[DAY 90 / 90]
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Jiwon woke before his alarm.
For a moment, he lay still, staring at the ceiling.
Then reality caught up to him.
Today.
The word settled heavily in his chest.
Not excitement.
Not fear.
Something harder to name.
He reached for his phone.
6:11 A.M.
Nineteen minutes before the alarm.
A dry laugh escaped him.
“Of course.”
He sat up.
Morning light filtered through the curtains.
Against the wall, beside his desk, rested the guitar.
His first companion in this second life.
The witness to every mistake.
Every blister.
Every late-night practice session.
Ninety days.
The number felt unreal.
Had it really been three months?
A familiar blue window appeared before him.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
[TRAINING PROGRAM COMPLETE]
Duration: 90 Days
Consistency Rate: 95%
Training Objectives: Completed
Physical Development: Improved
Vocal Development: Improved
Dance Development: Improved
Instrumental Development: Improved
Mental Development: Improved
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Jiwon’s eyes moved to the line below.
Current Probability of Passing: 34.6%
Still there.
Still far from certain.
Yet three months ago, that number had been 5.7%.
A difference of nearly thirty percent.
Not because of the System.
Not because he knew the future.
Because he had earned it.
One day at a time.
One choice at a time.
Jiwon dismissed the notification and opened his status window.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
[STATUS]
Free Stat Points: 17
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Seventeen points.
Untouched.
Every instinct had told him to spend them.
Raise Singing.
Boost Confidence.
Improve Focus.
Anything to increase his chances.
But he had resisted.
Today was the reason why.
Until he understood what he was walking into, those points were more valuable unspent.
He stood and got ready.
A shower.
Fresh clothes.
A quick adjustment to his hair.
When he finally looked in the mirror, he paused.
The face staring back wasn’t dramatically different.
He hadn’t become some unreal idol overnight.
But the change was there.
Clearer eyes.
Healthier skin.
Straighter shoulders.
Most importantly—
He no longer looked like someone drifting through life.
He looked like someone moving toward a destination.
A faint smile touched his lips.
He picked up his guitar case.
Then stopped.
His hand rested on the handle.
A memory surfaced.
Aurora.
Seven members.
Seven stars.
One song.
A song that would one day become inseparable from the group’s name.
He could still remember hearing it for the first time.
The stage lights.
The ocean of blue glow sticks.
Thousands of voices singing the chorus back louder than the speakers.
Back then, he had been just another fan watching from a distance.
A nobody in the crowd.
Today was different.
Today, he would stand on a stage and perform that song before Aurora even existed.
The thought felt absurd.
Almost impossible.
And yet—
Here he was.
Jiwon’s grip tightened around the guitar case.
A small grin appeared on his face.
“Let’s see how much the future can change.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The morning slipped by faster than usual.
Or maybe Jiwon was simply watching the clock too often.
10:17.
11:43.
12:26.
Every time he looked up, the hands had moved.
Not fast enough.
Yet somehow too fast.
Then—
“You’re doing it again.”
Jiwon looked up.
Minjae was standing beside his desk.
“Doing what?”
“That.”
Minjae pointed at him.
“The staring.”
Jiwon frowned.
“The staring?”
“You keep looking at the clock like it’s personally insulting you.”
A laugh almost escaped him.
Almost.
Minjae immediately pointed.
“There.”
“What?”
“That fake laugh.”
Jiwon blinked.
“You’ve been weird all morning.”
“I’m always weird.”
“No.”
Minjae pulled out the chair beside him and sat down.
“Usually you’re just quiet.”
He leaned forward.
“Today you’re quiet and distracted.”
“…There’s a difference?”
“A huge one.”
Jiwon shook his head.
Minjae looked absurdly pleased with himself.
Then his grin faded.
“Audition today?”
Jiwon hesitated.
“Yeah.”
There it was.
The reason his stomach had been tied in knots since he woke up.
The reason every minute felt heavier than usual.
Minjae nodded like he’d already known the answer.
“Makes sense.”
“What does?”
“The face.”
“The face?”
“The one that says you’re imagining ten different disasters at the same time.”
Jiwon looked away.
Because annoyingly enough—
Minjae wasn’t wrong.
“You really think that much?” Minjae asked.
“…What if I mess up?”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
For a moment, even he looked surprised.
Minjae was too.
Not because of the question.
Because Jiwon had actually said it out loud.
Then Minjae laughed softly.
