Moon Byulyi had expected the results to favour her opponent when she caught a snippet of Yubin sunbaenim’s very much improved performance as she worked hard to get out of the pit of being in the last place.

Industry veterans termed her ‘greedy’ for adding too much colour into the spaces of the disco song and another offered a backhanded compliment that they had expected another awe-inspiring performance just like the first two episodes since she had received perfect score. Apparently, the judges feel that she could be a main vocalist since she would hit her high notes almost effortless while keeping in beat.

She had thought someone would have voted for her, analysing the performance for what it really was, a very great performance that displayed her range of vocal and her love for playing around with different genres. She was stunned to silence, a cold sensation knotting her stomach when the result was announced—no one had voted for her.

Yubin froze next to her, uncertain of how to react when her name was displayed on every screen of the judge and the MC congratulated her warmly. Behind her, the screens displayed her cards. She was shocked, not in a pleasant way, that everyone voted for her that gave her victory a poor taste.

A hollow victory that left a bitter aftertaste especially when she was a 2nd generation idol, one of the most veteran in the competition. She did not need handouts like this.

Moonbyul hugged her affectionately, not a single bone of falsity in her, glad for her very first complete victory. The black-haired rapper reached for her face, noticing a faint sheen in her eyes. “Moonbyul, I’m not crying,” concluded Yubin, feeling awkward and embarrassed—why would she cry when her victory was not from merit?  These were bitter tears.

Yunbin did not even dare to meet the sweet gaze of the charming Moonbyul who kept her spirits. The veteran bowed absently just to be polite as the oblivious young punk of an MC questioned about how she felt about winning. She maintained a polite façade, but there was no gratefulness or joy in her eyes.

Well, the MC did say that he wanted to be a villian since the eight contestants were too peace-loving. Paul Kim was really a punk.

That young punk went on to crush Moonbyul’s pride even more for entertainment. “Moonbyul-ssi, this is your first loss. How do you feel?”

There was a nasty taste in but Moonbyul maintained a gentle smile, shifting uneasily on the stage as she tried to formulate the most polite and gracious response. She was used to Paul Kim's annoying comments to sow discord. “This is how it feels.” It was spoken as an afterthought, barely audible.

The stage lights were too bright for her to discern the expressions of the judges from her comments.

This was how it felt when the production team was determined to rig the competition and even out the points.

This was how it felt when the production team ignored her blood, sweat and tears as she squeezed precious time to practise her high notes over and over again, feeling demoralised initially when her pitch was always half a tone lower even without adding the element of performance and feeling being on top of the world when she delivered those high notes perfectly.

This was how it felt to be accused for being greedy simply because she was driven to push herself for every performance, her highly-competitive nature not allowing her to put any less effort. How could she?

This was how it felt to be blindsided to be assumed to be ahead of the rest of the competitors simply because she was a part of MAMAMOO, an idol group recognised for their vocal talents and their powerful and charismatic performances.

There was no room on the stage to feel as if she was thrown away just because her hard work had created an unpredictable and unprecedented situation of a single rapper leading the scoreboard so far ahead that it might be impossible for the other competitors to catch up even though it was only two episodes.

She had to convince herself to think for the other competitors sharing the stage with her, looking troubled. They did not work any less hard than her. She chose to be gracious, ignoring those tumultuous emotions that she could barely name and celebrated the fruits of labour of the other competitors who might be at a disadvantage since they lack the opportunities to perform as a vocalist.

Moonbyul cheered them on and commended them for their performances, astounding in their own rights. She thought that she was in control of her emotions until additional points from the public voting was added.

A lump of emotions formed in as she struggled to remain in composure. 300 points! Her precious Moomoos, the stalwart supporters who had taught her that love could transcendent and be so freely given. Her Moomoos had recognised her and that was more than enough for her.

“I’m very grateful to the Moomoos who had voted me,” smiled Moonbyul genuinely when they interviewed her about the additional of points to her final score. It was the only reason she was not awarded zero points for this episode. Her aching heart eased a little, gratified that the fans who knew her, celebrated her hard work and saw her as their pride for overcoming her fear of singing on stage.

Moonbyul was still in a daze as she continued the motions of thanking the staff automatically. When she entered her changing room, the polite smile she wore as a shield shattered like a fallen ceramic vase into unusable fragments waiting only for its sorry fate of being discarded away.

Moon Byulyi was losing control, struggling so desperately to hold back her tears, feeling unusually lonely. She called the very first person on her speed dial.

Byulyi bit her bottom lip, feeling on tenterhooks. She paced back and forth in her changing room, hoping that the call would connect.

There was only the connecting tone as she waited with bated breath. With every passing second, her hope started dissipating like snow on a hot day. She should not be so hopeful when they were in between packed schedules for their latest album ‘Mic On’. She would meet her very soon for work.

Although she tried to convince herself to cheer up, a weighty gloom settled on her chest, all the life from her very limbs. She was going to end the call when the call connected finally and the most melodious voice sounded in her ear, hoarse with sleep, her voice exhausted from performing.

“Hello.”

On another day, her heart would ache and she would promptly end the call after chasing her to bed.

Hearing her voice cracked the dam a little and emotions rose up like bile, choking her.

“Yong.”

There was no light-heartedness, no pre-cursor as an introduction, just her name. The single, raw sound she had uttered encompassed the tumultuous emotions that was surging through Byulyi, emotions that she could barely name, blanketed by sheer exhaustion and disappointment.

A pause.

“Where are you?”

She was alert. Her hoarse voice bellied concern, a tight-rope, precise balance of worry and space. She knew her well not to ask about her troubles and Byulyi was grateful, unsure of how she would react to that question.