My Shame, You See!

The judges' pens paused, then started moving again. I didn't need anyone to tell me what that meant.

This was a massive deduction.

Deciding there was nothing left worth watching, they turned their eyes on me.

"Number 34, what will you be performing?"

Finally, my turn. I offered a light smile and looked each of them over, one by one.

I'd already read their types.

"I've prepared a song."

"Just a song?"

The girl before me had jacked their expectations through the roof with her dancing, then torched the whole thing with a Gorani screech. They were probably worried I was about to pull the same stunt.

"I'll start with the song."

I said it like I owned the room.

The judges' brows furrowed. They must have taken the swagger for the reckless guts of a kid who didn't know any better.

I quietly warmed up my throat and took a step forward.

"I'll begin, then."

"Hold on. Don't you need a backing track?"

"No. I don't really need one."

"What on earth are you planning to sing... an original?"

An original wasn't a bad play — assuming you could actually pull it off.

I didn't have the skill to write my own songs. The Status Window didn't have a single line about composing, either.

"Originals can be an easy way to score points... but if you don't land it, they'll dock you instead."

So a lot of people had brought originals? There was a distinctly wary atmosphere around the idea.

"It's fine. The song I'm singing isn't an original."

"Well... all right. I suppose you've got your reasons for being so confident."

Confidence? Not even a little.

I was just putting my faith in the Song B written on the Status Window. As long as my stamina held out.

Please... just hang in there this once.

"Ah~"

I loosened my voice with a light warm-up. The judges' eyes changed. They'd heard something unusual in that single note. I slowly raised my hand and began to sing.

Forget the Gorani from a minute ago. This stage is mine.

Over a silent, beatless track, I laid my voice.

The stage felt familiar. From the brand-new hire at his first workshop to my direct supervisor, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all the way up to the executives.

Every gaze had been on me. I called up the thrill and the lift I'd felt every time.

It felt good. My heart was pounding. I could pour my soul straight into this song.

The song I was singing was one the entire country knew. The national anthem.

Far better than fumbling through some trendy pop number. And nobody could dismiss the national anthem.

A song of love for one's country — or a song of a heart that loves its country.

I poured my love into it.

Love of money. And love for myself.

"Whoa..."

The toad-faced judge let out a gasp of admiration. Who was he? Judging by the clothes, he looked high-ranking.

Everyone else was in casual wear. He was the only one in a suit.

Here comes the highlight.

My stamina was starting to give out. Breath came short, and my legs had begun to tremble.

I still had to hold on. If I folded here, a high score was impossible.

My throat, at least, wasn't as tired. A voice on a completely different level from when I'd been a man filled the entire audition hall.

It was startling no matter how many times I heard it.

If even I sound like this, imagine what other people can do.

A voice like this was Grade B... so what sat above that? The thought made me happy. The higher the grade, the more ways I had to make money without breaking a sweat.

I finished the last verse. I'd actually done it. I'd sung this song any number of times at the hospital, and every time I'd collapsed from exhaustion halfway through the chorus.

The thought of success made my fist clench. Of course, there was no actual strength in it.

I evened out my breathing and put on a face that said this was nothing. I rolled my neck once and glanced at the judges.

The first to speak was the woman with glasses sitting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the center.

"Ha..."

Her eyes, which had looked like a fish that had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been dead for ten days, snapped into the eyes of one just pulled from the water.

"Where did a gem like this even come from..."

"Team Leader."

"Ah... sorry."

A good reaction. It meant I'd done well enough that she couldn't even keep it together.

I sat back down. A glance to the side showed numbers 31 and 32 biting their lips.

Jina was staring at me with a look of sheer disbelief, her mouth slightly twisted.

That's how you sing.

My original skill hadn't come close to this. But the Status Window was mine... so this was my skill too, right?

Then the toad-faced man spoke.

"Number 34."

"Yes."

"Was the song everything? You're not going to dance?"

"Dance..."

Of course I had to. Idols don't just plant themselves in one spot and sing. You have to hunt song and dance at the same time.

"I'm aware. That's why I sat down."

"What... does that mean."

"The dance I'll be doing is... Even Just One Day."

"That song is..."

Bewilderment settled over the judges' faces.

Even Just One Day.

This was a dance track performed sitting in a chair from start to finish. A song that, on the other hand, had made people wonder why a chair-only routine even counted as a dance track.

I can't expect a high score.

Jina had just chewed up the audition hall with her dancing. And my stamina was almost gone; the world in front of me had started to sway.

Yeah. Singing ate up way too much stamina.

It had been the same in practice. That was why I'd picked this song. A seated dance would burn at least a little less.

