The stadium fell silent. Tens of thousands of people stared toward the center of the stage, their faces hidden beneath the darkness. Above them, the spotlights converged on a single point, illuminating the empty space where I was about to appear. I hated this moment. It was ridiculous, really. I had performed before millions of people, topped international charts, and sold out stadiums across the world. Yet there was something unsettling about a silent crowd. For those few seconds, it felt as though every person in the stadium was judging me, waiting for me to prove that I deserved to stand before them. What if I disappoint them? The thought flickered through my mind. Then I took a breath and stepped into the light. The silence shattered. Cheers erupted from every corner of the stadium. My name echoed through the stands as thousands of fans jumped to their feet. The deafening roar washed over me, and the familiar tension in my chest finally disappeared. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. There you are. I raised my microphone, and the opening notes of my latest hit thundered through the speakers. The stage came alive. Flames erupted along its edges, illuminating the dancers as they swept into position. Screens the size of buildings flashed in time with the music, painting the stadium in shifting colors. Every movement had been rehearsed until it became instinct, every transition timed to the second. And, for once, everything went exactly as planned. No missed cues. No awkward transitions. No dancers stumbling into the wrong position. Beautiful. As I reached the chorus, tens of thousands of voices rose to meet mine. They knew every word. Some sang with tears in their eyes; others danced with their friends, waving their hands beneath the lights. For a moment, the entire stadium seemed to breathe in time with the music. That was what I loved most about performing. Millions of people knew me. Millions of people chanted my name. The fame feels sooo good! The final note of the opening song rang out. Fireworks exploded above the stage, sending waves of color across the stadium. I lowered my microphone, letting the applause wash over me. Then I smirked. One song down. I rolled my shoulders, glanced toward the band, and signaled for the next track. The second song from my new album began with a low, pulsing beat. The crowd recognized it almost immediately. Their screams nearly drowned out the music before I had even sung the first line. This time, I didn't bother holding back. I moved across the stage, trading lines with the backup singers while the dancers followed every cue. When the chorus arrived, the entire stadium sang with me. From the stage, I could make out familiar faces in the private seating areas: celebrities, business magnates, and even a few world leaders who had apparently decided that international diplomacy could wait until after my concert. I couldn't help grinning. Look at them. People who could command entire countries were standing up and cheering for me. For a brief moment, I remembered the years when no one had cared about my music. The rejected demos, the empty venues, the nights I had spent wondering whether I was wasting my life chasing an impossible dream. Those memories felt distant now. I made it. Not merely as a musician, but as the musician of my generation. I wanted my name to survive long after the final note of my final song had faded. I wanted future musicians to study my work, compare themselves to me, and wonder how anyone could possibly have reached the heights I had reached. This is how legends are made. This is how I will become the King of Pop. The final chorus thundered through the stadium. I raised my microphone, and the audience sang the last line for me. Then the music stopped. For one suspended second, there was nothing. And then the stadium erupted. I stood there, breathing heavily, sweat running down my face. My legs ached, my throat felt raw, and my clothes clung uncomfortably to my skin. I had never felt more alive. I bowed, thanked the fans, and waved toward the distant stands before disappearing backstage. The moment I stepped behind the curtains, the professional atmosphere collapsed into chaos. Dancers hugged one another. The lighting crew exchanged high-fives. Someone shouted that the performance had been flawless, and another person immediately began arguing that the fireworks had been the best part. I could only laugh. "Congratulations, everyone!" I called. The room quieted just enough for me to continue. "You all did an incredible job tonight. Seriously. Every single one of you." A few people cheered. Someone clapped me on the shoulder. I looked around at their exhausted, smiling