The Regressed Idol: My Second Chance To Debut

Chapter 6

Andrew couldn’t help but stare at the system message. A future song. Of all the things the system could ask him to do, it chose this.

His mind raced through a dozen possibilities of songs destined to become hits far beyond his current timeline. He thought of songs that would become legendary, performances people would still talk about years later. But most of them required choreography his eighteen-year-old body couldn’t handle.

He glanced down at his sneakers. One bad dance move and his entire performance would become a comedy. He needed a song that required only his voice to do the work.

Then a ridiculous memory surfaced. Andrew almost smiled.

There was one song. A song he heard countless times during his years working at the construction site. A song nobody took seriously. A song that eventually became a bizarre viral sensation after Eclipse completely reworked it.

Mr. Chicken.

Perfect.

He raised the microphone. “I’ll perform Mr. Chicken.”

It was an old children’s lullaby, the kind parents sang to their kids without giving much thought to the lyrics. It had never been considered a serious song, let alone something an idol would perform on a professional stage. The trainees around him clearly wondered what Andrew planned to do with it, or whether he could do anything with it at all.

Gregory’s head snapped up. “Mr. what?”

A few trainees exchanged confused looks. One of them covered his mouth, already struggling not to laugh out loud. Even Marcus looked genuinely puzzled. “Mr. Chicken?”

“Mr. Chicken?” Sarah repeated, one eyebrow raised.

Andrew nodded. “Yes, mentor.”

The corner of Sarah’s mouth twitched. “That is an old song, probably a kindergarten song. Are you certain?”

“Completely certain, ma’am.”

Josh leaned toward the other mentors. “Is he trying to get eliminated?”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, eager to hear whatever crazy stunt Andrew prepared to pull. “That’s an… interesting choice.” He tapped his pen against the evaluation sheet. He couldn’t wait to grade the boy. To Marcus, the choice looked woefully poor. He knew independent trainees like him rarely possessed real talent, usually just rushing into auditions on a gush of instant gratification that came from seeing idols on a television screen. But since Andrew made it to the first evaluation, Marcus decided to enjoy the entertainment. He gestured buoyantly with his chin, eager to see if this high schooler would try to rap out of pure panic or just freeze into a literal statue on live television.

The moment the speakers crackled. A ridiculously cheerful beat filled the studio. Several trainees immediately covered their mouths.

Andrew closed his eyes. For a second, he remembered his smartphone and the construction site, how he laughed at the absurd song when he listened to it for the first time during his lunch break. Back then, he never imagined he would perform it on a professional stage.

🎶 Mr. Chicken, where’d you go?

I saw you running by the grocery store,

You stole my bread, you took my pie,

Then looked at me and asked me why.

Mr. Chicken, don’t be shy,

You’ve got two wings, so learn to fly,

Cluck-cluck, left foot, right foot too,

Everybody’s dancing, even you!

Oh, Mr. Chicken, what a life,

You lost your hat, you lost your wife,

But if tomorrow brings you rain,

Shake your feathers and dance again! 🎶

Laughter rippled through the studio. Andrew didn’t react; instead, he kept singing.

Then, halfway through the verse, the laughter faded as Andrew’s voice dropped into a deeper register, warm and controlled. He stretched the final note with effortless precision before sliding smoothly back into the melody.

Marcus’s pen stopped moving. Sarah’s expression changed. Josh slowly lowered his grin.

Andrew continued, changing the entire gravity of the studio. He didn’t alter the ridiculous lyrics, but his newly enhanced vocals carried a rich, deep resonance that made a song about a stolen pie sound completely sincere.

The final note faded into a stunned silence.

Josh leaned toward his microphone, grinning wildly. “I genuinely don’t know what to say right now, except to ask why you just chose a song about a chicken.”

A sudden, breathless burst of laughter swept through the contestants, the suffocating tension finally breaking. Andrew simply shrugged, his composure entirely unbothered by the chaos. “I like the song.”

Josh stared at him deadpan. “That somehow makes it worse. I can't believe you performed that awful song simply because you liked it.”

Even Sarah laughed. Marcus didn’t. He looked down at his evaluation sheet, then back up, his eyes locking onto Andrew like a hawk.

“Your song choice was ridiculous, Andrew. But your vocals weren’t.”

Marcus tapped the desk with a heavy rhythm. “Your pitch remained perfectly stable. Your resonance is unusually developed for someone your age. And your control during that transition was far beyond what I expect from an independent trainee with zero backing.”

A fierce murmur spread through the contestant ranks. Andrew said nothing. He knew exactly what Marcus noticed. Fourteen years of vocal longing hadn’t disappeared just because his old body did.

Sarah glanced toward the other mentors. “His voice is definitely his strongest asset.”

Josh nodded reluctantly. “By far.”

The dance mentor, Elain, tapped her pen against the table, shattering the praise. “Unfortunately, his dancing is another story.”

The mentors along with the trainees chuckled. Andrew resisted the urge to look down at his sneakers. His dance stat remained a D-, his rap was worse, and his charm was practically nonexistent, especially in a high school uniform. He already knew he wasn’t walking out of here with a high rank.

Marcus picked up his microphone, his voice cutting cleanly through the quiet room.

“Andrew Smith. For your first evaluation… you are assigned to Class E.”

A wave of whispers spread through the room.

“Class E?”

“His voice was that good and they still dropped him to class E?”

“I thought he’d at least secure a C.”

Andrew stood perfectly still. Class E. Not F. Not A. But Class E.

For a brief moment, disappointment flickered through him, then disappeared. At least he got to start from somewhere.

[Ding.]

[Mission Complete.]

[Reward: Select one skill for immediate enhancement.]

Andrew’s eyes narrowed as the familiar blue screen appeared. He was about to open the menu when Sarah suddenly spoke, her voice breaking through his thoughts.

“Trainee Andrew.”

He looked up. The amusement disappeared from her face. She studied him carefully, her eyes locking onto his with sharp intensity.

“Where did you learn to sing like that?”

Andrew’s fingers tightened around the microphone.