Debut or Die-Chapter 384
Thirty minutes after Ryu Cheongwoo suddenly appeared from beyond the dry ice as part of the “Audience Supplementary Class.”
“Then for this performance, we look forward to seeing an even more developed version of yourselves.”
“Yes!”
They’d finished integrating the supplementary class and sorting teams. A short break to move and rest before practice.
Of course, the cameras doggedly tracked every step of the bold interview between Cheongwoo and me, unwilling to let a moment go.
They’d even grabbed plenty of footage when Cheongwoo chose Vocal B earlier—greedy devils.
“...Hyung, were you surprised?”
“Yeah.”
“A lot?”
“Yeah.”
No need to watch the broadcast to know how foolish we’ll look—and what else they’ll insert between our lines.
“They’re going to slam a ton of interview clips in...”
Sure enough, the producers booked us first for interviews and squeezed the longest answers ever.
“Did you know Cheongwoo was joining ahead of time? Some signal? Oh, you had no idea?”
“They live together, right~”
“What are your expectations now that you’re competitors?” 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶
“On the flip side, I guess there are parts I have to watch out for—he’s now a rival.”
He was thrilled.
I downplayed my surprise and gave a suitably humble reply.
“Since both of us have to do well, I think I’ll prepare even harder for this stage.”
No need to stir up or exaggerate.
“Well...really?”
Yep.
‘Once it airs, it’s going to be chaos anyway...’
A gold-medalist cousin from the same school suddenly appears? Hell, I’d tune in.
I stifled a sigh and returned from the interview area to the practice room. Then I pointed at the next guy up—Ryu Cheongwoo.
“The writer’s calling you.”
“Hyung.”
I waved him over, pretended to put down my notebook, and showed him a quick note outside the camera frame:
“Answer smoothly, deflect everything.”
He gave a slight nod and stepped into the practice room.
‘Looks like he’s not too dazed.’
What the hell is going on? A university student who was doing fine suddenly shows up on a survival show.
‘...I never even suggested it.’
He seemed to be getting along so well, and I didn’t think the agency would favor him. I planned to leave him be. But why did he volunteer—without a word?
“...”
[“Ahem, asking him directly....”]
No blunt questions on camera. With dramatic BGM, it’ll become an edit of conflict.
‘I’ll ask gently before bed.’
I decided to adjust my strategy: what to do in this personal-battle team with the Cheongwoo variable.
Because the interview ran long, practice started a beat late.
When Cheongwoo returned, he’d already sensed the broadcast vibe and stepped up to pay his dues in a soft, low-key way.
“I meant to tell you, I got the acceptance call that morning... didn’t want to mess with your focus.”
I let that slide.
I tapped him on the back and chuckled.
“Alright, got it.”
“...!”
“You’re not the type to recklessly try things just because they look fun. I trust you’ll take this seriously.”
“...Yeah. Of course.”
Cheongwoo nodded with a faint smile.
That, combined with the interview, would give a warm impression—though I’d add something like, “It’s competition; you can’t go easy on family,” to steer reactions.
“No favors.”
“Ha ha, got it.”
Good. Camera worries easing off.
Once things settled, one of the other team members—VTIC’s ex-main vocalist, the de facto owner of this team performance—spoke up.
“Um... I’m going to tell you about the song now, if that’s okay?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you.”
He looked a bit annoyed at the prospect of losing screen time, but as soon as the camera rolled, he smoothed his expression.
Hmm.
‘He’s not without sense.’
And he jumped straight into “It’s already decided,” without asking for our input.
‘Seizing control, huh.’
He’s two years younger than me. In a team setting, most would suggest talking casually to ease tension, but he insisted on formal speech.
‘Smart, prideful.’
That meant he’d push one kind of stage.
“Since our team is mostly vocalists, I centered the performance around vocals.”
“Ah, yes.”
I thought so.
‘He’s not confident in dance.’
Three years a trainee, dance stat barely C+. The same level I had in AJUSA.
If you want to showcase only your strengths, choose a vocal-focused stage.
‘His vocal is A-.’
And he believed his singing matched mine.
‘He’ll think song choice makes or breaks it.’
Fine. Let him have at it. Cheongwoo’s dance stat matches this guy’s, so it’s fair.
‘No risk of Cheongwoo faltering in dance for screentime.’
I pulled up Cheongwoo’s status details.
[Name: Ryu Cheongwoo]
Singing: B (S–)
Dance: C+ (A)
Appearance: A– (A+)
Charisma: B (A)
Trait: Full Draw (B)
Not bad. Honestly, a college student with this report card is impressive.
‘If I were agency staff, I’d sign him immediately.’
...But.
The problem is I know Cheongwoo’s real stats from reality, as a five-year first-row idol in TeSTAR.
