A Voice Heard in a Dream
“They’re all totally out of it…”
Cheya chewed on the end of his pen, bored out of his mind watching yet another amateur idol hopeful’s cringeworthy performance.
“Well, I expected this.”
Cheya had placed in the top 10 in the last season of CYB’s domestic male idol category.
He hadn’t made the top 5, so he didn’t debut in the project group,
—but he had gone on to become the lead vocalist of the boy group Nocturne, building a solid career.
So naturally, Cheya had been invited to judge this year’s CYB first-round auditions.
At first, he’d planned to decline,
—but his agency had forced the schedule on him, and here he was.
Most of the contestants didn’t even seem to know who they were yet.
That was to be expected.
They’d made it this far fueled by fear of being dropped due to lack of skill.
No matter how much confidence they tried to build, they couldn’t escape that fundamental fear.
And ever since Constellations began sponsoring entertainers, the industry had expanded even more rapidly than it had during the Gate era—making competition brutal.
These rookies didn’t even know whether they were better suited for vocals or rap.
And their song choices?
A disaster.
They kept choosing songs that they thought were “so them,”
—but that just meant cheesy self-indulgence.
“Why the hell am I stuck watching their identity crises play out?”
Cheya sighed.
But something still bothered him.
It had happened this morning:
[Skill activated ― Constellation ‘He Who Could Not Foresee Angolmois’ delivers a prophecy.]
[Effect ― ‘He Who Could Not Foresee Angolmois’ prophesies that you will meet your destined companion today.]
Cheya’s Constellation, He Who Could Not Foresee Angolmois, had the power to foretell pivotal moments.
When it activated, there was no warning.
A voice would simply echo in Cheya’s mind.
It had activated during the final stages of the previous CYB season:
[Effect ― You will be eliminated today.]
Crack.
Even the memory of it made his teeth grind.
That Constellation’s prophecies were absolute.
Cheya had delivered his best performance that day—and still been eliminated.
So when today’s prophecy came…
“A destined companion, huh…”
Cheya didn’t have close teammates.
Even within Nocturne, he was seen as a workaholic who kept his distance.
He couldn’t stand half-hearted effort.
If he had one wish, it was to meet someone he could call a true companion.
…And maybe he’d even seen this person in a dream.
That’s why he’d been looking forward to today’s auditions.
“No way the prophecy’s wrong.”
Clicking his tongue, Cheya looked up.
“That’s enough!”
he called out.
“Uh… okay?”
The trainee who had been mid-performance blinked in confusion.
The other judges also looked surprised.
What? Before the chorus even started? That’s cold…
That seemed to be their sentiment.
“No need to see more. Go home and practice.”
Cheya flipped to the next applicant’s file.
“Next!”
The flustered trainee turned and walked out, cheeks burning.
Probably going to cry, then head straight to some internet forum to rant about how awful Cheya was.
“Whatever. I’m not scared of that.”
Then came the group containing contestant numbers D214 to D220.
Cheya reviewed the files.
Contestant D214: Ma Dojin.
No agency listed. That stood out.
A civilian applicant?
Everyone who applied to CYB had to sign a Constellation contract through a Sanctum.
There were rare exceptions—like spiritual possession by an ancestral spirit.
But those “Constellations” were considered low-grade.
Cheya glanced at the Constellation name.
“Ancient Ancestor.”
Yep. Thought so.
Even if someone like that joined the industry, they wouldn’t go far.
But still—
“Let’s see his performance first.”
Not everyone shared his mindset, though.
“Mr. Ma Dojin!”
called out Kim Gwangjin, a music critic sitting beside him.
“Yes.”
“Love your hair color. It’s so stylish.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s it? Just ‘yes’?”
“Yes, sir.”
This guy…
Cheya clenched his jaw.
Camera crews bustled around the room, capturing footage.
This would all be edited and uploaded to CYB’s official app and website later in the week.
These fake “conversations” were just for entertainment.
“Trying to milk a nobody for screentime. Unbelievable.”
“And with no agency, you’ve got such a clean look. That dye job’s fantastic.”
Kim Gwangjin chuckled and glanced at Cheya.
“Don’t you think so, Cheya?”
Ugh, this guy again…
Cheya frowned, about to cut him off.
But Ma Dojin beat him to it.
“It’s not dyed.”
“…Excuse me?”
Kim Gwangjin blinked.
That light cotori beige was natural?
“My hair’s always been this color.”
“That so? And your parents’ hair too?”
Ma Dojin tilted his head.
“I don’t have parents.”
Silence.
