The singer stopped mid-line.
"Not bad, but not bearable either," Karl said flatly. "You sing like you're begging the audience to love you. Next."
The next artist went up. Then the next. And then the trainees. Karl's comments only got nastier each time.
"Too mawkish. Next."
"Boring. Next."
"Just give up on singing altogether. Next."
Even Liisi's group was called "tone-deaf, talentless dolls who couldn't do anything right except shake their hips."
Honestly, either Karl had ear problems, or I was too easily impressed. Every one of them sounded insanely good to me.
Needless to say, Liisi's lovely face was visibly hurt when she left the stage.
"You're okay?" I asked.
"It's fine," she quickly replied with a smile, "Karl is always like that. It's his method."
I frowned. I had no idea why this girl defended Karl that much. Along with the sparkly way her eyes became whenever she looked at him, I'd started suspecting she had something beyond admiration for him.
As for me, at that point, I was fully convinced being an asshole was in Karl's DNA. He didn't single me out. He simply treated everyone like trash.
Hours later, it was finally my turn. I was the last one to go.
By then, the air in the room had grown suffocating. When Karl saw me step onto the stage, his bored face suddenly lit up with malicious interest.
I clasped both hands behind my back to hide how shaky they were. I wasn't nervous because I feared Karl's judgment. I already knew he'd rip me apart just like everyone else. I was nervous because it was my first time standing on a stage that massive.
The pressure was unreal. My chest wouldn't stop heaving. I had no idea how the others before me had even managed to sing.
"I have no homework," I said into the mic, testing the volume.
"Of course you don't," Karl scoffed.
He turned to address the audience behind him, his voice suddenly bright and mocking. "Anybody know who this little birdie is?" he said like some smug MC. "This is Kaija Sepala. She just signed with KE yesterday. With Charles Kosonen himself!"
The entire hall went dead silent. Then came the murmurs, rippling through the crowd.
Cool. Not helping my nerves at all.
Karl's tone dripped with derision as he continued, "Kaija here didn't go through any audition, passed no rounds, and yet here she is. One of you. Aren't you all curious to hear how she sings?"
Then he turned back to me, smirking. "Sing away, little birdie. Any song's fine. Consider it my welcoming gift to you."
Ha. What a gift. I'd rather he just threw something at me than challenged me like this.
I gripped the mic tighter, sweat trickling down my temples.
Alright, Karl Hanski. I took a deep breath. If you want to play, I'll play.
"Hi, everyone," I said. "I'm Kaija. Today I'll sing one of my favorite songs. This song carried me through the darkest time of my life, back when I still didn't know where I belonged in this world. Even now, I still don't. But I hope I'll stay here at KE with all of you for a long time. Here's Sociopath — by Karl Hanski."
Needless to say, the smirk on Karl's face vanished instantly. His lips parted like he was about to say something, but before he could, I started singing.
What I'd said in my introduction had been completely honest. This was my favorite song of Karl, from his first album, back when he debuted seven years ago, when he was only 21. Back when Karl Hanski was, to me, the great Karl Hanski.
This song didn't just show off his insane vocal range. It also showcased how he could effortlessly switch from soaring high notes to deep, gritty rap verses, like it cost him nothing. It began like waves crashing against the shore, built to a crescendo, then faded into an aching sense of isolation, of being an outlier in the modern society.
I kept singing.
Still, Karl didn't raise his hand.
His turquoise eyes stayed locked on mine, as though he were actually listening. The earlier sharpness slowly melted away from his angelic face.
When I finished, the entire hall fell silent. No one moved. Not even Karl.
Anxiety started hitting me again. I didn't know what to do.
An eternity later, someone began clapping.
Another joined. Then another.
Soon, applause and cheers thundered through the hall, from every corner, from everyone.
Everyone, except Karl.
His eyes were still on me, but the look in them had changed.
Softer now. Calmer.
He rose to his feet.
The cheering died down immediately.
"Training's over," he muttered to the room. "Get the fuck out of here, all of you."
He turned and walked straight out the door without another word.
Everyone was stunned, me included.
But as murmurs started filling the theatre hall again, I quickly pulled myself together and left before anyone else.
I still had one last class that day.
Modeling.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. That'd be the second-worst thing after dancing to me. After that terrifying vocal class, I'd already decided that every class in this whole training program must be equally dreadful.
Unlike the previous two, when I arrived at the shooting studio, no one was there.
Fifteen minutes later, still no one.
Oh, so I'm spared another dreadful class today.
I headed for the door, completely blissed out. But just as I laid my hand on the handle, it turned on its own.
BAM!
The door slammed right into my face.
I stumbled back, clutching my nose with both hands, completely knocked out of my senses.
The guy who had just opened the door seemed to realize his crime immediately after hearing the impact.
"I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, rushing toward me.
I couldn't tell if it was the shock from the door or the voice itself, but the guy sounded strangely familiar.
"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" he kept going, his tone full of panic.
I lowered my hands, squinting to see who it was.
Emerald eyes.
No way in hell.
My lips trembled.
"Juho?"
The surprise on Juho's face probably matched mine.
"Kaija?" His brows furrowed. "What are you doing here?"