faces and felt a rush of pride. Whatever my name said on the album covers, this performance had never been mine alone. Then I raised a hand. "And now, I believe we have one last thing to take care of." The chatter faded. Several dancers exchanged suspicious looks. I let the silence linger. "TONIGHT'S PARTY IS ON ME!" For half a second, nobody reacted. Then the room exploded. "YEEEEES!" "WE JUST MADE HISTORY!" "I'M ORDERING THE MOST EXPENSIVE THING ON THE MENU!" "YOU'RE ALL GOING TO PUT ME IN DEBT!" I shouted over them. "BUT TONIGHT, I DON'T CARE!" I laughed along with everyone else. This is going to be a very long night. I had no idea how right I was. Several hours later, the largest club in the city was still packed. The music pounded through the walls. Colored lights swept across the dance floor, illuminating a sea of moving bodies. Bottles covered the tables in our reserved section, and people who had sworn they would only have one drink were now attempting to dance with varying degrees of success. Our concert had been a triumph. Apparently, my crew had decided that surviving the performance entitled them to celebrate until sunrise. I couldn't exactly disagree. Unfortunately, my body had other opinions. My head felt as though someone had taken a hammer to it. The room kept spinning whenever I tried to stand, and the floor seemed like a perfectly reasonable place to spend the rest of my life. I squinted at the man standing beside me. He looked completely fine. Not merely fine. He looked irritatingly refreshed, as though he had spent the entire evening drinking water and reading a book. My secretary, producer, video editor, lighting director, and driver all rolled into one. The man was just a very good worker. "Bro," he said, offering me a hand. "Let's get back to the hotel. It's late." "Mm-hmm." I tried to stand. The world tilted violently. I immediately reconsidered my decision. He sighed, grabbed my arm, and hauled me upright. "Seriously? You drank just as much as I did!" I stared at him with an annoyed expression. "I hate you." "Noted." He guided me toward the exit while I muttered several deeply unflattering things about his existence. The night air hit my face as we stepped outside. It was cold enough to make me shiver, and for a moment, I felt slightly more human. Then I remembered the headache. I hated life again. My secretry had the car waiting for us. With considerable assistance, I managed to collapse into the back seat, stretching out as far as the space allowed. Finally. Peace. The car pulled away from the club. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the steady throbbing in my skull. Streetlights drifted past the windows, casting brief golden streaks across the ceiling. I was halfway to sleep when my secretary spoke. "By the way, there's something I should tell you." "If it's about the party bill, I'm not paying it." "It's not about the bill." "Then it can wait until tomorrow." "It's about her." My eyes opened. I turned my head slightly. "Who?" He gave me a look. "The miss." For a moment, I said nothing. Then I let out a short, humorless laugh. "What does she want?" "She asked if she could talk to you. She also said she's sorry." Sorry. The word seemed to hang in the air between us. Then I snorted. Of course she is. When I had nothing, she had walked away. Back then, I was just a new singer starting out. She hadn't wanted any part of that life, She wanted to be with someone more famous. She wanted to live in mansions. Now? Now that I am the most famous musician in the world. My songs are playing in countries I had never visited, my concerts sell out within minutes, and people who had once ignored me were suddenly eager to call themselves my friends. And now she wants to talk. She wants to apologize. How convenient. "Let me guess," I muttered. "She misses me?" My secretary didn't answer immediately. "I don't know what she wants. I'm only telling you what she said." "Then tell her I'm not interested." I turned toward the window. A part of me wanted to ask why she had contacted me now, of all times. What had changed? What did she think an apology could possibly fix? But the questions died before they reached my tongue. I didn't need answers. I had spent too many nights wondering what I had done wrong, too many mornings convincing myself that I would eventually forget her. Now I had everything I had once dreamed of, and I refuse to let the past take even a single moment of it away from me. "She's just sorry she missed out," I said. "People like her always come back when there's something to gain." My secretary glanced at me but said nothing. I hated that silence almost as much as I hated the headache. "Don't look at me