The Conquest (Underworld 5) SH

20: How Could Jihoon Win?

The backstage hallway buzzed with a tense, electric energy, amplifying the tension that had been brewing throughout the night. Jihoon's band had just finished their final performance, and the audience's applause was still ringing in the distance. Everyone in the backstage area seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for the announcement that would decide the winner of the competition. For years, Yuta had been the undisputed champion, his band always coming out on top. But tonight, something was different.

As the crowd roared in anticipation, Yuta stormed down the hallway toward Jihoon. His steps were quick, purposeful, and his usually charming demeanor was gone, replaced by something darker—something dangerous. His eyes burned with fury, and every muscle in his body was tense, like a predator about to strike.

"You think you can just walk in here and take this from me?" Yuta's voice was low, but it cut through the noise like a blade. His jaw clenched as he stood face-to-face with Jihoon, towering over him, his presence imposing and fierce.

Jihoon, on the other hand, stood completely still, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. He barely spared Yuta a glance, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the fiery rage radiating from Yuta. The height difference between them made Yuta seem even more menacing, but Jihoon didn't flinch, didn't show even the slightest sign of intimidation.

"You think this is some kind of game?" Yuta spat, his voice rising as he stepped closer, invading Jihoon's personal space. "You don't get to just show up and—"

"It's not about showing up," Jihoon interrupted, his tone cool, almost detached. He finally turned his gaze toward Yuta, his eyes sharp and unwavering. "It's about being better. And tonight, we were better."

Yuta's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. The air between them felt thick with tension, as if the very walls of the hallway were closing in. Yuta's anger was palpable, simmering beneath the surface, but Jihoon's calm composure only seemed to infuriate him more.

"You think you can take everything I've worked for and act like it's nothing?" Yuta's voice trembled with barely restrained rage. "I've been the best in this university for years—"

"And now, you're not," Jihoon cut him off again, his words measured, precise, like the strike of a blade. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze cool and assessing. "Maybe it's time you accept that."

For a moment, it seemed like Yuta was about to explode. His fists twitched, and the muscles in his neck tightened as he glared down at Jihoon. The tension was so thick it was suffocating, the kind of atmosphere that could snap at any second. But Jihoon remained unruffled, his calmness only fueling Yuta's rage.

"You little—" Yuta's hand shot out, grabbing Jihoon's shirt collar, yanking him forward. The hallway went dead silent as everyone froze, watching the confrontation unfold. Yuta's face was inches from Jihoon's, his breath coming in sharp, angry bursts. "You think this is over? You think one performance makes you better than me?"

Jihoon's expression didn't change. He didn't try to push Yuta away, didn't fight back. Instead, he simply met Yuta's fierce gaze with an icy calm that seemed to suck the heat out of the air.

"This isn't about you, Yuta," Jihoon said quietly, his voice steady despite the intensity of the moment. "It never was. You've been so focused on being the best that you forgot why you started making music in the first place."

Yuta's grip on Jihoon's collar tightened, his knuckles white with the effort of holding back his fury. But something in Jihoon's words struck a nerve. For a split second, the fire in Yuta's eyes flickered, and his expression faltered, just enough for Jihoon to notice.