First Broadcast Overseas
This life’s world wasn’t some parallel universe that diverged starkly from my previous one in every way.
On the contrary, there were plenty of sly overlaps in historical flows and famous figures, and it wasn’t uncommon to find hit songs I loved in my past life echoing just the same here.
That’s why, every time I borrowed from my past-life memories to compose, I’d obsessively make it a habit to check if the song already existed.
I’d end up a plagiarist otherwise.
Maybe because of that similarity between worlds, it wasn’t all that shocking that the kid I’d scouted in my past life back when she was in early elementary school—and groomed into Korea’s top star—existed here too.
“I’m Ihan.”
“Choi Hakyung! Nice to meet you!”
“I’m Yuina! Let’s get along from now on!”
“……Hello. Nice to meet you too.”
Of the three girls standing before me, the one on the far left was Yuina.
Big, clear rabbit-like eyes, a slender jawline still softened by baby fat that hadn’t fully melted away, and skin so translucent it seemed see-through.
‘She’s a dead ringer. Even the voice tone is eerily similar.’
Of course, a close inspection revealed differences.
Like the absence of that charming little mole under her left eye that had been her signature, or the lack of that faint, age-specific glint of madness.
Her name was different from the start, so she couldn’t be the exact same person.
But her aura was straight out of that promising rookie phase of the star I knew.
“You’re all so pretty!”
Not just Yuina—the other two had idol-worthy visuals too.
Honestly, it was baffling how a mid-tier entertainment company on the brink of collapse had scraped together such raw gems.
‘But why only three?’
I’d heard they were the debut lineup, but three was too few to compete in today’s multi-member idol era.
These days, you needed at least five for a stable formation.
“Actually……there was one more, but she left recently.”
“Ah.”
She’d bolted.
Makes sense—who’d stake their life on a company with no future?
But with Bluesky Enter’s acquisition, the game had flipped entirely.
For one, there was me, with a full mental catalog of past-life hits.
More importantly, the capital injection would be on a whole different scale.
What might be pocket change to Chairman Yoo could spark miracles in this industry.
We’d need to fill the missing spot—street casting or poaching from elsewhere—but….
‘Not my noose to tighten right now.’
My priorities were crystal clear: what I did best in this world, and what I had to do first.
“For now, I’ll dive straight into my full album. I’ve got a solid picture in my head already.”
Make the songs, release them, hit the stage.
Once you choose the idol path, the textbook move is to drop results before popularity fades, then solidify your spot with concerts and promo runs.
But I’d overlooked one key fact: how the industry really worked.
“An album’s great, but Siyeon, how about some broadcasts first?”
Lee Hajun’s suggestion snapped me back.
Right—Singer Star fever was still sweeping the nation.
“Strike while the iron’s hot” meant not just dropping tracks, but cashing in on peak hype by dominating variety shows to etch your character into viewers’ minds.
‘Gotta go for the long-shoot ones no matter what.’
That way, I could legally skip school.
“Ugh, what a pain in the ass.”
I muttered under my breath and fled to my private room in the annex.
Truth be told, insisting on long-schedule variety wasn’t just to ditch school.
I wanted physical distance from all the vultures swarming to devour me.
Park Hansu or the PC bang owner were fine since I knew them, but strangers—reporters to creepy pervs with unsettling stares—lurking around school and nursery walls made my skin crawl.
Today, some psycho tailed me stickily on the way to school, but luckily, a pack of nursery high schoolers beating up a thug in the alley nearby chased him off.
I usually hated seeing them in uniforms spitting and acting tough, but today their delinquent backsides felt oddly reassuring.
The problem? This was daily life now.
Mindless reporters ambushing me with cameras at the nursery gate every morning were routine.
At least school, where crowds turned me into a zoo monkey during breaks, was twice as bearable.
We’d reported to the police, and local station uncles patrolled mornings, but….
‘What a nuisance, seriously.’
Feeling guilty and watched, I was tempted to just flee overseas for a bit.
Money wasn’t an issue anymore—I could earn enough to rot.
‘Ah, should’ve just gone to Hawaii when Seolha unnie suggested it.’
They’d cover expenses, just show up—why’d I whine about school and drag myself back to the nursery?
Staring at Blooming’s Instagram posts of emerald seas and yummy food made my stomach ache with regret.
“Oh.”
Drifting soullessly through my feed, a KakaoTalk notification popped up top.
From President Lee Hajun: a curated list of variety offers he’d hand-picked from the flood.
My scrolling finger halted at one spot.
“Oh? There it is.”
A sly—no, satisfied—smile crept across my lips.
The perfect pitch: my ideal escape that doubled as prime airtime.
Worried about the agency's capabilities, but... with fat funding, Siyeon will handle it fine.
Seo Siyeon Minor Gallery, currently the biggest fan community for Siyeon by a mile.
Opinions split every which way on her moves, but the mods stamped out the flames fast.
Let's keep it a clean fandom like cute Siyeon.
Once the drama evolved past bait, talk shifted straight to Siyeon’s next steps.
Just vapid chatter flying back and forth—until official bombshells hit, shocking them all.