Sweeping the Board
The WMA awards ceremony wasn't all that familiar to the average Korean public. In the first place, most people who casually listened to music didn't pay much attention to award shows, and they certainly weren't going to seek out ceremonies that weren't broadcast on major networks.
They'd only catch brief news reports or stumble across performances and wins through YouTube's algorithm. But for those working in the Korean music industry, the WMA held real significance.
In terms of prestige, the Korean Music Awards carried slightly more weight. It wasn't a massive difference, but the fact that it was backed by a government institution gave it more credibility and importance. Still, the WMA mattered. In some ways, it might have mattered even more than the Korean Music Awards.
Because it had far more viewers. Several times more. Tens of times more. And that was thanks to the international audience.
Let's take an example from my previous life. In the early to mid-2020s, a sizable J-pop listening base had formed in Korea. It was no longer surprising to see songs by J-pop artists who had never released music in Korea topping major platforms like YouTube Music. In fact, it became commonplace for J-pop tracks to dominate the Top 100 more than hip-hop, which was considered a major genre even among niche categories.
That didn't mean their offline presence was weak, either. Most idol groups outside the top tier struggled to fill venues, yet they somehow managed to sell out both days at Inspire Arena and the Kyocera Dome.
But how many of those J-pop listeners in Korea would actively seek out broadcasts of Kohaku Uta Gassen or the Japan Record Awards? Almost none, I could guarantee it. Especially not something like the Record Awards.
The WMA was different.
The reason was simple: it was broadcast in a wide variety of countries. Trying to watch Japanese award shows from Korea usually required jumping through all sorts of hoops. In contrast, the WMA had clean international broadcast rights deals, so you could watch it with just one click overseas.
On top of that, the WMA didn't just hand out awards. They put on full performances too. And with nearly every K-pop idol group appearing, it was an absolute must-watch event for fans of the genre.
That's why performing the WMA opening stage carried a slightly different weight.
It wasn't the closing spot, but the opening still drew an enormous amount of spotlight. Simply standing there was practically a statement that you were one of the defining artists of the year.
After finishing the performance, I slipped back into the waiting room for a short break and opened Twitter to lurk. At this point, there was no way the domestic community or public opinion toward me and Blooming could be bad. The live performance itself had been flawless, without a single point to criticize.
What I mainly checked was the overseas reaction. Seeing foreigners' responses under the WMA tag was always entertaining. Most of them probably didn't know much about me or Blooming. No matter how long we'd dominated the charts, these people weren't going to go out of their way to check Korean charts. They'd just listen to their favorite idol songs.
As expected, Blooming drew the most attention. The main overseas K-pop audience came from Japan, and bands were a hugely popular genre there. In a country where more than half the charts were dominated by band sounds, it was only natural that a group of talented high school girls would catch people's eyes.
These little moments would stack up and help with our eventual entry into the Japanese market. And of course, there were plenty of mentions of the little kid mixed in among them.
There were an unbelievable number of them. Far beyond what I could have imagined.
The name Seo Siyeon itself was already fairly well-known among K-pop fandoms in Japan. Dominating the Korean charts for over half a year made that inevitable. But while Japanese people knew the name, most had no idea what she looked like, what her songs sounded like, or even how old she was.
This was in stark contrast to how every Korean knew about the country's genius little girl. The reason was simple: people didn't bother looking up anything that wasn't related to their favorite idols.
The Starlight fandom at least had some awareness of me. That was because Haruka kept shoving me in her Instagram stories. But most of them didn't even realize the kid in those stories was Seo Siyeon. They just thought of me as some cute little kid.
So when the performance began and the camera caught a solo shot of me playing the violin with dazzling skill, the reactions came pouring in.
By the way, Han Joo-il was Park Heesu's mother. The moment someone compared me to the woman who had won a Grammy with the violin, my face burned bright red.
“...This is a little embarrassing.”
If it were as a composer, that would be one thing, but a Korean solo artist could never win a Grammy anyway. What would be the point of winning an American local award show?
Even so, Grammy winners were still objects of admiration for me. It meant they possessed skill strong enough to overcome the penalty of being Asian.
I sorted the posts mentioning my name by popularity. The very first one had an enormous number of retweets and likes.
“......”
“Oh... that's cute.”
It was a collection of various adorable and charming choreography and facial expressions I'd shown during the Jelly Pop stage. There were ten GIFs in total, ending with today's performance of me holding the violin with a cool, composed expression.
I was satisfied with what I'd shown today. My skill, the expressions caught on camera, the atmosphere, everything.
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“Come on, there are so many other clips... why did it have to be the Jelly Pop stage!”
“Because that's the cutest one.”
“Heesu unnie. Please be quiet.”
My face flushed like a ripe tomato from the embarrassment. I wanted to die.
“For the most notable achievements throughout the year...”
“The Female Rookie of the Year is... Seo Siyeon! Congratulations!”
One award.
“Next up is the dance music that set the whole year on fire! Which nominees will take it...”
“Congratulations! The Female Dance Music of the Year goes to Seo Siyeon's Jelly Pop!”
And two.
“Music that lifts your spirits with its exciting sound! The band...”
“The Band Music of the Year is... Blooming and Seo Siyeon's glassy sky!”
It was received together with Blooming, but since it was still a personal award, that made three.
“These are the songs that touched our hearts throughout the year, aren't they? Let's see which ballad tracks made the list...”
“The song that chilled our hearts the most this year is... Seo Siyeon's Starlit Night! Congratulations!”
One more, making four.
“Next, for the outstanding songs composed this year! And for the composers who shine behind the artists...”
“The Composer of the Year is Seo Siyeon! Congratulations!”
Five, now that I'd taken the composer award too.
“The Top Ten of the Year: Starlight, Blooming, RPS, FYG, Bad Monster, Lee Hyojin, Naeun, Lee Seung-hyun, TXT, and Seo Siyeon. Congratulations to you all!”
As expected, I took the Top Ten as well, bringing the total to six.
By that point, the reactions from Japan couldn't help but shift.
They had never seen anyone sweep nearly every award like this before.