Grab the Manual and Debut!-Chapter 37: ✦Shiny Day!✦

With only ten days remaining until the live finale of Road to Starlight, the Starline building had transformed into a pressure cooker. The air was thick with the smell of floor wax and industrial-strength hairspray, and the sound of muffled bass lines throbbed through the walls of every corridor.

But for the members of staryu, the "Hell Week" rehearsals weren’t just about physical endurance. They were about maintaining the "Loverboy" light in their eyes while their bodies screamed for sleep.

"Again," Kang-joon said, wiping a bead of sweat from his chin.

They were in the main stage hall, a cavernous space that would soon hold thousands of screaming fans. The ’Shiny Day’ remix was playing for the fiftieth time that morning. The choreography was no longer just a dance; it was a reflex.

"Kang-joon-ah," Gun-woo panted, his hands on his knees. "I think... I think I’ve reached my ’marshmallow’ limit. If I hear that synth lead one more time, I might actually turn into a pixel."

"The timing on the transition to the 8-bit breakdown is still off by 0.2 seconds," Kang-joon noted, though his voice was softer than it would have been weeks ago. He looked at his teammates. Jae-hyun was practically vibrating with nervous energy, Han-bin was muttering his rap verses like a prayer, and Doh-yun was sipping tea to soothe his strained throat.

Kang-joon checked the Impression Roulette.

[Total Impressions: 25,000,000]

[Available Spins: 35]

[Active Trait: ’The Guardian’s Intuition’ – LEVEL MAX]

Suddenly, the "Intuition" flared. It wasn’t the sharp ice-water sensation of a direct scandal. It was a low, industrial hum of wrongness. He looked up at the lighting rig high above the stage. A technician in a dark jumpsuit was tinkering with a heavy moving-head spotlight directly above the center position—the spot where the staryu unit would perform their final "alignment" pose.

"Hey!" Kang-joon called out, his voice projecting through the empty hall. "Is that light supposed to be flickering?"

The technician froze, then quickly tightened a bolt and climbed back into the catwalks without answering.

"Just a routine check, Kang-joon-ssi!" a stage manager shouted from the wings, not looking up from his clipboard.

Kang-joon didn’t buy it. He knew the Consortium’s "Scorched Earth" tactic wasn’t about words anymore. They couldn’t win the hearts of the public, so they were going to ruin the performance itself.

***

In a dimly lit office overlooking the Han River, the Director sat in silence. On his desk was a layout of the finale stage.

"The broadcast equipment is old," the Director said, his voice a dry rasp. "The power draw for the new LED screens is enormous. If the central circuit breaker ’accidentally’ trips during the staryu performance, the live feed will cut. By the time they reboot, the momentum will be gone. The audience will see a black screen, then a group of confused boys standing in the dark. It will be the most embarrassing ’glitch’ in TV history."

"And the lighting rig, sir?" the secretary asked.

"Just a distraction. Something to keep their eyes on the ceiling while we pull the plug on their floor," the Director smiled. "Lee Kang-joon thinks he’s an architect? Let’s see how he handles a building that refuses to stay powered."

***

Back in the dorms, the "Hell Week" hunger had reached a breaking point. Because they were going for a "lean, soft-boy" aesthetic, the manager had strictly forbidden fried chicken and pizza.

"I would kill for a single french fry," Jae-hyun whispered, staring at a bowl of cherry tomatoes like it was a pile of trash. "I would trade my soul, my debut position, and my first-born child for a nugget."

"Think of the sailor hoodies, Jae-hyun-ah," Han-bin said, though he was currently sniffing an empty bag of ramen for the scent. "The camera adds ten pounds. If we eat a nugget, we become ’Chunky-staryu’."

Kang-joon walked into the kitchen, carrying a small paper bag. The members swarmed him like piranhas.

"What is it? Is it bread? Is it grease?!" Gun-woo demanded.

Kang-joon slowly pulled out... a single, high-protein, zero-sugar cucumber.

The collective groan was loud enough to wake the neighbors.

"But," Kang-joon added, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I did manage to ’negotiate’ with the security guard."

He reached into his waistband and pulled out five small packets of spicy dried squid.

"Hyung!" Jae-hyun gasped, his eyes filling with tears of joy. "You really are the Nation’s Son! You’re our savior!"

"Keep it down," Kang-joon hissed, handing out the contraband. "If PD Na finds out, she’ll make us do 500 burpees."

They sat on the floor, huddled in a circle, blissfully chewing on the tough, spicy squid. For ten minutes, they weren’t idols or survivors. They were just five hungry teenagers sharing a secret.

***

Two days before the finale, Kang-joon used one of his spins.

[Reward: Skill - ’Structural Analysis: Digital & Physical’]

He went back to the stage hall under the guise of "extra practice." Using the skill, his vision shifted. He didn’t see the beautiful stage decorations; he saw the wiring. He saw the power lines running beneath the stage floor like glowing veins.

