Debut or Die - Chapter 9

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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 9
For the theme song stage, participants were arranged in a fan formation centered around Platinum-tier groups. Naturally, the higher the tier, the closer to the front and center they stood.
Beyond that, the only tier privilege was that only Platinum groups could perform certain parts.
However, since being caught on camera even once could shift the early rankings, everyone seemed acutely aware of their tier.
Moreover, the production staff and trainers spoke and moved as though tier held tremendous significance, making it easy for the younger participants to get swept up in it.
What I mean is, the moment someone received a Platinum badge, the number of participants approaching them increased fivefold.
I felt a hint of disillusionment witnessing such blatant social hierarchy—something I’d never experienced even in high school.
To think they’d deliberately cultivate this atmosphere… what else might these wonderfully principled producers do next?
Fortunately, even these ruthless producers had some directorial sense. Among the Platinum-tier participants, those with Dance ratings of A or higher were positioned further forward in the formation during the opening timing and dance break.
And those with relatively weaker dance skills were subtly pushed back. Well, naturally, I fell into this category.
My position during the dance break was slightly behind even the Gold-tier participants. I could see Sun Ah-hyun and Lee Sae-jin (Gold) right beside me.
Now that I thought about it, the child actress Lee Sae-jin had received Silver. Based on the general flow, I suspected she might actually be the one debuting instead.
“Aren’t you disappointed?”
So I ended up glossing over Lee Sae-jin’s (Gold) attempt at friendliness. My guard lowered slightly, thinking I’d moved past suspicion.
“Not really.”
I answered flatly. She was probably referring to my less-than-ideal stage position despite being Platinum-tier.
“Wow, I think I would’ve been really disappointed.”
“You’d have reason to be.”
“Huh? Why do you think that?”
“Because you dance well.”
Lee Sae-jin’s dance rating was A-. Her vocal was C+, and if she hadn’t gone off-pitch on the high notes, she might’ve taken my Platinum spot instead.
“Oh, thank you!”
In any case, Lee Sae-jin seemed pleased and broke into a bright smile.
Then, abruptly, another voice cut through.
“You can’t dance?”
It was a Platinum-tier participant standing front and center. His vacant expression held no particular malice.
The problem was that this was the same person who’d ranked first in the initial evaluation. And as far as I knew, he’d also finished as the final first-place.
His name was Cha Yu-jin. I’d seen his face several times on the TV at the baekban restaurant in Gosi Village where I used to go.
Yet he turned out to be an unexpectedly strange character.
The microphone was on and cameras were rolling, and he asked something like that?
To think someone with such a blunt personality managed to rank first.
Of course, judging by the Status Window and his performance evaluations, he was clearly outstanding.
Still, the broadcast editing likely favored him too. Better not get entangled in this kind of material.
So I deliberately let out a small laugh.
“Didn’t you see my evaluation?”
Then his expression became sheepish. Apparently, he was the type to feel a pang of conscience in situations like this.
“We have to prepare our own stage. So I didn’t watch it carefully.”
“Then judge after you watch it next time.”
“Understood.”
Cha Yu-jin nodded and turned his gaze forward. Lee Sae-jin laughed with a bewildered expression.
“Must be because she’s from abroad—her speech pattern is quite unique, isn’t it?”
“Right.”
Lee Sae-jin seemed conscious of the camera too, so the conversation didn’t go any further.
Instead, I glanced toward the staff outside the stage. It looked like they were wrapping up over there soon.
“Rehearsal starting!”
A staff member shouted. So the setup really was finished.
I suppressed a sigh.
Waiting around on the street while gathering equipment was already exhausting, but now I’d have to do this myself.
The current time was 6 AM.
And the main stage recording was at 4 PM.
It felt like it would be a grueling ordeal.

* * *
And now, 8 PM.
The main recording had wrapped.
“Thank you for your hard work~!”
Just as I’d anticipated… it was nothing short of brutal.
“Haa….”
“Ah… I’m dying.”
Participants groaned from beside me, collapsing onto the floor one after another. Everyone was drenched in sweat.
My condition wasn’t much different, but the participants who’d collapsed first were already filling the floor, leaving no space to sit.
It was ridiculous.
‘My stamina is completely depleted.’
First, I’d done rehearsals all morning until I was utterly exhausted. Only then did we get a brief rest and lunch break.
The meal was just kimbap wrapped in foil—apparently they hadn’t secured any product placement deals yet.
After eating hastily, stylists and their crew came flooding into the Filming Studio.
