I’m Debuting With The Bias I Killed - Chapter 8

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

Episode 8
Kang I-yul had begun to find Yu Seong-woo fascinating rather than cumbersome.
He was slow, sure enough, but remarkably, he kept up with everything.
And somehow, he always nailed the finish.
“Hey, um…”
Yu Seong-woo hesitated before speaking.
“Would it be okay if I watched you practice from behind and copied you?”
‘What difference does watching from behind make?’
Still, a debt was a debt. Might as well repay it properly and be done with it.
“Sure.”
“Great!”
But something felt off.
Yu Seong-woo didn’t position himself directly behind him.
One step. Then another.
He was measuring his stride, choosing his spot with careful deliberation.
Kang I-yul could read it in a heartbeat.
‘He’s angling for the camera.’
Yu Seong-woo wasn’t dull. The moment he’d become a trainee, he’d jumped into a survival show, and he’d already made a good impression. That alone proved it.
More tellingly, Kang I-yul had seen it—those sharp eyes quickly checking the camera position.
That was no accident.
‘Clever bastard.’
But in this business, that wasn’t a flaw.
‘That’s how you survive.’
That was when it happened.
Just as Kang I-yul was about to step forward, Yu Seong-woo caught his arm.
“What?”
“You went too far. Can you step back just one step?”
“…Sorry?”
Just one footstep’s difference—how was that going too far?
“Sorry, I just… my eyesight’s not great.”
That was bullshit. Kang I-yul’s eyes narrowed.
The same guy who’d just checked the camera position so deftly?
‘Could it be…?’
Kang I-yul quickly scanned the room. One camera was pointed squarely at them.
‘Whoa.’
He stepped back immediately.
One step. That single step changed the frame entirely.
His instinct, honed through years as a trainee, was telling him something loud and clear.
Listen to what this guy says.
* * *
The composition where both of us fit naturally into a single frame—it was the position I’d chosen after sneaking out under the pretense of using the restroom and checking the footage myself.
The music began again.
Kang I-yul repeated the Dance Choreography in front of the mirror. Even after dancing it dozens of times already, his movements overflowed with freshness.
I followed from behind.
My toes, my waist, my shoulders, the angle of my hands—my body followed his movements naturally. That was the second reason I’d deliberately asked him about the choreography even though I already knew it.
I’d practiced this choreography thousands of times over. Since I’d never formally learned to dance, I’d picked up the moves by watching and rewatching his Signal Song fancam again and again.
So while it was embarrassing to call it “clean lines,” all my movements mirrored his effortlessly.
But it had been quite a while since I’d destroyed that account, so I had to drill it all again. The music would end and start over immediately, then end and start once more.
Sweat poured down my face, and my thighs burned—but I didn’t stop.
Every time I thought I couldn’t go on, I’d look at Kang I-yul’s cast. And I’d remember that last moment, the one I never wanted to recall.
I had to survive, and I had to save him.
I don’t know how much time had passed before the Practice Room fell silent. Everyone else must have gone to dinner—it was just the two of us. Though the camera still kept rolling, of course.
“Haa…”
I collapsed to the floor where I was. My breathing came in ragged, torn gasps. It wasn’t just my lungs—my whole body felt like it was expelling hot air.
Kang I-yul, meanwhile, was still in front of the mirror.
Not even a full day had passed, but his movements were already perfected. That was the fruit of his long years as a trainee. Starting as a trainee in elementary school, Kang I-yul was known as someone from a major entertainment company, after all.
Watching him, I understood something.
‘This won’t be enough.’
Right now, I ‘know’ the choreography. But knowing it isn’t enough. Time is limited, and opportunity comes only once.
The mission songs coming up won’t be choreography I’ve already memorized like the Signal Song. When opportunities like this are given, I have to make a real impression.
The competition won’t wait for me.
Of course, practicing all day had slowly made me better. The more I moved, the more my body seemed to remember the past.
So what I needed now was—
‘Time.’
More of it than anyone else. Time to stumble, correct, and carve the movements back into my muscles.
The moment my thoughts clarified, the status window began to shimmer.
[SP 235]
I stared at the number for a moment, then slowly opened my mouth.
“That’s it.”
Now I understood. Why the item wouldn’t manifest last night, no matter how hard I tried.
Back then, I’d been vague about it. I wanted anything that might help, but I hadn’t even known what I actually needed.
