Grab the Manual and Debut!-Chapter 40: ✦Star-Stock [3]✦

Kang Joon sat on the edge of his narrow bunk, his back against the cold metal rail. Across the room, a wall-mounted camera; the "Dorm Vlog" eye glowed with a steady red light. It was watching him. It was watching the way he rubbed his tired eyes, the way his shoulders slumped, the way he looked at his phone. Every micro-expression was being recorded, ready to be sliced, slowed down, and captioned by an editor whose only metric was "engagement."

He navigated to the Nutube homepage. The algorithm, ever-efficient, placed the latest "Road to Starlight: Uncut Special" at the very top. The thumbnail was a high-contrast shot of Kang Joon’s face, shadowed and stern, next to a crying trainee named Han-eol.

The title: "The Tyranny of the Top Rank? Kang Joon’s Hidden Audio Revealed."

Kang Joon clicked it. He knew he shouldn’t. In ninety-seven lives, he had learned that feeding a wound only made it fester, but in this life, he needed to know the shape of the weapon being used against him.

The video opened with a scene from a late-night practice session three weeks ago. It was the "staryu" unit preparation. Han-eol, a Rank 12 trainee with a soft voice and shaky confidence, had been struggling with the complex hand-syncing during the bridge.

In reality, Kang Joon had stayed with him until 3:00 AM. He had broken down the movements, offered his own water, and told Han-eol that his vocal tone was the "secret weapon" of the track. But the video didn’t show that.

The editors had used isolated audio. They had stripped away the background music, the sounds of other trainees, and even the ambient noise of the room. All that remained was Kang Joon’s voice, amplified and sharpened until it sounded like a whip.

"You’re failing the team," the audio-clip hissed.

The screen cut to a close-up of Han-eol’s trembling hands.

"If you can’t hit the count, you shouldn’t be on this stage," the voice continued.

Then, a sudden cut to Kang Joon turning away, his face looking cold and dismissive. The editors had removed his follow-up sentence: "So let’s do it again slowly, I know you can hit it." Without the context of the support, the "again" was gone. Only the "failing" remained.

The screen flashed a red subtitle: [Is this the ’Leadership’ fans voted for?]

Kang Joon felt a hollow sensation in his chest. It wasn’t sadness—it was a cold, analytical realization of how easy it was to dismantle a human being. The video ended with Han-eol in a confessional booth, wiping away tears. "I just felt so small," Han-eol sobbed. "I didn’t want to drag everyone down, but the pressure... it’s a lot."

Kang Joon scrolled to the comments. It was a digital massacre.

* @User_221: Wow. I actually liked him. I spent $50 on his stock yesterday. I feel sick. Selling everything right now.

* @StarTrade_King: Kang Joon is a classic sociopath. He hides behind that "Loverboy" image but he’s clearly a bully. Look at Han-eol’s face. He’s terrified.

* @CancelCulture: #KangJoonBully is trending. Starline, do something! Why is he still in the Top 5?

* @MinSoo_Stan: This is why Min-soo should be the leader. He’s actually kind. I’m moving my Kang Joon shares to Min-soo. #CleanLineup

The "Star-Trade" app notification pulsed at the top of his screen. He wasn’t allowed to open it, but the news previews on his lock screen told the story.

[MARKET ALERT: KANG JOON STOCK PLUMMETS 40%. "DELISTING" WARNING ISSUED.]

"Joon-ah."

He looked up. Gun-woo was standing by his bunk, his hair messy and his eyes dark with lack of sleep. He didn’t have his phone out. He didn’t need to. He could see the wreckage on Kang Joon’s face.

"They aired the Han-eol clip," Kang Joon said, his voice flat.

"I saw it," Gun-woo whispered, sitting on the floor by the bunk to stay out of the camera’s direct line of sight. "It’s a lie, Joon. We were all there. Han-eol even thanked you the next morning. Why isn’t he saying anything?"

Kang Joon looked across the room. Han-eol was sitting in his own bunk, surrounded by three other trainees who weren’t part of the "staryu" unit. They were whispering, their eyes darting toward Kang Joon with a mixture of fear and opportunism. Han-eol looked guilty, but he didn’t look up.

"He can’t," Kang Joon said. "His stock price probably doubled this morning. He’s the ’victim.’ If he defends me, he loses his momentum. In this dorm, truth is a liability."

The communal door opened, and a staff member walked in. He didn’t have the usual polite "trainee-manager" smile. He looked at them like they were defective products.

"Kang Joon, Gun-woo, Jae-hyun, Han-bin, Doh-yun. Get up," the staff member snapped. "You have a brand shoot for ’Cloud-9’ sportswear in an hour. The rest of you, stay here and prepare for the ’Life Vlogs’."

As Kang Joon stood up, he felt the gaze of the other nine trainees. It was different now. Before, there was a sense of "us against the world." Now, there was only the math of the "Liquid Lineup." If Kang Joon fell, one of them moved up. He could see them calculating his "Market Value" in their heads.

The van ride to the shoot was agonizing. The manager in the front seat was on the phone, arguing with the brand’s marketing team.

"I know the rumors are bad, but the contract is signed!" the manager shouted. "No, you can’t cut Kang Joon out of the center... Look, the Star-Trade app is volatile. He might bounce back by the afternoon... Fine. Fine. We’ll adjust the blocking."

He hung up and looked back at the boys. "The brand is nervous. They want to focus on ’Dynamic Energy.’ Kang Joon, you’re moving to the back for the group shots. Min-soo is being brought in from the other dorm as a ’Special Guest’ for this shoot."

Jae-hyun gasped. "Min-soo? But he wasn’t in the finale unit! Why is he here?"