-Ah, there’s really nowhere to set up~
-Bow your head this way!
-I’ll be quick.
They mechanically applied makeup and styled hair for the participants while complaining about the poor conditions in the makeshift Waiting Room.
Honestly, there wasn’t much dramatic transformation for anyone, but at least we looked presentable enough for broadcast.
After that, we changed into broadcast uniforms.
Around this time, a camera came toward me.
-Do you like the outfit?
-…Yes.
Would anyone actually say no here?
-What do you like about it?
-Well, the design bridges military uniforms and school uniforms, so it seems like it could pull off various concepts.
With all seventy-seven of us in identical clothing, it felt somewhat creepy—like we’d regressed to a herd—but I couldn’t say that.
The moment I finished speaking, other participants around me started chiming in.
-I really like being able to match various accessories~
-Oh! The badges look great with it too!
Even though appearing here would only amount to a fleeting shot or two, everyone was genuinely passionate about it.
And then came the main filming.
Honestly, I couldn’t tell how the editing would turn out here.
-Let’s go again~
-Ugh….
Dancing in a sweltering heat that felt like I’d catch heat stroke thirty times over, surrounded by crowds of people—I had no mental capacity to worry about such things.
I seemed to have heard praise and criticism alike, even motivational remarks aimed at inspiring emotion, but everything felt mushy in my head.
Honestly, my memory was hazy. I had no idea which of the thirty takes the production crew would use.
I tried to regain my composure and listened to what the PD was saying.
“Everyone, you’ve all worked incredibly hard…,”
The main PD, who’d appeared quietly near the end of the main stage, seemed to be spouting empty platitudes at first, but thankfully, after a few more words, he revealed some useful information.
“…and this stage will air on Music Bomb next Friday. You’ll start filming again the day after that. Rest well until then, but you absolutely must not forget that this is an enormous opportunity for you. You need to seize this chance.”
Anyone watching would think participants could seize opportunities if they just worked hard enough.
The participants responded enthusiastically to the PD’s words—words from someone who could reshape opportunities however he desired.
“Let’s give it everything we’ve got.”
“Yes!!”
“Then I’ll see you next week. Great work~”
“Thank you for your hard work!”
Everyone squeezed out their remaining strength to cheer and applaud. I clapped too. My hands were trembling.
….
Until the Music Bomb monitoring next week, I needed to build up my stamina first.

* * *
A week slipped away in the blink of an eye.
My plan to build stamina succeeded only halfway. Right after the first shoot wrapped, I suddenly spiked a fever and spent three days in bed taking medicine.
Park Moon-dae’s body simply couldn’t endure weeks of grueling labor.
In any case, after shaking it off in three days, I aggressively increased my food intake. Now I’m combining dance practice with strength training.
The fact that I’m holding dumbbells even while watching Music Bomb right now shows just how dedicated I’ve become.
So I’d call that half a success, at least.
[Siwon, did you enjoy SoulWe’s stage with that exhilarating EDM?]
[Of course! Siwon’s so excited her heart feels completely refreshed~!]
[Are you joking right now? Ooh~]
[Ooh~]
A pair of idols on screen hosted the segment with cheerful energy.
They seemed to be reading the teleprompter intently, yet they delivered the cringingly awkward script with considerable panache.
Even with their hectic schedules, they were making time and effort.
[Siwon! Now for the next stage—no jokes this time. Shall we introduce it?]
[Yes. Have you heard the news, Yunji?]
[What news is that?]
[The news everyone’s been eagerly waiting for! That’s right~ 【Idol Corporation】 has relaunched!]
[Wow!]
It’s about to start. I set down the dumbbells and picked up my smartphone, opening the page I’d already loaded.
It was a viewer discussion board created by a major portal site—the best place to gauge general internet reactions.
Since no major artists were making comebacks at the moment, the page was filled with talk about Idol Corporation.
[‘Music Bomb’ talk talk!]
-Relaunched lolol is this real?
-These people are out of their minds
-Wow Idol Corporation Season 3!
-lolol no it’s not a relaunch it’s a delisting
-What? Why’s it suddenly like this here?
└Ajusa made a new season lol
└Ah…
-Am I the only one who came for the comments instead of watching the boring stage?
Right. The reactions were exactly as expected.
With each refresh, a fresh wave of mockery poured in. It seemed like more newcomers had flooded in than the usual Music Bomb viewers.
And summarizing those reactions, Season 3 was an overreach and was certain to fail. Because Season 2 had imploded so spectacularly and grandly, the perception that the entire series was a doomed show had become firmly entrenched.
