Jang Soohyuk was someone who took a suspicious and mocking approach when judging.
When a stage didn’t impress him, he often ended his critique with just a line or two—at one point, he even said, “I’d rather listen to birds chirping and put my mind at ease than listen to this.”
What truly captivated viewers about Jang Soohyuk wasn’t just his harsh remarks
His sharp critiques for performances he deemed worthy of evaluation had an almost eerie precision, as if he had personally witnessed the preparation process.
That’s why people nicknamed him The Clapping Shaman.
Oh Hanbit and Ryu Hail, huh. Not expecting much from this.
Jang Soohyuk watched the contestants walk onto the stage, his posture leaning back lazily.
In his opinion, Ryu Hail was a singer without strengths.
He did have a unique sense of rhythm, but it was only considered special in Korea—over in the U.S., there were countless underground artists with the same vibe.
His only real asset was his distinctive tone, but even that was picky—it only sounded good with very specific songs.
A singer who only sounded decent with tracks that fit him just right.
And in Jang Soohyuk’s eyes, Ryu Hail still didn’t seem to know which beats suited him best.
If Ryu Hail picked a beat that works for him, it’s not going to match Oh Hanbit. If he picked one that doesn’t suit him, well, that’s the end of it.
Even before the performance started, Jang Soohyuk had already made his judgment. Then the intro to the first performance track began to play.
The title was Love Hospital.
As Ryu Ha-il’s humming and Oh Hanbit’s ad-libs echoed through the intro, Jang Soohyuk listened closely to the beat and nodded.
Song choice is good. It suits Ryu Hail.
Love Hospital matched Ryu Hail’s tone well.
Whether it was luck or skill, he wasn’t sure.
But in that case, it meant Oh Hanbit’s rap probably wouldn’t go well with it.
Jang Soohyuk didn’t bring up on broadcast how mismatched Ryu Hail’s vocals and Oh Hanbit’s rap felt to him.
Even though he was nearly certain, he couldn’t explain it logically, so he kept his thoughts to himself.
After all, he didn’t know how to fix it, and it would’ve been irresponsible to trash the performance based on a vague feeling.
Still, he was convinced their chemistry would be terrible.
And Jang Soohyuk was right.
Oh Hanbit simply didn’t fit with Ryu Hail’s singing.
At least, not until he took Han Seon-ho’s advice.
“…Huh?”
Jang Soohyuk’s face, which had been expressionless as he listened to Love Hospital, showed its first flicker of emotion.
And that change kept growing.
It started the moment Oh Hanbit began his first 12-bar rap verse.
“Ah…!”
The staff were more surprised by Jang Soohyuk’s shocked expression than anything else.
Throughout Seasons 1, 2, and 3, no one had ever seen him react like this.
– Camera director! You’ve got Jang Soohyuk in frame, right?
– Yeah, yeah, I got him.
– Got him over here too.
– Keep the shot steady. Camera 1, go wide. Camera 2, zoom in tight.
– This is the first time I’ve seen that guy make a face like this.
– That’s why we have to get it!
– Whoa, holy shit. Oh Hanbit just went insane.
– Look at the Shaman’s face, LOL.
– I’ve been watching since Season 1, and this is the first time I’ve seen Jang Soohyuk react like that.
– Honestly, it was worth reacting to. I made the same face.
– I used to think Oh Hanbit was a rapper who lacked artistic depth… but that just blew me away.
– Same, I felt the same way until now.
– But wait, why are people freaking out? I mean, it was good, but is it really that good?
– Didn’t you feel it when Ryu Hail’s singing came in after Hanbit’s rap? It was like Hanbit grabbed him by the collar and carried the whole track.
– Huh?
– Ryu Hail got rhythm and tone, but his delivery is weak. He’s not the type who can carry an entire track on his own.
– Oh yeah, I get that. His edited clips seem good, but when I listen to his official releases, I lose interest after a few plays.
– But Oh Hanbit’s rap came in with a totally different energy, refreshing the vibe and letting people refocus on Ryu Hail’s part—like they were hearing it for the first time.
– Why are we explaining this in detail? Anyone with working ears would’ve been floored by that rap.
– I need a changing room. I was listening on the subway and just lost it.
Normally, during performances, the live chat board didn’t get much activity.
Most viewers waited until the show was over to quietly post their thoughts, often after hearing the judges’ comments.
But this time was different.
The moment Oh Hanbit’s rap ended, posts and comments exploded like wildfire.
And that explosion didn’t happen just once.
When the second verse hit—with another eight-bar rap—the board blew up all over again.
And the frenzy wasn’t just limited to the online world.
“Wow, what the heck? Was he holding back during rehearsal?”
“What do you mean holding back? The live performance and the audio track sound completely different.”
“Huh? Really?”
“Are you even a PD? How do you not hear that? Go grab the audio track right now!”
Startled by the CP’s outburst, the assistant producer hurried to retrieve the Love Hospital audio file.
A moment later, after checking it, the CP looked puzzled.
“If we release this audio, it’s gonna be chaos. The difference is way too big.”
“So… what do we do? We’re short on time.”
“The track’s being released right after the show, right?”
“Not immediately. It goes live at 9 PM.”
Tomorrow K-Star ends at 8:20 PM. The audio track releases at 9.
