The first thing Lee Kang-Joon did was stop treating debut like salvation.
That mistake had killed him ninety-seven times.
The trainee dorm at Starline Entertainment was loud in the mornings. Doors slid open and shut, footsteps overlapped, someone cursed about missing socks, another complained about vocal cords still asleep. It was familiar enough that Kang-Joon almost forgot how dangerous it was.
Almost.
He sat on the edge of his bed, spine straight, eyes unfocused.
Inside his vision—
[DO-HYUN — WILL TO EXIST: 63%]
The number pulsed faintly.
Not flashing.
Not urgent.
Yet.
Kang-Joon exhaled slowly.
In the previous regressions, Do-Hyun at this age had been energetic, optimistic, and obedient. He laughed easily, practiced obsessively, and thanked anyone who corrected him. Staff loved him. Trainers praised his attitude. Fans would later call him "born to be an idol."
That version of Do-Hyun had still died.
So cheerfulness means nothing, Kang-Joon thought.
