Individual Evaluation (1)
The audition was a day away.
My mind was consumed with thoughts of tomorrow. I replayed the choreography I'd practiced the day before, ran through the song one more time, and kept simulating what I should say if I ran into Yu Na-bin.
That was when my phone rang.
Dad?
My mind went blank. I hadn't gone out of my way to contact Lee Seo-yeon's family. Even with her memories sitting in my head, I didn't have the confidence to act like I belonged with them.
This is the first time they've called. What do I do?
The ringing showed no sign of stopping. I could have just let it go. But the sound kept drilling into my chest, and in the end I pressed the answer button with a trembling hand.
"...Hello?"
"Seo-yeon. Your mom's in the hospital."
My breath caught in my throat.
"...What?"
I'd been worried about sounding awkward, but the casual speech came out as naturally as it had in Seo-yeon's memories of her family.
"It's not serious... she collapsed, but the hospital says she needs to stay a few days. I wasn't going to call. Didn't want you to worry."
My head went hollow. Lee Seo-yeon's mother. Not my mother — and still my heart dropped like a stone. I told myself to stay calm, but my voice shook anyway.
"Which hospital? I'm coming now."
I packed at once. I bought a train ticket and headed for Jeonju, where her family home was. Even staring out the window, my thoughts wouldn't settle.
Is this why she gave up the audition?
The moment the thought landed, my heart lurched. Choose the family that had suddenly become mine — or choose Yu Na-bin. Strictly speaking, neither of them was my family. And yet, right now, this side felt like it came first. Maybe Seo-yeon's memories were pulling the strings.
When I arrived at the hospital, Dad was sitting in the room with an exhausted face, and Seo-yeon's mother lay in the bed, her complexion pale. He turned his head as I stepped inside.
"You came."
I nodded without a word. As I approached the bed, Mom slowly opened her eyes.
"Seo-yeon?"
"...Mom."
It felt strange. And yet I startled myself — the word had slipped out on its own.
"What are you doing here? You must be busy."
"...Just because."
"How's the singer thing going? The one you said you wanted to do."
That was when it hit me. Seo-yeon hadn't even told her family she was auditioning.
Why didn't she say anything?
Even if the prep had kept her swamped, was she so overwhelmed she couldn't mention it to her own parents? Or had she kept quiet so they wouldn't get their hopes up, only to be disappointed if she failed?
Either way, one thing was clear. From her memories alone, Lee Seo-yeon had been a genuinely good daughter. The memory of crying as she said goodbye the day she left home. The bright girl who called her parents without fail. Of course she would have come running at the news that her mother had collapsed, just like I had. In truth, it might not have been my will at all. The simple fact that I wanted to stay by this bedside a little longer was proof enough.
So she never went up to Seoul.
With a face like this, even if her skills had been lacking, it would have been hard to cut her from the broadcast entirely. Someone like me, watching from the other side of the screen, couldn't possibly have missed her. Lee Seo-yeon had given up the audition and stayed by her parents' side. She must have figured another chance would come around.
But for me, this is the most important shot I'll ever get.
I hesitated more than once before I finally opened my mouth.
Mom and Dad's eyes went wide at the same time. Dad unclasped his hands and stared at me.
"Tomorrow? Then what are you doing coming all the way down here?"
"You called. How was I supposed to not come?"
I made a point of flashing a grin.
"And I'm really confident about tomorrow. I'm going to pass, I swear. So Mom, you have to get better fast. You've got to watch me on TV."
"Aigoo, I told you it's nothing. The way you talk, people will think your mother caught some terminal illness."
Beside Mom's weak smile, Dad let out a sigh and muttered under his breath.
"Tomorrow's a big day, and I went and rattled you for nothing. You could've just told us it was an audition and stayed put."
"I had to say it to your faces."
Mom looked at me without a word. Then she quietly reached out and took my hand. We weren't even really family, and yet that warmth felt strangely, painfully dear.
"...Now that I've seen your face, that's enough. Go on back up."
Her voice was gentle.
"I'm grateful you came all this way, but if you stay any longer you'll be heading back at dawn. Do well at the audition."
"Yeah, get going. Knock it out of the park and come back."
Dad chimed in.
I gave the back of Mom's hand a light pat where our fingers were still joined.
