Chapter 17
Even if what I experienced after dying was not the afterlife but possessing the body of a young girl, I still had a clear line between what I could and absolutely could not do.
First of all, acting like a child wasn't particularly difficult.
Objectively speaking, I was quite cute now, and the benefits I could gain from using that appearance were limitless.
Acting appropriately childlike whenever a camera shutter went off or someone else's gaze fell on me was a piece of cake.
To be honest, I didn't entirely dislike the unconditional attention and affection that poured down on me when I acted that way.
But there was one thing I couldn't do even if I died and came back to life: act like a girl.
For instance, saying things like oppa or unni—forms of address that felt like the exclusive property of girls.
Putting on the coquettish mannerisms unique to girls in front of others, or wearing clothes that emphasized femininity when it wasn't strictly necessary.
With my past-life self still vividly alive inside me, those things provoked an unpleasant resistance that went beyond mere acting.
No matter how the world defined me as nine-year-old Seo Si-yeon, the person inside me still stopped short at that boundary.
In that sense, by my judgment, this wasn't a stage that specifically required me to wear a skirt.
Cheerleaders preferred active pants to uncomfortable skirts in the first place.
Those pants were somewhat short, but taking that into account, I planned to create a no-pants look with short bottoms and an oversized uniform.
Honestly, I thought this was me doing my best and enduring the embarrassment.
Honestly, it would be a shame to wrap myself up completely for a cheer-squad concept.
“The older girls say this one would probably be best.”
“Hngh…! You’re showing way too much!”
“Huh? What’s wrong with this much?”
The drawing Seo Ina brought me shocked me so badly that I let out a pathetic squeak.
Because there was way too much bare skin.
“No, fine, I can let the skirt on the bottom slide. But why did you cut the uniform on top so it shows all the way up to my belly button? It’s not even a bikini…!”
“Because it’s a little cuter that way? If you’re going to wear it anyway, wouldn’t it be better to wear it cuter?”
“Y-you really don’t have to. The outfit I had in mind is cute enough as it is.”
The instant she heard that, she gave me a sly grin.
As if she had been waiting for me to say exactly that, she began pouring out words as smoothly as flowing water.
"There’s one thing you’re overlooking: stage lighting is completely different from everyday light. That oversized uniform you’re imagining? If it makes your upper body look bulky, your overall proportions will collapse."
"Short pants? If you wear them wrong, they’ll make your legs look short on camera. Especially in low-angle crane shots looking upward, the lines created as the pleats of a tennis skirt spread out look much more dynamic and beautiful. This isn’t about exposure; it’s about aesthetics."
“B-but it’s my stage, so I know it best, don’t I?”
“Sorry, but at least when it comes to stage outfits, I know a lot more than you do.”
I had nothing to say.
Although I had been an executive producer in my previous life, I had essentially overseen the music side, while someone else had been specifically in charge of visuals.
Nominally, I had been the higher-ranking authority, but honestly, my aesthetic sense wasn't particularly good, so I hadn't interfered in that person's work.
“U-ugh, ngh.”
“You said it yourself last time. You wanted as much contrast with your opponent as possible. To do that, a fresh, lively mood would be better.”
I had been completely talked into it.
From the start, these people had never intended to put me in something less revealing.
They had been dead set on putting me in a damn crop top from the very beginning.
My hands began to tremble.
Since the cameras were already rolling and I had been completely cornered by her logic, if I insisted on wearing what I had originally planned, I might end up looking like a kid throwing a tantrum.
Honestly, given my age, that wouldn't exactly be a problem.
‘But I still hate that to death.’
But now that I thought about it, wearing a skirt might not be so bad.
I was going to wear safety shorts underneath anyway. If I was wearing those, wasn't it basically no different from wearing shorts?
In fact, the safety shorts were longer than the short jeans I had originally planned to wear.
‘Huh? Then isn't this actually less feminine?’
My reasoning was already doomed the moment I started judging femininity by how much skin was exposed, but I was so caught up in the situation that I couldn't endure it without rationalizing.
In the end, I had no choice but to admit defeat.
“Fine… but pull the top down a little more. The absolute limit is right above my belly button.”
“Okay! I’ll make it right away. We’ve made dozens of these! We’re better at this sort of thing than most clothing stores, you know?”
Seo Ina excitedly ran off somewhere.
I guessed it was the dance academy she attended.
The dance team she belonged to was affiliated with an academy, after all.
She'd probably go there and bring back the outfit in a single day, right?
Contrary to my expectations, it took less than half a day for the finished outfit to reach me.
And the moment I tried it on and looked in the mirror, I couldn't help but admit it.
“Wow, I’m fucking adorable.”
It was a rather embarrassing thing to say to myself.
* * *
After Seo Si-yeon's second-round stage ended, every online community was focused squarely on the next round: the individual selection matches.
