Chapter 13
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Skirts Are So Uncomfortable
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"Umm..."
Today, like always, I stood in front of the vending machine outside the studio bathroom, agonizing over whether to get milk coffee or hot chocolate.
Just as I finally stood on my tiptoes to select the milk coffee...
A shift in the air made me instinctively tug down the hem of my skirt.
"Eek."
This short pleated skirt, riding up almost to the top of my thighs, was way too much for someone like me who'd never worn one before.
Even with shorts underneath, that peculiar sense of exposure from the skirt wasn't something I could get used to in a short time.
"Little one. Short on cash again?"
"Ah, no!"
The owner of that familiar voice was, predictably, Joo Jinwoo.
With his faintly haggard complexion, he might just arbitrarily buy me the hot chocolate like last time, so I answered in a hurry.
"Today, I'm definitely having coffee."
"Does a kid like you even know what coffee tastes like?"
"Milk coffee is sweet."
"Aha!"
I scanned his face, which somehow looked utterly exhausted.
Joo Jinwoo leaned diagonally against the vending machine, staring down at the paper cup of milk coffee I'd gotten with hollow eyes.
Over 180 cm tall, wearing just a hoodie, the pressure he exuded was no joke. But even from that solid build, a creeping anxiety seeped through that he couldn't quite hide.
"What about you, Joo Jinwoo? Right before your stage, and you're not drinking anything?"
"I'm good. Throat's tight."
He replied curtly, roughly raking back the side of his hair buzzed into a two-block cut.
His fingertips trembled faintly.
To my child's sensitive senses, that wasn't just simple tension.
It was the precursor symptom of an obsession with perfection that was eating away at him from the inside.
"That team of yours had a flashy lineup. All skilled folks, no slouches there."
Joo Jinwoo twisted the corner of his mouth into a smile at my words.
"How'd you know? Well, yeah. They're all good. At singing, that is. Should be enough to fill the stage."
"Hmm. Not fill it—make it explode."
"What?"
I wrapped both hands around the hot paper cup and continued dryly.
"When you bunch up people with great vocal physiques, they all try to be the star. Like an orchestra with no conductor, just five soloists. If even one slips up..."
Joo Jinwoo's eyes widened for a split second. I'd hit the nail on the head.
He stared at me blankly before letting out a sigh-mingled chuckle.
"That's not something a nine-year-old should be saying..."
"It's obvious if you think about it a little. Plenty of examples too."
I popped a coffee candy into my mouth and pointed toward the stage.
"You might think you're perfectly prepared, but be careful. Singing isn't a test with right answers. Get too rigid, and you'll snap."
This was my sincere advice.
Before he was a rival, Joo Jinwoo was a promising talent brimming with infinite potential.
If he broke here in Singer Star and vanished, even I—who planned to enter the K-pop industry—would feel pretty disappointed.
I toddled toward the waiting room.
The short skirt kept drawing my hands to its hem.
'Damn it. Why'd they have to pick this outfit?'
"Ooh! Siyeon is so adorable!! Right, guys?"
"Totally. Way better than when she wore pants."
"Her face is just..."
"Ahaha..."
I laughed awkwardly, embarrassed.
Ever since becoming Seo Siyeon, I'd constantly gotten compliments on being cute or pretty, but they still made me cringe every time.
Maybe because in my past life, I hardly ever got that kind of praise?
Well, it was all praise for the songs I created back then.
Being happy about my creations getting acclaim was one thing, but hearing praise for myself still tickled my chest in a strange way.
"Joo Jinwoo oppa's team seems a bit scary though..."
"Yeah."
First up was Joo Jinwoo's team performance.
He'd picked powerhouses similar to himself with his first picks, and with so many stellar vocalists, it was a stage primed for a vocal fireworks show.
The audience in the seats and the judges up front all wore faces full of eager anticipation as they awaited their turn.
"Whoa, this is gonna be good."
"Me too."
"You can kinda predict it, but that's part of the fun."
Joo Jinwoo's team finally took the stage proper.
