I’m Debuting With The Bias I Killed - Chapter 54

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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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Episode 54
“The next… step?”
All four of them blinked simultaneously. They’d only been looking at the lyrics sheet for less than ten minutes—was he really talking about moving on already?
“Yeah. We need to settle the parts.”
Yu Seong-woo himself felt no such confusion. From the moment the team was formed, he’d already had the picture in his head.
As for Kang I-yul, he’d already figured out to some degree who would suit which part.
The lyrics he’d just received were the final piece completing that puzzle.
“Here, look.”
Yu Seong-woo unfolded the paper.
“I’ve put together a first draft of how the lyrics should connect.”
The team members leaned in over the paper, skeptical.
But their expressions shifted within moments.
“…What is this, hyung?”
“It… it connects like this?”
“Wait a second.”
Song Woo-ju alternated his gaze between the paper and Yu Seong-woo, disbelief written across his face.
“Hyung, it was this good?”
Yu Seong-woo let out a quiet laugh.
“Yep. I’m not hiding it anymore.”
“You were hiding it until now?”
“But why this time…”
Yu Seong-woo shrugged as if it were obvious.
“Because we need to place first, right?”
Though he’d said it lightly, the work in his hands was no joking matter.
Scattered sentences had woven together into a single narrative. It was so seamless that it was hard to tell who’d written what.
“This is incredible, seriously…”
Even when things look scattered at first, connections emerge once you gather them together. This was a method Yu Seong-woo had used often in his producing work.
And since they’d written on the same theme, it was much simpler.
“Of course, we’re not done yet.”
Yu Seong-woo tapped the lyrics sheet with the tip of his pen.
“We still need to match the syllable count to the melody. But the overall flow will go like this. What do you think?”
They could only nod, mesmerized by the irrefutable result. The part distribution flowed naturally as well.
Then Kang I-yul carefully raised his hand.
“So… mine is the opening?”
Despite his attempt to hide it, burden colored his voice.
“Yeah!”
Yu Seong-woo nodded without hesitation.
“Your lyrics fit best in the first verse.”
“But still, the first verse is…”
Kang I-yul’s lips trembled slightly.
“That’s the most important part.”
“Yeah!”
Yu Seong-woo nodded again.
“That’s exactly why I’m giving it to you.”
At that firm declaration, Kang I-yul had nothing left to say.
“Good. Now let’s refine the lyrics and start practicing!”
One-on-one corrections began immediately.
“I-yul.”
Yu Seong-woo pointed directly to one line of lyrics.
“When you pronounce certain sounds, your voice particularly shines, you know?”
“There’s a difference like that?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you notice? Let’s change this part like this.”
Kang I-yul sang the original lyrics and the revised version alternately.
It was true. Same melody, but the sound flowed so much more naturally.
His eyes widened slightly.
“I didn’t know that before.”
As he looked up with startled eyes, Yu Seong-woo simply nodded as if it were nothing, though secretly he felt an endless sense of satisfaction.
“The shape of your mouth when you sing, the position of your tongue—the sound changes dramatically depending on those things.”
Kang I-yul nodded, hanging on every word as if afraid to miss anything.
This was different from any lesson he’d received before. This wasn’t textbook explanation—it was an explanation tailored to him alone.
“When did you even start observing all this?”
Yu Seong-woo’s expression stilled for just a moment.
When did I.
I’ve been watching countless stages of yours, ones you don’t even know about yet.
The answer was simple.
Because I’m a fan of yours—
But Yu Seong-woo swallowed those words instead.
“I like voices like yours.”
Instead, he flipped the Lyrics Sheet over with feigned indifference.
“My voice?”
“Yeah!”
Kang I-yul didn’t press further.
“Alright, let’s try it from the beginning again.”
But just before starting to sing, he laughed softly to himself.
* * *
While revising the lyrics, the corners of my mouth kept rising.
‘I’m actually doing this……’
These were things I’d always wanted to try if I ever got to produce Impacter. And now I was doing them, one by one.
Before the regression, I was always frustrated.
‘Why are they making Kang I-yul sing songs like that.’
Kang I-yul’s strengths were unmistakably clear.