like that." "I'm not looking at you like anything." "You're doing it right now." He sighed and turned his attention back to the road. I slumped into the seat. "Just drive." Outside, a thin layer of rain began to gather on the windshield. The road glistened beneath the streetlights. The secretry slowed as we approached an intersection, wiping the glass with the back of his hand. My eyes had grown heavy again, and the rhythmic hum of the engine was beginning to pull me under. Then my secretry spoke once more. "For what it's worth, you don't have to talk to her. But maybe you should at least hear her out before deciding what she wants." I opened one eye. "Are you seriously taking her side?" "I'm not taking anyone's side." "Good. Because I-" A blinding pair of headlights appeared through the rain. The secretry swore and slammed on the brakes. Tires screamed against the wet road. For one bewildered instant, I couldn't understand what I was seeing.  A truck had crashed into our car! My body lurched forward. Someone shouted my name. Then the world erupted in metal, shattered glass, and a deafening crash. Pain flashed through me. The car spun. My head struck something hard, and every light outside the window smeared into a bright, meaningless blur. I tried to breathe. I tried to move. Nothing seemed to work. The noise faded into a distant ringing. And, strangely, the last thing that came to mind wasn't the concert, the cheering crowd, or the legacy I had been so desperate to leave behind. It was her. Her face appeared in my fading vision, just as I remembered it from the day she walked away. I wanted to curse her. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Instead, one bitter thought drifted through my mind. After everything I've achieved, is this really how my story ends? The darkness swallowed me before I could find an answer.

I felt warmth. Not the cozy warmth of a bed-the soothing warmth of a hot bath. Muffled sounds drifted around me, barely disturbing my peaceful slumber. For a moment, I wanted to ignore them and go back to sleep. It was just so cozy in here. Then, out of nowhere, a hand grabbed me and pulled. Cold air slammed into my skin. Massive arms began moving me around. The muffled sounds grew louder, sharper, more urgent. I gathered all my strength and forced my eyes open. Blurry images of an enormous, chubby woman loomed before me. She seemed at least three times my size-no, wait. I was tiny. She was moving me around like a ragdoll, saying things I couldn't understand. What's happening right now?! My secretary was right. Drinking really is dangerous for your health. Just look at how realistic this dream is! The big woman began handling me more roughly. She patted my chest, moved my arms and legs, rubbed my back. "Gueeh!" A strange sound escaped my mouth. She paused. Stared at me. I stared back. What are you doing?! But all that came out was- "Meh." The woman smiled faintly and began handling me more gently. She wiped my body with rough towels, carefully rubbing my face until my vision cleared. And that was when I finally saw. I was in what appeared to be an underground dungeon. The room was much smaller than I would have expected. Rough stone walls pressed in from all sides. The air reeked of damp earth, mold, and stale iron. The only real light came from a flickering torch outside the doorway. High above, a narrow slit in the stone showed only darkness. Two beddings on the floor. The big woman was carrying me toward one of them. On the other lay a young woman-pale, thin, terribly frail. Her body was barely covered. The bedding beneath her was stained with blood and other bodily fluids. She seemed completely exhausted, lying motionless with her face toward the wall. This dream is getting way too realistic. A strange feeling of dread crept into my heart. Wait... That's right. I was dead. Somehow, in some ridiculous twist of fate, I had died and reincarnated into another world. I wanted to deny it. Desperately. I mean, come on! What kind of absurd nonsense was this?! Sure, tragic accidents happened. But reincarnation? Being reborn into an entirely different world? Who in their right mind would believe such a thing?! And yet, here I was. Unable to speak properly. Unable to move as I pleased. Unable to do anything except lie around while some chubby woman carried me about like a sack of potatoes. No... no, no, no! This can't be happening! I had everything. Fame. Wealth. Admiration. I had spent years climbing my way to the top until the whole world knew my name. Millions of people screamed whenever I appeared on stage. I wasn't just some nobody. I was the King of Pop. And now? Now I couldn't even lift my own damn head. Why?! Why do