Debut or Die-Chapter 383
On the day of filming for LeTi’s in-house survival program, Wise, which has returned once more.
The mood had shifted a bit.
‘Looks like the debut lineup is finally taking shape.’
Even the president’s pre-shooting greeting hinted at who was in and who was out.
“Keep it up. Let’s be more daring.”
“Yes!”
It wasn’t about how positive you were.
“Jaehyun, be careful not to overdo your vocal practice.”
“Understood.”
It was about how specific the feedback was.
How much attention he was paying. The guys who started socializing early during trainee life could smell that level of care a mile away.
“Uh... your piercing looks really cool today.”
“...? Thank you for your kind words!”
That prompted the other trainees to sidle over and chat with Kim Rae-bin, who’d effectively been anointed the president’s pick and was almost guaranteed to debut.
‘The dynamics are so different from AJUSA. This is interesting.’
And me.
“You’re ready mentally, right? See you on stage.”
“Yes.”
That was high praise indeed. For a near-elimination candidate, the cameras were supposed to go dark—but he didn’t dare say that. Better to let me know I was safe.
“Recording begins~”
This shoot kicked off by boldly announcing that, based on the last evaluation, the winners and losers had been split into an honors class and a remedial class.
“Phew...”
“Thank you!”
Cheers and groans.
But the most brutal part was still to come.
Elimination announcements.
They called me—the other “remedial” member—and one more up to the stage.
“Since you’re already in remedial, only someone who’s performed far better than the fourteen up there can survive. And that person is...”
The president drew the moment out, then, with a grim face, said,
“Ryu Geonwoo.”
“That’s it.”
The contestant who’d lost to Kim Rae-bin was sent home immediately.
The atmosphere froze, but the president showed no intention of softening the blow with kind words.
He even told me,
“The moment you return to remedial status, you cannot avoid elimination. Give it your all.”
Back to remedial meant death.
“I’ll remember.”
Welcome aboard.
So he wouldn’t rig things later to push me back out. The president clearly didn’t want me eliminated mid-competition.
‘Proof they won’t pull any tricks for the next performance mission.’
I bowed my head and counted the remaining trainees.
Except for the one he’d just ousted for attitude issues...
‘Fifteen left.’
That was actually more than before, so they’d need to trim someone again in this performance. Keeps the tension alive.
Just then he said,
“But every event and performance has a maximum capacity... fourteen, to be exact.”
Oh?
“So if a remedial member returns, the current member with the lowest achievement record will be eliminated.”
Right now?
The president called up a few remedial members, listed their pros and cons, then declared,
“Park Jonghoon of remedial is eliminated.”
“...”
Another sudden elimination. The named trainee staggered off as the others gasped and covered their mouths.
Tension ramped up.
“Please leave the stage. Ryu Geonwoo, you may return to your spot.”
“...Yes.”
So that’s why he hadn’t sweetened the mood before sending that one kid out. He wanted the atmosphere razor-sharp.
‘All for the buzz, huh.’
Brutality equals popularity, so he cranked it up. Not exactly admirable.
‘So even outside of AJUSA, all survival shows are going this route.’
Brutal enough to break spirits is deemed exciting and fierce.
‘Bitter taste, but nothing to lose.’
I waited until the vacated spot cleared, then stepped into the remedial row.
The guys next to me froze—neither welcoming nor see-you-soon. I kept my mouth shut.
‘Cut off any excuses.’
When I looked around, every one of my former teammates was in the honors class. Our Cha-Yujin/Shin-O team had won, after all.
I nodded inwardly.
‘Good structure.’
I can already see the interview: “Was it hard being the only remedial member?” Easy extra footage with one provocative question.
“Good work, everyone.”
After that ruthless ranking and elimination, the stage lights went off and the mics died.
“Hyung, thank goodness.”
But the cameras kept rolling, and as soon as someone with a quick eye stepped up for image control, it was Cheongryeo.
“Hyung!”
“Good work!”
I greeted the others with a nod, then leaned in to ask Cheongryeo in a low voice,
‘That was harsh. You said it wasn’t like this before?’
‘Indeed. It’s a bit... more vulgar now. The stakes are higher.’
He grinned, slinging an arm around me in encouragement.
‘People will love this, right?’
‘....’
He’s excellent at trash-talking other people’s ideas.
Anyway, maybe the producers felt they’d squeezed the trainees too hard, because the next segment lightened the mood.
To smooth the tone, they introduced an event that was softer and more fun.
The very segment I’d been excluded from last time—doing chores at home.
‘Last time it was a public service ad... what is it now?’
It was a concept photo shoot for album promo.
Seven concepts.
“All right~ discuss among yourselves and pick your concept!”
A battle of wits, concessions, and claims. Since many already knew each other, they were passing off picks with “I really want this!” tactics.
Me?
“I’m fine with anything—I haven’t shot any of these, so I have no preferences. They all look interesting.”
“Ooh! If hyung says that....”
Park Mundae (me) had shot plenty of concept photos already—would he ever limit himself? I could take any concept, shoot well, and be fine.
But then...
“Yes! Press your head down so your mouth shows more~”
“....”
I didn’t expect the “Tooth” concept to be vampire.
Whoever inserted such a risky concept into an un-debuted survival show needs to explain themselves. Now I see why VTIC tanked their first round.
Still, with experience on my side, I managed decent shots and got good feedback.
Handled the interview, too.
“I’ve only ever been behind the camera. Being an actual subject like this feels different. But I drew on my past experience... and gave it my best.”
“I’m just a college photo-club student,” meta.
Not a bad fresh story.
Awkward to gloat about “I’ve shot so many of these,” so I chose the next best line.