The way his pronunciation rolled in rounded syllables, the way breath mixed subtly through his voice, the minute differences between his everyday speech and his singing tone.
There was so much to work with, yet the company never made proper use of it.
‘Legacy mistakes, all of it.’
But things were different now.
“Would it work if I sang it like this?”
My I-yul was a prodigy who could produce ten different variations from a single instruction.
Watching him execute requests on the spot like that—how could I not be impressed!
“Hold on.”
I pressed my forehead without thinking.
Kang I-yul asked, his face tensing with concern.
“Should I try singing it differently?”
“No!”
I waved my hand hastily.
“It’s too perfect.”
“……What?”
“You’re a genius, aren’t you?”
A moment of silence fell between us.
Kang I-yul only blinked his eyes.
“I’ve only just finished the first verse, though.”
‘I’m done for.’
My true feelings had tumbled right out.
“……I tend to give a lot of praise when I’m producing, you know.”
It was an absurd lie. In all my years working, I’d never once given even a token compliment—there were even rumors that I was a producer who picked fights with singers.
But.
‘If everyone else had been like Kang I-yul, I would’ve praised them too.’
So really, it wasn’t my fault.
“Hyung,”
Kang I-yul opened his mouth carefully.
“What if I sang this part like this?”
My eyes widened in an instant.
“You…….”
I looked back down at the Lyrics Sheet.
The melodic flow stayed the same, but by shifting where he cut off a single word, the emotion became far more vivid.
“You really are a genius?”
“Come on, please stop joking around.”
His face was serious, but his fingers were fidgeting with the edge of the Lyrics Sheet anyway.
“You really do seem like a genius…… I-yul, this isn’t easy.”
I spoke carefully, holding back a surge of emotion.
“You found a better way.”
Producers often speak of a “model collaborator.”
The kind of person who takes one instruction and brings back ten ideas.
That was Kang I-yul exactly.
Or rather, he was the type to bring back twelve.
“That’s all?”
Still wearing that skeptical expression.
“That’s exactly all.”
“……Then, what about something like this?”
Praise makes the whale sing—no, it makes Kang I-yul sing.
Another idea had surfaced.
I finally had to clamp my mouth shut.
‘I’m going to lose it.’
I could barely contain my giddiness just doing this makeshift producing, but what would happen later when I actually took on a real Impacter album?
Is this how parents feel, clapping every time their newborn flips over? Or is this any different from watching a baby who could barely babble suddenly stand up and walk?
‘Just… in a moment he’ll be running. He’ll definitely be running.’
“Why didn’t I think of this?”
I laughed as I spoke.
“You’re top of the class in Korean, aren’t you?”
“……I dropped out, so I wouldn’t know.”
“Ah…….”
‘How could I forget something like that!’
At his second company, Kang I-yul had staked everything to join the debut team. Dropping out had been a natural consequence.
I rushed to continue.
“Maybe it’s because you read a lot.”
“……?”
I felt cold sweat trickling down my skin.
“Your sense for picking words is really sharp.”
“You find expressions that fit the melody better, even when they mean the same thing.”
I paused a beat and added seriously.
“You’re good at writing lyrics.”
Kang I-yul started to bow out of habit, then stopped himself.
It seemed he’d remembered what I’d said earlier.
“Thank you.”
That sight made me smile despite myself.
“Hey!”
Just then, Kwon Ki-hyun threw up his hand.
“When do we get our turn?”
“Oh, yeah. Right. Let’s go!”
Thanks to that, the atmosphere shifted naturally.
I-yul went back to his spot with the lyrics sheet crammed with notes.
I started going through the rest of the members one by one.
“There—too much vibrato in that section. Try singing it a bit plainer.”
“Got it!”
“Eun-gyu, try changing it so you take a breath right before that high note comes in.”
“It’s not easy, but……I’ll give it a shot.”
“Woo-ju, your power’s good, but it sounds too grave. It doesn’t match the song’s mood, so dial it back a little.”
After several rounds of corrections, Song Woo-ju pouted.
“Hey.”
“Hmm?”
“Can’t you say something nice too?”
Knowing he wasn’t the type to complain easily, I felt a flicker of guilt.
It’s hard to shed a habit that’s sunk into your bones in a single moment.
