The Gates Opened on the First Day of Debut - Chapter 71

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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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The Gate Burst Open on My Debut Day (71)
Returning to the Practice Room with Han Theo, I completed the fourth main Quest song together with my teammates.
The song, brimming with Jung Yoo-yeol and Lee Hyun-soo’s opinions and preferences, was truly….
‘Difficult.’
There wasn’t a single easy part in either the vocals or the choreography.
Sprawled across the Practice Room floor, I gasped for breath and muttered to myself.
“…I’m going to die.”
Checking the time, it was already three in the morning.
The other trainees had given up about an hour ago and headed back to the Dormitory.
But I remained in the Practice Room.
Or rather, I had no choice but to stay.
“Now I need to practice the cover Stage….”
Because I had two Stages to prepare for.
The main Quest Stage and a special cover Stage with Kim Junwoo.
The cover Stage song had been decided as PUPPET.
When I brought up wanting to do PUPPET, Kim Junwoo smiled gently and nodded.
‘That sounds good. This is fun.’
I had no idea what he found so amusing about it.
But something fun was better than something boring.
“Can’t sleep, can’t sleep! Let’s practice, practice!”
Lying on the floor, drowsiness began creeping in.
If I fell asleep here, today’s practice would be over.
I slapped my cheeks with my palms and sprang to my feet.
Then I repeated the cycle—practicing frantically for a stretch, collapsing on the floor to rest, over and over.
“Kim Chowol?”
“Huh… Theo? Why are you here so early?”
The Practice Room door swung open, and a familiar face appeared.
Han Theo’s eyes widened as he alternated his gaze between the clock hanging on the wall and my face.
“You didn’t sleep?”
“What?”
“It’s morning now.”
Han Theo pointed at the clock as he spoke.
At first, I thought he was lying.
I could have sworn the last time I checked it was three in the morning… how was it already seven in the morning?
“Seriously….”
“Rest a bit.”
“Maybe I should.”
I was hungry and felt completely drained.
I collapsed onto the Practice Room floor and leaned my back against the wall with a heavy sigh.
With my eyes closed, resting quietly, I cracked one eye open at the sound of approaching footsteps.
Han Theo was practicing the choreography without even playing the song.
“Should I turn on the music?”
“No. It’s fine. You’d be distracting me.”
So that meant… he didn’t want to disturb my rest?
“I don’t mind.”
“It’s okay. Get some rest.”
Han Theo pushed the Tablet away and resumed practicing.
Thump, thump.
Listening to the footsteps echoing in rhythm with the choreography, drowsiness began to creep over me.
‘Han Theo… he’s actually a decent person.’
Han Theo probably faced a lot of misunderstandings because of his appearance and demeanor, so he must be tired of it too.
Well, it’s not really my concern, but…
“What, you came early?”
My eyes snapped open.
Looking around, Jung Yoo-yeol, Okada, and Lee Hyun-soo were filing into the Practice Room.
“You… *ahem*, you came, hyung?”
“Huh? Kim Chowol, what’s wrong with you? Did you not go back to the Dormitory yesterday?”
My throat was hoarse from having dozed off briefly.
Jung Yoo-yeol immediately noticed my slightly disheveled state compared to usual.
“Ha ha…”
“What, seriously?”
When I had nothing to say and just brushed it off vaguely, Jung Yoo-yeol’s eyes widened.
“I did get some sleep here and there. You two don’t worry too much about it.”
I spoke to Okada and Lee Hyun-soo, who looked anxious.
Meanwhile, Jung Yoo-yeol pressed his lips together with a serious expression, lost in thought about something.
“Let’s practice, practice! I’m fine, so don’t worry.”
I jumped up from my seat, leaving Jung Yoo-yeol behind.
Then I ushered Okada and Lee Hyun-soo toward where Han Theo and the Tablet were.
“Are you struggling?”
Jung Yoo-yeol, who had been standing silently behind me, suddenly spoke up.
When I turned around, Jung Yoo-yeol was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“Yes?”
“Are you struggling a lot?”
“Well… it would be a lie to say I’m not struggling.”
I haven’t been sleeping properly and have just been practicing.
Wouldn’t it be an obvious lie to say I’m not struggling in a situation like this?
Jung Yoo-yeol, squinting his eyes, observed me and opened his mouth.
“Then…”
Jung Yoo-yeol narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth.
And almost simultaneously, I answered.
“But it’s worth doing.”
Jung Yoo-yeol fell silent.
I stretched out my stiffened body—courtesy of the hard Practice Room floor—and continued speaking.
“Training is always grueling anyway. If it’s not grueling, it’s not training; it’s just playing around. Still… it’s fun in its own way.”
I paused for a moment and checked my status window.
[Basic Stats
Vocal: C-
Dance: D+
Appearance: A-
Charm: B]
My Vocal and Dance stats, which had been D+ and D respectively, had somehow climbed to C- and D+.
It was all thanks to my EX-grade trait, “Mediocrity That Cannot Become Genius.”
With tangible progress in sight, even grueling training felt worthwhile.
“Yoo-yeol?”
I tilted my head, watching Jung Yoo-yeol, who hadn’t said a word since earlier.
Jung Yoo-yeol was grinning from ear to ear about something.
“Did something amusing happen?”
“Huh? Nothing at all. Let’s get back to training, come on!”
This time, Jung Yoo-yeol turned away from me and approached Okada and Lee Hyun-soo.
‘I still can’t figure out what he’s thinking… but he doesn’t seem as difficult as I’d worried.’
He seems to get along well even with Okada, despite their earlier friction.