“I think all the photos will turn out great. Well done, everyone. I enjoyed today’s shoot!”
“Wooo!”
That handful of warmth faded as soon as the event ended—later that night, the performance mission hit hard.
‘No mercy.’
“Wise. Already the fourth performance. You must show growth. Your theme for this round is...”
The president, seeing the trainees clutching their stomachs in tension each time they were called back to stage, announced,
“The Position Battle.”
“...!”
“Position battle...?”
The core format was unchanged. The main structure Cheongryeo had described still held.
Here’s what Position Battle meant:
– For the next segment, you’ll perform the group choreography for the new song. But first, you compete to choose which part you’ll take.
The positions to battle for appeared on the screen:
[Vocal A, Vocal B]
[Dance A, Dance B, Dance C]
[Rap A, Rap B]
Seven parts total.
Then the president called up the honors class first.
“Based on the concept-photo votes by our private evaluators, honors goes first—choose your part in order of most votes received.”
“Ahhh...”
Faces went pale or lit up as names were called.
“Shin Jaehyun.”
He bowed and moved up.
[Dance A]
Next was Cha Yujin. One by one, the called members picked from the remaining slots.
When the honors slots were filled, the president nodded and said,
“Honors class ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) members now have full authority to craft their Position Battle stage.”
“...!”
“Which song, which performance—you decide.”
In short, “Make the stage you want.”
Meanwhile, the seven remedial trainees would challenge those honors stages.
“Try to steal the stage.”
Since fourteen trainees remained, you’d expect one-on-one matchups, right?
Not quite.
“You may apply for any part, regardless of how many have applied. But...”
No matter how many challengers, only one wins.
—Only the one winner gets to perform the new-song choreography.
The nervous trainees eyed the parts and each other.
‘They haven’t even revealed the song parts yet.’
Ultimately, who you matched against was key.
And here, too, order followed the concept-photo vote.
“The first remedial member to choose a position is... Ryu Geonwoo.”
I was first.
‘Oh.’
No need to marvel—if a five-year veteran can’t beat rookies, that’d be weird.
‘Should’ve knocked my head in if I hadn’t.’
I nodded once, then looked at the president.
“Please come choose your part.”
All right. Time to think fast.
‘If they order by alphabet, the criteria are...’
Amount of lines, difficulty, stage time.
‘But Cheongryeo took Dance A... hm.’
Then it’s likely the impact parts for vocals have more A slots.
‘Still...’
I stepped forward boldly and stood.
“...!!”
[Vocal B]
No deeper reason.
There was a concrete factor in front of me.
‘Competition.’
The honors trainee who sings best, besides me, had snagged Vocal A.
“So remedial’s Ryu Geonwoo will battle honors’ Choi Tae-jun for Vocal B.”
Choi Tae-jun. Stage name Bi-Han upon debut.
How’d I know?
‘Because I sold him data.’
He’d been VTIC’s main vocalist until the club scandal got him kicked. He was 1⁄G idol main vocal for seven years—no pushover.
By picking him...
‘Definitely looks daring.’
And if I win, the story of survival-show contestant Ryu Geonwoo gains even more momentum.
‘Mid-program mark. Need to seize control again.’
I bowed politely to VTIC’s former main vocal.
“Looking forward to it.”
“...Mm, yes.”
He nodded reluctantly. I could call him ClubMeBo or ExMainVocal. Either way, he forced a smile.
I stood beside him and watched as remedial members took turns choosing parts.
“I’ll take Vocal A...!”
Predictably, most trainees applied to honors slots even though they could choose any.
‘Everyone calculates odds.’
Still, some wouldn’t touch a one-member slot—it feels suicidal, even when unopposed.
“No challengers for Dance A.”
That was Shin Jaehyun’s slot.
‘They know his skill too well.’
Trainees from the same agency know each other’s strengths, so they avoid unwinnable fights.
‘Hmm.’
I watched Shin Jaehyun standing alone by the board.
And here’s where things diverged from Cheongryeo’s briefing.
Originally, the format called for honors one vs. remedial one—no byes or freebies.
And I can’t imagine a survival show handing out byes.
So there must be another element.
–This time there’s a wildcard.
What could it be?
“Of course, it’s not just you. There’s another challenger.”
“Ahhh...”
“No way.”
“It’s...the Audience Supplementary Class.”
“...!!”
Right. The ad at the end of the program recruiting new contestants.
Watching the trainees’ small reactions, the president intoned,
“Please come forward.”
Bang!
With a tiny stage-popper and ominous BGM, another screen lit up.
‘Using it so soon.’
If they’d waited, the trainees’ fanbases would have solidified, making supplements feel too disruptive.
I nodded inwardly and folded my hands behind my back, feigning attention.
“Don’t think of the last supplementary class. These contestants were selected from a much larger pool—after experiencing the program’s harshness firsthand.”
They sure knew how to dress up a hasty week-old recruitment.
But the real odds of any superstar being in that group were near zero.
‘Gotta check their stats and move on.’
I watched the figures emerge from the dry ice.
Seven more—and none stood out... wait.
“...!”
As the fog cleared, one familiar face appeared front and center.
Someone I’d even been rooming with recently....
[Ryu Ryu-ryu-Cheongwoo!]
Why are you here?
I fought to keep my mouth shut... oh crap, the camera’s zooming on me. They know I’m related to him.
‘Holy shit.’
What the hell is happening?
Ryu Cheongwoo gave an awkward, shy smile—clearly nervous on this big stage.
“The supplementary class holds signs for their chosen parts.”
I reflexively looked down.
His pre-chosen sign read....
[Vocal B]
“....”
My position stage.
“This is... over.”
Quiet.
