The Audition Push
“Broadcast appearance?”
“Yes. In my opinion, your daughter seems more than capable of appearing on a show like that.”
Lee Hyein's voice brightened noticeably, matched by her subordinate employee's reply. Myeongjeon felt a twinge of foreboding. What was this about a broadcast appearance or audition? It wasn't something she'd ever considered...
“Is that so~? My daughter does have talent, but she's never mentioned anything like that, so it never even crossed my mind.”
“Why not give it some thought! I have a friend working in broadcasting, so I could pass along some info for you, ma'am.”
Lee Hyein listened with a beaming smile, then glanced back at Myeongjeon. Myeongjeon just shook her head and gathered her things to head outside.
“What do you think about what you overheard earlier?”
“...What do you mean?”
“The broadcast appearance thing.”
She was still on about it. Myeongjeon turned to stare out the window for a moment. The sun had long set. The road was lit only by car headlights and the cold white glow of streetlights along the edges.
As she gazed blankly outside, Hyein spoke up.
“I think... it might be good for Suyeon to try a show like that.”
“Why's that?”
Hyein paused to choose her words carefully in response to Myeongjeon's question. But whatever her answer, Myeongjeon was already against the idea of a broadcast appearance. Because...
If I go on, it'd be cheating a bit.
Think about it. Would anyone who could match her musically even show up to an audition? If they did, they'd be sitting in the judges' seats. And if she entered a field she knew—something music-related, not some unfamiliar territory like dance or idols—then winning would be a foregone conclusion.
And Myeongjeon didn't want that. It felt undignified at her age, and besides, those opportunities should go to others. There was also her stance that music should be judged on its own merits. Of course, that opinion lost credibility the moment she started her own YouTube channel, but humans were like that—romance when I do it, adultery when you do. Couldn't be helped.
“These days, self-promotion is key. Making music is great, but to get people to listen, you have to let them know who you are. Business is the same way. No matter how good the quality or product, if no one notices, it's worthless.”
“I see.”
While Myeongjeon mulled that over, Hyein finished gathering her thoughts and continued. It was a pretty businesslike perspective, so rather than argue, Myeongjeon opted for silence. It wasn't the kind of thing you could really counter anyway... and even if she did, it wasn't like 'Mom' would change her mind.
No matter how logically she argued, 'Ha Suyeon' was her daughter. Any pushback would just be dismissed as naive ramblings from a kid who hasn't lived enough.
“And I want Suyeon to gain as much experience as possible. Up until now... I don't know what she thought, but I do feel like she was a bit off track. Of course, it's not too late. You never know with life. I never imagined I'd start a business back in school either. But if there's a path where she can make use of her talents, wouldn't it be worth trying?”
In response to Hyein's words, Myeongjeon pondered briefly before saying she'd think about it. 'Mom' probably wasn't expecting an immediate “Sure! I'll do an audition!” anyway, and by tomorrow or the day after, she might forget all about it. Then it could just vanish into thin air.
She probably wasn't seriously agonizing over this to tell Myeongjeon to go audition~. More like, her daughter seemed to be getting her act together, so why not ride the momentum into some TV exposure? Might help her find her path, right? Something like that.
But Myeongjeon retracted that thought just a few days later. Because Lee Hyein brought it up every time she saw her face.
“Are you thinking of giving it a shot?”
“I've been thinking...”
“That employee mentioned earlier...”
“It could be a great opportunity.”
She hammered at it relentlessly, to the point where Myeongjeon wanted to scream. Just like the old Ha Suyeon used to, maybe yell “Just leave me alone already!” slam the door, and practice guitar in peace.
But how could she? For better or worse, that woman was her 'mom,' and she meant well out of worry. Still, even as Myeongjeon thought I should be understanding..., another nagging doubt crept in: Does she even remember her daughter was a delinquent? Headache after headache...
* * *
In the end, Myeongjeon couldn't withstand Lee Hyein's barrage and said, “If the chance comes up, I'll give it a try.”
It was during the second group lesson when the company employees all chimed in as a group: “Why not try an audition or something?”
They're really going this far? Myeongjeon imagined the scene: the CEO telling her staff, “Drop some hints about my daughter trying an audition show!” and the employees thinking, What the hell am I doing...? while carrying it out.
This is getting out of hand.
There was only one way to preserve 'Mom's' dignity in this situation: agree to it.
But even if I say yes... what do I even enter? Myeongjeon thought. Lee Hyein didn't seem to have any specific program in mind anyway. From her perspective, just getting her daughter on TV was a win.
The pusher didn't need a plan, but the one going on had to consider everything. Myeongjeon opened her computer. First things first: research.
After hours of digging, she reached a conclusion.
Can't decide this alone.
Out of countless audition shows, only three were currently accepting participants that she could realistically join.
1. Idol survival program. There were rigging scandals and talk of it being outdated, but it kept going with rebrands—now recruiting for a “new season 3.” No real qualifications needed. Just no criminal record or travel bans, and the winner debuted as an idol.
No way in hell.
Reason one: Myeongjeon had zero interest in being an idol. Sure, factoring in Ha Suyeon's looks, physical talent, and her own musical skills as Seo Myeongjeon, it wasn't impossible... but
They want me to half-strip and shake my ass in front of guys?
Myeongjeon considered the thought itself criminal. Even settled in a woman's body, she was still a man at heart. Twerking seductively and acting cute for men...? She felt like puking. Actually, she did puke a little.
Reason two: Her field had nothing to do with idols. Music might converge on itself eventually, but she was a guitarist through and through. She'd never heard of a female idol who played guitar and sang, and doubted it would happen. Sure, bands were treated like idols once, but that was 60+ years ago. Those folks were music legends now.
Reason three, the biggest: Ha Suyeon's past was way too risky.
It's fuzzy now, but... Memories of bullying kids and fighting seniors lingered. Plus drinking and smoking... No way she'd pass idol scrutiny.
Wait, doesn't that apply to other shows too?
Idols faced unusually harsh moral standards, sure. Teens couldn't drink, smoke, date, or anything. But other fields demanded clean pasts too—just less extremely. Even a trot show she'd glimpsed once dropped a contestant over high school bully rumors.
She'd think about that later.
2. General audition survival for singers/singer-songwriters. Straightforward, skill-based competition. Go far enough, become a star, debut somewhere. No real issues. Crush with talent, done. Age might raise eyebrows, but if she was doing it, why fuss? The downside: high chance of solo debut.
Myeongjeon had already formed a band and had no intention of disbanding unless forced.
And that led to the appealing option.
3. Band survival program. But problems here too. Some formed bands on the spot to compete; others entered as existing bands.
Forming one locks you in—useless. Existing band entry? We're not ready for that level yet.
She could drag them by the scruff like at their first gig, maybe even score higher. But...
Do I really need to go that far? Better to skip if it's like that.
It was a band meant for fun together, start to finish. Myeongjeon scratched her head. Whatever, she'd have to talk it over with the bandmates and Lee Hyein. The schedules overlapped subtly, so only one possible anyway... and these weren't solo decisions.
And before that, something else to handle.
Myeongjeon pulled out her phone and dialed someone. After a few rings, it connected.
“Hey! Suyeon! What's up all of a sudden? Something wrong?”
“Hey, Dain. Got something to talk about. Can we meet tomorrow?”
No matter what program or how, one thing was non-negotiable: cleaning up her past.