Auditions Aren't Like the CSAT
National auditions aren't like the CSAT exam. They're a lavish feast of human drama, meticulously crafted by the broadcasting team's editors and served up to viewers. That's why pre-casting exists. The production team reaches out and begs certain people to participate. And naturally, pre-planning is a thing too. They do interviews, pinpoint the edit points, bring in kids who can play music decently, and sketch out a few big-picture story arcs. "Each contestant's personal narrative." Stories of shining talents. Passion. Weaving those tales into the ultimate entertainment—that's the PD's job.
Kim PD, who had urgently salvaged the blunder from the desperate rookie, now saw it more clearly than ever. Just how valuable a resource Kim Seryeon was.
"I barely managed to get back in touch. Just talked to Seryeon on the phone, and I reached out to his parents too. It's all sorted."
"I'm so sorry... I really sent that text like some Instagram scammer..."
"No, it's fine. Choi PD."
Choi PD kept bowing repeatedly, but for some reason, Kim PD was grinning ear to ear. He looked suspiciously happy. Why? Was he about to say they didn't need her anymore and to get lost? While Choi PD stewed in anxiety, Kim PD laid out the full story.
"Honestly, even if you had failed, it probably wouldn't have mattered much?"
"Huh?"
"Kim Seryeon had already applied for the preliminary round. Online."
It was just that the broadcaster's application processing and data entry had been a bit delayed. Kim Seryeon had already thrown his hat in the ring for the audition.
Before his regression, Kim Seryeon in his twenties had actually tried auditioning once. It was a kind of desperate outburst. A frantic attempt to drag himself out of the shell he'd built against the world. To overcome his shyness around people. To beg the world to notice his music, to give him a chance. That's what drove him onto that stage.
The result? Failure. His song got decent reviews, but that was it. Borrowing from the judges' feedback at the time, it went something like this.
"For an original composition, it's surprisingly good. I like the lyrics, and you've got real sense for handling melodies."
"But aren't you too self-conscious about your looks? Singers need to be more confident."
"I agree—he seems so withdrawn. He even came out hiding behind a mask..."
He knew his singing wasn't top-tier. But it stung. Out of thousands of applicants, he left no impression whatsoever. Just another nameless contestant who didn't get even a single second of airtime.
And now, back as a middle schooler, facing another audition. Star's Birth. The biggest changes were obvious: his age and appearance. Beyond that, his composing skills had improved a bit, he'd studied how to deal with people, and lately he'd picked up tips on stage presence and vocal techniques. But the ripple effect was enormous. His school festival performance had already made waves—what could he achieve here? He wanted to test it out.
The surroundings were like a massive auditorium. The whole facility served as the first-round waiting area, with contestants nearing their turn gathering in a smaller secondary waiting room before heading to the stage. But some started right in the secondary room.
"Yes, if you were contacted in advance, please wait over here."
These were the pre-cast and insider-recommended contestants. He was one of them. It seemed unfair, but what could you do? This wasn't the CSAT—it was entertainment made for viewers to enjoy.
In the assigned waiting room, there were about ten people including him. Most looked like they'd come from music backgrounds—hip visuals, good looks. They all radiated "pro singer" vibes at first glance.
Then a staffer burst in and shouted.
"Waiting number 1, get ready!"
The historic first contestant left the room. Then number 2. Number 3. With each number called, tension thickened in the air. Some chugged water nonstop, others cleared their throats with hums. Another couldn't hide their nerves, legs shaking violently.
But not him.
I'm not nervous at all.
Weirdly, he felt zero tension. He disliked dealing with people, but stages didn't scare him. Why? Pure talent. A stat from his past life that had no use since he never stood before crowds.
"Hm."
The judging was taking longer than expected. Will they wrap up today?
As the wait dragged on, a bespectacled guy next to him hesitantly spoke up.
"Um, excuse me... Could you listen to my song just once?"
"Pardon?"
"I'm so nervous... I need an objective opinion."
Tension was written all over his face.
"Oh. Sure."
"Thank you!"
The moment he nodded, the guy started singing. He was good. The gentle tune carried stable vocals and pitch-perfect notes.
"You're amazing. Just do your thing—you're definitely passing."
"Really? Thank you!"
That sparked it. Like a switch flipping, the other contestants started gathering around him one by one. Drawn instinctively to the least tense person in the room.
He didn't mind. If anything, it was a good thing. As a composer, networking with singers had huge upsides. These people? Handpicked by the broadcaster for star potential and skills. Untouchable in his past life, no matter how hard he tried.
And just listening built rapport? No way he could pass that up.
"Sorry to ask, but could you hear mine too?"
"Sure. No need to apologize—we're all here to shake off the nerves together."
"Thank you!"
He even finished critiquing a spirited girl in a pink tracksuit with a guitar slung over her shoulder. And now, his turn.
"Waiting number 11, contestant Kim Seryeon! Come on in!"
"Do great!"
"Fighting!"
Amid cheers from the others, he grabbed his familiar guitar and strode to center stage where the judges waited. Under blinding lights, three figures who dominated Korea's music scene stared him down.
He gave a light bow and launched into the intro of his most familiar piece. His original. Sky Autumn.
Silence fell when the song ended. Then the judging began.
"Hm. With Kim Seryeon, the melody is just fantastic. An original you wrote yourself, and this quality? Shocking. You're an aspiring composer, right? The talent shines through."
The famous composer judge started with praise. But the agency CEO followed with sharp analysis.
"We can't ignore market value. Visuals are a huge factor. The public wants star power as much as skill. In that sense, you've already won half the battle. Great melody for an original too. The issue is..."
The CEO paused, eyeing him intently.
"Your singing's iffy. The melody's great, as I said—fits you perfectly, that fresh, crisp vibe. But your vocals aren't bringing it to life. So listeners spend the whole song feeling... wanting."
Finally, the top singer judge delivered a soft but firm verdict.
"Maybe the vocalist path isn't for you. Sticking to composing or producing might be your road to stardom. Your real weapon isn't your voice—it's crafting melodies."
All three were industry vets seasoned by years on TV. Their comments crisscrossed with punchy, edit-ready zingers.
The result?
"You're through."
"See you in round 2~."
Judging over. He bowed once more and exited stage left.
Time flew to the first broadcast of the audition show. Actually, Mom had been hounding him nonstop even before it aired.
"How'd the broadcast go? Did it go well?"
She meant the audition footage.
"Oh, that?"
"Yeah."
But he couldn't spoil it. That'd ruin the fun. Plus, there was the NDA with the broadcaster. Hide it from family too? Yep, no exceptions in the contract. Not even for Mom.
"Secret."
Truth be told, he'd been cut in round 2. Brutal. The concept was no mercy. Only the truly prepared survived. They'd filtered out all but the best singers in round 1, then massacred them in round 2. But something remained.
Soon, aspiring arts high schooler Kim Seryeon appeared on screen.
He was actively cheering and helping other contestants. Topped off with the production team's blatant pretty-boy framing.
"Our son's so likable?"
"...Yeah."
He was receiving even more angelic editing than expected.