The Hit Song of This Life Is Revenge - Chapter 66

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

This life’s hit song is vengeance
Episode 66
A modest Studio.
Lee Jae-i was still marveling at Son Hyun-joo’s momentum the moment she grasped the door handle.
She was the one who’d proposed it first, granted.
‘I never thought it would move this fast.’
Only a week since the program had wrapped.
For some, the dust hadn’t even settled yet.
But Hyun-joo was filling that brief gap with the next stage entirely.
She pushed the door, and—jingle.
The bell chimed cheerfully, its sound bouncing through the space.
Two bar stools sat side by side at the front, and beyond them, a vivid green Chroma Key Screen took up an entire wall.
“You’re here?!”
Hyun-joo, who’d been adjusting a vent-like lighting fixture, spun her head around.
Jae-i responded with a bright smile.
“Are you sure you’re getting some rest? When did you even scout this place?”
“Location scouting is child’s play.”
Hyun-joo gave a small shrug and continued.
“Besides, this isn’t the time to rest. It’s your first official content shoot—we have to strike while the iron’s hot!”
Her mouth curled upward.
From the moment they first met until now, there had never been a single instant when Hyun-joo’s passion wavered.
“But it’s the weekend—are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“From now on, I’m officially freelance, so it’s fine.”
Jae-i nodded quietly.
So she really did submit her resignation.
A weight that threatened to brush against her was deftly lifted by Hyun-joo’s bright voice.
“And I reached out to Yeon Eun-soo—apparently she just joined a famous dance crew.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“She already has performances lined up, so I promised we’d find time together next.”
At the good news, Jae-i’s own voice naturally rose a notch.
On that live broadcast stage, Yeon Eun-soo had given everything.
But the results were cold.
When she’d checked the voting window, Eun-soo’s ranking was even lower than Kim Cho-a’s.
She’d wanted to reach out to Eun-soo.
But she’d held back.
A hasty word of comfort could become a wound, and she herself wasn’t in a safe position either.
This was a time when a single sentence could pass through someone else’s mouth and become a headline.
‘Eun-soo would have understood.’
It wasn’t that she hadn’t asked after her—it was a safe silence between them.
The program had ended with Eun-soo placed eighth.
She’d secretly worried she might become discouraged by that result, but a dance crew, no less.
‘I was worrying for nothing.’
There was no choice more fitting for Eun-soo than this.
As Jae-i drifted into thought for a moment, Hyun-joo raised her voice again.
“Just so you know in advance—when Eun-soo appears, we’ll have to book you again.”
Jae-i understood the weight of those words.
It was a sentence wrapped in consideration.
The PD who’d overseen the Lodging shoots couldn’t possibly not understand what lay between her and Eun-soo.
She must have sensed the gravity of the silence they’d kept during those weeks.
That was when it happened.
The cheerful bell chimed through the space once more.
Ding—
“Jae-i!! PD Hyun-joo!”
The moment she reflexively turned, their eyes met.
Those wide, round eyes, just like when they’d drawn the performance order.
The instant she saw Kim Se-jin, a verse from the Highlight they’d performed together came to mind.
Perhaps because she’d only imagined the scene of reuniting with laughter.
Faced with a expression different from what she’d expected, something in Jae-i’s chest sank sharply.
Se-jin approached without a word.
Both arms extended toward Jae-i.
As the distance closed in an instant, Jae-i leaned into it naturally.
Following Se-jin’s movement, she wrapped her arms tightly around her back.
In that moment, her ear grew wet.
“Ugh… huh-huh-huh.”
The sound of stifled breath lasted only briefly.
“Waaaaahhh!”
Se-jin’s cry burst out and poured into her embrace.
“Why are you crying? Don’t cry. Your eyes’ll be swollen—how are we supposed to shoot?”
She let the light words fall deliberately, but instead of answering, Se-jin buried her face deeper.
“Waaahhh!”
At the sight, Hyun-joo stepped back with a gentle smile.
“Ah, I forgot to grab drinks. Let me run and get something. You two stay here for a moment.”
The sound of the door closing faded into distance.
Jae-i patted Se-jin’s back in silence.
After they’d shared warmth like that for a long while, the stuttering breath in her arms gradually stilled.
As she slowly drew her shoulders back, Se-jin pressed her palms against her eye sockets.
