Pitching is Tough...
As I mentioned before, Evergreen Sky Nursery had incredibly tight ties with the local community.
On top of being Incheon's largest orphanage, the director's thick network with local assembly members often brought in special opportunities that went beyond the regular budget.
"Uwaaaah...."
"Don't worry, kid. I'll show you properly."
One prime example was the ceremonial first pitch and national anthem performance at pro baseball games.
Every year, they'd gather kids from the nursery who wanted to participate, have them sing the anthem at the stadium, and pick one to take the mound.
It usually happened mid-season, but this year, unusually, it got scheduled for September amid fierce pennant races.
The reason was obvious. The team wanted me for the pitch but asked for after Singer Star wrapped up.
The nursery gladly accepted, so my first outing after the show ended wasn't some variety appearance—it was a baseball stadium pitch.
"Alright, extend your arm straight like this as you throw...."
I was getting hands-on instruction from Incheon's franchise ace starter, fresh off a win from yesterday's start.
Facing a star I'd only seen on TV up close felt surreal.
Truth be told, as Seo Siyeon, I wasn't exactly a die-hard fan of the team, but I'd watched almost every game.
It was comfier than squeezing into the cramped room with the older girls—better to lounge in the living room with the little ones glued to the TV. And except for Mondays, the living room set was locked on baseball channels. The director was a hardcore fan, after all.
So the pitcher right in front of me was a very familiar face. One of the players who came to volunteer at the nursery every offseason.
"I watch your games all the time. That closer scene sealing last year's championship was unforgettable."
"Yeah? Thanks. Actually, I voted for you live on air."
"Whoa, really? Thank you!"
Was this what they called being a true fan? Hearing a big-league star say he'd voted for me made my shoulders puff up a bit.
"Whoa! For your age, your form's solid. All that stage experience must give you some bounce."
"Really?"
I wasn't sure if it was flattery or sincere, but it didn't feel bad. Game time approached, and I stepped up to the mic as the stadium announcer introduced me.
-Today, kids from Evergreen Sky Nursery will sing the national anthem and throw the ceremonial first pitch. Let's give them a huge round of applause!
The cheers erupted with a wide-open roar different from Gocheok Dome's. I learned later it was thanks to the uniform from my Play performance stage and my Incheon roots—local fans seemed to love me.
-East sea, Baekdu Mountain...
We finished the solemn anthem, and the pitch came right up.
"I'm honored to throw out the first pitch! I'll be cheering for a win today and a championship this season!"
My short, punchy statement drew another wave of cheers.
I waved to the stands like a celebrity, then tottered to the mound following the player's lead.
It was way closer than the actual rubber, but staring at the catcher's mitt still made my vision swim.
That's farther than it looks...'
Could a powerless elementary girl like me even reach it? Doubt crept in, making my windup extra tense.
And that overzealous effort led to disaster.
"Hiyah!"
I swung with all my might, but my balance gave out, pitching me forward as the ball thudded into the dirt.
With a splat, I sprawled spectacularly on the mound's soil.
"Oh my god, you okay?"
"Oh no, what happened... Siyeon!"
Gritty dust filled my mouth. Panicked footsteps from players and staff rushed in from all sides.
Please, just kill me now...'
The crushing humiliation made me want to burrow into the ground and vanish.
"How'd it feel falling?"
"Wanted to die."
I tossed a half-hearted reply to the boy my age next to me and checked my smartphone.
We were in the cheap seats in a corner of the outfield.
The team offered premium table seats just for me, but being singled out felt weird, so I stuck with the kids in general admission.
That meant signing autographs and posing for tons of pics with folks around us, but by the fifth inning, requests dried up.
"Feels nicer with people leaving."
"Yeah."
The game had exploded open by the fifth, so most outfield fans bailed.
With a 10-run lead already, sticking around felt like wasting time.
I fired up my phone and hit the general issues community I lurked on.
Sure enough, my face-plant video topped the hot posts with nearly 400k views.
Over a thousand comments exploding like that suddenly made me want to die again.
"Damn it."
Switching to Instagram, the first feed was my dirt-dive clip.
Over ten thousand likes already—it was too embarrassing to bear.
"Yeon-ah, take a pic."
"Okay!"
Among these kids, I was basically a god right now. Why? I was footing the bill for all their snacks.
These munchkins devouring 200,000 won worth of stadium-famous cream shrimp had to run my trash if I said so—or snap pics on command.
So I had the girl in the back row snap one with the field as backdrop.
It came out decent—my face carried it, as usual.
My expression looks a bit pissed... but it'll be fine.'
Image-wise, I was the stoic genius kid—not some bubbly, cutesy elementary girl stereotype. This shot fit fine.
I slapped on a caption and uploaded to Insta, then pocketed my phone—but a notification pinged.
After two weeks in Hawaii, Blooming was finally back in Korea.
JBC, the network behind Singer Star, had a flagship hit variety show called By Any Chance, Do You Like Music?—a trendy travel show mashed with music.
With travel, music, mukbangs, and all good stuff packed in, it was heading into season 3 as a long-runner, hugely popular with artists too.
Free overseas trips, delicious eats, and making music? Plus high ratings, and busking clips racking up YouTube views for killer promo.
So season 3's lineup was stacked: active top-tier idols, a legendary band vocalist from the past, top ballad crooners, faded idols with glory days...
But the biggest buzz? Seo Siyeon's appearance, hands down.
No one predicted her debut move would be this show, with everyone watching her first steps closely.
Filming and editing took forever, especially with overseas shoots—air back, edit, then air a month later at best.
While others hit talk shows for quick buzz, her kicking off with a music travel variety drew skeptical eyes.
Mixed reactions of hype and doubt swirled amid all that, but there I was, face-to-face with Blooming in a temp studio at the company—just back from Korea last night.
"So, you want me to keep making songs for you... right?"
"Duh!"
"We're doomed without you."
"Totally screwed."
Yeah, pretty much what I expected. Learning composition now to kick off activities? Not realistic.
Even if one studied and composed later, they needed me desperately right now.
Anticipating this, I'd already sketched a rough roadmap for Blooming's path forward.
"Okay, we'll drop two singles every two months. Then straight to a mini-album, then a full-length."
"Huh?"
A tactic from an idol group in my past life.
Flood the charts with back-to-back singles and EPs, no full album yet.
For it to work, one big assumption: All the prepared songs will dominate the upper charts.'
And I had more conviction than anyone.
My hard drive was packed with past life's hits galore.