As the vocalists who'd left strong impressions in the preliminaries lined up, just their presence exuded an overwhelming aura that dominated the room.
The lights dimmed, and a grand orchestral sound began to lay down the intro.
The song they'd chosen was a classic rock ballad.
A track where explosive high notes and flashy harmonies were key. The intro opened with Joo Jinwoo's heavy mid-low tones.
-Holding the end of memories, walking through the cold rain...
His vocal cords were straight-up cheat-level, no doubt.
Joo Jinwoo's voice rang solid and true through the mic, resonating across the entire studio. But as the other members' parts kicked in afterward, I furrowed my brow.
Instead of matching each other's voices, they were straining their necks like veins popping, pushing volume to prove they were better.
To my ears, it wasn't harmony—it was individual screams.
And Blooming's members beside me seemed to feel the same; they all stared at the stage with a hint of dismay.
As the song hit the midsection and the chorus began, my worries turned real.
In the part where they should layer harmonies, no one yielded—they all cranked their voices to main melody levels.
'What the hell? How'd it go this bad?'
Normally, they'd compromise a bit and divvy up the parts.
Yoo Sanghyeon's expression on screen gradually hardened.
What he'd hoped for wasn't a perfectly controlled vocal legion, but an uncontrollable runaway train.
And the incident exploded right before the climax in the bridge section.
The team member handling the flashiest high note overdid it and blanked on the next line's lyrics entirely.
-Can't go back again... uh, ......toward!
A split-second silence. The panicked team members' eyes wavered, and though Joo Jinwoo desperately yelled to salvage the part, the flow was already shattered.
'Joo Jinwoo's got real talent, but his stage experience is still green.'
This was that inexperience laid bare.
If it'd been a vocalist seasoned on stage, they could've recovered somewhat from that moment.
But Joo Jinwoo got swept up and crumbled with them.
The one who blanked on the lyrics was Julian, the Korean-German mixed-race guy.
They'd seen his still-imperfect Korean as a potential weak point, and it blew up right here on this stage.
In the end, all the team members got caught in the vibe and started piling on mistakes.
The stage, which felt eternally long, finally ended.
The final high note was screamed out, but the audience response was baffled applause, not wild cheers.
Cold silence hung over the judges' table.
Everyone was speechless at the unimaginable disaster.
I felt much the same.
No, I'd predicted they'd stumble a bit.
In these audition shows, strong egos clashing rarely works out well.
But I never imagined it'd collapse this catastrophically.
"Uh... I have nothing to say. Did you all even practice?"
Yoo Sanghyeon's opening critique was razor-sharp.
"Jinwoo's vocals were solid as ever, but your leadership? That's a deduction. Zero harmony. This wasn't singing—it was noise!"
Jina's assessment was icy too.
As a producer who mainly trained idols, she had to prioritize team synergy in group stages.
From her view, this performance deserved a failing grade.
Blooming's unnies watching the monitor from the waiting room went pale.
They covered their mouths, murmuring things like, "That team collapsed like that?"
I drained the last cold sip of my milk coffee and stood up.
"See? Singing and blending harmonies are two different things."
I opened the violin case.
The instrument I'd spent the most time with in my past life, the only one I'd had formal training on.
The smooth body under my fingertips felt both foreign and brutally familiar.
This one, borrowed from Uncle Park Hansu's music shop, wasn't some pricey masterpiece, but once I adjusted, it gave clear, solid tones.
The essence the judges demanded this round was crystal clear.
How organically could strangers from different lives fuse into one melody?
As long as you pursued music, syncing with others was inevitable destiny—and now was time to submit that certificate of collaboration.
Joo Jinwoo's team's ego-driven cacophony had paradoxically paved a perfect stage for us.
Everyone had witnessed how exhausting disharmony born of selfishness could be.
"Let's go. Just like we practiced."
At my low, cool command, Blooming's members grabbed their instruments with resolute faces.
Their tension-stiffened eyes began converging on me as their focal point.
We—me and Blooming—would dominate this round.
No, I'd already set the board that way.
All that remained was executing it on stage.