Chapter 5

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Translator: 8uhl

Chapter: 5

Chapter Title: Pida's Debut Promise

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The appointed time with Kim Han-soo, team leader at Pida Entertainment, was drawing near. The café where we were supposed to meet came into view up ahead.

Kim Min-jae had come back from the bathroom during our drinks, listened to the situation, and widened his eyes in surprise. He got excited, veins bulging in his neck as he raised his voice, saying it was great news.

He explained that Pida specialized in managing actors and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠named some of their famous affiliates.

It was a company with a slew of actors riding high on their popularity these days. No wonder it rang a bell.

'At least it's not a scam.'

But why would a company focused on actors reach out to me?

I entered the café with questions swirling in my head. The rich aroma of roasted beans hit me right away.

Soft lighting bathed the space, accompanied by gentle background music. Perfect atmosphere for a conversation.

"Nice to meet you. You're Lee Do-jun, right?"

As I scanned the room, wondering if I should text that I'd arrived, a sharply dressed man approached me.

"Team Leader Kim Han-soo?"

"Yes, that's me."

What the—why is he so handsome?

He was a bit on the shorter side, but his proportions were clearly exceptional. His moderately tanned skin gave off a healthy vibe too.

Honestly, I was taken aback. If I'd run into him on the street, I'd have pegged him for a model or actor.

But how did he recognize me?

"Do-jun, you look even better in person than in your photos. And those were already impressive."

Before I could ask, Kim Han-soo started chatting away smoothly on his own.

"Oh! We didn't use any shady methods or anything. We got the info from a staff member who jumped ship from GH."

"I see."

I responded tepidly, and Kim Han-soo flashed a grin.

"Guess you weren't too curious about that. We figured it might bother you."

What trainee who's been grinding for nearly seven years without debuting is worth breaking the law ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over? The industry is small—word gets around. I already knew that.

I cut straight to the chase the moment we sat down. No point wasting precious time on small talk.

"So, what exactly do you mean by wanting to work with me? I thought Pida only handled actors."

Kim Han-soo let out a slightly flustered laugh, like he hadn't expected me to be so direct.

"You're even more straightforward than I heard."

What did you hear? Now I'm curious.

He quickly wiped the surprise from his face and leaned in, closing the distance.

What could he possibly say that requires getting this close...?

"We're preparing a boy group this time around, and we want to recruit you as a member."

...Yeah, that warranted it.

"We'll be selecting the debut lineup soon. One spot is already locked in besides you."

Kim Han-soo's voice dropped even lower.

"Six months at most, one year tops. We promise your debut within that timeframe. Worst case, we'll push you as an actor. It'll all be in the contract."

The offer was so unbelievable I found myself repeating it.

"One year at the latest?"

"Yes. If you're signing with us on faith, that's the least we can do."

He apparently didn't know yet that GH had cut me loose.

For a secondhand trainee who'd become unemployed just yesterday, it was an offer overflowing with generosity.

"What do you think?"

"It sounds like an amazing deal on paper."

"Yes."

"But why me, specifically?"

Trainees are a dime a dozen in this business. Aspiring ones too.

Entertainment hopefuls—sounds funny, but not wrong. Some people really aim to become trainees as their goal.

So why pick me out of all them? Especially at an age where I'm basically hitting my expiration date as an idol trainee.

"I heard you were set to debut as Flame's leader. Then the accident happened..."

Kim Han-soo answered with a practiced sales smile, but his tone grew cautious.

"If GH—the idol powerhouse—had you pegged as leader, that's verification enough. And just to be thorough, we double-checked everything through the staff who came over from GH."

His expression asked if I had more questions. I nodded to show I'd gotten it all.

"So, any interest in signing?"

It really was too good to be true. Since GH had dumped me anyway, switching to Pida wouldn't cause issues.

But I couldn't answer rashly.

Because...

'...This won't cut it.'

I eyed the status window, gauging the remaining time.

Twenty coins now. At the shop's exchange rate, that's exactly one week.

Combined with what's left, about a month plus a day or two. Even roughly, it's not enough.

'Way too short on time...'

Most of it came from posting that photo with Lee Jae-yoon anyway. I'd scraped together just five on my own.

If I'd stayed at GH, snapping pics with Jae-yoon or other Flame members might've kept me going. Yesterday proved it.

But at Pida?

'Nothing there.'

610:33:51

I glanced at the timer in the upper right again.

About a month left for me. But even if they debuted me in six months like promised, I'd be short five.

Struggling to break even with all-day photoshoots—could I prep for debut like that?

