# Chapter 2
Other contestants were careful with their words and actions because they felt they needed to be chosen.
In contrast, Han Sijin kept forgetting why he was there and would say whatever came to mind.
The trainees with him might find it refreshing, but because of this, Han Sijin’s chances of staying always hung by a thread, and so did the hopes of those supporting him.
If it weren’t for that damn mouth of his, his ranking would have been much higher.
There were always good reasons behind Han Sijin’s complaints, so it wasn’t entirely fair to blame him.
The production team gave the trainees ridiculously little rest time, and the living conditions were terrible.
Seeing this, most other trainees swallowed their words, but Han Sijin spoke without any filter.
“Wow. Is this for real? Are they out of production budget, or are they just trying to save money? The grand prize money is pathetically small too. Should I have not come here? If the ratings are low, won’t this show get canceled early? I heard that a 2% rating would be a big hit for this broadcasting station. They can’t even get advertisements. Have they sold all the ad spots for our show? Probably not, right? Unless they’re empty-headed, what company president would want to advertise on a show like this?”
It wasn’t the first time I’d wished someone would shut Han Sijin’s mouth.
I also couldn’t understand why the production team aired all of that as is.
It was like spitting while lying down—were they trying to get back at Han Sijin?
It seemed like the production team was getting more hate than Han Sijin himself.
Still, his visuals were so good that the production team hadn’t dropped him yet, but I felt their patience must be reaching its limit soon.
The Terror Mouth.
The Mouth Fighter.
Those were the nicknames his fans called Han Sijin, and I thought they fit him perfectly.
It became legendary and clips circulated when he looked at a large TV that was clearly PPL and said who would buy appliances from that company, stating that appliances should be from ×× brand.
From the production team’s perspective, they probably wanted to eliminate Han Sijin immediately.
But Han Sijin was driving up the program’s buzz and ratings, so they seemed to be suffering, unable to drop him.
If you searched for “Tomorrow’s Perfect All-kill,” “Tomorrow’s Perfect All-kill Han Sijin” would come up as the first related search term, so you can imagine how it was.
I desperately hoped Han Sijin would be just a little more careful with his words and survive until the end.
That day too, Han Sijin made my stomach shrink with his unfiltered conversation.
Lacking in vocal skills, Han Sijin had been struggling to survive with his dance skills, which were slightly better than his singing.
But he chose the wrong song, and now he had to compete based solely on his vocal ability with no way out.
From the moment he found out which song he’d picked, he seemed to have completely lost it, continuously spouting all kinds of creative curses without stopping.
The community immediately flooded with reactions.
The fact that they reacted to that extent was only possible because it was Han Sijin.
[91 comments]
[I don’t know where Han Sijin learns these curses from. Isn’t it really funny when you hear Han Sijin cursing? His rhymes are sick too. I wish someone would take Han Sijin and debut him as a rapper. He’s a singer but can’t sing. Still, our Sijin has the face, the body, and can rap. His dancing isn’t bad either.]
Han Sijin had a small but devoted fan base, and reading what they posted was my joy.
I felt strange whenever I discovered so many people who thought like me.
└Our Sijin could do well if he just received professional training, but watching him fall behind because he hasn’t learned anything breaks my heart.
└Give up. It’s already over. The fact that he came here instead of other audition programs already proves Han Sijin has no eye for opportunities.
└He might have a bigger plan. Still, he’s managed to climb this far without an agency because at least this place accepts him. At other places, he wouldn’t have passed the first round and would have been eliminated at the speed of light, right?
└Seriously? Our Sijin thought things through? I don’t think so. Sijin is definitely not the type to use his head. All he has is his mouth. But since he’s generating buzz, if the production team is smart, they won’t eliminate him.
└Do you think the production team is smart? Better to put your faith in Sijin.
└That’s right. Agreed.
Everyone seemed to be thinking pessimistically.
‘Wow. This is serious trouble…’
To calm my worried heart, I should have watched a trainee in a safe position, but my mistake was looking at Han Sijin first.
Still, Han Sijin was in the most secure position among those I supported.
