“Oh~, Seo Hoyun-ssi is really going to do well, right?!” “Why? Did something happen?” Now no longer the youngest, but growing into a competent PD, Lee Yuji tilted her head at the staffer’s words. “Last year, I watched that variety show Over-Immersion Captain because Joo Woosung was going to be on it.” “You like Joo Woosung?” “I liked him. Anyway... you know PD Choi, right? It was the program he did before Please Take Care of Me, and it was seriously fun! Anyway, Seo Hoyun was on it!” “It felt like the show was unscripted, and I was amazed at how perfectly he reacted on the spot. Since then, whenever Seo Hoyun was on a broadcast, I’d make a point to watch. He’s always calm, and his variety sense is no joke!” Having taken first place in both Shining Star Seasons 1 and 2, and navigated countless variety shows, The Dawn was now one of the entertainment industry’s blue chips. It was said that Seo Hoyun had been flooded with scripts after convincingly playing PD Lee Junghoon in Bring Me the Camera and bringing the “Seo Hoyun illness” to life on FNL. Yet outside of variety, Seo Hoyun didn’t appear anywhere. Some people said that once he gained some fame, he started playing hard to get. ‘What’s his thinking?’ As someone who had once been a hardcore idol fan, Yuji thought his apparent prioritizing of group activities was smart. But it was also throwing away opportunities. When she thought about it, he already had a quiet reputation in the industry as someone unusual. Just look at the final episode of Shining Star Season 2. “I’d also like to thank my family. I miss you all, always.” ‘The guts on this guy.’ That wasn’t something a regular person could do. Even with his family history leaked and the public’s sharp gaze on him, he stayed calm in front of the cameras. In the end, he took first place in Shining Star Season 2, and that stage was hailed as the best performance among all idols who had ever appeared on the program. “Honestly, Seo Hoyun can sing well too. I think he’s one of those idols undervalued because of his looks.” Just like a hedgehog thinks its own baby is cute, people in love can’t be objective. The PD smiled, trying to play it off, but then suddenly remembered her earlier conversation with Seo Hoyun. “...But... don’t you think he’s a little scary?” This was their first program working together, yet every time she stood in front of Seo Hoyun, she felt herself shrink back—like she wanted to avert her eyes and retreat. Almost like she’d been chewed out by him before— ‘Ugh, what nonsense.’ The PD shook her head. Seo Hoyun was just a one-off tool to secure early viewers for Perfect Singer. Steeling herself, the PD continued chatting casually with the staff. “I’m really worried.” At that moment, main PD Woo muttered with an anxious face. “I hope Seo Hoyun gets flustered at least once. The first place is going to another singer anyway, but we need at least one usable scene to earn his appearance fee.” “You don’t think he’s nervous? I bet it’ll make for good footage.” They clearly had no expectations for his singing. “Him? Nervous? Flustered??” Panelist Lim Hyunsu, on her way to her seat, must have overheard, because she chuckled quietly. “I’ve heard everything now. If he gets nervous or makes a mistake here, I’ll give up my copyright royalties for a year.” Known as Blue Tiger, Lim Hyunsu {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} was called a “walking mid-sized company” in the industry. And she was betting a year’s royalties? “And are you all tone-deaf?” While everyone else looked puzzled, Hyunsu muttered in mild annoyance and took her seat. “All right, let’s get started!” The panelists took their places, and under the main PD’s direction, the broadcast began. The MC’s greeting and opening comments rolled out, and the first contestant’s VCR appeared on the big screen behind the stage. ‘THE DAWN’ was displayed in bold letters, followed by the name ‘Seo Hoyun.’ When confirming his appearance, Seo Hoyun had specifically requested that the group name be included with his own. “Just one thing—please include the group name.” The main PD’s muttered words reached the assistant PD’s ears. The screen split, and Seo Hoyun walked onto the stage. Aside from a few fans in the audience, most people looked indifferent. The lights dimmed, and music began. ‘Well, the song choice is good.’ It was Clouds and Wings by legendary 1990s singer Lee Juhwan. A song dedicated to uncertain, wavering youth, it was still beloved today, having been remade multiple times and familiar to the younger generation. ‘Just don’t ruin it.’ Seo Hoyun slowly closed and opened his eyes, raising the mic. 【As I’ve always hoped】 His pleasant mid-low voice blended with the gentle melody. 【If I could fly away with you I even thought of running away】 Only a few lines in, the main PD’s eyes widened. 【As if I’d dreamed yesterday If I could hold your hand I even prayed not to wake】 “What the... he’s good?” “I think he’s even better live!” Despite it being an emotional ballad, he handled it as naturally as if it were his own. 