Let’s compare.
[Name: Ryu Cheongwoo]
Singing: A (S–)
Dance: B+ (A)
Appearance: A– (A+)
Charisma: A– (A)
Trait: Full Draw (S)
A perfect singing-centered all-rounder: lead vocalist quality and center-level performance skill.
But here, he’s unpracticed. His real stats would have been S-level on everything; here they’re down a notch or two, except for appearance.
‘And his trait’s weird too.’
I recalled his original trait.
[Full Draw (S)]
“When you draw your bow, you’ll be exactly where you need to be.”
Performance composure +150%.
A pro-level adjustment for precise expression and natural stage presence.
It was S since AJUSA days.
‘Why is it B here?’
I thought he’d have had that trait since archery days...
But there was no time to ponder. We were filming.
The club-main vocalist glanced at the lyrics sheet and said in a low voice,
“So for parts... the rule is—”
“Yes.”
First, deal with this guy.
I chuckled inwardly and spoke up.
“There are rules, after all.”
He hesitated to say “I want all the lines,” fearing selfishness, so he made me say it.
I recalled the president’s words:
“The honors-class member who owns the song leads it. The rest of you are featured artists.”
“It’s only fair. Tae-jun, you take the main half of the song—you own it. We’re challengers.”
“Ah... no, this is a joint stage, but yes, rule is rule.”
Right—play the humble card. I get the image you want, but...
Then you hand over control. If you get someone else to speak, they gain agency.
Better to reverse it.
I didn’t mind, though.
“I think it’s best if you can sing the whole song. You need to guide the performance.”
“Yes... um, thank you.”
I allocated all the remaining parts except the bridge and the climax to him. He grabbed them eagerly.
[Whoa, that’s so much... wait, no! Got it!]
Perfect.
I laughed as his popup showed his speechlessness, then waved the rest of the parts at Cheongwoo.
“Which parts do you want?”
“Um, I’d like to try this one.”
Cheongwoo, who’d simply nodded along with our exchange, joined in when asked.
‘Active exactly where needed.’
After hearing his choice, I called the club-main over.
“We’re thinking of splitting the remaining parts evenly—does that work for you?”
“Uh? Oh, of course it does.”
He said readily, though I could tell he didn’t care. Whoever got the parts, he still had the advantage.
‘He only cares about looking good and not losing out.’
I see how Cheongryeo managed him all those years.
“Great—thank you.”
I continued to cheer him on subtly through practice, and I deliberately avoided private talk time with Cheongwoo.
‘Got to avoid the frame of them buddying up and excluding the other guy.’
I maintained the picture of supporting the club-main vocalist.
And Cheongwoo followed practice diligently—nothing more.
[Hm? He’s doing well.]
He was fine, but as a non-idol in a team where everyone else had control, his impact was muted.
‘Hmm.’
...Given Cheongwoo’s involvement, it’d be a lie to say I didn’t want to lead him somewhere. But practically, there wasn’t time to recruit or awaken him further.
‘I don’t even know what he’s thinking now.’
“...”
No choice.
I resolved to set up a structure where Cheongwoo leaves with no flak and a fresh experience.
[Ah.....]
I prodded the club-main to tweak the stage composition, gently steering him to improve overall quality, and slowly refined my strategy.
Three days flew by.
Just like always when holed up in a remote practice space, time rushed past.
And Cheongwoo... astonishingly, improved at inhuman speed.
[Cheongwoo’s dance stat has become B–...]
How is that possible?
If I didn’t know him, I’d doubt he’d ever trained.
[...Wait, that was what we heard in AJUSA...]
That was screen magic. This Cheongwoo was the real deal.
‘But even so, he isn’t dominating enough to guarantee a debut here.’
For a late-entry contestant to push everyone aside, they’d need to be overwhelming.
If you say he advanced on the back of a gold-medalist and family ties... without awakening or trauma, I’m not sure that’d stick.
[ㅠㅠ]
Can’t help it.
I smacked my lips and moved again, walking the corridor at dawn to sort through my thoughts.
Reminded me of when I’d say, “Sleep is for the dead,” and train relentlessly...
[Oh, hey you!]
Huh?
I saw the practice room still lit ahead—it was the one I’d been using.
‘...No way.’
I grabbed the sliding door handle and opened it.
Screeeech.
“...!”
My team member’s face appeared immediately.
A sweat-soaked Ryu Cheongwoo.
“You’re not sleeping?”
“Ah, I thought I’d do a bit more.”
Null cameras, dead by battery—3 a.m. Cheongwoo was still here.
“And you?”
“I had something on my mind.”
Meanwhile, the club-main had slipped away exactly when the cameras went dark. He wasn’t in the dorm either—probably hanging with other trainees.
“...”