We only have 40 minutes of spare time.
After a moment of hesitation, the CP let out a sigh and spoke.
“Change the song release time to midnight. How many times has the subtitle notice gone out?”
“It aired twice in subtitles, and Song Hanmin mentioned it once in the opening. It’s also been posted on the station’s website.”
“Tell PD Chae to have Song Hanmin announce a correction. You change the website notice.”
“CP, can’t we just delay Oh Hanbit’s track release instead? Even if we push it to midnight, we’re still cutting it close. Wouldn’t it be better to have a bit more leeway…”
“That one’s going to take the first place. How are we supposed to generate hype if the number one song isn’t even on the chart?”
“Huh? They’ve only had one performance so far. We can’t know for sure if they’ll win…”
“You saw the rehearsal too. There’s no song that can beat that. Well, maybe Kang Mireu could win on votes, but that’s about it.”
At the CP’s confident tone, the secondary PD recalled the rehearsal stage.
He couldn’t think of a performance better than Love Hospital.
Some teams had minor mistakes, and someone like Cha Hye-mi even forgot her lyrics entirely.
“You’re right. Should we start by securing an engineer?”
“Of course. Only the rap part changed, so we just need Oh Hanbit to re-record. It won’t take long.”
“True, the rap portion isn’t that long.”
“Tell Oh Hanbit to get ready to record as soon as the stage ends.”
“Right after? But the show’s still airing.”
“He’s not going to be on screen again until the rankings are announced after the performance, right? If he sang a different version than the released track, he needs to take responsibility. It’s a good thing the new one turned out better, though.”
At that moment, the monitoring staff spoke up.
“He was supposed to be a throwaway card, but he blew up from the opening. The response is insane.”
“How is it?”
“I can’t say for everything, but channel retention is off the charts. It’s like people lost their remotes.”
“You heard that? Get an engineer. Now.”
And so, the Tomorrow K-Star production team began moving quickly to finalize Oh Hanbit’s track.
The live competition continued.
Perhaps because Ryu Hail and Oh Hanbit kicked off with a spectacular performance, the audience in the venue and viewers at home were fired up.
Even when some less-than-remarkable performances came up, the crowd didn’t lose focus.
But the ones showing the most intense concentration today were none other than the representatives from various entertainment companies.
And they weren’t focused on the performances—they were listening closely to the judges’ evaluations.
Again?
Yoon Hanchan, the monitoring engineer from Topaz Entertainment—Goo Se-hee’s agency—opened his eyes wide.
It happened again.
Of course, everyone has their own way of speaking, so it wasn’t exactly word-for-word. But the core of the evaluations was the same.
Amazingly so.
At first, he thought it was a coincidence.
Maybe they just happened to say similar things and hit the same points by luck.
But could a coincidence happen five times in a row?
No—if it happened that many times, it wasn’t coincidence. It was skill.
What shocked Yoon Hanchan was the similarity between the evaluations of Han Seon-ho and Jang Soohyuk.
Jang Soohyuk was a professional’s professional. His critiques were so clear and precise that even other experts would nod in agreement.
He wasn’t someone who spoke often, but when he did, there was never any nonsense. That was Jang Soohyuk.
Yet Han Seon-ho, just casually chatting with Director Yoo Ayeon, had given an evaluation identical to Jang Soohyuk’s.
Jang Soohyuk’s critique:
–”Amazing. Truly amazing. This is a first for me. They completely shattered the stage I had imagined.”
–”I used to think the kind of music that suits Ryu Hail and the kind that suits Oh Hanbit existed in completely different worlds.”
–”It’s not a matter of skill—it’s about each artist’s personal source of inspiration.”
Han Seon-ho’s critique:
“Well… I mean the melody created by the vocalist doesn’t align with the fundamental key of the rap.”
“It’s not a matter of skill—it’s just, as I mentioned, an issue that arose because they worked separately.”
“The rap and the song ended up existing in completely different spaces.”
The words were different, but the content was the same.
Even more surprising was what came next:
Jang Soohyuk:
–”To be honest, I didn’t know what exactly was off about their chemistry. I just vaguely felt they didn’t fit eachother. But now I know—it was a matter of scale.”
Han Seon-ho:
“The scales of the rap, vocals, and the instrumental—those three are way too different.”
–”The rap led the beat, and the vocals followed the beat—it was an amazing blend.”
“Isn’t rap a style of music that plays over the beat? Meanwhile, singing happens within the beat. The degree of freedom is different.”
Jang Soohyuk had identified the problem, but not the cause. Han Seon-ho not only pinpointed the problem but also diagnosed the root of it and suggested a solution.
How? How is that even possible?
Yoon Hanchan wasn’t the only engineer asking himself this question. The others were shocked too.
–”The higher the volume, the less stable the first beat of each measure becomes.”
“We might need to change the mic a bit more. They’re so focused on volume that the downbeat’s getting a bit shaky…”
Whether it was about volume or expression, Han Seon-ho and Jang Soohyuk were in sync:
–”Thinking that loudness equals emotion is the dumbest idea in the world. Sound without emotion is just noise pollution. You need to savor the lyrics.”
“They need to immerse themselves more in the lyrics. It’s like singing and appreciating the lyrics are two separate actions. And the louder the voice, the more distant they become.”
They matched on every single performance.