But now—that was different.
“I need to use the Restroom for a second.”
I muttered it under my breath and slipped naturally out of the Practice Room.
The Restroom was the only place without cameras. I locked the door just to be safe.
‘Can’t be too careful.’
Standing in front of the sink, I took slow, measured breaths.
My whole body throbbed. Every muscle screamed, and my feet burned like fire.
But what I needed now was clear.
“Item Creation.”
The status window appeared.
▶Item Name: _______
▶Effect: _______
This time I didn’t hesitate.
Simple, clear, an item whose effect was obvious from its name alone.
“Hourglass That Turns Back Time.”
A moment of silence. Nothing happened.
‘Failed again.’
Then.
My palm grew warm. A faint light began gathering at my fingertips.
The light slowly took shape. Transparent glass, and inside it fine sand trickling down slowly. A small but intricately crafted hourglass materialized in the hollow of my hand.
[※Item Creation Successful]
▶Item Name: Hourglass That Turns Back Time
▶Effect: Turning the hourglass allows you to turn back time for a certain duration.
I gripped the hourglass. But nothing appeared in the mirror.
“Only I can see it.”
That was a relief. I didn’t want to become the kind of madman endlessly flipping an invisible hourglass.
“…All right.”
With a lighter heart, I opened the Practice Room door. As expected, Kang I-yul was still there, repeating the Dance Choreography endlessly.
I watched his movements for a moment, then asked carefully.
“I-yul, was that how you danced just now?”
I moved, trying to recall Kang I-yul’s steps as precisely as I could.
“Hmm, it’s a bit stiff. Rather than putting strength through the whole arm—”
I took in his movements with my eyes while turning the hourglass behind my back.
Click.
Only I could hear that sound.
A strange sensation washed over me. It was like rewinding a video—frame by frame, I-yul and the entire surrounding space rewound to thirty seconds earlier.
‘Wow.’
Exactly thirty seconds back.
I remembered breaking down Kang I-yul’s fancam frame by frame, watching and rewatching it. A laugh escaped me.
“Hmm, it’s a bit stiff. Rather than putting strength through the whole arm—”
Same words, same movements, same timing.
I watched his movements with my eyes again.
And flipped it once more.
Click.
Another thirty seconds back, the same movements, the same explanation.
I-yul’s response never changed. It seemed the hourglass operated on a Time Loop mechanism—while it was active, he remained locked in that moment.
The first time, I just mimicked him.
The second time, I watched the timing.
The third time, I pinpointed exactly where the strength needed to go.
The tenth time—
‘Ah.’
Understanding bloomed.
The scrape of sneaker soles against the floor, the tremor running through muscle, the burn in my lungs.
It all accumulated.
After repeating maybe fifty times, something that could be called a ‘clean line’ finally began to emerge.
‘Is this enough?’
I flipped the Hourglass That Turns Back Time one last time.
“Will this work?”
The movements flowed more smoothly now. This time, I didn’t flip the hourglass back.
“……It’s much better now.”
So this is what it feels like to be satisfied without trying—to repeat the same motion dozens of times just to hear one sentence. My chest swelled with it.
At the same time, my legs gave way. The muscle soreness hit all at once.
“Ugh.”
My whole body throbbed. Time might rewind, but exhaustion stayed put.
‘Nothing’s truly free, then.’
Of course—it wasn’t an item I could use indefinitely.
“……Should we move on?”
Still taciturn, yet thorough in what he taught me.
“Whoa—am I really at the level where I can learn the next move?”
“…….”
‘Too early for jokes at this level, I guess.’
It didn’t matter. A trainee in precarious employment was already an angel at this point.
The next sequence was more intricate than before. But now anticipation outweighed anxiety. If the last move took fifty repetitions, wouldn’t a hundred be enough?
I-yul asked me again.
“……Should we try?”
“Let’s do it!”
Click—I flipped the hourglass over my shoulder once more.
* * *
I wanted to keep practicing.
But.
“Everyone, let’s head to the Dormitory!”
Filming took priority over practice.
We had to shoot the entrance scene to the Dormitory first.
“Wow…….”
“Are we staying here?”
Exclamations erupted from all directions.
A cleanly finished new building, a Lobby maintained like a hotel. Filming equipment was already set up at the entrance.
“Wow, it’s really huge…….”
“How many people share a room?
