The company cafeteria was located in the basement, a windowless room that smelled of boiled chicken breast and sanitizer. l
Kang-Join stood in the line, holding a plastic tray.
His eyes scanned the food stations with the intensity of a bomb disposal technician.
Loop #42: Salmonella in the raw egg yolk mixture. Three weeks in the hospital, missed the monthly evaluation, contract terminated. Died of a gas leak in his apartment a month later.
Loop #65: Peanut cross-contamination in the 'nut-free' protein shake. Anaphylactic shock. Dead before the ambulance arrived.
He bypassed the prepared meals and moved to the raw produce section.
He picked a whole banana (peel intact, harder to tamper with) and a sealed carton of milk.
[System Notification: Caloric Intake Insufficient for Dance Practice. Recommendation: Consume 150g of Lean Protein to maintain S-Rank Physique.]
Kang-joon ignored the floating blue text.
He would rather lose muscle mass than his life.
He found a table in the corner, facing the door; a habit from Loop #80, where a jealous rival had thrown a boiling cup of coffee at the back of his head.
He peeled the banana slowly, checking for needle marks.
"Hyung! Can I sit here?"
Kang-joon didn't flinch.
He knew who it was before he looked up.
The voice was bright, eager, and tragically optimistic.
It was Han Jae-hyun.
In this timeline, Jae-hyun was a seventeen-year-old trainee with messy hair and a goofy smile.
In the future of Loop #1 through #90, he was usually the group's leader; the type who cried when they won awards.
"Sit," Kang-joon said, keeping his voice neutral.
Jae-hyun flopped down, his tray piled high with forbidden carbohydrates.
"Did you see the vocal evaluation list? Rumor is you made Producer Seo cry!
Was it that good?"
Kang-joon took a sip of his sealed milk.
"He didn't cry...rather looked nauseous. There's a difference."
[System Quest: Team Bonding. Target 'Han Jae-hyun' has high potential (Future Rank: A+). Increase affinity by offering encouragement. Reward: +50 EXP.]
The System wanted him to play the mentor. Kang-joon knew better.
The closer he got to Jae-hyun, the more Jae-hyun's "Destiny" would intertwine with his own.
And anyone close to Kang-joon when the Success Marker hit was in the splash zone of the curse.
"It doesn't matter," Kang-joon said coldly. "Evaluations are just numbers.
Focus on your own breathing control.
You were rushing the bridge in practice yesterday."
Jae-hyun blinked, then grinned, seemingly immune to the cold shoulder.
"Woah, you were watching? Thanks, hyung! You're like a ghost, you notice everything."
A ghost...If only he knew.
After lunch, the hallway leading to the main dance studio was crowded.
The monthly Trainee Rankings had been posted.
This was the heartbeat of the agency.
It determined who got the best dorm rooms, the best vocal coaches, and eventually, the debut spots.
Kang-joon stood at the back of the crowd.
He needed a specific result.
Rank A: Too dangerous. The CEO starts watching you.
Rank F: Too dangerous. You get cut, moved to a worse agency, and die in a generic industrial accident.
Rank B or C: The sweet spot...Invisible competence.
He watched the other trainees groan and cheer.
Finally, the crowd thinned enough for him to see the sheet.
1. Park Min-soo (A)
2. Kim Dong-hyun (A)
...
14. Lee Kang-joon (B-)
He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
B-minus.
The notes next to his name, written by the trainers, were perfect:
"Vocals: Excellent technique, but lacks commercial appeal. Tone is too heavy."
"Dance: Solid fundamentals, but stiff expression."
"Attitude: Passive."
It was a masterpiece of mediocrity.
He was actually safe.
[System Alert: Ranking 'B-' Detected. Failure to achieve 'A' Rank results in Penalty.]
Kang-joon froze. Penalty?
In previous loops, the System just nagged him.
It had never threatened a penalty for a B-Rank before.
Perhaps because in his 97th life, his base stats were naturally so high, the System considered a B-Rank an intentional act of rebellion.
[Penalty Initiated: 'Forced Charm' Mode activated for 10 minutes. Host must recover lost ground.]
"Wait," Kang-joon whispered.
A sudden, electric jolt ran through his spine. It wasn't painful, but it was invasive.
His posture automatically straightened and his chin lifted.
The exhaustion in his eyes was forcibly replaced by a sparkling, magnetic intensity.
[Mode Active: For the next 10 minutes, Charisma Stat is locked at SSS+.]
"No," he hissed through gritted teeth.
"Kang-joon?"
He turned.
It was the Head of Rookie Development, Director Choi.
A woman with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue.
She was walking down the hall with two investors.
Usually, Director Choi ignored B-Rank trainees.
She would walk past him without a glance.
But Kang-joon couldn't slouch or even look away.
The System was piloting his body language, turning him into a lighthouse of star power.
He turned toward her, and the movement was fluid, almost cinematic.
He looked at her, and his eyes which were normally dead and tired shone with a captivating, soulful brilliance.