【I’ll just keep moving forward】 There were no flashy techniques, but the plain sincerity of his voice meshed perfectly with the lyrics, heightening the song’s atmosphere. And he was hitting the beat dead-on. Even early on, the machine scoring flashed an all-perfect on the display, bursting into rainbow colors—a special effect for when every pitch and beat was on point. 【Umm hmm, I’ll just keep moving forward】 Suddenly, the VCR glitched, and the word Mission appeared. A robotic voice counted down: “3, 2, 1.” [Mission 1 – Solve this mental math!] After Perfect Singer Season 2’s slump, the reboot had crammed in every gimmick possible to provoke viewers. “What the hell is this?!” The panelists reacted in uproar, but Seo Hoyun didn’t flinch. “This is a comedy show?! How are you supposed to sing on pitch and in time while doing math?” “Wow!! That’s dirty!!” To one side of the stage, a small stand table held a screen, a connected tablet and pen, and a marker. Still singing, Seo Hoyun calmly picked up the pen with his free hand and wrote the answer on the tablet. A big red circle appeared over the numbers on the screen. Even if it’s far, blurry, or scary If I smile, it’s over】 He continued, solving every question in a row. And all the while, his pitch and rhythm stayed flawless. “Did someone give him the answers beforehand?” Even among the staff, murmurs spread. Even if it’s far, blurry, or scary Once it passes, it’s over】 Next came a lyric recall mission. [Mission 2 – Write one line from the song below!] [White Cherry – Dreams] 【When I pictured my future with you Why did it make me feel lonely?】 Usually, when the words you’re saying differ from what you’re writing, people either blurt what they’re writing or jot down what they’re saying. With a thoughtful expression, Seo Hoyun carefully wrote: [An inescapable night You could never be me in this life – White Cherry’s Liz sunbaenim] Under the neatly written White Cherry lyrics, there was an extra line. The main PD, a passionate White Cherry fan, snapped his eyes wide open. 【But for now, let’s bury it If I smile, it’s over】 Not just the main PD—both staff and panelists stared, jaws dropped. [Black Call – Love Thrill] The next was a Black Call song. Seo Hoyun quickly scribbled Joo Woosung’s part. [There are things you can only know if you love You and me, Things that we cannot refuse] Then he smiled with confidence. A cheeky comment was tucked into the corner: [Kim Bokbap is an idiot] Googlᴇ search Nov3lFɪre.ɴet The playful jab, a cute way to flaunt his friendship with Joo Woosung, drew laughter from the audience and panelists. If Joo Woosung saw it, he’d shudder. And of course, it was correct. Lee Yuji’s hands were damp with sweat. Could he keep up this pace until the end? Right then, a new mission appeared on the screen. [Mission 3 – Leave your autograph!] With no specifics on where or how, people looked puzzled—until a thunk! rang out, and something dropped from the ceiling, brushing right past Seo Hoyun’s face. Both panelists and audience screamed. It was a ghost prop with long, stringy hair, smeared in red paint. “Isn’t this going too far?” “For ratings, you do whatever it takes. Is now the time to complain?” PD Woo cut off Yuji’s muttered protest sharply. Checking the machine scoring, the main PD blinked in disbelief. The record was still clean. Looking back to the stage— Seo Hoyun was utterly calm. 【Up to those faraway clouds I want to run in a single bound】 He picked up the ghost prop, checked its back for a place to sign, gently brushed its hair aside, and took the marker. 【Umm, to a place where someone waits】 Then he scrawled his signature. Alongside an adorable bunny doodle. Even the panelists forgot to react, just staring. 【Up to those faraway clouds I want to run in a single bound】 Having completed all the missions, Seo Hoyun locked eyes with the camera, focusing on the song. 【I want to run in a single bound】 The screen burst into brilliant light. It was the special effect triggered only when there wasn’t a single pitch or timing miss—something only three people in all previous seasons had ever achieved. Seo Hoyun beat every other contestant to take first place in the reboot’s opening broadcast. With a pure, radiant smile, he filled the camera frame as paper flowers rained down. In that moment, Lee Yuji realized: The staffer had been telling the truth. Seo Hoyun oozed star power—and he knew it. She could feel it—this one was going to be huge. Her mind raced through how to run the program as long as he stayed in first place, her eyes following him with a faint tremor. Seo Hoyun gave the ghost prop a little push toward the panel and bowed calmly. On its back, beneath the bunny signature, was one more line: [Dedicated to our beloved Noeul, always.] What kind of idol signs something that terrifying and dedicates it to his fans? —And so, the first spark of Seo Hoyun’s charming year-end plan burst gloriously into life.