In particular, the showdown between Seo Si-yeon, who had achieved the historic feat of topping Watermelon, and hard-working Im Ji-hye, who had shown her blatant hostility, was already enough to send dopamine levels soaring on the strength of its narrative alone. Even the gambling sites, operating in the cold-blooded world of money, reacted immediately.
[Singerstar Gallery]
Title: The live odds for Seo Si-yeon vs. Im Ji-hye are out lololol
Seo Si-yeon: 1.15
Im Ji-hye: 4.80
Look at that odds gap lololol. Even the gamblers think Seo Si-yeon is going to crush her.
Honestly, I know Im Ji-hye can sing well, but Seo Si-yeon already proved herself with Glassy Sky, yeah.
Even allowing for the audition-program boost, she hasn't fallen from first place in two weeks.
-At 1.15, isn't it basically a lock? I'm betting the deed to my house on Seo Si-yeon's win.
-Im Ji-hye really did make a stupid choice. Forget her KY trainee experience—Seo Si-yeon is on a whole different level.
-But you never know with an individual match. She has to fill the stage alone without the band carrying her. Can a nine-year-old really do that?
ㄴ Hey, didn't you watch the previous rounds?
ㄴ Honestly, I think she can. This kid operates on a whole different level.
But this analytical mood exploded in an entirely different direction the moment Singerstar uploaded the official preview for Round 3 to YouTube. More precisely, it was because of Seo Si-yeon's outfit.
[Humor Board]
Title: Is Seo Si-yeon's outfit in this Singerstar preview for real??
(A 0.5-second GIF from the preview showing Si-yeon swinging a cheer baton in a blue reworked-uniform crop top and white tennis skirt)
Freaking adorable.
She looks insane, like she walked straight out of an anime, for real.
They put a crop top showing a little belly button on a kid like that?
-Nwoooooo!
-Wait! Everyone calm down. She's an elementary schooler!
-I wanna go lick that belly button so bad.
-Upvote this if you can.
”Ugh. There seem to be quite a few people here who need to be put down?”
As I recall, people like that are called lolicons.
Having desires for an elementary-school-aged girl... It doesn't get much more disgusting.
‘Well, she is cute enough that I can see how it happened.’
This might make me sound like a narcissist, but there really was a crazy middle-aged man who confessed his love to me.
I gazed at my image on the YouTube preview thumbnail with a strange expression.
The preview had surpassed 200,000 views just five hours after upload, and featured me puckering my lips in a vulgar outfit.
“Ugh… They ended up using this for the thumbnail after all.”
In fact, at this point, the buzz surrounding me and Blooming was nearly at its peak.
The Glassy Sky live video had long since surpassed one million views at a breakneck pace, and was now racing toward ten million.
Apparently, because it was the hottest song in the K-pop market, which was recently becoming globalized, the proportion of foreign viewers was suspiciously high.
“It sure is managing to go global, inch by inch.”
Actually, I found that a little fascinating.
No Korean idol group had yet achieved an overwhelming feat, but Korean idols were steadily making their way into the world.
That could only be credited to the Big Three entertainment agencies.
The groups that had hit their prime upon entering the 3.5 generation were selling albums like mad not only domestically but overseas as well.
“Maybe that’s why attention is turning to Singerstar.”
The rumor rags were already saying that the judges' fees had risen so high that producing the next season would be difficult.
Amid the tangled web of attention and controversy, the curtain rose on the main competition's Round 3 Rival Match.
Eighteen matches in total, thirty-six stages.
Naturally, not all of these scenes could make it onto the broadcast. Over the three-week run, no more than around twenty stages could possibly air.
For contestants, screen time was as important as skill. They had to catch viewers' eyes by any means and earn the editing room's selection.
Im Ji-hye's choice of me had undoubtedly been a meticulously calculated gamble.
What mattered more than advancing to the next round was the powerful title of being the contestant who defeated Seo Si-yeon, along with the explosive fame that would bring.
In other words, she had declared an all-in, staking her entire musical life on it.
At last, the day of the showdown arrived. Appearing onstage immediately before me, Im Ji-hye delivered a stage that was as close to perfect as it could be.
Her vocals, as though condensing ten years of time, allowed not a single mistake, and the audience held its breath as she poured out a desperate high-note ballad.
When her stage, seemingly having reached a transcendent level, ended, even the judges applauded as though spellbound. Im Ji-hye, breathing heavily, stared toward my waiting room.
Her eyes held the arrogant certainty of someone saying, Try it if you can.
I rose from my seat with a sullen expression and gave the hem of my short tennis skirt one brisk shake.
“Let’s go.”
The rosy dream Im Ji-hye had dreamed was about to dissolve into a midnight butterfly dream.
Because I was going to make it happen.