Debut or Die - Chapter 46

—————

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

—————

A Fatal Illness if I Don’t Debut – Episode 46
In truth, having Cha Yu-jin join wouldn’t completely ruin the viewing atmosphere.
However, if his team’s dynamics plummeted into hellfire appeared in Episode 9, it would certainly cast a heavy pall over everything.
Why invite unnecessary discomfort?
I picked up my smartphone and deliberated briefly, searching for an appropriately worded refusal.
That’s when Big Sae-jin interjected.
“What?”
“Oh, Kim Rae-bin’s asking if Cha Yu-jin can join.”
“Hmm… I think it’d be fine?”
Big Sae-jin let out a smirk.
“You really think the Production Team would air that team falling apart in Episode 9? That’s what the Episode 10 preview’s for!”
….
Wow, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
And he said it so bluntly too. Ever since the school violence controversy, some strange kind of trust seemed to have formed—people were speaking more openly now.
“Plus, we can build camaraderie this way~ Oh right, the homeowner’s opinion matters! What about Sun Ah-hyun?”
“I-I’m fine with it!”
“He says it’s cool!”
Sun Ah-hyun coolly assented and refocused on reading the board game rules.
His personality seemed to have changed too.
I never thought he’d readily invite a contestant he wasn’t even close with into his own home.
“Well… if that’s how it is.”
Might as well invite him then.
I reluctantly sent a reply message to Kim Rae-bin.

