A New Challenge?

As the rounds dragged on, the ripple effect of Singer Star Season 5 only grew stronger. Seo Siyeon, Blooming, and Joo Jinwoo kept delivering stage after stage that dominated the buzz, holding viewer ratings steady at 30%.

Of course, it was only natural for songs from a hit audition show to climb the charts!

This round, my Christmas of the Day and Plum Blossom had shot up to the top spots.

"Heh heh..."

No matter how much of a boost the audition show gave me, seeing my own songs topping the charts multiple times felt strangely surreal.

It was like I'd really become a genius singer—like I could do anything.

But I knew better than anyone that reality wasn't so kind, so I quietly closed the community tab.

"This is the first time my voice has hit #1 on the charts."

Songs like Star Night or Pray For had peaked at #2 or #3, and the long-running #1 glassy sky had Yoo Seolha's voice as the main hook, not mine.

So Christmas of the Day was truly my first #1 as a solo vocal.

It made me happy, but at the same time, there was this weird unease about hitting #1 with someone else's song.

'Well, can't really complain when I straight-up copied it.'

This one especially—I'd lifted the lyrics concept and melody wholesale.

But from my position, what choice did I have? I couldn't whip up something new on the spot.

My specialty in my past life had been idol songs, after all.

That's why most of the songs I'd memorized and copied were idol tracks, and they didn't quite fit my current setup.

If this were a produce-style idol audition, sure—but it wasn't, so things got tricky.

'I could write new ones if I had to...'

Dance tracks would need rearrangement, or I'd have to perform the choreo myself—and obviously, I wasn't great at dancing.

I could practice, sure, but finding a dance instructor in the middle of this boot camp? Tough.

Back when Lee Hye-na was around, I could've asked her for help, but now? No dice.

'Plus, no choreo anyway.'

I could make some if I tried... but the quality would suck.

Eventually, whether soon or far off, I'd end up making idol songs. My core was idol producing, after all.

If not, I could just sell them for a decent price.

Seeing my songs out in the world like that would probably feel pretty good.

"So, what to do for the next round?"

The finale song was mostly done, but I still needed something fresh this round...

"Honestly, I've kinda done everything worth doing."

Band, hip-hop, '90s ballad, pop ballad, anime OST arrangement, emotional ballad sales pitch... even a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cheer song.

"I've covered a lot."

Come to think of it, I hadn't done a proper idol song.

Because... embarrassing.

I could've grabbed a solo idol track, slapped on some simple choreo tweaks, and gone for it.

But even after becoming a girl, wearing revealing stage outfits, getting called "unnie"...!

'I'm not really a girl.'

Just an adult man wearing a little girl's skin.

Prelims idol song? That was pure desperation—talent show or die, so shame didn't even register.

"Jelly Pop feels like a waste to skip."

I planned to remake and release it later anyway.

Online, people clamored for an official Jelly Pop amid the rest.

The YouTube clip of just Jelly Pop had already broken a million views.

Most of my stages had higher counts, but a sub-minute snippet hitting 1M? Impressive.

Proof of Singer Star's hype... or just a timeless hit.

Ears don't lie, no matter the era.

"Maybe just do Jelly Pop this time."

It had that childish, youthful vibe in lyrics and mood.

All the idols who'd covered it in my past life were minors.

For current me, it wasn't a bad pick.

"I'll think on it more."

I put off deciding.

Still, dancing cute in a cute outfit on national live TV? Hesitant.

'And the audience this time is huge.'

But I'd felt it for a while now.

I was running out of viable concepts.

"Ah, so... you still don't have any other members besides me? Is that what you're saying? Did I get that right?"

"Haha, of course not. We already have a few trainees we're talking to, and the company has its own picks for the debut lineup. So! No worries."

Lee Hye-na let out a deep sigh at the producer's words.

Agencies had come knocking in droves. Majors offered solo deals, midsized and mid-tier wanted groups.

'Over ten solid offers.'

She'd picked a solid mid-tier with a rep: produced top idols before, roster of second- and third-tiers, real capital.

But right before she joined, her fellow trainees vanished.

Not defectors—internal drama split the debut group into two.

'What company pushes two girl groups at once...'

This place had two producing teams: Division 1 and 2, rivals.

Division 1's next-gen girl idol project got hijacked.

Division 2, hungry for it, got a director's nod without consulting and snagged Hye-na.

Then declared, "We got Hye-na, so the girl idol debut's ours."

Division 1 and their director allies pushed back hard. CEO's Solomon solution: split into two groups.

Division 1 keeps theirs; Division 2 builds separate.

Mid-tier ent. prepping two girl groups simultaneously—total disaster.

Division 2 tanked, Hye-na sunk with them.

Someone might say, 'Should've checked.'

But for a rookie 20-year-old navigating adult BS, questioning a director subbing for the busy CEO? No way.

"How was I supposed to say 'CEO or no deal'?"

And this reputable company pulling nonsense within two weeks? Unthinkable.

"Don't worry. I'll gather killer members ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠myself... and crush those filthy Division 1 ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bastards."

"Yeeeah..."

What’s a VTuber?

Someone who dons a virtual anime-style avatar to stream and idol online.

Im Ji-hye had no clue they existed until recently.

Fluent in Japanese, fresh off a year-long working holiday there last year—and still news to her.

But ex-colleague Saki recommended it, curiosity piqued.

"This gig is straight honey."

Decision made in seconds.

Ex-big corp trainee creds, TV appearances, singing that crushed nearly every utaite out there.

StarLive felt a monster had rolled in at deadline.

'Pro-level dance and vocals applying here?'

Internet-focused now, but eyeing idols long-term— they greenlit her instantly.

Dance, vocals, ex college Japan-Korea club prez (total social butterfly), great talker.

Not clueless on JP otaku culture either—perfect for adapting on stream.

Korean drama? Just forum rumors—dismissed, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠deal sealed smooth.

"Ahh, Japan after so long."

Before Singer Star even wrapped, Im Ji-hye jetted to Japan to ink her StarLive 3rd gen contract.