“Of course you’re going to mess up.”
Jiwon stared at him.
“Thanks.”
“I’m serious.”
Minjae shrugged.
“Everyone messes up.”
“You’re not helping.”
“No, listen.”
For once, there wasn’t a trace of teasing in his voice.
“You think the people who pass are the people who don’t make mistakes?”
Jiwon stayed silent.
Minjae shook his head.
“The people who fail are usually the ones who get scared before they even start.”
That made Jiwon pause.
Minjae continued.
“You already showed up.”
“…”
“You already spent three months working for it.”
His eyes met Jiwon’s.
“Most people quit long before that.”
Jiwon’s grip tightened around his pen.
Three months.
From the outside, it didn’t sound like much.
But he knew exactly how long those ninety days had been.
Minjae leaned back in his chair.
“I’m not saying you’ll pass.”
“Honest.”
“I’m saying that if you come back tonight knowing you gave it everything you had…”
He shrugged.
“I don’t think you’ll regret it.”
The words landed harder than Jiwon expected.
Because they felt true.
Much more than You’ll definitely make it.
Much more than You’ve got this.
Just—
Don’t leave anything behind.
A small smile finally appeared on Jiwon’s face.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
“Hm?”
Minjae stood up.
A grin returned to his face.
“If you become famous, I’m selling stories about your school days.”
Jiwon laughed.
“What stories?”
“I’ll make some up if I have to.”
“You’re a terrible friend.”
“And yet you’ll still invite me backstage.”
“Keep dreaming.”
Minjae pointed at him.
“See?”
“What?”
“That’s your normal face.”
For the first time all morning—
Jiwon felt the knot in his chest loosen.
Just a little.
But it was enough.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The building dominated the entire block.
Thirty stories of glass and steel, shining beneath the afternoon sun like a monument built for dreams.
Or for crushing them.
A massive LED screen stretched across the front facade.
STAR DUST NATIONAL AUDITION – SEASON ONE
The words looped endlessly above the entrance.
Beneath them stood hundreds of teenagers.
Some had traveled across the country.
Some had skipped school.
Some had spent years preparing for this single opportunity.
For a few seconds, Jiwon remained across the street and simply watched.
The crowd felt endless.
Groups of friends rehearsed harmonies together.
Dancers reviewed choreography one last time using the reflection in the building’s glass walls.
A boy stood alone near a bus stop, silently mouthing lyrics.
A girl sat on the ground clutching a folder thick with certificates and competition awards.
Everyone looked nervous.
Everyone looked hopeful.
Everyone looked desperate.
The same dream wore different faces.
A giant camera crane moved above the plaza.
Several reporters wandered through the crowd searching for interview candidates.
Everywhere Jiwon looked, there were signs of the show’s growing hype.
Star Dust hadn’t become a national phenomenon yet.
Not yet.
But people could already feel something coming.
The possibility of witnessing the birth of the next generation of idols.
The possibility that someone standing here today would become a star tomorrow.
The possibility that it could be them.
Jiwon’s eyes swept over the crowd.
He knew something nobody else did.
Some of these faces would disappear.
Some would quit.
Some would fail.
A few would survive.
And among those few—
Some would become legends.
A strange feeling settled over him.
Because despite everything he knew…
He was still standing outside.
Still carrying a guitar case.
Still hoping.
The traffic light changed.
Jiwon crossed the street.
The closer he got, the louder the noise became.
Conversations.
Music.
Vocal warmups.
Nervous laughter.
The entire plaza buzzed with restless energy.
Like a stage curtain moments before rising.
Then he entered.
And the real chaos began.
The lobby was enormous.
Five floors high, with giant glass walls overlooking the city.
Every available seat was occupied.
The hallways were packed.
Even the staircases were crowded with contestants waiting for their registration numbers.
Staff members moved through the sea of people carrying clipboards and headsets.
Security guards struggled to maintain order.
Large screens displayed contestant information and waiting times.
Jiwon stopped for a moment.
The sheer scale of it was overwhelming.
In his previous life, he had only ever watched Star Dust through a television screen.
Being here was different.
It felt larger.
Louder.
More real.
The dream suddenly had weight.
Then reality hit.
Many contestants didn’t look like ordinary students.
Some already looked ready to debut.
Perfect proportions.
Expensive styling.
Flawless skin.
Years of training visible in the way they carried themselves.
The confidence alone was intimidating.