He followed the "veins" to the main junction box behind the LED wall. There, he saw it: a tiny, remote-controlled surge protector had been spliced into the main line for the audio and video feeds. It was designed to overheat and trip the breaker when the bass hit a certain frequency—the exact frequency of the ’Shiny Day’ remix’s final drop.

Kang-joon stood in the dark, his heart racing. He could call the police, but the Director would just claim it was a "technical error" by a rogue contractor. He needed something more effective.

He pulled out his phone and called Ji-hye.

"Ji-hye-ssi. I need you to find a ’Digital Architect’—someone who knows how to hack a closed-circuit remote switch. And I need it to happen live on air."

"What are you planning, Kang-joon-ah?" Ji-hye asked, her voice sharp with concern.

"The Director wants a glitch," Kang-joon said, his voice cold and focused. "I’m going to give him one. But it’s not going to be ours."

***

The Olympic Hall was a sea of white and gold. Thousands of lightsticks, synced to the central hub, pulsed like a single, massive heartbeat. The energy was electric, vibrating through the floorboards.

Backstage, the staryu members were getting their final touches. Their outfits were a masterpiece of "Loverboy" tech-wear: white varsity jackets with glowing LED piping, shorts, and high-tech sneakers that looked like they belonged in a 90s anime.

"Five minutes!" the stage manager yelled.

Gun-woo reached out and grabbed Kang-joon’s shoulder. "Hey. Whatever happens out there... I’m glad I wore the overalls with you."

Kang-joon looked at his team. Jae-hyun was doing breathing exercises, Han-bin was checking his mic, and Doh-yun was humming a warm-up. They were perfectly synced.

[System Notification: ’The Constellation’s Pulse’ – ACTIVE]

"Let’s show them what a real alignment looks like," Kang-joon said.

They stepped onto the rising platform. As they ascended into the blinding light and the roar of the crowd, Kang-joon caught a glimpse of the Director sitting in the VIP box, a smug, expectant look on his face. He was holding a small remote device in his pocket.

The music started.

’Shiny Day’ (staryu Remix) was a revelation. From the first beat, the five boys moved as one. The footwork was a blur of precision, but their expressions were pure joy.

Every time Kang Joon winked, every time he smiled, the "Impression" count on the screen behind them ticked up by the millions.

Then, the song reached its climax. The "Loverboy" bridge.

Han-bin stepped to the center, his rap flow smooth and melodic.

This was the moment. The Director pressed the button in his pocket.

Suddenly, the massive LED screens behind the boys flickered. The audio let out a sharp, digital screech. The audience gasped. The lightsticks in the crowd turned red, then black.

But the members of staryu didn’t stop.

Thanks to ’The Constellation’s Pulse’, they didn’t even flinch. They kept dancing in the sudden silence, their sneakers squeaking rhythmically on the stage.

And then, the "Glitch" changed.

Instead of the screens staying black, they suddenly flared into a vivid, neon-blue. But it wasn’t the ’Shiny Day’ graphics. It was a video feed.

The Director’s face appeared on every screen in the arena.

The audio feed cut back in, but it wasn’t the music. It was a recorded conversation between the Director and the technician from two days ago.

"...Make sure the breaker trips at the drop. I want Lee Kang-joon to look at a dark room. I want them to fail in front of the whole world."

The arena went deathly silent. Then, a roar of fury erupted from the fans.

In the VIP box, the Director turned pale, realizing that the "remote switch" had been hijacked by Ji-hye and her team of tech-savvy fans. His sabotage had become his public confession.

Kang-joon, standing in the center of the stage, looked directly at the camera. He didn’t look angry. He just gave a small, graceful bow—the "Loverboy" bow.

"The game isn’t over yet," Kang-joon’s voice rang out through his headset, amplified by the speakers that Ji-hye had just brought back online.

"Five, six, seven, eight!"

The music slammed back in—louder, bassier, and more triumphant than ever. The final drop hit, and the five members of staryu performed their "Alignment" pose. They didn’t just stand there; they glowed. Their LED jackets pulsed in sync with the crowd’s gold lightsticks.

The performance ended with a shower of star-shaped confetti.

The five boys stood in the center of the stage, panting, their arms locked around each other. The crowd was screaming so loud the building felt like it might collapse.

[System Notification: MISSION COMPLETE] 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

[Humanity Metric: 45%]

[Synchronicity: 100%]

[Rank 1: Lee Kang-joon]

***

The Director was escorted out by security, his career and his company in ruins.

An hour later, the five members of staryu were back in their dressing room. They were exhausted, covered in confetti, and still wearing their stage makeup.

"We did it," Jae-hyun whispered, clutching his Rank 5 award.

"Rank 1, Joon-ah," Gun-woo said, slapping Kang-joon on the back. "How does it feel to be the Nation’s Son for real?"

Kang-joon looked at his trophy, then at his friends. He pulled out his phone and saw a message from LawFan_99.

[You were brilliant!]