Chapter 16
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: I Hate Skirts!
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Reflecting on past experiences.
Have I ever come across a K-pop song themed around cheerleading or cheering chants while listening to the genre? Even racking my brain, only one or two barely flicker to mind.
And even those were either ancient relics or buried album tracks without so much as a music video.
Why have agencies turned their backs on such an appealing cheerleader concept—one that's popular and guaranteed to hook male fans?
"Because it looks too cheap."
To be precise, it draws massive backlash from female consumers.
In truth, men don't love the concept much either.
The cheerleader profession might be mainstream, but the second it becomes an idol's concept, everything changes.
In an era where even nurse cosplay sparks outrage, pushing a blatant cheerleader vibe upfront would unleash a torrent of criticism no one could handle.
That's why idols have gradually ditched sexy concepts over time.
Songs aimed at men end up shunned by women—and even more so by other men.
But I'm not an idol.
No one's going to point fingers at a nine-year-old elementary school kid decked out in a cheerleader outfit performing a cheering stage.
Anyone trying to judge her that way would just catch hell for what the heck they're thinking about a child.
"Honestly, this is something only possible at this age."
Even if I debut as an adult singer later, I won't be belting out cheering songs.
It's a gimmicky, one-off concept perfect for an audition stage, but way too clichéd to push on a full album.
The real kicker? Tucked away in my previous life's hard drive is a song that fits this concept to a T.
A track that bombed in Korea but exploded in Japan.
With proven chart success, quality worries are a luxury I don't need.
"And when you think about the opponent..."
Sorry to Im Jihye, but she wasn't the type to win on looks.
Pairing her all-in vocal power against a fresh, cute stage? Stealing the judges' hearts would be like taking candy from a baby.
These auditions aren't decided purely on singing skill.
The industry actually avoids people who only sing well—they usually lack marketability and that star magnetism to draw crowds.
A stage that snatches the audience's gaze in an instant.
That's the express lane to the top.
Frankly, a nine-year-old S-rank beauty doing cheerleading fanservice? It's a cheat code that disarms everyone regardless of age or gender.
That said, it felt a tad light for a top 10 live stage.
From there on, you can add backup dancers and other instruments, splashing cash to amp up the production.
Solo twerk value plummets once that unlocks.
"This is the way."
Direction locked in. No need for fancy choreography.
Singing while pumping fists energetically would make a perfect routine.
I don't have the physical chops for high-level dance anyway, or the talent to create choreo.
I started digging through cheerleader videos for inspiration. Mostly fancams, and the outfits were way more revealing than expected.
I found a decently simple, cute routine among them.
Truth be told, most were outright sexy dances, so hunting for something kid-appropriate took some doing.
"Choreo-wise, reference this vibe... The real issue is the outfit."
I already had a prime candidate for the stage costume: uniform reform.
Evergreen Sky Nursery boasts one of Incheon's biggest scales, with sponsors galore.
Pro baseball teams among them, donating uniforms and gloves yearly.
The warehouse was piled high with outdated, worn-out gear.
I got permission from a teacher and scoured every corner. Finally, I found exactly what I wanted.
"Whoa... it's still here."
A blue Incheon baseball uniform from ancient history—now only glimpsed in low-res memes or faded footage, slumbering in people's memories—lay in my hands.
"A kid good with clothes? One of the middle school dance team girls."
"Hook me up, please."
An orphanage like ours is a real melting pot of personalities.
You've got study obsessives, all-night gamers, dance club devotees staking their lives on moves (and yeah, plenty of dead-end delinquents).
For middle and high school dance club kids, sewing skills aren't optional—they're mandatory.
The ones dead serious about going pro? Their skills are downright devious.
Simple reason: no cash for custom gear, and off-the-rack stuff never nails that perfect stage vibe.
So they snag cheap clothes, rip 'em apart, slash, stitch, and Frankenstein unique reformed outfits.
If memory served, one of our middle schoolers was in a dance team, gunning for pro status.
Pretty skilled, promising type—living the good life by orphanage standards.
Memory on point. Got introduced without a hitch.
Just took till evening; practice kept her out till sunset.
"Huh, you...?"
"Hi there."
Flashy makeup, hair dyed bright yellow. At a glance, total delinquent vibe—but I knew she was one of the rare ones living right.
In this neighborhood, judging character by dye jobs or smoking is pointless. Hair color's small potatoes.
'But why's she acting weird?'
I tilted my head, and she flushed red, unable to meet my eyes, and shrieked.
"Wh-who's that person next to you?!"
"Someone filming. They wanted to capture me."
"Ah, just ignore me and chat normally."
Even with the staff's polite reply, Seo Ina stayed fidgety.
Civilian life, apparently—broadcast cameras were a huge pressure trip.
'Music show backup dancer level, but lens has her shaking? Stage lights fine, though?'
Couldn't quite get the psychology, but I calmly laid out my plan anyway.
Talk of stages cleared the awkwardness from her eyes, replaced by focus.
"Uniform reform? That's nothing. If you ask, my team sisters would roll up their sleeves in a heartbeat."
"For real?"
My casual question made her slam the table and shoot up.
"Duh! They brag in music show waiting rooms that you're from the same orphanage!"
"Huh?"
"Hehe, even idols are losing it over how cute you are."
That caught me off guard. Truth was, I hadn't felt my popularity skin-deep yet.
More street recognition, sky-high video views—but it didn't cement me as some big star.
Audition hype vanishes like a summer night's dream all too often.
'Maybe snag a YouTube account later to check.'
SNS like Instagram would give instant metrics, but right now, I wanted full focus on Singer Star.
The road to victory was finally crystal clear.
My win odds sat at 2.2. Joo Jinwoo's had slipped to 2.5 in the last round's wake, handing me the top spot.
They say nothing's more honest than money. Cold-hearted gamblers betting on me? Proof my odds were objectively solid.
Couldn't deny the weird morale boost.
"Top as uniform, fine... What about bottoms?"
"Thinking short jeans underneath for that no-pants illusion."
"Eh? Nah, better..."
"Better?"
"Wear a skirt! Tennis skirt would make you insanely cute!"
I scrunched my face and shut it down hard.
"Absolutely not."
Last time I tried one on stage, I vowed it for life.
Skirts were public enemy number one for my soul's sanity.