“Alright. Try again.”
Song Woo-ju sang again, his face bright with anticipation.
I listened all the way through and nodded.
“Good.”
Song Woo-ju’s eyes gleamed for a moment as he waited.
And then.
“……That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
“What about the praise?”
“Liking it is the praise.”
Song Woo-ju exhaled a sigh, his face deflating.
‘Harsh,’ I thought.
That was the look in his eyes—but there was nothing I could do about it.
This was simply how I worked.
* * *
On the way back to the Dormitory after rehearsal, the dawn air bit with real teeth.
When the Survival Show had begun, it was the heavy height of summer; now autumn had slipped nearly into winter.
But what truly marked the passage of time was something else entirely.
“You’ve got it easy, don’t you?”
“Huh?”
“You have one clear strength.”
The unexpected compliment left my mind stumbling.
‘Why would he envy me?’
“Me?”
“Producing.”
Kang I-yul spoke without inflection.
“Nobody does it like you do.”
“Come on.”
I waved a hand dismissively.
“Everything else falls to pieces.”
“Your choreography’s gotten good too.”
“Are you making fun of me now?”
I bumped his shoulder playfully, and I-yul let out a small laugh.
“It was strange today.”
“What was?”
“That my story could become lyrics… I didn’t think it would.”
I-yul stopped walking and tilted his head back toward the sky.
“I didn’t think it was the kind of story that deserved it.”
He was truly harsh with no one but himself.
I quietly pulled up a song on a streaming platform.
[I hate mosquitoes—buzz
Swat the mosquitoes away—buzz
Let’s get a fly swatter—whoosh]
A mournful melody echoing through the empty dawn road.
“…Sorry?”
That single short syllable carried bewilderment in every fiber.
I held up my mobile phone.
“See? Even mosquitoes can become lyrics.”
“……”
“There’s no story that can’t become lyrics.”
And here I was, spouting something so convincing with that ridiculous mosquito buzz humming in the background.
“So.”
I laughed as I pocketed my phone.
“Don’t envy me.”
“……”
“People would call it fraud if they heard you talk like that.”
“But it’s the truth.”
Kang I-yul lowered his gaze.
“I don’t even have a position that can’t be replaced……”
I stopped mid-stride.
‘What nonsense is this?’
I stared at Kang I-yul in disbelief.
“Why wouldn’t you have one?”
I-yul turned the question back on me.
“What do you think it is?”
I answered as if it were obvious.
“Your voice.”
“The detail in your choreography.”
“Your line.”
“The way you convey emotion when you sing.”
“Your face.”
With each point I enumerated, Kang I-yul’s eyes grew a little wider.
“And.”
I let out a quiet laugh.
“You’re Kang I-yul.”
“Huh?”
A brief silence fell between us. Kang I-yul’s expression showed utter bewilderment.
“There are plenty of talented vocalists. Plenty of people who dance well.”
“But.”
I smiled softly.
“There’s no one else like Kang I-yul.”
The dawn breeze swept past us.
I turned away, suddenly self-conscious.
‘You’re the only singer I’ve chosen.’
Instead, I stepped ahead with a light smile.
“Someday you’ll understand.”
“Understand what?”
“That people will seek you out after hearing your voice.”
“That they’ll travel for hours just to see one of your performances.”
There was no answer from behind me.
We walked a little further.
The sound of footsteps drew near again.
Kang I-yul, now walking beside me, murmured very softly.
“……I wish that were true.”
‘Not “wish”—’
It will happen. Inevitably.
Because I already knew that future.
I Killed My Bias and We’re Debuting (Ongoing Serialization)
Author │ Yushuu
Publisher │ Kim Ju-hyung
Published by │ J Plus Media Co., Ltd.
Marketing │ Han Jae-hyuk
Address │ 401, 11 Digital-ro 33-gil, Guro-gu, Seoul (Guro-dong, AcesTechnoTower 8th)
Email │ [email protected]
Website │ www.jayplemedia.com
ⓒ Yushuu 2026
※This work is published by J Plus Media Co., Ltd. under contract with the copyright holder. The content may not be used in any form or by any means without permission from the publisher and author.
Violation of this restriction may result in criminal and civil legal liability.

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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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