* * *
Kim Rae-bin and Cha Yu-jin arrived after lunch.
“Oh~ Welcome!”
Big Sae-jin greeted them cheerfully.
By the way, Gold 1 had also hurriedly joined them and was sitting in the Living Room, all because of Big Sae-jin’s remark that “since it’s come to this, I should call my older brother too.”
It was true that the picture looked strange if we didn’t call Gold 1 among the team members, but having Cha Yu-jin join in made the picture equally strange.
“Hello. Thank you for having me.”
Cha Yu-jin unexpectedly bowed his head respectfully, then held out a pay-per-use garbage bag he’d been carrying. By the way, everything inside the bag was snacks.
“I already ordered chicken, but if anyone wants to eat more, let’s order something else.”
“Yes.”
Kim Rae-bin nodded and sat quietly in the corner. So he wasn’t going to ask for anything else.
However, Cha Yu-jin asked with sparkling eyes.
“Then can we order pizza?”
“Of course!”
“Wow!”
Cha Yu-jin left only an exclamation and opened the delivery app. I thought his spirits would remain dampened, but he was still bright and cheerful on his own.
Kim Rae-bin calmly exchanged greetings.
“Did you all join this morning?”
“Oh, I did~ but Park Moon-dae came earlier.”
“Really?”
There was no real need to hide it, but it was a bit bothersome.
In any case, I couldn’t ignore it, so I explained the chaos that had unfolded at the One-room apartment. Sun Ah-hyun chimed in here and there to supplement the story.
It went like this.
“…So when I went past the Entrance door, there were other people there too.”
“Eek!”
“Ha, not just one person, but three more!”
“…Yeah, that’s right. So the police took some time to escort them away.”
“The, the officers were so half-hearted, acting like it was nothing… you, you went too far.”
“Yeah… I did go too far.”
As we repeated this process, the incident gradually became more exaggerated, transforming into something like an Internet fabrication rumor.
As a result, the participants who heard the full explanation clicked their tongues.
“Wow, you were lucky Sun Ah-hyun came over. That’s scary.”
“Right. Man… I’ve had people show up at my place before too, and I’m worried it might happen like that. I have a younger sibling at home too….”
“What, someone came to your place?”
“Yeah. I heard later that they kept ringing the doorbell and sitting outside, so my sibling couldn’t go out.”
“Ugh….”
Similar anecdotes poured out, mainly from people who lived alone or in the Agency’s Dormitory.
It was an eerie topic fitting for before watching the shocking and terrifying Ajusa broadcast.
By the time we were eating the chicken, the conversation had even moved on to stories about a friend’s idol acquaintance.
“…So when I went inside, there was a beeping sound from the shower room like ‘beep beep-‘….”
“This is insane.”
As I bit into the pizza that had just arrived, the TV finally started airing episode 8 of Ajusa as a rerun before the live broadcast of episode 9.
I watched episode 8 while adding occasional commentary. By the end, even Cha Yu-jin had settled into the vibe.
“You really weren’t disappointed about placing third?”
“I was disappointed, but it was good.”
“Hey, that’s cool.”
“Hehe.”
Cha Yu-jin chuckled at Gold 1’s exclamation. I was genuinely curious what kind of madness the Husky Team had pulled to completely deflate someone like that.
Only after the pizza box was completely empty did episode 9 finally begin.
[Idol Stock Company!]
The logo I was already growing tired of appeared, and the first segment was a talent show.
Here, the participants who took part managed to grab screen time fairly evenly.
Whether it was because the content was framed as healing-focused, or whether it was an attempt to gloss over hastily-produced, shoddy direction with warmth—I couldn’t say.
In any case, most people got humorous scenes that played up their characters well. Big Sae-jin was the prime example.
The problem was that my screen time… appeared as a joke and ended as a joke.
[In this moment… I dominate the stage!]
[Park Moon-dae, is he truly devoted to trot?]
They slapped these ridiculous subtitles on while I was singing.
They made it deliberately cringeworthy, clearly signaling the audience to laugh.
And everyone laughed quite well.
“Kekekeke!!”
“Pfft….”
“You look like you have such good character. Congratulations, Moon-dae!”
The last one was Big Sae-jin. I silently smacked his back as he was drinking carbonated water.
“Cough.”
He should have just laughed instead.
My screen time didn’t end there.
After the scene where participants climbed out of the kimchi refrigerator and the place became a frenzy of excitement, they even inserted an interview like they were stamping a seal on it.
[Q: Do you like trot?]
[Park Moon-dae: Yes.]
A cut of me giving an immediate answer and showing a thumbs up was inserted.
‘That’s the interview where they asked if I liked the team.’
What kind of fabrication are these lunatics doing every single episode?
The subtitles were driving the nail in even further.
[Trot Lover Park Moon-dae, enjoy happiness with your kimchi refrigerator!]
I haven’t even received the kimchi refrigerator yet, you bastards.
What’s even more infuriating is that my screen time in episode 9 ends right there.
‘They gave me nothing but useless fluff.’
If this had been early on, I would have been grateful for positive screen time. But not now.
With the final team competition approaching, this kind of editing wasn’t particularly beneficial.
There were few phrases more fatal to a survival finals ticket than “doesn’t seem desperate enough.”
