When did my life start to go crooked?
When I was abandoned the moment I was born? When the adoption that was supposed to happen fell through and I was left at the orphanage? When I finally did get adopted, only for the family to fall apart?
It's hard to pick just one when, objectively, they're all the kind of stories that make you think, "Ah, a tragic backstory." But if I had to choose one—
"Mom, Dad! Aaaah…!"
—it would be when even my adoptive parents passed away.
They were good people. By the time you're around twelve, they say your brain's already "too grown," and you drop down the adoption list. Even so, they adopted me and did everything they could to raise me well.
When my adoptive father's once-prosperous business went under—honestly, since I wasn't their biological child, they could have treated me like dead weight.
"We've got to take responsibility for our Yu-ha to the very end."
But their love didn't change.
Which made their deaths hurt all the more.
Cause of death: a car accident. One summer when I was nineteen, they were on their way to pick me up after practice when a dump truck hit them, and their lives ended.
Left alone, I wandered for a while. At the time, I was a fourth-year trainee, having even dropped out of high school to focus on training for debut.
But after my parents' deaths, it was hard to pull myself together. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. Depression set in, and of course my condition fell apart.
Just then—when I'd slipped out of the debut lineup and was steadily breaking down—the company gave me one last chance.
"Yu-ha, try going on this."
Design Your Idol. A survival program produced by the country's top music broadcaster, exclusively for trainees from entertainment companies.
These days, lots of survival shows use similar concepts, but back then the idea of trainees from different agencies signing a contract for a set period and promoting as a single group felt pretty fresh.
Because of that, some companies backed out, seeing it as a risky gamble; but mid- and small-sized agencies, hungry for exposure and influence, jumped in enthusiastically.
Among them, the only major agency to raise its hand was mine, KRM, which drew public attention from the planning stages.
KRM didn't need the benefits of broadcast exposure, but it decided to send its trainees to mend fences with A-Net, the production company behind Design Your Idol—the two had been locked in a long-running cold war.
The CEO needed to do A-Net a favor; thanks to that, I was given a spot on Design Your Idol.
Among trainees who hadn't made the debut team, many were desperate enough to cling to pant legs for a chance on that show. Once a debut team was set, there might not be another chance for years.
I don't remember how I felt when I got the offer. I wasn't in any state to judge whether it was a good opportunity or a bad one I'd have to shoulder the risk for.
I did know this much: once you're out of the debut lineup, this is the only road left. So there was nothing to do but accept.
Except—
"Yu-ha, give it to me. Let me have it."
That's when Kim Min-gi, who'd been cut from the debut lineup along with me, pleaded.
"You know, right? If I don't debut this time, it's over for me. I mean, I don't know if going on this will lead to a debut. But I want to at least grab the chance. You know how desperate I am."
I had just turned twenty; Min-gi was about to turn twenty-four. For a trainee, that's basically the end of the line.
"I'm sorry, hyung. I can't give it up."
But I was just as desperate.
If I didn't debut, I was nothing. I no longer had a family to go back to, and no dream to pursue if I wasn't an idol. This was all I had.
"Selfish bastard."
I turned at Min-gi's voice. Because we were in the same boat, because I understood that feeling better than anyone, a faint guilt prickled at me. But I couldn't let this chance slip.
Then—
"Uaaagh!"
—he refused to give up. On the stairs, he shoved my back and sent me tumbling.
I rolled once down the flight and hit the ground, and then blacked out. When I opened my eyes, my leg was broken.
With two months in a cast, I obviously couldn't take part in the survival program that was about to start.
"What happened? How did you fall down the stairs?"
"..."
Manager Kwon, who was in charge of the trainees at the time, asked me, but I couldn't answer. The place where Min-gi and I had been talking was the stair landing trainees used to sneak snacks—no CCTV. Naturally, there was no evidence.
Min-gi said he'd been comforting me, and I'd missed my footing and fallen. He even squeezed out tears, saying he felt guilty for not catching me.
If I'd told the company "Min-gi did it," would anything have changed?
The higher-ups and the trainees were already under Min-gi's sway. An accusation with no proof would be useless.
More than anything, I no longer had the stamina. The moment I realized the survival show was out of reach, I decided to give up on everything.
So I never told the full story of what happened, and the bastard went on Design Your Idol in my place with no pushback at all.
And to put it in one word—he blew up.
Design Your Idol was a smash. Like the scattered shards of a certain orb from a famous anime, idol fans, previously split into countless pieces, left their home bases and fell for Dear-Idol. With each episode, the fandom only grew.
In the end, Dear-Idol became an unprecedented hit and birthed an idol group that was breaking records from debut.
Kim Min-gi was one of them.
Around that time, I… debuted with LIGHTNING.
We debuted in the same year, but the gap between Dear-Idol alumni and other rookie groups was beyond heaven and earth. No group could compete with them, and LIGHTNING wasn't even in the same league to begin with.
While I kept falling—lower and lower—Kim Min-gi climbed—higher and higher.
As time passed, I stopped feeling hatred toward him. Emptiness, self-reproach, a touch of self-loathing took its place.
And only one fantasy kept swelling in my heart.
If I had been there.
If I had seized that chance. If I'd kept my head and dodged Min-gi's hand. If I hadn't fallen, and I had been the one to appear on Design Your Idol…
When I wonder—what would've become of me?
"…Hey."
"..."
"…Ha-ya!"
"…Huh?"
Ting. Like something slotting into place, my mind snapped suddenly clear.
I blinked and looked around, bewildered. A stale, dusty smell prickled my nose.
"Are you listening?"
Someone spoke to me in a carefully sweet voice. I focused on him—then, dazed, let his name slip out.
"…Kim Min-gi?"
"What?"
Right in front of me, Kim Min-gi's face creased. He pinched his brows and said,
"Kim Min-gi? Watch your tone."
"How are you even… here…?"
"Don't dodge. Say it straight."
His expression shifted again—now almost servile—as he went on,
"You'll give me your spot on Design Your Idol, right?"
"…!"
"You still have chances, yeah? You're young; you can do anything. But as you know, if I miss this one, I'm done. The company's about to kick me out."
"..."
What the hell is going on?
I narrowed my eyes and stared at him.
Lately I'd only seen Kim Min-gi's face on billboards and ads, but now it looked younger, like he'd turned back the clock.
This is exactly… the Kim Min-gi from our trainee days.
After debut, thanks to camera magic and a full-court press from his agency, he'd had procedures done and lived his peak. But none of that had the fresh, unripe look of the face I was seeing now.
It was hard to get my bearings, and I shook my head for a second. I was sure I'd fallen into the river—so why am I here, with Kim Min-gi?
"Are you saying no?"
And what is this bastard even talking about? Dear-Idol ended ages ago.
I frowned at him. He was looking at me with a cool, flattened face, like he'd decided my headshake meant I was refusing his plea.
Me, I'd only shaken my head because it hurt and none of this made sense.
"Yeah, no."
"What?"
"I said no. Why should I?"
There was no need to explain myself.
Whatever this situation is, I have zero reason to take Kim Min-gi's side.
Are you insane? Once burned six years ago is more than enough.
"Selfish bastard."
Just like that day six years back, he hissed the curse through his teeth. I was turning away, done listening, when—
"...!"
A hard arm smashed into my shoulder, and my body pitched forward—exactly like before.
The stairs rushed up toward me. The very stairs from the day I lost my shot at Dear-Idol.
…I'm going to roll!
I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the pain—
Ding!
With a bright chime, some kind of game-system screen popped up before my eyes.
『Tutorial: Life at a Crossroads!』
Spin the roulette and decide your fate!