came down sharp and decisive.
Time really was slipping away.
If they didn’t pull this off, viewers would only remember her teammates flailing about in confusion.
“Please.”
At Lee Jae-i’s words—straddling the line between command and trust—Yeon Eun-soo exhaled once more.
This time, the emotion that came through was resignation.
Lee Jae-i gave Yeon Eun-soo a brief nod and continued.
“We’ll only sing the Hook, so Se-jin, you start first. Everyone else will come in half a beat late, stacking Harmony.”
There was no room to think about anything else.
Between learning the Choreography Yeon Eun-soo was creating, they had to stretch seconds into minutes.
Less than a minute remained until the final Rehearsal.
With each blink of her eyes, half of what little time remained seemed to slice away.
“The movements aren’t difficult. You need to nail the rhythm. Make it grab the eye the moment people see it.”
Lee Jae-i gave curt, direct advice to a teammate who’d flubbed a move.
Choi Du-o’s eyes turned toward the clock.
“Time seems to be up. Do you need more prep time?”
They hadn’t even managed to match the Harmony.
Yet the Staff was already moving as if the performance would start immediately.
“No. We’ll start now.”
“Let’s see it.”
Choi Du-o leaned back in his chair.
As Lee Jae-i gestured, the Formation spread out.
“Three, two, one.”
All five burst upward at once, and the floor shook.
“Ah”
“Ah—”
“Ah-ah—”
Harmony stacked in the opening, and the Formation widened as they spread their arms.
“Ice cream. Sweet but melts so fast.”
With the opening timing flawlessly aligned, Kim Se-jin delivered the lyrics without tension.
Everyone stepped to the right in rhythm.
A hesitant, walking-like movement.
Watching it, everyone easily followed the familiar steps from the original.
The moment it felt familiar, they suddenly spun left—and the Formation changed like lightning.
“Time with you feels the same way.”
Lee Jae-i smiled broadly and continued the lyrics.
As she raised both arms, the teammates standing one step behind her, centered on her, simultaneously stretched their arms out.
Fingertips fluttering like wingbeats.
Even the fixed Camera moved slowly to follow the motion.
To keep the simple movements from standing out, they layered the Harmony luxuriously.
“Why does it all melt away? Everything I like does. Chocolate, candy, and you.”
Choi Du-o closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them.
Listening with eyes closed, it would sound excessive, but the buoyant atmosphere paired with fresh expressions made it feel rich instead.
“Ah. Ah. I’m sad so I go buy more. Ah. Ah. Ice cream that won’t melt. The ice cream I want.”
The climax of the Hook.
They crossed their arms and bobbed their shoulders in unison.
One of the Staff standing in front of the rear monitor unconsciously mimicked the shoulder movement and bumped into the person beside him.
“That’s how much you want me, too.”
Thump-thump.
With the final beat, Lee Jae-i and her teammates bobbed their shoulders and turned their heads to one side.
Thirty seconds were over.
“Mm.”
This time, there was no evaluation.
Choi Du-o simply sat with his expression unchanged.
He didn’t uncross his arms, and his crossed legs remained as they were.
But he was retracing the stage they’d just shown, searching like someone hunting for a forgotten frame.
‘Nicely done.’
Choi Du-o began constructing the directorial composition in his mind.
What they’d just shown sparked a decisive inspiration.
‘I already said their Performance was lacking.’
The Assistant Director wouldn’t have anything to say.
Choi Du-o opened his mouth as if he’d made a decision.

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