“Oof. That shut him up.”
Cheya smirked inwardly.
“Let’s move on. This chatter’s all getting cut anyway.”
He snapped, and the other judges quickly straightened up.
“As you know, the first round is a cappella. Just sing your chosen song.”
Cheya looked Ma Dojin dead in the eyes.
Ma Dojin simply nodded.
“I’ll sing Rowen’s ‘Goodbye, Good Lighting.’”
…What?
Cheya did a double take.
That song was on the “banned audition song” list.
Songs by superstars like Rowen were so overdone and so hard to pull off that choosing them was basically career suicide.
Even agencies would reject applicants who chose those.
“Is this guy asking to be sent home?”
As Cheya wondered that—
Ma Dojin began to sing.
♪ I don’t care anymore Even if I shatter into a thousand shards of glass Missing link, if I can hold a single ray of light Right now Bury it, if it can shine down on you Then goodbye, good lighting ♪
…What the hell?
Cheya blinked.
“He’s good?”
Really good.
Even the other judges looked stunned.
His pitch, rhythm, gestures, even his eye contact—everything was flawless.
It was like he had memorized Rowen’s live performances.
Even the other trainees behind him were dumbstruck.
“This guy… might be the real deal.”
Cheya picked up his pen and jotted down a high score.
When Ma Dojin finished, Cheya clapped.
Clap clap clap.
“You did very well, Mr. Ma Dojin.”
That was all he said.
Ma Dojin gave a robotic bow and left.
“…Is this guy the one from the prophecy?”
Cheya fought to keep a straight face.
Then he called out—
“Next up! Contestant D215, Ryu Eunyul!”
「Status Window: Ma Dojin」
Ding!
A translucent window popped up in front of me.
[Ma Dojin]
― Level: 10
― Title: —
― Constellation: “Ancient Ancestor”
― Constellation Rank: D
― Basic Stats
Strength: 10
Agility: 10
Stamina: 10
Mana: 10
Charm: 10
― Special Skill:
[Blood Runs Thicker than Water Lv.10]
What the heck is this guy?
I rubbed my eyes and looked again.
Nope. Still the same.
muttered The Star That All Despise from my pocket.
Interesting? I’d say weird.
Every single stat was 10. Even his Constellation was some random ancestor.
So how the hell was he that good on stage?
From one Rowen fan to another, I could tell—
He was flawless.
Clap clap clap!
“Really well done, Mr. Ma Dojin.”
Even Cheya, famous for being a harsh judge, was applauding.
“Next up! Contestant D215, Ryu Eunyul!”
“Yes!”
I snapped to attention.
As I stepped forward, my eyes met Ma Dojin’s.
Zzzt!
I glared instinctively, then quickly looked away.
Keep it together, Eunyul.
Weirdly, that did make me feel better.
…Can’t believe I’m being comforted by a fly.
“You’re from YN Entertainment, yes?”
That annoying critic, Kim Gwangjin, asked while reviewing my file.
Just like he tried to bait Ma Dojin earlier…
“Yes, sir,” I replied with a smile.
“So, being from a big agency, this must feel like a breeze?”
He leered.
I opened my mouth for a textbook answer—
But Cheya beat me to it.
“Can we just get on with the performance?”
The other judges nodded.
Kim Gwangjin coughed awkwardly.
I silently thanked Cheya and gave my song.
“Contestant D215, Ryu Eunyul. I’ll be singing ‘The Demon King’ by Klaha.’”
Everyone’s expression froze.
Yep. This was another banned song.
But for the opposite reason—it was too obscure.
Klaha was a boy group that flopped hard.
They tried to fuse idol music with metal.
Yeah.
‘The Demon King’ was their first—and last—title track.
And I was singing it for the CYB prelims?
Most people would think I was nuts.
The song was unpopular, and notoriously hard.
When I told Rowen about it, he said:
“…You went from retro to straight-up niche.”
Then he laughed.
“Interesting. Go ahead—but you’d better practice like hell.”
So I did!
You got it!
I took a deep breath—
♪ Today, the sky swallows the sun Spit it out—my melting mind The dying sunset pours across our heads I want to escape your embrace But my eyes shut before I realized it…♪
…I could do this.
The swing-dance-inspired choreography? Nailed it.
Not a single crack in my voice.
Even the judges looked intrigued.
I finished my performance and bowed.
No applause.
Instead, Cheya spoke.
“Ryu Eunyul.”
“Yes?”
He smiled.
“…I think we met in a dream.”
Little Pink Starfish 
Leave a comment