"Because his stock hit an all-time high this morning," the manager said coldly. "The fans want ’Fresh and Clean.’ Right now, Kang Joon is ’Complicated and Dark.’ Adjust your faces. You’re supposed to be selling happiness."

The shoot was a nightmare of passive-aggression. The photographer, a man who usually praised Kang Joon’s "natural angles," now looked at him with visible disdain.

"Kang Joon-ssi, can you look less... intense?" the photographer barked. "You look like you’re judging the camera. Smile. Be a ’Loverboy.’ Or is that too much to ask for someone with your ’standards’?"

Min-soo, a trainee known for his bright, "puppy-like" image, was given the center position. Every time the camera clicked, he laughed and interacted with the other members, but he pointedly avoided eye contact with Kang Joon. The "Liquid Lineup" was already manifesting. The other trainees, sensing the shift in the wind, began to gravitate toward Min-soo. Even Han-bin and Doh-yun looked hesitant, their eyes flickering toward the staff members who were nodding in approval at Min-soo’s "refreshing" energy.

During the break, Kang Joon sat alone in the corner of the studio, drinking lukewarm water. He pulled out his phone. He shouldn’t, but he had to see. He went to the Starline Nutube channel. A "Short" had been uploaded—a 15-second clip of Min-soo being kind to a staff member on set, juxtaposed with a "leaked" clip of Kang Joon sitting alone, looking "arrogant."

The caption: [The contrast is real. Who do you want representing your ’Star-Trade’ shares?]

The comments were a sea of red heart emojis for Min-soo and snake emojis for Kang Joon.

* @Starlight_Investor: Min-soo is so precious. I just bought 100 more shares. Kang Joon is finished.

* @K-News_Today: Reports say Starline is considering a "Lineup Correction" if the stock disparity continues.

Kang Joon felt a vibration in his pocket. It wasn’t a notification. It was a call from a restricted number. He walked to a quiet corner of the studio and answered.

"You’re learning," a voice said. It was User_997. "You’re learning that ’Talent’ is just a variable. The ’Market’ is the only god here, Kang Joon. How does it feel to be a penny stock?"

"You’re the one who sent the audio to the editors," Kang Joon said, his voice a low hiss.

"I didn’t have to," User_997 laughed. "I just told them which folders to look in. People love a fall from grace, especially one that was so ’perfect.’ You were too good, Kang Joon. You made everyone else feel inferior. Now, the world is just balancing the scales."

"The hit-and-run victim," Kang Joon said. "What did you promise him?"

"Just the truth. That the boy in the car is now a millionaire-in-waiting. Why shouldn’t he have his share? If you want this to stop, you should just delist yourself. Save your ’friends’ the trouble of watching you drown. Look at them." 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Kang Joon looked across the studio. Gun-woo was arguing with a stylist, trying to defend Kang Joon’s position in the next shot, but Jae-hyun was standing apart, looking at his phone with a terrified expression. Jae-hyun’s own stock was starting to dip by association. The "staryu" bond was being dissolved by the acid of the Star-Trade app.

"I’m not delisting," Kang Joon said.

"Then watch the numbers," User_997 replied and hung up.

The afternoon shoot was worse. The "Vlog" cameras followed them into the dressing room. Kang Joon tried to speak to Han-bin about a lyric change, but Han-bin looked at the camera on the wall and stepped back.

"Not now, Hyung," Han-bin whispered, his face pale. "People are... people are watching. If I look too close to you, my comments get flooded with hate. I have a family to support back in Busan. I can’t let my stock crash."

It was a social death. In a dorm of fourteen people, Kang Joon was suddenly invisible. He was a ghost haunting a "Liquid Lineup" that was already moving on without him.

When they returned to the dorm late that night, the atmosphere had shifted again. A massive digital billboard had been erected in the Starline lobby—one they could see through the glass as they walked in. It showed the real-time "Top 5" based on Star-Trade values.

* Min-soo ($24.50)

* Jae-hyun ($18.20)

* Gun-woo ($15.80)

* Doh-yun ($14.10)

* Han-eol ($12.90)

Kang Joon’s name was at the bottom of the "Active" list, glowing in a warning-orange: [KANG JOON: $5.12 - VOLATILE].

The threshold for delisting was $5.00.

He walked into the dorm. The other trainees were huddled around the table, celebrating a small win—they had been given "bonus points" for their participation in the morning vlog. When Kang Joon entered, the talking stopped.

Han-eol looked up, his face a mask of conflict. "Joon-ah... I’m sorry about the edit. I didn’t know they would—"

"Did you tell them the truth?" Kang Joon asked, his voice quiet.

Han-eol looked down at his phone. "My manager said... he said if I change the narrative now, the fans will think I’m being ’manipulated’ by you. It would hurt both of us."

"It would hurt your stock," Kang Joon corrected.

He didn’t wait for an answer. He walked to the bathroom, the only place without a camera, and locked the door. He leaned against the sink, his breath hitching. In ninety-seven lives, he had faced death, but this was different. This was the systematic erasure of his character by a machine fueled by greed and pixels.

He looked at his phone. The Starline Nutube channel had just posted a "Live Countdown" for the next elimination.

[24 HOURS REMAINING. WHO WILL BE DELISTED?]

He went to the comments one last time. Amidst the thousands of "Snake" emojis, he saw a single post from @LawFan_99.

* @LawFan_99: Look at his hands in the ’Cloud-9’ shoot. He’s holding the practice notebook he was using in the dorm. He’s still working. He’s the only one not looking at the ’Stock’ cameras. Don’t sell yet. There’s something wrong with the audio. I’m analyzing the frequencies. #HoldJoon