Director Choi stopped in her tracks.
The investors stopped too.
"Who is that?" one of the investors asked, pointing at Kang-joon.
Director Choi frowned, squinting.
"That's... Lee Kang-joon. He's usually quite... invisible."
Kang-joon tried to look away, to look down, to pick his nose...anything to break the spell really.
But his body betrayed him.
He bowed perfectly, a graceful 90-degree angle, and when he rose, he gave a small, enigmatic smile that he knew, from Loop #23 (his Acting Idol phase), was designed to melt hearts.
"Good afternoon, Director," his voice came out smooth, resonant, and velvety.
The investor whispered something to Director Choi.
She nodded slowly, taking out a red pen and circling something on her clipboard.
[System Notification: Attention Captured. 'Hidden Gem' Status Acquired. Penalty Complete.]
The electric jolt vanished. Kang-joon slumped instantly, the exhaustion crashing back in.
But the damage was done.
Director Choi was looking at him with a new, dangerous expression.
The look of a merchant who just realized she had a diamond mixed in with the coal.
Damn it.
Kang-joon retreated to the small, unused Practice Room 4.
He needed a moment of silence to process the 'Forced Charm' penalty.
The System is actively fighting my stagnation.
The terrifying realization was that he couldn't simply quit, fail, or hide.
If he did, the System would use increasingly intrusive penalties to force him back onto the path of high achievement.
His skills, his memories...his very competence were a straightjacket forcing him toward the grave.
The only way to utilize the System's benefits (Perfect Memory, skill bumps) was to follow its ultimate, deadly mandate: Debut Success.
He had to pursue debut, but he had to figure out how to survive the success.
He closed his eyes, accessing his Memory Chip.
He focused on the immediate future.
Today is Monday...Ranking release. Tomorrow, Tuesday...
He scrolled through the mental calendar. He needed to prepare for the inevitable.
"The Survival Show."
In exactly three weeks, Starline Entertainment would announce the launch of its internal survival show, "Road to Starlight", to pick the final debut members for the new boy group.
This was the next Major Success Marker he couldn't avoid.
In all 96 of his past lives, this show was a pivotal point.
It was an EXP farm for the System, rewarding high drama and performance.
Winning the show triggered the death loop quickly.
Failing the show led to being cut, which paradoxically also led to a different kind of death (accidents from stress, infections from untreated wounds, etc., outside the System's controlled success environment).
He had to enter, and he had to win.
Because winning, ironically, gave him the most control over his environment and schedule in the short term.
He had to be the most successful, most doomed participant.
[System Quest Initiated: Secure a Spot on "Road to Starlight". High Probability of Success. Reward: Permanent unlock of [Audience Manipulation (B) Skill].]
Kang-joon accepted the quest with a grim finality.
He had to become a star. He had no choice.
The door to Practice Room 4 creaked open.
Kang-joon tensed, but quickly resumed the posture of a tired trainee stretching.
He needed to avoid drawing attention.
A figure stepped in.
It was a girl, wearing a mask and a low-pulled cap.
She looked around the room, checking the corners for cameras.
She spotted Kang-joon.
"You," she said, her voice tight.
'Shit I'm I done for already...on the same day I returned at that...'
"You're the B-Rank trainee. Lee Kang-joon."
"Sorry," he mumbled, bowing slightly.
"I was just resting...I'll leave."
He moved toward the door, trying to analyze her motive.
Is she a reporter? A fan looking for a scoop? In this life, the threat was still vague, external, and unpredictable.
He couldn't afford to assume malice, only random hazard.
"Wait."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a simple, blank business card.
She didn't look malicious but frantic...the universal look of someone in the industry.
She shoved it into his chest pocket.
"Starline is a mess," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"The show... the show is a sham.
It's rigged!
If you want to actually debut, truly debut, call this number.
My agency can guarantee you the exposure you need, without the Starline nonsense."
She slipped out the door as quickly as she had arrived.
Kang-joon stood alone in the silent room.
He slowly pulled the card from his pocket.
It was blank, save for a phone number and a single symbol embossed in the corner: An Hourglass.
[System Alert: New Variable Detected. Quest Item 'The Poacher's Card' acquired. Caution: Interaction with this timeline branch has a 99% fatality rate in previous simulations.]
A rival scout. Offering an exit ramp.
Kang-joon stared at the card.
The System saw this as a high-risk alternative debut path; one that, according to his memory, usually ended in a plausible, accidental death during a contract dispute or a staged scandal.
It was just another path to his inevitable demise, but through a different company.
He pocketed the card.
It was useless for survival, but useful for one thing: leverage.
If he needed to manufacture a scandal to stall his debut on "Road to Starlight", a rival contract could be his way out.
He walked out of the room, leaving the moldy darkness behind.
The System wanted him to be a star.
He was going to be the most terrifying contestant the "Road to Starlight" survival show had ever seen.
He needed to win the show, but survive the debut.
And the first step was making sure he wasn't eliminated before he even had a chance to gain power.