Debut or Die-Chapter 220

Honestly, I didn’t have any grand purpose in taking the GED exam.

I just thought that, in life, it wouldn’t hurt to at least have a high school diploma in case of emergency.

“Even after using my head so much on variety shows, the idiots kept ragging on me for dropping out of middle school—passing the GED won’t shut them up.”

So, when the time came, I treated it like renewing my TOEIC score: without much fuss, I cracked open a past-question workbook, did a run-through, and called it a day.

I’d earned a college degree and even prepared for civil service exams—how could I possibly fail a GED?

Sure enough, my practice-test score was well within passing range.

“As long as I show up quietly, I’ll be fine.”

That was my conclusion as I closed the graded workbook.

My promotional activities had ended yesterday; I wasn’t yet due for leave, but my official schedule was light enough to allow a day or two off here and there. In two weeks I’d need to start preparing for the next album again, but there was no problem taking the GED the day after tomorrow.

I crossed my arms.

“No need to announce it to everyone.”

There’d be no benefit in the news leaking that I was taking the GED. I’d only invite pointless pity or, worse, stalkers showing up at the test center. And since my monitoring was already limited, it’d be a headache.

“No need to tell the others either.”

It was our rare day off. I’d let everyone enjoy themselves.

[“These damn K-pop bands!”]

Through the door I heard Cha Yoo-jin roaring with laughter. He must be binge-watching K-NOW from episode 4 onward—perfect noise for my mock-exam drilling. I’m not sure why he was laughing so hard, though.

“Episode 4 really changes tone.”

“Instead of the early episodes’ ‘tireless glory of K-pop hell camp,’ from episode 4 onward they start highlighting contestants’ stories, creating genuine empathy.”

“‘After my parents died, I rarely felt anyone cared about me.’”

“‘I really need the prize ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) money. For my family.’”

And they edited the contestants’ attitudes to match that tone. Instead of suffering under the camp’s torment and K-pop blitz like villains, they showed contestants completing performances one by one, visibly finding real fulfillment.

“‘I’ve never pushed myself 100% like this before.’”

“‘These people are real. Factory-line training? They can go f–k themselves! This effort is real, and they train like athletes!’”

They even built rapport with the K-pop mentors. For example, they wove in ‘Park Mundae’s family history’ alongside a contestant’s story. Now I hear him mention me again.

“‘After my parents died I lived as a junkie, but my mentor went on that audition and won.’”

“‘That means so much to me.’”

They’d simply shown me pointing out camera angles during a performance, yet they edited that into the contestant’s interview perfectly. Overseas viewers haven’t grown tired of these melodramatic notes, so the show’s buzz must be growing nicely.

“They’ll want to share the spotlight among the cast... let it slide.”

Come to think of it, I’ve already heard that Season 2 is confirmed.

“I just hope we bring in lots of new listeners for the next album.”

I nonchalantly opened the door. Cha Yoo-jin immediately whipped his head around and exclaimed with wide eyes,

“Hyung! You’re amazing—such a cool person!”

“Uh, thanks.”

He looked as if he might shout “love yourself” at any moment. Truly American. I went to the kitchen to pour water and asked,

“Did everyone go out?”

“I don’t know! I just woke up!”

He said proudly, at 2 PM. Well, during promo I survived on three or four hours’ sleep, so if I sleep twelve hours for a few days, I’m hardly lazy.

“Let’s play a game.”

“Later.”

“Play now!”

“Finish what you’re watching first.”

“Oh, right.”

He’d forgotten that promise half the time. I sat on the table’s edge and sipped my water. Moments later, Bae Sejin slipped out of the next room.

“Hyung, you kept sleeping? I did too!”

“Oh, no, I ... was just reading.”

“Ahh.”

Sejin looked relaxed for the first time in a while. Ever since he started rooming with Big Sejin, I’d seen him sneak into the living room corner—so apparently he wasn’t in his room now.

“Come to think of it, Ah-hyun’s not here either.”

Even Kim Rae-bin and Seon Ah-hyun, who rarely go out, were both gone—truly a vacation vibe.

“...Hey.”

“Yes—want some water?”

“Huh? Oh, uh...”

I handed the glass to Sejin, who stood there blinking in surprise, glass in hand, then abruptly asked,

“...Do you have anything to say?”

“...? Not really.”

He wouldn’t have been expecting me to offer to switch rooms, would he? Sorry, that generosity ends with water.

“Okay.”

Sejin’s brows twitched, but he drank quietly and went back to his room.

“What was that about?”

He’d hinted he had something to say, but the mood suggested it wasn’t serious. I figured he’d speak up if he really needed to.

“I’ll give myself a break, too.”

I shrugged and put the cup away. With nothing else to do, I thought I’d try another practice question.

“Hyung! I finished my show!”

...And a little later, after relenting to play a few rounds of video games with Cha Yoo-jin—since I was bored and mildly inconvenienced, it wasn’t too bad.

“How about playing Hobonight? A friend said it’s fun.”