I have to start all over again, especially after finally reaching the peak?! All those years of hard work. All those performances. All those people who had cheered for me... Were they all gone? Would anyone even remember me? Would they mourn my death, or would the world simply move on as if I had never existed? The thought left an unpleasant knot in my chest. For the first time since waking up, I had no clever remark to make. No confident smile to flash. There was only the crushing realization that everything I had worked for might be gone forever. My old life. My old body. My throne at the top of the world. All of it... gone. What's the point of living anymore? I had already reached the place everyone else dreamed of. What was I supposed to do now? Spend another lifetime struggling to reach the same heights? I might as well just die for real. Not that I could do anything about it in this pathetic little body. The big woman finished wiping me down and gently placed me on the empty bedding. She turned her attention to the young frail woman on the other bed, cleaning up the mess left behind after the birth. I turned my gaze toward the young woman. So... this is my mother, huh? She looked practically lifeless. Nothing but skin and bones. Her face was pale, her body frail. She seemed too exhausted even to acknowledge the world around her. She's not even that pretty... In my previous life, I'd been surrounded by beautiful women who would dress up just to get my attention. I'd grown so accustomed to that kind of attention that I'd stopped thinking of it as something special. And now, the only woman I had any connection to in this new world was lying there looking as though she might collapse if she tried to sit up. I've already failed at life, haven't I? A sigh escaped my tiny mouth. If I could have buried my face in my hands, I probably would have. Unbelievable... For a while, I did nothing but stare at the ceiling. I couldn't stand up, let alone leave this place. I didn't know where I was, what kind of world this was, or whether the people around me were even human. What if this world was worse than my old one? What if there were no proper musical instruments? No concert halls? No way to reproduce the things I'd spent my life mastering? The more I thought about it, the more hopeless everything seemed. I was a helpless, pathetic baby who needed someone else to wipe his face! ...This is ridiculous. My thoughts gradually grew quieter. The big woman continued moving around the room. My supposed mother remained motionless. Nothing changed. And that was when another thought crept into my mind. Wait a minute. I was still here, wasn't I? I could think. I could remember. I could still recall every performance, every song, every mistake, every lesson I'd learned throughout my previous life. Whatever had happened to me, my mind hadn't disappeared. All that experience... All that knowledge... It was still mine. I might have lost my body, my wealth, my fame, and everything I'd built. But I hadn't lost the one thing that had allowed me to climb to the top in the first place. My talent. My understanding of music. My ability to captivate an audience. A faint spark of hope stirred inside me. ...Hold on. Why am I acting as though my life is over? Well, technically, my first life was over. But this was a second chance, wasn't it? A completely new world meant a completely new audience. New people. New opportunities. I didn't know what the people here listened to. I didn't even know whether they had anything resembling a music industry. But I knew music. I knew how to perform, how to write songs, how to command attention. That's right! I'm not starting from zero! I might have been a baby, but I was a baby with the mind of a grown man and the experience of a world-class musician! Who else in this world could boast something like that?! Sure, I would have to wait until I was old enough to walk and talk. But it wasn't the end of the world. I just needed time. Time to grow up. Time to learn the language. Time to understand this world's customs. After that? The sky was the limit! I'll become a musician again. No... A bigger musician! Why settle for repeating my old achievements when I could surpass them? If things went well, I could become famous before I even turned twelve! Heh... The corners of my mouth lifted. For the first time since realizing that I might actually have died, I felt something other than dread. Hope. It was small, admittedly. Fragile, even. But it was there. Before long, I found myself smiling and giggling to myself. Just you wait. The King of Pop is going to make his comeback! This world looks primitive. With my knowledge and talent, I'll become even