Jiwon’s gaze drifted toward his own reflection in a nearby window.
Simple clothes.
Simple sneakers.
A guitar case.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing remarkable.
Just Han Jiwon.
His heartbeat quickened.
Then—
Beep.
[STAR DUST AUDITION ANALYSIS]
Current Probability of Passing: 34.6%
Mental State: Nervous
Performance Stability: 71%
Recommendation: Maintain composure.
Jiwon stared at the screen.
“…You’re really stating the obvious.”
The window disappeared.
“Han Jiwon?”
A voice called out.
Jiwon turned.
Then froze.
The boy standing a few meters away immediately drew attention without appearing to try.
Tall.
Slim.
Effortlessly attractive.
Silver hair fell over his forehead in soft layers, long bangs partially obscuring his eyes.
Not enough to hide them.
Just enough to make people curious.
A silver cross earring swayed beneath his left ear whenever he moved.
The contrast against his pale skin made it impossible to ignore.
Around him, dozens of contestants blended into the crowd.
He didn’t.
Some people spent years learning how to stand out.
This guy did it simply by existing.
Several girls nearby glanced in his direction.
One nudged her friend.
Another pretended not to stare.
The boy seemed completely unaware.
Or completely used to it.
Jiwon recognized him instantly.
Kang Hyunwoo.
One of Aurora’s future members.
Main dancer.
Visual.
Fan favorite.
One of the most recognizable faces of his generation.
But right now—
None of that existed.
There was no Aurora.
No fanbase.
No sold-out arenas.
Just a nineteen-year-old boy waiting for his turn.
Hyunwoo stopped in front of him.
“So it really is you.”
Jiwon blinked.
“…Me?”
A faint smile appeared on Hyunwoo’s face.
“The guitar guy.”
It took Jiwon a second to understand.
Then he remembered.
The practice rooms.
The cafeteria.
The outdoor benches.
There had been a few occasions where people overheard him practicing.
Apparently Hyunwoo had been one of them.
“I’ve seen you around.”
Hyunwoo’s eyes drifted toward the guitar case.
“You practice a lot.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Observation.”
Jiwon laughed.
Hyunwoo smiled.
The expression transformed his face.
Dangerous.
The kind of smile agencies dreamed about.
The kind cameras loved.
Then he extended a hand.
“Kang Hyunwoo.”
As if Jiwon didn’t already know.
Jiwon shook it.
“Han Jiwon.”
“I know.”
That caught him off guard.
“You do?”
Hyunwoo shrugged.
“You stand out.”
Now it was Jiwon’s turn to look surprised.
“With this?”
He lifted the guitar case slightly.
“Especially because of that.”
Hyunwoo nodded toward the crowd.
“There are hundreds of singers.”
Then toward the dancers.
“Hundreds of dancers.”
His gaze returned to Jiwon.
“But you’re the only guy carrying a guitar around like it’s a lifeline.”
For a second, neither spoke.
Then Jiwon laughed.
A real laugh this time.
Hyunwoo grinned.
“See?
That’s better.”
“What’s better?”
“You looked like someone marching toward his execution five minutes ago.”
Jiwon groaned.
“Was it that obvious?”
“It was impressive.”
“Thanks.”
“Not a compliment.”
Jiwon’s laughter grew louder.
The tension he’d carried from home loosened slightly.
Just enough.
Hyunwoo adjusted the strap of his backpack.
Then glanced toward the registration area.
“They’ll call us soon.”
“Yeah.”
For a brief moment, silence settled between them.
Not uncomfortable.
The opposite.
Two people standing on the edge of the same cliff.
Neither knowing what came next.
Hyunwoo eventually extended his fist.
“Let’s survive the first round.”
Jiwon looked at it.
Then bumped it lightly.
“Let’s.”
Hyunwoo smiled.
A confident smile.
A smile that somehow made success feel inevitable.
Then he disappeared into the crowd.
Even among hundreds of contestants, Jiwon could still spot the silver hair moving through the sea of people.
Like a star visible before nightfall.
And for the first time since arriving—
The future felt close enough to touch.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Time passed differently in the waiting room.
Slow.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
One contestant entered.
Another left.
Names were called.
Doors opened.
Doors closed.
Dreams moved one step closer to judgment.
Some people came back smiling.
Others couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.
One boy looked ready to celebrate.
Another looked as though something inside him had shattered.
Nobody asked questions.