‘What happened to Lee Dagyeong? Did he really get eliminated?’
Last week, “Tomorrow’s Perfect All-kill” had a historic broadcasting accident.
They showed the scene where the results were announced right after giving the mission.
They should have shown the trainees putting their heads together to share opinions and practicing together, but no—they aired the results announcement first without even showing the performances.
So it was natural for viewers to protest.
The broadcast showed the eliminated contestants being called and captured on screen, but viewers fiercely protested, demanding that the mission be reassigned and judged again.
It was a program with such low ratings that you’d wonder if anyone was watching, but the activism at that time was quite remarkable.
Lee Dagyeong survived that way, having died and come back to life.
The guy was pale and thin, smaller in build, and more delicate than other trainees. Sometimes when he was captured on screen, turning his head somewhere with indifference, Lee Dagyeong’s name would actively rise up and down in the community.
They said he looked like he stepped out of a manga, and that since Lee Dagyeong was still growing, if he developed well, he would definitely become incredibly famous.
In fact, he continued to grow a little bit during the program.
He must be around twenty years old.
Anyway, he was clearly going to be eliminated, but he was lucky.
‘He needs to do well this time. Really well.’
I checked the time and, thinking I had watched for too long, returned to my original screen.
It’s fortunate that at least “Tomorrow’s Perfect All-kill” exists; without it, what joy would I have in life?
From then on, I focused on work again and was able to send the manuscript before the deadline.
Meanwhile, Mom prepared dinner, and seemingly in a good mood, she occasionally hummed a tune.
As long as I was beside her, Mom seemed to feel happy, thinking everything was going well.
I often envied Mom for that.
“Let’s eat, Seomin.”
“Okay. Coming right away.”
I nodded and deliberately spoke in a lively voice.
As if nothing had happened, thinking that if I pretended to believe the things Mom believed were true, everyone would be comfortable.
* * *
A few more freelance requests came in.
The company was satisfied with the work I did, and they particularly liked my speed, accuracy, and skillful use of terminology.
In that respect, I had differentiation, and there was a possibility of better treatment in the future.
Mom smiled brightly when I told her about it.
“That’s something to celebrate. I knew you would do well.”
“Shall we celebrate together?”
“I’d like that.”
We set the table together.
The foods I liked were placed without regard to formality.
Stir-fried tripe was next to pasta, and we ordered chicken and put it beside them.
We couldn’t eat it all at once, but since it wasn’t a frequent occurrence, I didn’t stop Mom.
While we were lightly drinking with the lavishly prepared food, there was a knock on the door.
Momentarily, Mom’s eyes met mine, and she jumped up from her seat.
And immediately called 112.
Other people wouldn’t react like this to the sound of someone knocking on the door, but we were different.
Some might ask how we could be attacked by intruders at home when South Korea’s public safety is so good.
They probably have never been kidnapped in front of their home, imprisoned, dragged away by thugs, beaten nearly to death, and dumped on a cold road.
Even if it’s a rare experience, if it happened to me, it would inevitably feel like something that could happen again at any time.
Mom said that there were suspicious people outside knocking on the door and asked for immediate dispatch, then opened the bedroom door.
“You stay in here. No matter what happens, you absolutely must not come out. Seomin. If something happens to you, Mom can’t live. You know that, right?”
“Mom, you should be the one to go in. I’m not a child anymore. If something happens, I should protect you. What are you saying?”
“Don’t argue and go in quickly.”
But this time, I wasn’t going to give in so easily.
Meanwhile, the knocking on the door continued.
Then it seemed to quiet down, and a voice came from outside.
“This is the police. Did someone call?”
At those words, Mom brightened and unlocked the door, and at that moment, someone outside flung the door open.
I rushed forward, put one arm around Mom, and glared at them.
A group of men in suits stood before us.
“We didn’t mean to startle you, but there was no other way. We apologize. We are from Seyoung Group. I am Director Yoon Sehoon from Seyoung Group’s Future Strategy Division.”
He seemed to think it was a priority to clear up our misunderstanding and quickly continued speaking.