The music started.

I let my body ride the song. I didn't particularly like this one. It was a bleak number that never overcame a breakup and just sublimated death into dance at the end.

She couldn't kill him, so she died herself, I guess.

That's a stupid way to think.

You shouldn't stay stuck in that time. You have to move forward. But the chair holds me in place. Only by breaking free of it and going forward...

Still dancing on the chair, I began to rise from my seat, little by little.

That wasn't in the original choreography.

Grade C acting turned me into the song's protagonist.

Just one day. If I'd only had one more day... that was the thought.

She probably would have stood up and gone looking for someone new.

It ends in death, but she never blamed him. Now came the last move — collapsing to the floor. I lifted one leg onto the chair. If I shifted my center of gravity past this point, I'd fall.

Instead of following the original choreography, I stood up and knocked the chair over.

The music ended with the chair collapsing weakly to the floor.

I tasted something metallic and bloody in my throat as I gasped for air and picked the fallen chair back up.

"Ah...."

A different reaction from before. Because I'd changed the choreography?

Dammit... I should've just done the original. I could really go for a cigarette.

"N-number 34, we saw that. It's not that you dance well, but..."

Passing at Grade F was too much to ask ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠after all? That's fine. This gave me the confidence to try again next time.

I'd already given up on passing as I sat down. Stamina really was the issue. I couldn't show anything within the stamina I had.

That was when the man who'd been silently scoring this whole time spoke up.

"Why did you stand up from the chair?"

The chair?

"It just felt like that's what she would do. If it were me, I wouldn't have given up there. I would've moved on. I expressed that by standing up."

I said what I honestly felt.

"Even Just One Day is a breakup song. A sad song about someone who couldn't endure a breakup and chose death..."

He shook his head, as if my answer hadn't sat right with him.

"That's correct. If this were a job interview and not an audition, I would have copied the choreography exactly."

This is an audition, isn't it? A place to show off what you've got and sell yourself. And I'm supposed to copy what someone else already did? That's the same as giving up.

"That's a good answer. If I were the CEO, I would have passed you. But... I don't have that kind of power."

He glanced sideways, and the toad-faced staff member cleared his throat.

"Ahem. We'll announce the results after we confer together. Choreographer."

"Y-yes, yes. I know. That was just a personal thought."

The choreographer's remark left the audition hall dead quiet.

I'd rather they saved that kind of talk for after we leave.

Then the dead-fish-eyed woman spoke.

"The visuals are definitely the best of anyone we've seen so far."

"That's not just me, right? From the moment she walked in, she just... captivated everyone..."

I smiled faintly. They were praising me right to my face?

"Hmm... seventeen years old..."

I answered.

"Yes, but I haven't started high school yet."

The toad-faced man smiled pleasantly.

"What a voice. Just listening to it makes you feel good."

The woman said,

"The diction and vocalization aren't something you pick up in a day or two."

Not a day or two, no — I'd only been at it a week.

I answered with the bright energy of a kid who'd never seen the real world.

"Yes, I worked hard."

"You weren't looking at a different path besides entertainment, were you?"

A question that cut straight to the heart.

You don't picture an idol practicing diction and vocalization. You just picture them grinding song and dance.

"No. For singing, diction and vocalization are the basics. No matter how well you sing, if you can't deliver it to the other person, you're just humming. You can't call that a song."

The toad-faced man smiled, satisfied with my answer.

The questions aimed at me went on for quite a while, and I answered each one from experience.

"We've asked number 34 far too many questions. This time, let's hear from the other applicants..."

Only then did their attention turn to the others. I quickly let out a breath and started topping up my drained stamina.

Fuck... why are they only grilling me.

Was this that thing? A stress interview? I'd felt it before, and it still sucked.

"Then, a final question for everyone."

Finally, the last question. I swallowed once and pretended to be nervous.

At the toad-faced man's words, everyone froze.

What... did he just say?

I thought my ears were broken. I checked the other applicants. Apparently not.

Of course, Toad Face... living up to that mug, huh? Looking like a pervert and everything.

"What are you doing? Come on, show us your shame."

I looked at the other judges. This had clearly been discussed in advance. Nobody looked surprised.

In that case.

I quietly stood up.

I'd figured out what they wanted. This was a test of how far you could handle the unexpected.

They were just high schoolers... maybe even younger.

People who'd never been out in the world would just panic, get embarrassed, and burst into tears.

"Hic..."

Like number 31.

Sorry, but that doesn't work on me.

I slowly stuck my tongue out as far as it would go.

"W-what are you doing right now?"

I smiled sweetly.

And with that, I carved myself into everyone's head.