Never Sing Japanese Songs on Network TV
The rowdy meat party after the semifinals had wrapped up, and everyone was asleep, clutching their full bellies. I alone sat in the dim corner workspace of the communal practice room, the glow of my laptop screen the only light.
A song I'd jotted down a simple melody for back in my previous life, something I'd always wanted to flesh out one day.
I couldn't guarantee its success, or even if it was good or bad.
Because it had never been shown to the world—just me and a few people around me humming the tune now and then.
"...Looks like I'm finally pulling this one out."
I'd titled it provisionally Hello, My Four Seasons.
The genre was electro pop: lyrical melodies blended with synth sounds, drums, and electric guitar.
In my past life, this was a casual practice song used by trainees and idols from our agency.
I'd recorded the melody on my phone ages ago, and one trainee had overheard it by chance.
Oppa, this is insanely good? Why haven't you released it?
Because it was my personal song, made just for me. Honestly, I didn't want to share it with anyone.
But that kid spread the word to the other trainees, and it became their go-to vocal warm-up.
Even after debuting, they kept using that melody to loosen up their throats.
I wasn't thrilled, but... what could I do if it was their routine? Producers are powerless against idols, especially ones you've poured your heart into raising.
Juniors saw the seniors doing it and started copying, and soon everyone thought it looked fun and jumped on the bandwagon, using it as a practice track.
By then, it felt awkward to release it officially. Anyway, it stayed locked in my head.
But now, I can sing it myself.
It never had official lyrics. People just made up their own on the spot, so there were tons of versions.
They even fought over whose version was better.
Since I'd made it to the finals, the lyrical concept was set.
I have to write about myself.
Not pandering with sob stories about past misfortunes, but reflecting on the good memories and looking toward the future.
Lyrics about looking back on the past, sung by a 9-year-old, would sound like a child's pure growing pains to the public.
Doubts about their suddenly changed circumstances, fears of what's ahead.
But for me, it would be a true farewell—letting go of my past self completely and embracing life as Seo Siyeon.
The song's already mostly done.
Because I'd been chipping away at it in my spare time. As the piece to cap off my past life, I wanted it to be the best quality I could muster now, so I'd refined it even while prepping for previous rounds.
"Not a trace of my old style, either."
The original only had the chorus melody, so I had to rebuild the whole structure from the ground up.
I didn't go for the classical instruments like violin that I loved in my past life, or house and lounge club genres.
Instead, I stripped away all the frills for the purest, most expansive sense of space.
Soft seasons, like scattering petals—will my life drift away like that? I'm afraid.
Memories flashed: aimless emotions from the days without a mother, yet the happy fragments of childhood.
But the moment the beat kicks in properly, the mood shifts dramatically.
A desperate, swelling beat sense, a heart-pounding kick drum, and an electric guitar riff racing over it.
"The bridge is the key."
I muttered to myself as I played back the recording software.
The song's highlight was the bridge in the latter half, where emotions erupt.
A raw vocal drive pouring out pent-up feelings, harmonizing with a massive chorus like the sky crumbling down.
Hot summer, all those memories that burned me—goodbye to them all.
As I murmured the lyrics, past-life memories flickered by like a montage.
The bitter taste of mix coffee during all-nighters, the ecstasy when idols I debuted swept music shows with triple crowns and topped charts, and my hollow final moments.
After the bridge, the song catches its breath— all instruments fade, leaving silence.
Only the lingering bass rumble fills the space, broken by Seo Siyeon's hardware's ultimate weapon: crystalline head voice.
My seasons that won't return, standing at that crossroads.
The quiet doesn't last—the song's swelling texture peaks.
Drums pound straight four-on-the-floor, shaking the chest; layered chorus lines stack like a stadium choir filling the space.
That light melody the past-life kids goofed around with for warm-ups now explodes as a full song, backed by synth pads and distorted electric guitar.
Too grand to dismiss as just a kid's tune.
In the outro, I deliberately didn't hold back my vocals. I kept every subtle tremble, capturing the emotional crest like being pushed off a cliff.
Cold winter too, dazzling spring days. All the pieces of me that I loved.
This part was less lyrics, more a tribute to my past self.
The dazzling highs as a producer, the pathetic end where even my name nearly vanished.
And the chance to move into new seasons in a different form.
Lyrics affirming that I exist now because I lived through all four seasons.
The song closes with main instruments fading, returning to the dreamy synth intro.
But it's different.
If the start was foggy haze, the end is the calm dawn after a storm.
Distant piano notes fade one by one, and the track slowly fades out.
"...Nice. Let's go with this."
Listening to it myself, it was satisfyingly high quality.
If I split my self into artist, critic, and producer... Producer Siyeon would gripe about making an outdated, niche-appeal track; Critic Siyeon would hail it a fucking masterpiece.
"Mass appeal can always be crushed by quality."
glassy sky was the prime example.
Basically a Vocaloid-style otaku tune at its core, layered with my favorite sounds and instruments.
But heavy exposure, top-tier quality, and vocals propelled it to chart-topping heights.
"My skill's not Yoo Seolha level... but anyway, I don't write for the charts."
This was to wrap up my past life and live as Seo Siyeon.
Consume this last lingering practice track from my old life, forget my producer past.
Won't be easy.
Obviously, forgetting my male past doesn't mean I'll turn into some bitch.
Better to see it as a vow not to get hung up on old memories and live well going forward.
Honestly, I still had nightmares sometimes.
As an adult, forgetting my male self, left only with a woman's ego, turning into a total bitch... those disgusting dreams.
"Ah, fuck. Thinking about it makes it even worse."
Anyway, time to head to bed. As I reached to close the laptop, the door creaked open with a rusty hinge screech.
-Kiiiik
"Mmm... Siyeon-ah, not asleep?"
"Naeun... unnie?"
"Yeah. Was heading to the bathroom and saw the light on in the workspace..."
I toddled over to her.
Her orange hair hung straight down her back, straight from sleep—unfamiliar since she always did twin tails.
"Was working... gonna sleep soon."
"Mmm. You're so diligent... when we're barely practicing."
I blinked in shock. What kind of nonsense was that? Finals, and no practice?
"W-what? It's the finals!"
"Oh. We've rehearsed that song hundreds of times... It was our first group practice back in elementary school."
Let me think.
Blooming formed when Yoo Seolha got obsessed with a Japanese K-pop band anime and forced her friends to pick up instruments.
Park Heesu had played before, but violin like her mom, not bass.
Anyway, their first group song? Obvious.
"Wait, you can sing a Japanese song?"
"It's an adaptation. We got permission from the lyricist and composer thinking we'd do it if we made finals...!"
Still, a Japanese song on network TV!
It was a bold move. I stared at Jo Naeun with wide, surprised eyes.