Wait—could his rapid improvement be because he’s pulling this stunt every dawn? Betting on his stamina?
“You’ve been doing this all along?”
“Um... it felt too soon to stop.”
“Take care of your health. Don’t wreck yourself and then miss the real stage.”
“Yeah. Got it.”
Cheongwoo answered obediently, then lay down on the practice-room floor. Didn’t look like he planned to head back to the dorm.
‘Good grief.’
I closed the door.
From the floor, he spoke again.
“I’m sorry, hyung. I didn’t join to interfere with your stage.”
“...!”
“Someone recommended Vocal B to me. I should’ve thought it through—I forgot it’s a show.”
Then I realized,
‘His tone changed.’
I’d been careful to speak formally, but maybe I’d overdone it. Same-age respectfulness might get Cheongwoo flak on air.
“...You don’t need to apologize for that—I know.”
I sat beside him and asked gently,
“So, why did you really join this show?”
Did the producers cover your tuition?
“That’s...”
Cheongwoo answered slowly.
“Because you seemed... different.”
I stiffened quietly.
But he continued as if I hadn’t noticed.
“Remember the alcohol-free calendar we made for New Year?”
“.......”
What?
“You never said anything, but seeing it on the fridge made it obvious.”
I have no reason to quit drinking, so why... then I realized:
‘He suspected me.’
Cheongwoo’s explanation wasn’t finished, and I ran through possibilities in my head.
“And you were okay with drinking with me...”
So.
“You seemed so exhausted you didn’t refuse alcohol, but since you’re still doing this, I figured it must be fun.”
“......!”
I remembered our past conversations.
On idols:
“How is it?”
“It’s fun. The most rewarding thing I’ve ever done.”
He’d interpreted it that way?
“And this year, you’re trying a new field—you’ve changed a lot...”
He hesitated, then said:
“It felt... unfamiliar.”
“......”
“And kind of enviable.”
What?
Cheongwoo murmured softly,
“Actually... I’m not sure why I quit archery.”
“......”
“At first I pushed myself to the brink. Then suddenly it felt like I could stop with no harm done.”
I pieced it together.
He’d given up archery after injury, crying, breaking his bow—forced to quit.
‘But now there’s no injury...’
So a gap remained.
And he’d filled it with the most straightforward reason.
“I thought... I didn’t have to do it anymore.”
“.......”
I thought he was thriving in college, but so that was it.
Sigh.
And now, the impetuous cousin leapt into my industry, speaking firmly:
“So staying up all night is rare for me. I know I’m outclassed here, but I like the feeling of improving every time. It’s been ages since I’ve felt that.”
“......”
“Hyung, you must enjoy this too. Now I get it.”
Cheongwoo laughed softly. I stayed silent for a moment, then asked,
“Do you want to win here?”
“Huh?”
I meant: do you want to keep going?
He looked surprised but then burst out laughing.
“Of course! No one wants to lose.”
He added firmly,
“Same for me.”
I rose to my feet.
Originally, I planned to give Cheongwoo a supporting role, then snatch the decisive part from the club-main...
But my mind changed.
“All right.”
Time to revise the plan.
The next morning, before going to the trainer, I handed the club-main a new lyrics sheet.
It bore fresh markings.
“Hey, since this performance is structured this way... I want to suggest adjustments to ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) heighten the stage quality.”
“Uh?”
He glanced at the new sheet as if it were a chore, but the moment he saw the notations, his focus sharpened.
And in his eyes—uncontainable greed.
‘That’s right.’
“And... this will emphasize that it’s Tae-jun’s stage. Fits the performance theme. What do you think?”
“Oh.”
He knew this was a proposal best not refused outright.
But I was merely offering an idea, not demanding.
If he declined, I’d back away.
He couldn’t resist.
“Mm... yes, for quality’s sake, sure.”
Good. He bit.
[“Whoa, does that mean Cheongwoo can definitely beat Ryu Geonwoo?”]
Not necessarily.
I calculated coldly.
Given this show’s nature...
‘I’ll only know when the lid is lifted.’
[ㅠㅠ Still, I’ll keep hope...]
Each to their own.
But I decided not to be overly optimistic.
‘At worst, I won’t get blamed.’
From AJUSA onward, this principle had always worked.
Because..
Cheongwoo had never suffered a loss in a survival show before.
The night before the performance, during the dress rehearsal, the president declared solemnly:
“Among those who do not perform the new-song choreography, there will definitely be eliminations—and it might be more than one.”
“...!”
They were launching the cut phase in earnest.
And this time, no one dreamed of every team member surviving. Sounded like a morale killer...
But he continued:
“And the judges for this performance are not me.”
No way.
“It’s the most ruthless critics: the public. Audience voting.”
“......”
I clenched my fist briefly.
We’d won.