bigger than I ever was before! I couldn't help but smirk. Across the room, the older woman was still cleaning up when she heard the baby giggling. She glanced over at me, then turned toward the young frail woman on the other bed and said something in an unfamiliar language. The young frail woman didn't respond. Meanwhile, I kept staring at the walls, desperately searching for any clue that might tell me where I was. But there was nothing. Not a single clue. This is hopeless. I guess I'll have to rely on that old woman to teach me about this world. "Guh, guh, gah, gah!" I waved my little arms and pointed toward her, hoping she would understand what I wanted. But as my tiny arm waved in the air, my eyes caught a glimpse of what my hands looked like. I froze. My hand... MY HAND IS GREEN! I stared at my hand in disbelief. There was no way. There was absolutely no way. I moved my hand around, trying to catch a better look. My hand was round, and my skin was a pale green color. Am I... a goblin?! A shiver ran through my tiny body. "GAAAHH!" What the hell had I even been reincarnated as?!

I took a closer look at my hands, body, and legs. Yep. There was no denying it. My skin was greenish. My fingernails were slightly pointed. My tiny body seemed more muscular than that of an ordinary human baby. This explains a few things... First of all, I hadn't reincarnated on Earth. I was in a completely different world-one where goblins existed. And if goblins existed, then what about the other mythical creatures? Elves? Dwarves? Trolls? Dragons?! Were they all real, too?! This world is much more dangerous than I thought! A frightening thought suddenly crossed my mind. What if I held a concert someday, and it got a little too loud? What if some ancient dragon got annoyed by the noise and decided to obliterate the entire country?! I shuddered internally. There went my plans for stardom. And that wasn't even my biggest problem. No, my biggest problem was much, much worse. I'm a goblin! GOBLIN! According to every fantasy story I'd ever heard of, goblins were among the ugliest creatures imaginable. They were short, green, and usually had hideous faces and enormous noses. And what was I supposed to do with a body like that?! My entire career had been built on my musical talent, charisma, and good looks. How was I supposed to become a superstar when I looked like something people would chase out of their kitchens with a broom?! There's no hope! Absolutely no hope! What kind of difficulty setting is this?! How does anyone even survive in this world?! While I was busy mourning my lost future, the big chubby woman finally finished cleaning the bedding where the young frail lady lay. She gathered the dirty, ragged towels and tossed them into a corner. After making sure the young woman was settled, she turned her attention toward me. She adjusted my bedding, making sure I was warm and comfortable, before finally lying down beside me. I watched her through my blurry vision. Huh. So she's sleeping here, too? There were so many things I needed to figure out. Where was I? What kind of world was this? How dangerous was it? And, most importantly-was there any way to salvage my future career as a musician?! I had barely begun contemplating those questions when I suddenly realized something. ...I'm exhausted. Apparently, spending an entire afternoon worrying about the future was rather tiring for a newborn. Who would've thought? My eyelids grew heavier. Fine. I'll figure everything out tomorrow. For now, even the King of Pop needs his beauty sleep. With that final thought, I drifted off. ... The room gradually fell quiet. Outside, rain pattered against the window, while the faint glow of the torch cast wavering shadows across the walls. On one side of the room lay the frail young woman who had just given birth. On the other lay the big chubby woman and a tiny, green-skinned baby who had somehow managed to exhaust himself through nothing but excessive worrying. For the moment, there were no grand ambitions to pursue, no mysteries to solve, and no world to conquer. There was only the sound of rain and the peaceful silence of sleep. The next morning, I awoke with a terrible problem. I was hungry. Not a little hungry. I was starving! Hey! Fat woman! I'm hungry! Give me something to eat! "Whaaaaaah! Whaaaaah!" ...Damn it. I'd meant to shout at her, but all that came out was a loud, pathetic wail. How humiliating. The chubby woman stirred awake. She opened her eyes, glanced at me, and gave me a look that I could only interpret as contempt. What?! What are you looking at?! Just feed me already! She eventually sat up, reached toward a corner of the room, and retrieved a few pieces of dried