Nobody needed to.
The expressions said enough.
Jiwon sat quietly with his guitar case resting between his legs.
Two and a half hours had passed.
Yet somehow, the wait felt longer than the previous ninety days.
Across the room, a contestant bounced his knee uncontrollably.
Another kept rehearsing the same line under his breath.
A girl stared at the floor with her hands clasped tightly together.
Everyone was fighting the same enemy.
Fear.
Then—
“Kim Seongho.”
A contestant stood.
His shoulders visibly stiffened.
The door opened.
Then closed behind him.
Silence returned.
Jiwon lowered his gaze.
His hands rested on top of the guitar case.
Steady.
Mostly.
He flexed his fingers once.
Then again.
Three months ago those fingers hadn’t known a single chord.
Three months ago they had bled.
Three months ago they had trembled every time they touched the strings.
Now—
Calluses covered his fingertips.
The pain was gone.
The evidence remained.
Ninety days.
It wasn’t talent.
It wasn’t destiny.
It was repetition.
Showing up every day.
Even when nobody was watching.
Even when progress felt invisible.
Even when quitting would’ve been easier.
A shadow appeared in front of him.
A staff member.
“Han Jiwon?”
The room suddenly felt quieter.
Jiwon stood.
His heartbeat immediately sped up.
“Yes.”
The staff member checked the clipboard.
“You’re next.”
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Jiwon nodded.
“Understood.”
He picked up the guitar.
The familiar weight settled against his shoulder.
A weight that had become reassuring.
Not burdensome.
Comforting.
He walked toward the door.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Then—
Beep.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
[MAIN QUEST]
Enter the Cast of Star Dust
Difficulty: S
Current Progress: 0%
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Jiwon’s eyes lingered on the window.
Then he smiled.
“A little impatient, aren’t you?”
The System offered no answer.
As usual.
He pushed open the door.
And stepped inside.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The room was smaller than he expected.
The pressure wasn’t.
Four people sat behind the table.
And Jiwon’s body froze for half a second.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
He knew every face.
Every single one.
Not from personal experience.
From another life.
From countless television broadcasts.
Magazine interviews.
Award ceremonies.
The people sitting in front of him weren’t judges.
They were legends.
At the center sat Kang Taejun.
The voice that had defined an entire generation.
A man famous for hearing mistakes nobody else noticed.
Beside him was Yoon Haejin.
Singer.
Guitarist.
Musician.
Someone known for rejecting talentless idols without a second thought.
The third judge was Rex.
The rapper who had climbed from underground clubs to sold-out stadiums.
His expression revealed absolutely nothing.
Which somehow made him the most intimidating person in the room.
And finally—
Han Seongmin.
A living legend.
The kind of person even idols bowed to.
The kind of artist whose songs survived decades.
For the first time since arriving—
Jiwon genuinely wanted to leave.
This is so much worse than I imagined.
“Han Jiwon.”
Taejun glanced at the application form.
“Eighteen?”
“Yes.”
“Student?”
“Yes.”
A brief nod.
Then Taejun looked up.
“What are you performing today?”
Jiwon’s fingers tightened around the guitar case.
“An original song.”
For the first time, all four judges looked interested.
Haejin leaned forward.
“Original?”
“Yes.”
“What is it called?”
Jiwon took a breath.
“Seven Stars.”
A brief silence followed.
Rex raised an eyebrow.
“You wrote it?”
“Yes.”
Not entirely a lie.
Not anymore.
The version in his memory and the version in his hands were no longer the same song.
Somewhere over the past ninety days—
It had become his.
Taejun nodded.
“Let’s hear it.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Jiwon sat down.
The guitar settled onto his lap.
The room felt strangely quiet.
He could hear the hum of the air conditioner.
The faint rustle of paper.
His own heartbeat.
Then nothing.
His fingers found the opening chord.
And stopped.
A familiar feeling crept in.
Fear.
The same fear he had felt every time he stood on a stage.
Every time somebody listened.
Every time failure became visible.
Breathe.
Jiwon inhaled slowly.
Then exhaled.
The fear remained.
But it no longer controlled him.
His hand moved.
A single note echoed through the room.
Warm.
Clear.
Then another.
And another.
The melody began.
Simple.
Unpretentious.
Honest.
Jiwon lowered his gaze.
And sang.
“When the night falls, we’ll light the sky…”
His voice entered gently.
Not powerful.
