Debut or Die - Chapter 2

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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A Fatal Illness if I Don’t Debut – Episode 2
‘Idol Corporation’.
A survival variety show series that was enjoying massive popularity around this time.
After the trend of auditions where dozens or hundreds of aspiring idols were gathered and eliminated through voting, numerous programs followed that same format.
This ‘Idol Corporation’ was one of those mass-produced programs, but there was a reason it could become particularly famous.
It had become even more ruthlessly capitalistic.
First, let’s look at the advertising slogan from Season 1.
[Your idol stock grows as much as you invest!]
That’s right. It meant you could vote under the name of ‘stock’ proportional to how much money you spent.
This year marked Season 3 of the program.
After Season 2 had spectacularly flopped for some reason, they pretended that season never existed and came back with an ambitious subtitle of ‘relisting’.
As a result, many people mocked Season 3 as utterly ridiculous and destined to fail.
What about me? I was too preoccupied with exam prep to think about anything.
In any case, contrary to people’s expectations, Season 3 becomes a massive hit.
Despite enormous controversy and criticism, it captures both buzz and viewership ratings, producing a male idol group that enters music charts with 80,000 listeners and sells 600,000 copies in initial sales.
So I decided to try auditioning for this program myself.
Today I went out to take the first step toward that goal.
“All done! I didn’t cut the sides too short, just as you ordered.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Finally, I looked like myself again. I gazed at my neatly trimmed hair in the Hair Salon mirror and thought so.
Whether from eating and sleeping well these past few days or something else, the hollow, depressed look that had clung to me had largely faded. Thanks to that, I could brush away the shaggy bangs and expose my forehead without issue.
Just then, an older woman sitting next to me getting a perm offered some flattery.
“Oh my, it suits you so well, student! You look so much brighter!”
I thanked her and paid in cash at the counter.
‘I was relieved when I checked my account at the bank—there was a decent amount of money in there.’
Looking at the transaction history, it appeared to be insurance money from my parents that I hadn’t touched, but I’d have to use some of it now.
‘…If I make money, maybe I’ll replenish the principal and donate it to a Child Welfare Organization.’
It felt bitter. After getting a family register copy and activating a new phone, I’d investigated various things, and it seemed Park Moon-dae’s suicide wasn’t an impulsive act.
He’d already moved out of his room (he barely recovered his deposit because rent was overdue) and canceled his phone.
And on his own birthday, no less.
He must have really wanted to die.
…Well, I understand. I felt the same way.
‘I hope you’re in a better place.’
I offered a brief moment of silence and finished my reflection. Then I immediately opened the Hair Salon door and stepped outside. Near noon, the sunlight pierced my eyes.
I still had much to do before achieving my purpose for going out.
‘Let me be clear about this first.’
I already knew everything about this program—its missions, the debuting members, the twists, even the theme song.
Of course, the details were a bit fuzzy from preparing for the failed exam, but it was still difficult to find a more suitable opportunity than this right now.
Just passing the second round would be enough to potentially catch the eye of some mid-sized entertainment agency, given how massive the program would become.
The only critical problem, however, was that the open auditions for this season’s participants had already ended.
However, I knew a few hints about the situation. I was planning to use them as much as possible.
My goal was to become a participant in that survival show—one whose recruitment auditions had already ended.
And I had to do it within a week.
Not at the Broadcasting Station, but at a Noraebang in this neighborhood.