And honestly, Park Moon-dae hadn’t seemed particularly desperate on the broadcast so far.
If anything, there were more funny moments than scenes that looked earnest—I think that explains it well enough.
So I did put in more effort during this team competition, but if this tendency continues, I doubt “desperation” will get much spotlight.
‘There’s nothing I can do about it.’
I never came here determined to debut in the finals anyway. I haven’t shown enough to aim for that kind of cut, and the timing to be picked has pretty much passed.
I didn’t have some tragic backstory that would let fans create and share a desperate image of me on their own.
‘It’s kind of funny, actually.’
The truth is, I’m probably the most desperate person here. I’m probably the only one who’ll die if I don’t debut.
‘I should prepare myself mentally.’
If my ranking suddenly plummets in the final episode and I get eliminated, so be it. Whoever picks me up, I can debut soon enough.
I smacked my lips. Somehow… I felt a bit regretful.
‘If I’m going to be active anyway, it would’ve been better to do it with more comfortable people.’
Probably more than half the people here will debut. The thought that I might not make the cut gave me a strange sense of defeat.
Compared to when we first started filming, I felt like I’d changed quite a bit.
But there was no time to indulge in sentimentality.
Surprisingly, the Production Team had included the entire collapse of the Husky Team at the end of episode 9.
[Choi Won-gil: So hyung, you can do at least this much, right?]
[Lee Sae-jin: Being able to do something and wanting to do it are completely different things, aren’t they?]
[Choi Won-gil: This is the moment you need to prove your skills, hyung. If you think about it carefully…]
[Ki Jung-gyun: Since you’re saying it like that, why not give it a try? Don’t regret it later.]
[Lee Sae-jin: …Stop it.]
The broadcast held a shot of Lee Sae-jin’s face rotting away for several long seconds after that exchange.
Then, with emotions completely hurt, they appeared again, staring at each other like they were about to throw punches, exchanging brief words.
It was clear they were holding back out of awareness of the camera.
It happened right when Ryu Chung-woo went to submit the song selection to the Production Team, so there was no one to mediate.
[Cha Yu-jin: …]
For reference, Cha Yu-jin tried to interject once but was completely ignored as if he’d never spoken.
I figured it was because his comment didn’t fit the mood.
“…”
Cha Yu-jin watched the screen with a depressed expression, then promptly buried his face in his cup and started drinking soda.
From my perspective, it seemed like he actually got through it without getting criticized, but apparently he saw it differently.
[Ryu Chung-woo: …What happened?]
Episode 9 ended with Ryu Chung-woo returning and being shocked at the completely destroyed team atmosphere.
[A desperate situation—did they manage to complete the stage safely?]
“Ah, they completed it~ Right?”
“Yeah. They did well.”
Big Sae-jin jumped in appropriately to lighten the mood. I’m not sure why he specifically prompted a response from me, but I gave an adequate nod.
Cha Yu-jin barely lifted his face from the soda and laughed.
He seems to be getting addicted to that sugar high, doesn’t he?
‘…Could it be my fault?’
I quickly banished the ominous thought.
On screen, what masqueraded as a mid-broadcast advertisement was actually the final ad segment.
Glancing at the time, after the commercial break there would likely be a brief preview or behind-the-scenes clip before the broadcast ended.
“They only showed the preparation process today.”
“Right? We barely got any screen time.”
The 【Moon Rabbit】 Team had only been shown briefly during the initial formation and had virtually no other footage.
The Production Team could adjust the order arbitrarily, but still—since this was our first performance, I’d held onto some hope we’d at least appear at the end of episode 9. I never imagined they wouldn’t schedule our stage at all.
‘Won’t this hurt the viewership ratings?’
As I sat there puzzled, the mid-broadcast advertisement ended and the Idol Stock Company logo appeared on screen again.
The MC appeared on camera.
“…This doesn’t feel right.”
“You too? Yeah, me neither.”
Since the MC appearing alone on broadcast never meant anything good, the participants reflexively tensed and swallowed hard.
[Idol Stock Company, did you enjoy watching today?]
“No.”
“No.”
Weak denials came from various corners. It was a small act of rebellion impossible during filming.
[The announcement I have for you today is… the current stock status up to this point!]
“What?”
“Hmm, I don’t think they’ll reveal it that easily. Probably just a few specific rankings won’t be….”
[However, we will only announce the ‘sold-off stocks’! Shareholders, which stocks did you sell the most of?]
“Good grief.”
Kim Rae-bin sighed. With good reason.
‘What kind of insane person came up with the idea of only revealing negative voting numbers?’
Since I already knew the major backlash roughly, I’d thought most things wouldn’t surprise me much.
‘But I never expected a twist like this.’
The audacity of not including any performances in this episode clearly stemmed from this.
[Now then, let me reveal the sell-off rankings!]
With the MC’s words, a ranked list marked with minus signs scrolled across the screen.
And the Living Room fell into silence.

—————

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

—————