Not flashy.
Just sincere.
Nobody interrupted.
Nobody looked away.
The room grew still.
And slowly—
The song began doing what songs were meant to do.
It made people listen.
Taejun stopped reading the application.
Haejin’s attention shifted entirely to the stage.
Even Rex leaned back and crossed his arms.
The atmosphere changed.
Subtly.
But unmistakably.
Jiwon continued.
And little by little—
The audition disappeared.
The judges disappeared.
The cameras disappeared.
Only the song remained.
Seven Stars.
A song he had once listened to from the audience.
A song that belonged to seven people who hadn’t met yet.
A song that wasn’t supposed to exist here.
Not now.
Not like this.
Yet every word felt real.
Because now it carried something it never had before.
His own journey.
His own failures.
His own hope.
The chorus arrived.
And Jiwon’s voice rose with it.
“When the night falls, we’ll light the sky…”
The first high note wasn’t perfect.
He heard it immediately.
A little thin.
A little unstable.
But he kept going.
No hesitation.
No panic.
The recovery came naturally.
Because somewhere along the way—
Perfection had stopped being his goal.
Finishing had become more important.
As the song progressed, the room grew quieter.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The kind of silence people create when they’re afraid of missing something.
Even Han Seongmin, who had barely moved since the beginning, was no longer observing.
He was listening.
The bridge arrived.
Jiwon’s voice softened.
Almost a whisper.
“And if one day we forget…”
For the first time, he raised his eyes.
The judges were watching him.
Not his guitar.
Not his application.
Him.
“…why we started running…”
A strange feeling spread through his chest.
Not confidence.
Something deeper.
Certainty.
Then came the line.
The line he had rewritten more times than he could count.
The line he had never fully understood in his previous life.
Until now.
“Look back.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Even the air seemed frozen.
The final chorus exploded.
Brighter.
Larger.
Alive.
Jiwon poured everything into it.
Not because he wanted to impress them.
Because he wanted them to understand.
To understand what those ninety days meant.
To understand why the song existed.
To understand why he was standing here at all.
The final chord rang.
And slowly faded.
Jiwon didn’t move.
Neither did the judges.
Three seconds.
Five.
Seven.
Silence.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
…Well?
Then—
Taejun put down his pen.
“What was the title again?”
Jiwon’s eyes lifted.
“Seven Stars.”
Taejun slowly nodded.
“That’s a dangerous song.”
This time, nobody immediately explained.
The words lingered.
And somehow that made them heavier.
Then Haejin smiled.
A genuine smile.
“He’s right.”
She folded her arms.
“Because now I want to hear it again.”
And for the first time that day—
Jiwon allowed himself to hope.
Taejun glanced at him.
“So would I.”
Haejin nodded.
Rex grinned.
“Definitely.”
Jiwon stared at the four judges.
Again?
His heartbeat accelerated.
Then—
Beep.
A blue window appeared.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
[PERFORMANCE COMPLETE]
Vocal Control: 76
Guitar Technique: 69
Pitch Accuracy: 73
Rhythm Stability: 82
Emotional Delivery: 88
Stage Presence: 67
Originality: 91
Overall Performance: 78
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Jiwon stared.
Then another line appeared.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
[STAR DUST AUDITION ANALYSIS]
Recalculating…
Previous Probability: 34.6%
Performance Evaluation: COMPLETE
New Probability: 47.9%
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Jiwon’s pupils contracted.
47.9%.
He slowly clenched his hand.
Then another notification appeared.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
[MAIN QUEST]
Enter the cast of Star Dust
Difficulty: S
Progress: 23%
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Jiwon stared at it.
Han Seongmin looked at him.
“Han Jiwon.”
Jiwon raised his head.
“Yes?”
“Wait outside.”
Jiwon nodded.
He stood.
His legs felt strangely light.
He bowed.
“Thank you.”
Then he walked toward the door.
His hand touched the handle.
Before opening it, he glanced back one last time.
Four judges.
Four different expressions.
Jiwon opened the door.
The noise of the waiting room returned.
He stepped outside.
T
he door closed behind him.
Jiwon stood there silently.
He looked down at his hands.
The fingers that had trembled three months ago were still trembling slightly.
But they had played the song.
His song.
The future changed.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
[MAIN QUEST — STAR DUST]
Current Progress: 23%
Current Probability of Success: 47.9%
Status: UNDER EVALUATION
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━