* * *
-Idol Corporation? Ah, yeah. One of their writers there is completely insane.
This was nonsense some guy had spouted with a snicker at the photography club’s after-party.
He claimed to have heard it from a relative who worked at the Broadcasting Station, and he wasn’t the type I particularly cared for—the kind who spread rumors left and right.
-I heard they recruit participants at places like Noraebang. You know, near the Broadcasting Station… in Seong District? They say this writer goes around those Noraebang places recruiting ordinary people, and then got chewed out by the PD. A greenhorn with no experience getting cocky. Isn’t she completely clueless?
He continued to ramble heatedly and incoherently about recruitment even after that.
While drunk talk at gatherings was common enough, it was rare to find someone so tediously self-absorbed at a group after-party.
‘Who invited this bastard?’
‘Let’s never invite him again.’
‘Agreed.’
People exchanged glances in silent conversation.
Naturally, I didn’t believe this nonsense either. I was just focused on the free drinks.
But surprisingly, someone cross-verified the story.
-The ordinary person they recruited was Lee Go-yoon.
-…What?
Lee Go-yoon was a female idol who debuted in Season 1. She’d gained popularity with her fresh appearance, charming dialect, and bright, cheerful, quirky image.
Murmurs of admiration rippled through the group.
-Wow, she’s the one who debuted, right?
-Yeah.
-Oh… how did you know?
The senior from the Broadcasting and Journalism department, who was about to graduate, continued matter-of-factly.
-That ‘clueless girl’ is my older sister.
The guy’s words faltered instantly. Contempt tinged with curiosity was poured upon him from all around.
-…Ah, haha, I mean, that phrasing was…
-But she never got chewed out by the PD. She just got paid more.
-…
After that, the guy shut his mouth and sat quietly.
I was genuinely grateful—it made it easier to enjoy the drinks. I remember sipping beer and soju while listening to that senior tell the actual story of the recruitment.
In any case, it was an amusing situation that stuck in my memory.
When the survival show’s recruitment auditions didn’t fill all the spots with satisfactory candidates, they apparently spent about a week after the auditions checking out Noraebang near the Broadcasting Station.
-Wouldn’t it be better to recruit from those street Noraebang singers? It’s easier to scout them.
-Those places already have too many aspiring singers, so they actually avoid them. The reason they specifically want to recruit ordinary people is because they need fresh characters that don’t look like typical survival show participants.
It wasn’t about finding participants who were guaranteed to debut—it was about recruiting completely ordinary people to add entertainment value to the broadcast.
These days, all aspiring idols get trained by their agencies not to speak carelessly anyway.
In other words, these ordinary participants might end up being sacrificed for the sake of the show’s entertainment value.
‘Of course, that’s not what matters right now.’
What matters is that there’s a high probability the writer will continue using this method even in Season 3.
‘Once you’ve found success, it’s hard to let go.’
Perhaps because Season 2 flopped, the audition pool might actually be worse, so they’re working even harder.
So let me think about this objectively.
This Park Moon-dae’s body is gaunt, sure, but my face is decent enough, and my height is respectable.
Plus, my singing is decent too, so there’s definitely a chance they’ll at least give me a shot if we meet.
And besides….
‘I need to level up.’
I had to complete practice Achievements and invest in my stats. I need something exceptional to stand out and have any shot at being selected.
I grabbed the microphone and selected a song. Then I glanced back at the Noraebang door I’d entered through.
The door was made entirely of clear glass.
They probably wanted to give a bright, open feeling aimed at people in their teens and twenties, but it also made for an interior that was easy to see into from outside.
That’s why I chose this Noraebang.
The person I was waiting for was a writer who worked in broadcasting.
If they had to go out during such a busy time preparing the program just to scout ordinary people, they’d most likely come to a place near the Broadcasting Station that was easy to check out.
So right now, this Noraebang was the optimal choice.
Without hesitation, I pre-booked ten songs, then pressed the intro skip and started singing.

* * *
[Achievement Unlocked! 【10 Attempts】]
Level 1 -> 2
Gained 1 Point!
Not long after, I unlocked an Achievement. It was the Achievement for singing ten songs. Of course, I’d known it would be easy enough to unlock quickly.
This time too, I invested the point into Vocal Ability. So my C+ became B-.
Testing it out like before, I sang the same song once more, and this time the fundamental quality felt noticeably better.
My tone became deeper and my vocal volume increased. I guess this is how growth works when letter grades change.
At this rate, I could raise my abilities absurdly fast in the early stages, but right now I had something more pressing to focus on.
“Well, I’m someone like this.”
I couldn’t believe they’d bite so quickly.
I’d started a bit early based on my rough timing estimate, but this was an unexpected early score.
I accepted the business card the bespectacled woman was offering.
The woman looked tired, but she was deliberately using a bright voice.
She seemed to be trying to make a good impression on me, and apparently she’d succeeded in catching my interest as expected.
The name on the business card was exactly what I’d hoped for.
[Ryu Seo-rin]
That senior from the Broadcasting and Journalism department had the name ‘Ryu Seo-jin’.
‘Just looking at it, they’re clearly sisters.’
“What’s your name, student?”
“Park Moon-dae.”
“Your name has character too. Really, think about it seriously. You seem to have star quality, student. Our program is genuinely good at discovering people with that kind of presence.”
“…Thank you.”
I didn’t let my enthusiasm show. If I appeared too interested, it might look like I’d orchestrated this entire situation.
Most preliminary profiles would filter out the obvious opportunists, but I wanted to avoid anyone who’d deliberately aimed for this moment.
Perhaps my restrained approach worked—the woman continued speaking.
“You have a handsome face, student, and you sing well too. I really think you’d do wonderfully if you appeared on our program. …Hmm, would you like to come by today and film a test video?”
“Pardon?”
The woman pressed forward, as if determined to complete the verification in one go.
“Right then. Contact your parents. Tell them your son got cast for a broadcast, that he’s going to the Broadcasting Station—they’d be thrilled.”
“…I don’t have parents.”
The moment those words left my mouth, a small spark ignited in the eyes of this woman—presumably a writer.
She’d identified it as sensational material.
In survival shows, exploiting personal stories is essential. People curse the writers for “squeezing juice” from contestants, yet it only makes the content more compelling.
She wouldn’t want to miss out on something potentially useful.
But the writer quickly concealed that glimmer. Her tone softened, becoming sympathetic.
“Oh… I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”
“It’s fine.”
“Just think of it as visiting the Broadcasting Station for fun. It’s not every day you get an experience like this, you know~”
“…Right.”
Time to agree.
I hesitated deliberately, letting a moment pass, then slowly nodded. The woman’s face brightened noticeably.
“Great decision! The Broadcasting Station is right up ahead!”
I’d achieved my first objective.
The start had gone more smoothly than anticipated.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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