The Regressed Idol: My Second Chance To Debut

Chapter 4

The whispers of the crowd followed Andrew with every single step he took.

"Is he seriously going for Number One?"

"He's still in his school uniform."

"Did he come straight from class? I would’ve been too scared to do that."

Andrew kept his eyes locked straight ahead, completely ignoring the burning stares. Let them talk. He spent half a lifetime watching these survival shows from the other side of a cracked phone screen. He knew exactly how the production editors used superficial judgment to create narrative victims before a single note ever left a contestant's mouth.

He adjusted the heavy strap of his school bag, his fingers tightening against the canvas. His eyes flickered briefly to the very peak of the pyramid, where Julian Vance sat like an unbothered king in the shadows, radiating a cold, invisible pressure that kept everyone else at bay.

Andrew didn't need that throne. To the teenagers around him, sitting on the highest seat meant looking brave. To a man who spent years surviving the real world, it just meant painting a massive bullseye on your back before the war even started.

He quietly stepped to the right, bypassed the top tier entirely, and navigated down to the exact middle section of the pyramid. He turned around calmly, smoothing his wrinkled uniform trousers, and sat down in Seat Fifty. Dead center. The perfect neutral blind spot to watch everyone else without getting pulled into the crosshairs.

[Ding.]

[Mission Reward Available.]

[Select one core attribute for immediate enhancement.]

Andrew’s eyes narrowed slightly as the blue text hovered before his face. A reward? He almost let out a dry, bitter laugh. After everything this mechanical entity dragged him through, threatening his mother's life to force him here, this was the first time it actually offered him something useful.

He rested his chin in his palm, deliberately thinking it over. His teenage body was physically weak and untrained, but his adult mind possessed fourteen years of muscle memory regarding breathing techniques, pitch control, and vocal preservation. If he leaned heavily into his existing strength, he’d have a much better chance of securing an early impact.

"Vocals," he whispered under his breath.

[Selection Confirmed. Attribute enhanced.]

[Vocals: C+ ➔ B-]

"Aren't you going to replace the pending missions?" Andrew murmured internally.

The System offered no response, the screen instantly flickering out. Andrew leaned back in the cold soft chair, completely relaxed. A few trainees nearby stared at him from the surrounding seats, their initially confused expressions quickly morphing into amused, condescending smiles. They expected him to challenge the top. Choosing the exact middle number probably looked like pure, unadulterated fear to them. Let them think it.

Just then, the heavy double doors groaned open again, and another high-profile trainee entered the arena.

“That’s Liam Carter.”

“He’s from Titan Production... the elite subsidiary.”

Several corporate trainees straightened in their seats the moment they recognized the boy's face. Without the slightest hesitation, radiating an aura of immense wealth and styling, Liam climbed the pyramid. He didn't dare look directly at Julian Vance's chilling form at Seat One, but he proudly claimed Seat Two, right beside the throne, throwing a confident smile toward the roaming crane cameras.

The corner of Andrew’s mouth lifted in a faint, imperceptible trace. Exactly as planned. He settled deeper into Seat Fifty, barely sparing the wealthy heir another glance. It didn't matter who claimed the temporary cardboard crowns right now. Sooner or later, every single one of them would have to stand on the exact same stage, under the exact same raw audio feeds.

As the final independent trainees scrambled into the remaining lower seats, the tension in the stadium-sized studio grew so thick it felt almost suffocating.

Clack.

Suddenly, the blinding studio lights vanished, plunging the entire room into pitch-black darkness. A heavy, collective gasp rippled through the hundred boys.

A heartbeat later, a thunderous, cinematic orchestral track boomed through the massive stadium speakers, vibrating straight through the floorboards and into Andrew’s sneakers.

Clang!

A single, blinding white spotlight illuminated the dead center of the main stage below. The massive acoustic studio doors split open. A woman stepped directly into the beam of light, her designer heels clicking softly against the polished, high-gloss floor.

The room instantly erupted into chaotic, fan-boying panics.

“It’s Sarah Quin!”

“No way… she’s really the main producer?”

“She debuted through the very first season of StarGlow! She’s been an A-list legend for years!”

Trainees around Andrew stood up instinctively, entirely unable to mask their raw excitement.