I watched Jung Yoo-yeol drape his arms across Okada’s and Lee Hyun-soo’s shoulders, lost in thought.
* * *
I don’t want to do this. It’s too hard. I want to quit now.
These were the words Jung Yoo-yeol heard most often from trainees during his time in the industry.
‘If you hate it that much, why not just give up?’
That’s what Jung Yoo-yeol told the trainees who complained every day.
But without exception, every single trainee who heard his words flared up in anger.
‘Easy for you to say, genius. You have no idea how hard this is for us.’
Jung Yoo-yeol couldn’t understand them.
No one had forced them to become Idols. So why did they insist on doing something they hated?
Jung Yoo-yeol, who enjoyed trainee life more than anyone, found it pitiful that trainees who had chosen this path themselves would complain at every opportunity.
But after spending so long as a trainee, he occasionally—very occasionally—encountered a trainee who actually enjoyed it.
‘Of course it’s exhausting and painful. But it was my choice, so I’ll give it my all. So I won’t regret it later.’
Such trainees shone like jewels.
An indomitable will even in adversity and hardship, and an endless wellspring of passion.
Things that Jung Yoo-yeol, who abandoned his interests the moment they waned, could never possess.
‘Are you really not going to debut from our company?’
The last Small Entertainment Agency after leaving three Top 3 Entertainment Companies in succession.
Jung Yoo-yeol’s reason for choosing the Small Entertainment Agency was simple.
‘It would be more fun that way.’
Starting from the bottom and climbing upward seemed far more entertaining than debuting with lavish support from the beginning.
But Jung Yoo-yeol gave up his debut.
A debut was ultimately a zero-sum game—when someone claimed a spot, another lost theirs.
Jung Yoo-yeol surrendered his debut for the trainee who would have been pushed out because of him.
If that trainee had been someone Jung Yoo-yeol dismissed as mediocre, he would have debuted without hesitation.
‘Give my regards to Soo-young.’
But the trainee Jung Yoo-yeol yielded his spot to was anything but mediocre.
A trainee who loved being an idol even more than Jung Yoo-yeol did—a true gem among gems.
‘It’s such a shame to let you go like this. Have you ever thought about trying the Idol Survival program?’
‘The Idol Survival program?’
‘Yeah. There’s an Idol Survival program being planned by a PD named Jang Hyuk-soo, who’s famous for producing excellent survival shows….’
Jung Yoo-yeol had intended to quit being a trainee.
He’d done enough, and he’d made up his mind to move on and find something newer and more exciting.
But news of the Idol Survival program that Jang Hyuk-soo was producing shook his resolve.
‘Should I give it one last shot?’
That was how Jung Yoo-yeol came to appear on EX-Grade K-POP Idol.
But the EX-Grade K-POP Idol he’d joined seeking fresh excitement fell short of expectations.
Certainly, there were quite a few trainees with hunger and desperation, but it ended there.
‘I hate hard work, I hate difficulty, I just want to coast and debut…. Why would anyone say this on broadcast?’
The trainees’ fundamental nature hadn’t changed.
If anything, watching them shrink back and hesitate out of fear of failure only deepened his disappointment.
It was so tedious and boring that he’d even considered dropping out midway.
‘If I hadn’t met Kim Chowol, I probably would have quit for real. Or maybe I would’ve just coasted and gotten eliminated.’
Watching Kim Chowol stand in front of Okada, Jung Yoo-yeol felt a spark of interest.
‘The legendary trainee who kicked away a Top 3 Entertainment Companies debut slot and switched agencies….’
Jung Yoo-yeol observed Kim Chowol—wary yet subtly provocative—and wondered.
‘What’s so special about that trainee that he shields her like that?’
To Jung Yoo-yeol, Okada was a pathetic trainee too busy reading others’ moods to showcase her own abilities.
Jung Yoo-yeol knew the truth.
Among trainees competing for debut spots, friendship and camaraderie were luxuries.
Yet Kim Chowol—with no standout visuals, no exceptional talent, and desperately needing his own debut—shielded Okada and provoked Jung Yoo-yeol.
‘What could he possibly be thinking? This is genuinely fascinating.’
From that day on, Jung Yoo-yeol began observing Kim Chowol.
Why did people gravitate toward him? Why did trainees like Yoo Sung and Okada rely on him so heavily?
Kim Chowol clearly didn’t have the striking visuals or exceptional talent that would warrant Jung Yoo-yeol’s attention.
‘The first verse would sound good if we mixed falsetto and chest voice, don’t you think?’
Direct collaboration made it hit differently.
‘We could add ad-libs too. A choir-like harmony might work well. For the highlight section… do you know belting? It’s a technique where you produce high notes with chest voice, and I think it would sound truly majestic sung that way.’
‘Hmm… that works. Let me jot it down. We’ll try singing it later.’
Kim Chowol said everything was fine, but Jung Yoo-yeol knew better.
Right now, Kim Chowol couldn’t fully digest everything Jung Yoo-yeol was proposing.
His skills weren’t there yet.
But why… couldn’t Jung Yoo-yeol tear his eyes away from Kim Chowol?
Why did he keep thinking that Kim Chowol could pull it off?
“Kim Chowol, trainee.”
The midterm evaluation for the fourth main Quest.
Kim Chowol stood before the judges, breathing heavily, having poured everything into his performance, his gaze fixed on Kim Junwoo.
Kim Junwoo, microphone in hand, lifted one corner of his mouth into a smile.
“You did well.”
“Yes…!”
Beside him, Jung Yoo-yeol wiped the sweat from his brow and thought to himself.
‘As expected, Kim Chowol is fascinating.’

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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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