NIX Entertainment had leased an entire residency-style officetel specifically for this survival show, short-term.
That was also why Boys Code had such a tight filming schedule.
‘How much is all this costing.’
“Four to a room. Just confirm your names and head in.”
The staff pointed toward the doors.
“Then, we’ll move in pairs naturally.”
‘That word choice alone isn’t natural—’
Silently, I prayed for at least one Impacter member to be in my room. Go Jae-seong excluded, of course.
And the heavens sided with me.
[Han Sang-yun / Choi Soo-hyuk / Yu Seong-woo / Ji Dong-seok]
‘Perfect!’
Han Sang-yun!
One of the few adult trainees and the member who’d played the ‘gentle leader’ throughout the broadcast. He’d ultimately claimed the leader position in Impacter too, and after debut, he’d earned the solid nickname of the ‘blind date hall pass.’
‘And there’s something even more important.’
If I earned Han Sang-yun’s favor, I’d come one step closer to debut. He was an all-rounder who handled dance, vocals, and performance above baseline across every discipline after years of training, and to the company executives, he was the ‘trainee you could trust and leave things to.’
I opened the door with good cheer. But—
“……Wow.”
I came, I saw, I was utterly shocked.
Luggage scattered across the floor, clothes spilling out. The two who’d entered first sat on one of the lower bunks, giggling like old friends, scattering snack crumbs everywhere as they did it.
I froze at the entrance.
“Why aren’t you coming in?”
“Oh, there’s a lot of stuff stuck to the wheels.”
“Come on, we’re all guys here.”
Even as he said it, crumbs scattered through the air again.
“I mean… Han Sang-yun’s in the same room, so…”
At that single comment, both of them burst out laughing.
“Han Sang-yun? Man, he’s such a good guy~”
“For real.”
Sang-yun was good. Yeah, he absolutely was.
But even in this pigsty—would he really think so?
I was meticulously wiping down the suitcase wheels with wet wipes I’d brought when the door opened again.
“…Wow.”
A low, suppressed exclamation. Or rather, not so much an exclamation as the sound of a soul departing.
Han Sang-yun froze in place without even closing the door. For the first time, the light drained from his usually bright eyes.
‘Right. Cleaning was your hobby, wasn’t it—obsessively so.’
Han Sang-yun was a cleaning fanatic. The kind of guy who destressed by doing deep cleans and laundry.
At a fan signing, when someone asked what birthday gift he wanted, he answered without hesitation: cleaning supplies.
‘I thought he was crazy back then.’
“More… relaxed than I expected. Everyone’s really settled in.”
His voice was soft. But something about it sent a chill down my spine.
“You left it like this on purpose, right?”
There it was—Han Sang-yun’s trademark move, the gentle smile paired with a pointed observation.
“To show the ‘reality’ of a trainee dormitory?”
Sometimes I wondered if this counted as scolding, but whenever I met that gentle smile, confusion set in.
“Ah… I’m sorry.”
“I was just taking a break…”
“No, no. I get it. You were thinking about the broadcast.”
His smile deepened—and with it, the underlying sarcasm: ‘There’s no way it would be this filthy if you weren’t playing up the broadcast angle.’
He nodded as if he understood, then turned his body toward me. Of course, at the same moment, the other two scrambled to start organizing their suitcases.
A man who could move everyone with a single word—that was Han Sang-yun.
“…Yu Seong-woo.”
“Yes?”
“Are you… cleaning the suitcase wheels right now?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to get the floor dirty.”
In that moment, his eyes sparkled. Like someone who had just found the only hope in the midst of chaos.
‘So that’s how it is.’
The man everyone said was hardest to get close to. The man they all agreed had an invisible wall despite his kindness.
To befriend him, in fact, a single wet wipe was enough.
I Killed My Ultimate Bias and We Debuted Together (Serialized)
Author | Yoo Sseue
Publisher | Kim Ju-hyeong
Published by | J Plus Media Co., Ltd.
Marketing | Han Jae-hyuk
Address | Suite 401, Ace Techno Tower 8, 11 Digital-ro 33-gil, Guro-gu, Seoul
Email | [email protected]
Website | www.jayplemedia.com
ⓒ Yoo Sseue 2026
※This work is published by J Plus Media Co., Ltd. under contract with the copyright holder, and the contents may not be used in any form or by any means without permission from the publisher and author.
Violation of this may result in criminal and civil legal liability.

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