Sarah Quin. The name brought a rush of vivid memories. She debuted as the absolute center of Aurora, StarGlow’s pioneer project group. Back in his previous life, Andrew skipped lunch for two consecutive weeks just to save enough coins to buy Aurora’s first physical album. He still knew every single title track and B-side harmony by heart. He replayed Sarah’s iconic debut stage in his dingy teenage bedroom until his family's cheap DVD player literally wore out and smoked.

Every kid in his generation dreamed of standing where she stood. It felt intensely surreal, almost cruel, to sit here fourteen years later, looking down at the flesh-and-blood woman who defined his entire youthful ambition.

Sarah raised her microphone with a flawless, practiced industry smile, gesturing to the monolithic LED screen towering behind her.

“Hello, trainees. Welcome to the StarGlow Survival Show.” Her voice was warm, but it instantly commanded the entire room. “Right now, your seating is just a personal choice. A reflection of your current ambition. But in exactly ten minutes, the real grading begins."

The screen behind her flashed, illuminating the letters A, B, C, D, and F.

"You will perform your individual entrance evaluations," Sarah continued, her eyes sweeping across the tiers. "And the judges will rank you from Class A to Class F based purely on your present skill. Class A trainees will receive the ultimate tier of benefits—including priority center positions, maximum guaranteed broadcast screen time, and choice of tracks. Those who fail to improve or meet the required standards will face immediate elimination.”

The heavy, crushing reality of the entertainment industry settled over the room like a wet wool blanket. Boys around Andrew began frantically wiping cold sweat from their palms, their breathing turning shallow.

"Before we bring out the judges," Sarah smiled, her tone shifting to an elite marketing pitch, "let us officially introduce the trainee who topped the global pre-show popularity polls."

The giant screens flashed violently, displaying a high-resolution, airbrushed profile. The name appeared in bold, blinding gold letters: Christian Sterling — Vanguard Entertainment.

Quiet panic rippled through the seats. Christian entered the stage from the designated VIP side door, wearing an expensive, custom-tailored designer outfit. His silver-highlighted hair was immaculate, and his posture radiated the absolute, unflinching confidence of a boy who trained for five long years at the largest, richest agency in the nation—the very titan that produced BigBang.

The screen displayed his pre-show evaluation profile:

Vocals: A+

Dance: B

Visual: C

Vocals: C

Charm: B

Andrew’s eyes tracked Christian calmly as the boy began his smooth climb up the tiers toward the top. Memories of his previous life clicked into place. Andrew replayed Christian’s legendary Episode Three vocal performance so many times he could predict every breath and vocal flip before it happened. After that specific broadcast, every street dancer and karaoke singer in the country copied Christian’s signature ending fairy move.

But right now, before the public ever learned his name... Christian Sterling was just another boy entering the meat grinder.

Andrew instinctively pulled up his own status screen

Andrew instinctively pulled up his own status window in the corner of his eye.

Vocals: B- (Enhanced)

Dance: D-

Visual: C

Rap: E-

Charm: E+

The numbers looked almost laughable. Compared to Christian’s pristine, god-tier Vanguard stats, his own profile was downright embarrassing. While Christian spent the last five years training under the country’s finest vocal coaches and global choreographers, Andrew spent those exact same years carrying heavy bags of cement under a scorching sun, watching stolen performance clips on a cracked phone during ten-minute lunch breaks.

The massive disparity brought no surprise. No anger, either. This was just how the world worked. How could a construction worker and a sheltered corporate prince ever start from the same line?

Andrew stared into the empty air before him, secretly hoping the blue holographic text would flash with a sudden, compensatory boost, a hidden beginner package, or a cheat code to balance the playing field.

The screen remained entirely blank. The System was a silent, unfeeling ghost.

That’s it? No hidden starter items? You’re really going to throw me into a pit of monsters with these garbage stats?

He waited. No text appeared.

Seriously? Worst system ever.

Andrew exhaled a long, slow breath through his nose, his fingers tightening against his knees until the denim of his uniform stretched. The initial wave of suffocating psychological pressure tried to choke him, but his thirty-two-year-old mind quickly, ruthlessly suppressed it.

He faced far worse things in his past life than a group of highly talented, wealthy teenagers. He faced starvation, systemic poverty, and the agonizing slow death of his mother. If the System refused to give him an easy path, he would just use his scarred, battle-tested brain to survive the cut.

Down on the main stage, Sarah Quin raised her microphone one final time. The massive digital countdown clock behind her hit absolute zero.

"The time for waiting is officially over," Sarah’s voice boomed through the speakers. "The StarGlow Entrance Evaluations... begin now!"