Audition Cleared – The Rebirth of Graduation
Inspiration and courage? What, it's not like I'm transplanting hair follicles or anything—how was I supposed to do that? I was flustered, but I ended up accepting anyway. The reasons... Well, my heart softened toward the cat-eared character who kept rubbing her hands together, desperately pleading with words like Please! Together! Just once! Even though it wasn't a song I'd created entirely from scratch, the thrill of someone singing a track I'd worked on hit me harder than I'd imagined. And it felt good knowing that my meager talent, nurtured in this shut-in room, could make someone smile.
I even laid the groundwork by saying I wasn't confident, buying time for the future.
. . .
With only a week until the contest application deadline, we jumped into a quick meeting. The goal was picking a song for the application round. Luna-ri called out candidate songs one by one on stream, and I gave feedback via chat—things like the range being too high and making listeners anxious, or the vibe being good but the tempo too slow to hold the judges' attention. I'm no expert, but I shared my honest impressions, and Luna-ri took them seriously. After mulling over several options, we settled on a city pop track.
The pink-haired Luna-ri blinked her eyes.
Nothing major—just stripping out a few instruments from the original that clashed with Luna-ri's voice and layering on a thin acoustic guitar. I could already hear how her tone would come alive with that alone.
If she didn't stand out here, Luna-ri was out. No prelims pass meant no 32-strong, no 16-strong. Putting effort into the application review wasn't optional—it was essential. True to my word, the simple tweaks took less than two hours. After emailing the finished file, I zoned out for a bit. I could never tell Luna-ri this, but deep down, a tiny part of me thought, If she fails, it might actually be a relief. The songs I'd made were hers anyway—she could use them anywhere. If she passed... well, that'd be great... yeah.
While Luna-ri was deep in practice, I busied myself with pointless thoughts, enjoying the leisure. But sadly, my downtime didn't last—Luna-ri summoned me back.
A barrage of questions from Luna-ri, fresh from practice. I'd told her multiple times my ears weren't reliable, but she insisted I recommend what sounded best to me. It felt uncomfortable how my sense of responsibility was growing, but being acknowledged was nice. Was this how a trained puppy felt? Anyway, as our prep dragged on, chatting in the stream window started feeling awkward. Streams are public spaces, logs are permanent, and long messages were a hassle. Viewers who popped in wondering What's this room about? bounced immediately.
It hit 2 viewers, then dropped back to 1 in under 5 seconds. She was entering the singing contest to grow her stream, but this dissonance was throwing things off. I decided to speak up first.
I figured she'd nod along, but Luna-ri hemmed and hawed before responding.
Luna-ri might not get it, but people—especially women—make me uncomfortable. If she'd been a cam streamer instead of a VTuber, I might not have stuck around. Probably would've hit back after a few eye contacts with the cam. I tried to refuse, but Luna-ri wouldn't back down.
She had a point.
She cleared her throat, smiled slyly.
Logical. No flaws.
I caved. Was she always this perceptive?
A satisfied laugh echoed through the speakers.
The application deadline approached fast. Luna-ri submitted her track with two days to spare and carried on as usual. Two more days passed. I had her stream on in the background while tinkering with my composition software when the vibe suddenly shifted.
A clattering sound, then Luna-ri's voice trembled.
"...?"
I stopped what I was doing and focused on the speakers.
Silence fell. One second, two.
Luna-ri bounced like she might leap out of the screen. Tear effects and fireworks exploded simultaneously. Her voice quivered into sobs.
Seeing her joy brought a wave of relief. That It'd be better if she failed nonsense vanished like a lie.
. . .
The day after basking in her personal email notice, the full list of qualifiers dropped in a platform-wide announcement. Being an official platform event, the judging was lightning-fast, and so was the reveal.
Scrolling the participant list, there was Luna-ri's name. Among these 32, she probably had the lowest recognition. I'd never seen the other streams, so they were all new to me, but the flood of comments already hinted at a lineup packed with popular streamers.
The official post had even more details that left me speechless. The scale was bigger than expected, pricking my conscience for approaching it so casually just for promo. 1st prize alone was 20 million won. Sure, there was an "or secret perks" tag, but whatever—2nd was a measly million, 20x less. Typical internet stream hype with aggressive prize gaps. And an entertainment agency as sponsor? That pro touch had everyone hyping wild expectations. Very pressuring.
I skimmed for Luna-ri mentions—right on cue.
The contest hadn't even started, but the promo for Luna-ri's stream was a smashing success. And right now...
"...Whoa."
61 viewers. Hard to believe it was single digits not long ago. Just from the qualifier list post, Luna-ri—zero recognition—had become an intriguing underdog to the masses. Plan working perfectly. Just as she wanted, people were tuning in to hear her sing and chat.
As numbers climbed, chat sped up, and Luna-ri excitedly responded to each. Her voice brimmed with that signature excitement. Now I could finally lurk without forcing chats and do other stuff. Glancing at the chat, a strange sensation welled up—not negative, just... something had changed. Was I still stuck on those 1-on-1 days? Maybe I'd miss them more than I thought.
During a break, Luna-ri messaged—my chance to send stream-inappropriate congrats. She was thrilled. Of course she was. I glanced out the window, but the blackout curtains blocked everything. Just habit. People change. As her stream grows, so will she. No more chattering like she's talking to one viewer. That's right. Our overlap fades to memory. This year's social anxiety boot camp—complete via proxy viewer experience. Once the contest ends, I'll probably fade back to silent watcher or my routine. Cautiously, I pictured returning to square one.
Square one—square one—square one. Notes buzzed in my head, drifting like buoys. Natural parting? Back to start farewell. Oh, this had potential.
I fired up the composition software, stream in the background. For the 16-strong pick, two finalists had tied till the end: my fave dreamy pop with its haunting reverb, or Luna-ri's boy group tropical house rec. The boy group track's lyrics stuck out. Seasons spent together. School full of memories. Sad farewell laced with cheers. Graduation. The words captured youth's bittersweet goodbye to old friends, hopes for each other's futures—all wrapped in a breezy, upbeat house beat.
Same lyrics, different vibe. Friends parting becomes lovers splitting. Bittersweet blessings for a bestie's diverging path. Heartache of letting go a lover for their sake. The inspiration hit like lightning, commandeering my keyboard. Before I knew it, the sliver of light through the blackout curtains had vanished. Thus, Prism Tree's Graduation was reborn under my hands.