fruit. Then she grabbed a small clay cup, dropped the fruit inside, and began mashing it with her finger. I watched her preparations with growing curiosity. Huh. So this is what they give to children here? It wasn't exactly the luxurious treatment I'd grown accustomed to, but I supposed I couldn't complain too much. After all, what choice did I have? It was at that moment, however, that I remembered something important. Something CRITICAL. WAIT A MINUTE! DON'T ALL REINCARNATED PROTAGONISTS GET A GOLDEN FINGER?! That's right! They did! In all those stories, the main character would usually receive some kind of special ability after reincarnating. Sometimes it was an all-powerful system. Sometimes it was an overpowered skill. Sometimes it was an ability so ridiculous that the laws of the universe practically bent over backward to accommodate it. And what did I have? Absolutely nothing! At least, as far as I knew. If I get a decent golden finger, I won't have to worry about those ancient hidden masters or terrifying mythical creatures anymore! I could hold concerts as loud as I wanted! I could become the greatest superstar this world has ever seen! My imagination began running wild. What kind of ability would I receive? Perhaps I would get absolute invincibility! Or unlimited strength! Or maybe a system that would let me master any skill instantly! Oh, that would be wonderful! Imagine it! One day, I'm a helpless baby, and the next, I'm the most powerful being in existence! I nearly laughed at the thought. Let's see... Absolute invincibility would be nice. Or perhaps an ability that lets me copy anyone's talents. Actually, why stop there? Why not both?! Before I could come up with even more absurd possibilities, a large, rough hand suddenly grabbed me. Huh? The woman scooped me up, supported me awkwardly, and brought the clay cup toward my face. Before I could react, she pried open my mouth and shoved a fingerful of mashed fruit inside. GURGH! I nearly choked on my own indignation. WHAT THE HELL?! THIS WOMAN IS A BARBARIAN! WHO FEEDS A NEWBORN LIKE THIS?! She continued feeding me as though this were the most normal thing in the world. Good grief! At least give me a spoon! ...Although, to be fair, the mashed fruit was delicious. Sweet, soft, and pleasantly tangy. Hmm... Not bad. I reluctantly swallowed another mouthful. I suppose I can tolerate this primitive lifestyle for now. After feeding me, the big chubby woman went to the young frail woman. She helped her sit up and fed her as well. The young woman still had the same lifeless eyes she had before. I can imagine her giving birth to me while having that exact same lifeless expression. I scoffed internally at the image. Well, I suppose I'll have to figure that out later. For now, I had something far more important to attend to. MY GOLDEN FINGER! All right. Let's do this. I took a deep breath. Or at least, I tried to. Being a newborn made even the simplest things surprisingly difficult. Still, I was ready. Golden finger! ... Nothing happened. I waited a few seconds. Nothing. Golden finger! Still nothing. What? Come on! Don't tell me I reincarnated without one! I could feel panic rising inside me. Was I really going to have to survive in a fantasy world with nothing but my memories and my musical talent?! How was that supposed to help me if a dragon decided to eat me?! No, no, no! Calm down! There has to be a way! I tried to recall the stories I'd read and the countless ridiculous tropes I'd encountered. There had to be a trigger. A specific phrase, perhaps? A mental command? Maybe I needed to concentrate harder! I closed my eyes and focused with everything I had. Golden finger! Nothing. System! ... Suddenly, a translucent window appeared before my eyes. I froze. ...Huh? A rectangular panel floated in front of me, displaying a series of unfamiliar details. I stared at it. Then I stared at it some more. IT WORKED! IT ACTUALLY WORKED! I nearly screamed with joy. "GAH! GAH! GAAAAH!" I had a golden finger! A SYSTEM! I eagerly examined the window. [System: Olive Branch] [Name: -] [Age: 19 hours] [Race: Human-Orc Hybrid] [Core: Dormant] [EXP: 0] [SKILLS] Skill 1: Locked Skill 2: Locked Skill 3: Locked Skill 4: Locked Skill 5: Locked Skill 6: Locked Skill 7: Locked Skill 8: Locked Skill 9: Locked Skill 10: Locked I stared at the panel in silence. ...Human-Orc Hybrid? WHAT?! I wasn't a goblin?! I was an ORC?! And what was a core?! Why was my name blank?! Why were all my skills locked?! ...Please tell me this is a mistake. I had just discovered my golden finger, and already, I had a terrible feeling that my second life was going to be even more troublesome than my first. What exactly had I gotten myself into?!