Sure enough, mockery referencing Season 2 stood out.
-Will the guys blow up this time? Going bigger for Korea?lol
└Since same-sex marriage isn’t legal in Korea, there’s no way to surpass Season 2’s legacy^^lololol
└Ffs lolol
This was the main reason Season 2 imploded. They’d mixed men and women for participants and proceeded as a co-ed idol audition.
Even thinking back on it now, it was a bizarre concept.
I wonder what possessed the production team to make this choice.
If they’d followed the standard formula and made Season 2 a male version, or even just run another female season, we wouldn’t be in this mess.
And what mess is that, you ask?
-Who knows~ Maybe another scandal about premarital pregnancy will become a legend in idol audition history
Lol, getting trolled two seasons in a row!
└Easy to laugh about now, but that was genuinely traumatic back then. Why did those crazy bastards show up on an audition program and piss off innocent viewers like that
└Yikes, that escalated fast;
└Looks like someone got way too invested in variety TV~
└Nah it’s not variety, it’s an audition that burns through money~
In the meantime, when I think about how Ajusa desperately tried to tie it all together as the romance of the century, I still get chills.
Yes, a premarital pregnancy scandal had erupted.
In an industry where even dating is fatal, a premarital pregnancy was catastrophic.
And it happened between participants themselves.
The bigger problem was that the two participants involved in the scandal were the popular contestants driving Season 2’s viewership.
The production team apparently decided that since it was a coed group anyway, it would be better to milk the controversy for ratings rather than eliminate them outright, then quietly phase them out.
That’s why they went to such lengths to edit their remaining broadcast segments like a romance reality show.
But that wasn’t the end of it.
-A two-timing premarital pregnancy? That guy was truly one of a kind crazy.
Ajusa is truly legendary… No wait, not Ajusa, but Mangajusa lol
The male participant involved in the premarital pregnancy scandal was actually dating another female participant at the same time.
That female participant had planned to overlook it for the sake of her career, but after seeing the romantic broadcast footage, she lost it and leaked their messenger conversations to the press.
What happened after that was… brutal.
Portal search rankings, entertainment news pages, SNS—everything exploded.
Suffice it to say, Ajusa Season 2 never made it to the finals and ended early.
And as long as this mega-scandal remains seared into viewers’ minds, there’s no way to escape ridicule no matter what they do in the early broadcast period.
I set aside my thoughts and refocused on the screen.
In stark contrast to the chaotic comment section, the Music Bomb MCs were still smiling brightly.
[Idol stocks waiting for shareholder investment!]
[Shine your star!]
And here came that famous catchphrase.
[Invest in idols taking flight right now!]
The comment refresh rate suddenly tripled.
-Fly high, stock of dreams… Fantasy skyrocket… ↖Take… flight↗
This was another internet meme that had been popular once. It seemed to be used frequently when a contestant expected to do well got ruined by bad editing.
Among these comments flooding in at near-spam levels, a few laments slipped through.
-Are they really using this again.
-Who came up with this phrase, seriously such bad taste.
-Looks like some out-of-touch old guy tried to be hip and failed.
-You crazy broadcasting bastards, don’t let Siwony say lines like that.
I let out a quiet laugh.
“Well, at least they’re watching.”
Even if it’s just to criticize.
It was infinitely better than indifference. This early viewership would undoubtedly contribute to the initial buzz. I already knew from experience that Season 3 would be a massive success.
Most of them would eventually reach the finals and, to use Ajusa’s terminology, end up rooting for whoever’s stock they’d picked while crying.
But that wouldn’t happen from the first performance.
I was genuinely curious what kind of reaction would come next.
As the MC finished speaking, the TV screen cut to the stage a few seconds later.
Young-rin stood on the stage. A pinpoint spotlight carved dramatic shadows across her sharply defined face.
Hmm, Idol Corporation had originally positioned itself as a B-grade style overflowing with black comedy and memes—humorous and irreverent—but it seemed they’d attempted a slight image makeover after becoming such a meme that it got criticized relentlessly.
They were going for solemnity.
[Shareholders! Do you remember the delisting?]
“…?”
My prediction shattered the moment Young-rin opened her mouth.
[I turned your stocks into worthless scraps of paper… I’m truly sorry!!]
A large caption appeared before Young-rin, whose ringing vocal tone was on full display.
[※This apology is from the production team. Young-rin is not at fault.※]
[※We are currently receiving damage claims on our website.※]
“….”
Are they serious?

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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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