Happy Child
The echo of the guitar lingered, bouncing off the vast dome ceiling of Gocheok Dome, and in that split-second silence, my voice layered in.
Those scales I'd played tens of thousands of times in my past life felt utterly new coming out of 9-year-old Seo Siyeon's throat.
A timbre too deep for a child's voice, yet laced with the weariness of life in a way that defied its innocence. That unique tone, honed through endless refinement and effort, rode the mic and resonated across the entire dome.
- A lullaby from some nameless someone, heard with eyes closed.
- Fragments of that summer's light filtering through the cold cement walls.
Synth sounds and drums gradually joined in.
But unlike Joo Jinwoo's pounding stage earlier, it wasn't aggressive. Like thick fog rising from the floor, a dreamy yet grand shoegazing sound enveloped the stage.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation at my fingertips.
The vibrations flowing through the guitar strings resonated through my small body.
On the massive LED screen above the stage, instead of flashy graphics, a watercolor-like video played in slow motion. Cherry blossoms scattering down the stark orphanage hallway, followed by a sudden hot downpour, then autumn leaves falling, and snow piling up again.
- Seasons turn and bring me back here.
- Why do I linger at the edge of that winter still?
As the song built to its climax, the beat quickened.
My vocals rose an octave. A heartrending high note burst out, squeezing the audience's hearts.
The 17,000 spectators had forgotten even to wave their glow sticks, completely entranced by the stage. Some wiped tears, projecting their own orphan struggles onto my path; others stared blankly at the screen, recalling something they'd lost.
But I, singing on stage, wasn't thinking of anyone's tears.
'This song is for my past self.'
The me from my previous life, who vanished from the world just as fame was within reach. A final tribute to that pitiful soul who chased only success and ended in emptiness.
Reaching the bridge, I stopped playing guitar and gripped the mic stand with both hands. The fusion of deep emotion from my past life and the pure vocal cords of this one exploded in a energy only Seo Siyeon could produce.
- Farewell now, my chilling seasons!
- On the fragments of shattered dreams, I'll plant the seeds of a new spring!
At the same moment, tens of thousands of white paper petals rained down from the ceiling like snow. Intense lights hit them, making the inside of Gocheok Dome sparkle like the middle of a galaxy. The instruments filling the back faded mysteriously, leaving empty space that my voice filled completely. That clear voice erected a pillar of radiant light where the burn had been.
I poured everything into the final high note. It was a volume too much for a 9-year-old's frame, but in this moment, my vocal power felt larger than the dome itself.
The storm of sound ebbed away like a receding tide. Only my synth and voice remained.
- Farewell, my four seasons.
- At last, I call my own name.
After murmuring the final line, I lightly muted the guitar strings and ended the stage.
The cheers from over ten thousand throats felt less like sound and more like a massive wave. It crashed over my small body as a physical force, heating the entire air of Gocheok Dome.
"Ha... hehe."
Even trying to hold it back, a grin slipped through my lips.
The 17,000 glow sticks before me rippled like a galaxy spilled over a night sea. In my past life as a producer, I'd planned and directed countless stages, but those were always cold views through a monitor. I'd never felt the drum's aftershocks pounding my heart or the public's fervor surging in response to my voice with my whole body.
A thrilling shiver climbed from my soles up my spine to my brain. Whether from the lights' heat or overwhelming emotion, my cheeks flushed red.
'Yeah, this is it.'
Maybe this was what I'd craved since composing as a songwriter lost its joy—being not a shadow writing songs behind someone, but the magic of shaking hearts with my voice, my story, in that fleeting moment.
Right now, at the pinnacle of Gocheok Dome, I stood.
Falling petals caught the light like jewels over my head. I took in each shimmering piece. Joo Jinwoo's desperate cries and Blooming's fresh youth were brilliant, but dominating this air was unmistakably my Four Seasons.
The shackles of being an orphan, regrets from my past life, even petty worries about my height—all melted away and evaporated in this massive roar.
I shouldered my guitar and slowly turned my gaze to the audience. People crying, screaming my name till their throats broke, staring at me with awe-filled eyes.
In this moment, I was the happiest, grandest being in the world. Even in a body barely scraping 122cm, my soul soared higher than Gocheok Dome's vast ceiling.
"Damn scalpers...!"
Unlike expectations that tickets would be easier for the finals, Ko Hye-na couldn't snag any of Gocheok Dome's 17,000+ seats. She quietly cracked open a beer in her studio apartment and had no choice but to watch Singer Star on her computer.
Singer Star was unusually accessible for a TV show these days—free and easy to stream on PC.
"Ah, even so, 3x markup is too much!"
Ko Hye-na had given up on live finals tickets mostly because of scalpers jacking prices without conscience. At three times face value, it was beyond what a poor college student like her could handle. With samurai seppuku-level regret, she swallowed her tears and skipped Gocheok.
By the time her delivered leaf-wrapped rice cakes (paired with half a beer) were nearly gone, Seo Siyeon's turn finally arrived.
"Ooooh! Finally!"
The pre-stage orphanage kids' cheers had already wrung one tear from her.
"Sniff, ugh..."
Then came Seo Siyeon's turn.
This time, Ko Hye-na focused every nerve on the screen, buzzing with anticipation for her fave's performance.
"Ooooh..."
The start evoked the pop sensibility lately popular in America.
But what grabbed Ko Hye-na's ear wasn't just the song—it was the lyrics. My Four Seasons, where she'd expressed resolve, anxiety about her future, as aired last week.
From those lyrics and Siyeon's stage presence, she felt not pity, but awe. Mature thinking beyond her young age, laced with childlike honest unease. Not overly perfect, but raw, undeniable genius that sent shivers through Ko Hye-na's body.
"Honestly... predicting the result won't be hard."
Lee Ha-jun muttered that while watching TV in the office.
Blooming's solid stage, Joo Jinwoo's overwhelming one. Either could have claimed victory in another season.
But this season was different.
"This stage... it'll go down in audition show history."
The narrative of an ordinary orphanage girl reaching the finals. Seo Siyeon's genius in composition and lyrics. Her vocals' godlike rapid growth and monstrous live skills on stage. Far from trembling like adults who mess up under pressure, she reveled in it.
"A child born to become a star."
That was his assessment.
Seo Siyeon was fated to become a star, one way or another.
And whether the public celebrated that birth with a win or gave her one setback first...
It was obvious.
The initial reason I'd decided to join Singer Star was brutally pragmatic.
Sell my past life's talent and this life's insane backstory to make a name, then grind money through ads or selling songs.
But round by round, my mindset shifted. I, inhabiting 9-year-old Seo Siyeon, was ironically growing with every stage, pouring my heart into it.
To survive and prove myself, I'd whipped myself relentlessly, forging my own weapons.
"Singer Star Season 5. Now, we announce the glorious winner."
The host, who usually dragged with ads, made an exception today. No sooner had he taken the cue card than he hurled the winner's name into the air without hesitation, full force.
"Congratulations! The winner, Seo Siyeon!"
That instant, the tension in my taut legs snapped loose.
"Ha, haha......"
The cool chill of the stage floor hit my butt. But inside, something hot surged up. I burst into laughter.
More childlike and pure than any smile I'd ever worn in past or present life spread across my face.