First Audition (2)
Even after that day, Han Seol would flinch whenever she saw me and immediately avoid my gaze. I'd thought it was just fatigue yesterday, but it seemed her feelings had genuinely shifted. I'd assumed it wouldn't bother me if she ignored me, but facing it head-on, I felt a twinge of disappointment. I'd thought we'd gotten somewhat close, after all. This is why attachments are scary. Was even a simple senior-junior relationship too much to trust from her? Was I that unreliable?
Negative thoughts kept swirling, but I soon shrugged them off. I could fully understand her position. I had a rough idea of how tough things had been for her up until now. So, I'd just treat her as usual. Eventually, she'd open up. And even if we ended up as just ordinary acquaintances, that was fine. What I'd actually agonized over all night wasn't that anyway.
The VTuber Academy first audition was just two days away. As a mere fan, there was only so much I could do. Sponsoring her was basically the limit. But I'd found an answer—vague as it was. I'd decided to abandon my principles, but only for the audition period.
For some reason, Rie paid an unusual amount of attention to my emails. No matter what I sent, she'd reply within ten minutes. So, I'd exploit that to the fullest. Sure, according to my beliefs, maintaining a proper distance from streamers was key. But to see Rie become an idol, I could play the villain. Right now, the one thing Rie could do was sing.
Even if her self-introduction fell flat or she froze up from nerves, her overwhelming vocal talent alone would secure her character appeal. Conveniently, I'd shelled out a fortune to commission a song. That was when I first learned how pricey composing could be. It was basically a fan song. Originally born from my creepy desire for Rie—who sang often—to perform a song I'd made, it was still a perfect weapon here.
From a third-party view, it was an unknown original track. If Rie sang it? Nine times out of ten, people would assume it was her own composition. Even if not, performing an obscure song would come off as refreshingly unique. Given Rie's personality, she probably wouldn't label it as original anyway. The key was the image. Singing a fan-made song would paint her as incredibly fan-friendly to outsiders.
The first audition mattered in capturing the judges' hearts, but external buzz points didn't hurt either. It was just desperate thrashing to boost her odds a bit.
Decision made, I'd send the song to Rie via email. But knowing her, she'd feel burdened or troubled. ...Honestly, I couldn't deny it was laced with personal desire. For a single fan to try reshaping a streamer's entire approach was overstepping. It could even backfire. I attached the audio file and smirked.
...Just pure fandom. Is this really right? I had to weigh countless angles. It might not be right, but heading in the wrong direction was unacceptable. And... send. I could only hope my choice wasn't wrong. And believe.
Han Seol agonized and agonized some more. Her senior's situation weighed heavily in one corner of her heart, but right now, something far more crucial demanded her focus. The audition day was almost here. Only two days left.
Of course, she'd prepared. To avoid past mistakes, she'd been meticulous with vocal care, song practice, self-introduction rehearsals—everything. Still, real battles differed from practice. She worried precisely because she knew that. She knew how much she shrank under people's gazes.
Those inscrutable stares were always her enemies. Terrifying ones, at that. She was aware of her personality and that it wouldn't fix itself in a short time. The fixed ideas built over years wouldn't vanish easily, after all.
"Haa..." She leaned the chair back. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling. In her view, a blinding fluorescent light. She reached out. But it didn't reach. It felt like it never would. Even if someone placed expectations on her, wasn't a no still a no?
She'd never seized anything herself. Not in the past, not now. Han Seol believed nothing had ever truly taken off on her own power. Self-deprecating thoughts chained endlessly, dragging her deeper into the abyss. With the audition surely overflowing with far superior, cuter talents, was even participating overreaching? She worried.
She shifted her gaze back to the floor and sighed again. Unbeknownst to her, she'd repeated this for an hour. Then—
Ding! The email alert chimed from the speakers. Drawn like a moth, Han Seol opened it. The sender... a nickname she knew well. One she always saw.
She swallowed dryly and moved the mouse.