"Okay. Get your strength back and wait for me. Once I pass, I'm going to give you so much to brag about."
"Alright. You make sure you pass."
Mom's smile was still frail, but there was belief in it.
Audition day.
The first gate was the individual evaluation, and I already had a strategy in place.
In auditions like this, the people who make it to the finale tend to follow a handful of set formulas. The most common — and the most effective — is the underdog narrative. Start out so rough you're almost a joke, then climb so steeply that the reversal itself becomes the story.
The problem was that Lee Seo-yeon's face, and the skill I currently had, were far too striking for an underdog play.
Which means there's really only one option left.
A contestant who leaves a powerful first impression almost always survives to the end. That wasn't a hunch — countless survival shows had proven it. Viewers remember the people who hit hard in episode one, and they invest their feelings in them. Plant yourself as a frontrunner from the start, and you lock down screen time even through the growth arc.
By contrast, contestants who suddenly surge in the mid-game are vanishingly rare. Producers rarely bother carving out footage for them, or putting in the work to build them a story.
So if I wanted maximum airtime and a deep imprint on people's minds, what was the play? Getting recognized as a powerhouse from the very beginning was the surest bet.
I looked in the mirror. This body already had the visuals to overwhelm every contestant here except Yu Na-bin. If the skill backed that up, there was no reason to cling to an underdog strategy.
I'm going for a stage they can't possibly edit out.
With that thought, I waited in the seats behind the stage and studied the mood among the judges. The contestants' skill levels were all over the place, and a few were so nervous they couldn't perform anywhere near their best.
I wasn't as tense as I'd expected. Whether that was thanks to Seo-yeon's body or because I'd always had this kind of nerve, I couldn't say. Having to perform in front of famous judges should have been pressure — and yet what I felt was closer to a thrill.
"Next, independent trainee Lee Seo-yeon."
My name was called. The waiting room door opened, and a hallway stretched toward a stage blazing with light. I drew one breath and stepped forward.
"Wow, she's gorgeous."
"Her face is insane."
"It's over."
The same thirsty compliments hit my ears at once. A little embarrassing. A little proud, too. Barely anyone had come out yet — the contestant seats weren't even half full — and still the reactions were solid.
Trying to land even one extra good-looking shot for the broadcast? Whatever the reason, I'll take it.
The judges seated dead ahead were faces the public would know. A famous producer. A powerhouse vocalist. An active lesson coach. Their eyes swept me from head to toe.
"She's incredibly pretty."
It was barely more than a whisper, but I heard it clearly. A low murmur kept rippling among the judges who hadn't picked up a mic yet. Someone flipped quickly through the papers in front of them, checking my information.
"She could be an actress."
"Look at the monitor. That's a full-on pictorial."
"Wow — she's that stunning even when the cameras aren't doing her any favors?"
"She's an independent trainee?"
"A face like that and no agency?"
"How did anyone leave her sitting there?"
While that was going on, one of the judges lifted a microphone.
"Lee Seo-yeon, a brief self-introduction, please."
"Yes. I'm Lee Seo-yeon, an independent trainee. I applied for this audition because I want to become a singer."
Short and clean. No need to ramble or oversell it. Trying to stand out a little is fine, but for me right now, keeping it neat was the best move. That was what I thought.
"That's it?"
The question came in sharp, and I flinched — though I didn't let it show.
What am I supposed to say?
Had it looked too half-hearted? I hadn't meant to phone in the intro just because of my face. What, was I supposed to throw in my age and hobbies too?
"Um... a seventeen-year-old who came up to Seoul all by herself because she wants to be a singer. First-year in high school, hobby is watching YouTube — Lee Seo-yeon! Please take good care of me!"
Unlike before, my waist dipped into a bow all on its own.
"Pfft—! Her whole vibe just went completely innocent."
"That's more like it. That's an independent trainee. Doesn't feel like a company coached her to say any of that."
"A finished visual, and somehow she's got this airheaded charm."
"It's cute, actually?"
The judges' faces softened into something almost fond.
"Lee Seo-yeon, shall we see the stage you've prepared?"
"Yes. I'm ready."
The lights shifted with my answer. Before the music started, I drew a breath. Then the intro rolled in, and I let out the first phrase.
The judges' eyes widened, just a little. So did the contestants sitting behind them.