As if trying to press the tears back in.
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t want to cry.”
“What are you apologizing for? How have you been?”
It was a simple question.
But Se-jin’s mouth dropped.
This time, however, with a look that refused to break, she let her hands fall and nodded vigorously.
“I watched the whole broadcast. Anyway!”
Se-jin’s gaze dropped.
“Your hand—it’s okay, right?”
In that moment, Jae-i understood.
The people who see your wounds first are always the ones who dwell deepest in your heart.
‘Eun-soo… Se-jin, PD Hyun-joo. And… Director Kang.’
Jae-i followed Se-jin’s gaze downward and squeezed her hands tightly.
It was different from the hands they’d clasped on stage.
This was warmth transmitted in the absence of lights.
Slower, deeper, more real.
Jae-i smiled softly and looked up.
“It’s fine. Thank you for worrying.”
“When the song overlapped, you know? I seriously thought my heart was going to stop.”
Se-jin spoke urgently, pushing on.
“Of course I knew you wouldn’t do anything wrong!”
After that, Se-jin ran through her impressions from watching the broadcast.
How focused you could see she was throughout the Lodging shoots.
Even down to the faint tremor in her breathing during the final stage.
Every word had been about her.
Then Se-jin’s lips faltered.
“And Jae-i… I really want to thank you.”
“Hmm? For what?”
With her lips pressed shut, Se-jin’s mouth twisted for a moment before she finally spoke.
“I… I didn’t have confidence to sing again.”
Her voice trembled.
“But when you said we’d sing together….”
The sound of her swallowing, then words tumbling out in broken fragments.
Se-jin was struggling to gather her overwhelming emotions.
Jae-i wanted to hear the rest.
But if she did, she was afraid her own voice would break.
Jae-i nodded calmly and brought the moment to a gentle close.
“We’re doing an all-night shoot tonight, right?”
“Hah—you’re saying scary things?!”
Sensing her intention had landed, Se-jin laughed brightly.
Just then, Hyun-joo returned from her absence.
“All right, everyone. Coffee delivery. Once you’ve had some, I’ll brief you!”
Jae-i nodded, and Se-jin flashed a smile in return.
* * *
Seated on the bar stool, she watched Se-jin.
A flush still lingered around her eyes, but the atmosphere had grown much lighter.
Beyond the large lighting fixture, PD Hyun-joo turned her body toward them.
“You’ll be performing a total of four songs. The piece you two sang in your Acapella Stage, the Group Mission Song, and finally Jae-i’s unreleased self-composed song. This is the order we’ll follow.”
“Yes! Understood!”
Se-jin enunciated with force and clarity.
Hyun-joo continued with a knowing smile.
“Let’s do a Rough Shoot first, then Monitoring while we discuss the sound and graphics. We’ll start in one minute.”
Professionalism emanated from every word.
The moment Hyun-joo’s direction landed, the small Studio felt like standing in the middle of a full Stage Set.
Se-jin seemed to share the thought, taking one deep breath.
Then suddenly, as if struck by inspiration, she leaned toward Jae-i.
“Jae-i. Your self-composed song. You know that part? What if we don’t put all the chords in and just start with the lyrics that hit hard?”
Se-jin’s vibrant voice.
It carried the warmth of the nights they’d spent together in the Practice Room.
Jae-i traced the melody in her mind and nodded.
“Good idea. Let’s try both versions.”
“Right! I thought those lyrics were so good they should shine.”
As Se-jin settled back into her bar stool, the brightness of the lights rose subtly.
“All right, rolling. Get ready.”
Jae-i watched Se-jin for a moment, eyes on the Lyric Sheet.
She felt freshly grateful that Se-jin had come running without hesitation.
Suddenly, the day she’d rushed off when called by Baek Song-ha came to mind.
What Baek Song-ha had asked her to do had been a simple errand.
A single thank-you, devoid of any feeling, would have been enough.
Because they were friends.
But Baek Song-ha had merely exploited her, and even took everything from her.
‘That’s not friendship.’
Eun-soo, cheering her on even without being here today.
Se-jin, who’d come running without a moment’s hesitation.
The more she thought of these two, the starker the contrast became.
How hollow and treacherous Baek Song-ha’s notion of friendship had been.
A feeling she hadn’t known before touched a corner of her chest.
‘Friendship….’
Not grating, but tender.
The Microphone she grasped facing Se-jin conveyed not the cold touch of metal, but a heavier, clearer weight.
“Rolling. Cue!”

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