'Impossible.'

Honestly, when I first got the call yesterday, I'd felt a thrill.

Pride that all those years of effort weren't for nothing.

Call it curiosity or lingering attachment. I wanted to hear them out.

'So I came. Damn it.'

I came to put the what-ifs to rest, but now they were piling up double.

'It won't work anyway.'

Die in the practice room mid-prep? No way.

If I'm dying, it'll be after squeezing every last second. This is just pointless.

'...Gotta turn it down.'

The obvious conclusion. I turned to Kim Han-soo, who was still smiling expectantly.

"I..."

But strangely, my lips wouldn't move.

I knew I had to say it, had to refuse—but they felt glued shut.

Snap out of it, Lee Do-jun! Can't you see your time ticking down? What happens if you sign like this? Face reality. Debut was off the table the moment it slipped away.

No. The moment this damn status window appeared. Getting cut from GH was just another nail in the coffin.

That's when it happened.

Oh, hell no. What the actual fuck. It's not like VAT or something.

"Mother fu..."

Kim Han-soo, who'd been watching me, jumped in surprise.

"Pardon?"

"Ahaha... Just thought of my mom for a sec."

"Ah! Of course, you should talk it over with family. No need to decide right here. But if you're interested, we can help convince them."

That's not the issue right now. I politely shook my head to say I was fine.

'What do I do?'

So a week becomes 22 coins, and a day... how much?

'Yeah, yeah, I get...'

Wait, what? You could respond this whole time, you bastard?

But that wasn't important now. I racked my brain quick.

Hmm, yeah, that penalty adds up. Still, signing just to dodge 10% means no free time for practice—obvious as day.

Huge difference between full focus on farming likes versus not.

...But it's kinda tempting.

'If I don't sign, I die anyway, right?'

Minus the Jae-yoon photo, my like count was pathetically low.

Misreading my hesitation, Kim Han-soo spoke firmly.

"I know it's sudden and hard to trust, but we're confident we can make your dream come true."

Suddenly, a line I'd seen somewhere popped into my head. The one about what you'd regret more on your deathbed: uneaten bread or unfulfilled dreams?

Bet the guy who said it never died.

What do you think about before dying? Just not wanting to die.

'...My dream?'

But after hearing him, one image stuck in my mind.

The picture I'd drawn every day since becoming a trainee: me on stage, basking in fans' cheers.

'Crazy...'

Who's dying? You think I'll just drop dead like this?

Scraping by on photos is day-to-day survival either way.

Might as well debut somehow, get my face and name out there.

Live clinging to daily likes, anxious as hell?

Scary, sure—but I couldn't back down from this shot.

So, do it. Yeah! Let's go for it.

'Die doing this or that—same difference.'

Better than dying like by like counter.

I declared resolutely to Kim Han-soo, still waiting.

"I'll sign."

The system beat him to it.

...Oh? 100 coins?

Hey, you should've led with that. I wouldn't have agonized so much.

❤

The contract went off without a hitch. The very next day after meeting Kim Han-soo—today—I was called to the office, skimming the papers.

Just sign here, and I'm officially a Pida trainee.

With trembling hands, I finished my part and checked the status window.

Looks pretty flush thanks to the contract coins, but converted to time? Barely a month and a week.

...Well, calling it 'barely' from my position might be a stretch.

Anyway, contract's done—now debut ASAP and farm those likes.

'Do or die, for real.'

Still, 'those who risk dying live, those who risk living die' or whatever.

Way better than letting time slip without trying.

Plus, solid celebration gift.

Hey, be honest. You want me to debut, right? Why else give an item like this?

Having reviewed the contract fully, Pida's Executive Director Go Moo-seo slid my copy back and offered a handshake.

"Looking forward to working with you."

"Same here."

"Debut lineup's coming together soon. Don't stress."

"Got it. Not worried."

"First day and all, have Kim show you around."

"Will do."

Kim Han-soo beamed happily as he gave me the company tour.

"Anything you need, just say. Don't hold back—we're family now."

He was all smiles, thrilled the deal closed. Oh, right—there was one thing.

As I stared silently, he spoke first.

"Something on your mind? Speak freely."

Don't mind if I do.

"Hey, Team Leader."

"Yeah."

"You on Goodstar?"

"I am, but..."

"Cool. Like all my photos, then."

"...Pardon?"

"Every single one."

"..."

"Deal?"

Don't look at me like I'm nuts. I got no choice. Better than keeling over in the practice room later.

For some reason, Kim Han-soo's hand seemed to shake as he pulled out his phone.