“Do as you like.”

Looking back, I shouldn’t have brushed it off so casually. Because two days later, that morning I received something I never expected.

The morning of my GED exam, I set my alarm to vibrate only, just for me.

“They’re all still asleep.”

I quietly got up, went to the bathroom, and washed up. Coming out, I noticed the opposite bed was empty.

“...?”

Where did Ah-hyun go? I guessed he’d gone to the living room since I was using the bathroom, so I donned my street clothes and carefully opened my door. The first thing I noticed was... a scent. A rich, toasty aroma. And a boisterous voice:

“Park Mundae, you’re up!”

“...?!”

I looked up to see the entire living room and kitchen filled with my housemates.

“What’s going on?”

Before I could wonder what day it was, Big Sejin approached, smacking his palm lightly.

“Oh, Mundae Mundae~ You said you had an exam today!”

“...!!”

He was grinning broadly. And glancing around, everyone else looked the same—meaning the secret was out.

“How did you know?”

Big Sejin shook his head in mock sympathy.

“Let’s not forget we live together... your phone screen from across the room is crystal-clear to anyone next to you.”

“...!!”

“Well, c’mon—facing such a momentous day, and you didn’t say a word to the members? That’s so cold!!”

“It’s not like it’s the college entrance exam... no need to announce it.”

“Wahh, such hurtful words!”

“That’s right! That’s so hurtful!”

They were faking offense for fun. Did they pick this up on K-NOW?

At least Ryu Cheong-woo gave a reasonable explanation.

“Since we’re all here anyway on a dorm day... we thought a surprise send-off would be nice. Haha.”

“...Okay.”

That was unexpected—but pleasant.

“Out of consideration for your wish to take the test quietly, we’ll refrain from seeing you off to the test center.”

A wise choice. But it didn’t end there.

“So... we made this together.”

Seon Ah-hyun, standing at the back, hurriedly ladled something into a bowl on the table. It was... chicken porridge.

“....”

“I wanted to make chicken soup! But everyone opposed it!”

“Because it’s before the exam, something familiar seemed better.”

“Chicken soup’s delicious...”

I pictured the charred chicken-soup horrors from all that K-pop hell camp—hard to believe they’d transformed that through two stages into this wholesome porridge.

“Ah-hyun worked hard on it...and Sejin helped a lot. Only Rae-bin and Sejin know how to cook among us.”

“Actually, Bae Sejin hyung seems to know it best!”

“Uh, not that much.”

Sejin cleared his throat. True—Rae-bin and Sejin’s skills are comparable.

“They managed it well.”

I stared at the bowl of porridge that looked genuinely hearty, speechless. Partly embarrassed, partly grateful.

“How is it, Mundae? You’re so quiet... can’t find words? I know you’ll love it—dig in~”

Well done. My remorse vanished.

“What’d you guys do?”

“We all went grocery shopping together~ Delivery would’ve given us away. Do you think ingredients fall from the sky?”

So that’s why no one was around yesterday—and how they sneaked it into the fridge unseen.

“See? Makes sense?”

I sighed, then gave a wry smile.

“Alright, thanks.”

“...!”

“Thank you, everyone.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“Eat up!”

So I sat among them, grinning, and ate the porridge.

“...Is it good?”

“Yes. It’s delicious.”

I thought I’d choke—but I finished it clean, afraid they’d scold me for leftovers. It was also very thoughtful.

“Want another bowl?”

“I’m fine. Big Sejin, don’t take pictures.”

“Oh? You don’t want to share this moment with your fans? The members worked so hard on it~”

“....”

Fine—do as you like. It’s not like I’m going to announce I ate breakfast—posting that wouldn’t hurt.

“I’ll pack the rest for lunch.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

I’d already packed a makeshift lunch yesterday, but I could eat that later. With the porridge in a thermos, I left the dorm at a reasonable hour, seeing the others off.

“Get a perfect score~”

“Eat something yummy for dinner!”

It felt strange.

“I brought my own lunch box to the college exam, too.”

I never imagined I’d be taking a GED in someone else’s body and eating this porridge.

“...Focus on doing well.”

If I somehow failed, it’d be laughable—so I’d better pay attention. I masked up, pulled my cap low, and headed out. The test center wasn’t far, and I got there easily and quietly by taxi. Of course, no one paid me any mind. If the company had sent security, I’d have been accused of disturbing the exam.

“There are plenty dressed like me here.”

With such varied ages among test-takers, my ordinary appearance blended in. Glad I didn’t leak the news. I sat at a desk, took out a pen—it was been a while since I’d taken an exam.

Inside a Seoul GED test center, people of all ages sat at their own desks. But one thing I hadn’t anticipated: among them was a fan with such obsessive knowledge that they could identify me from my skeleton alone.

“...Park Mundae??”

Indeed. A test-taker, placing their bag behind my desk, froze at the sight of my familiar back. That frame, the hairline at the nape—years of watching my behind-the-scenes fancams flashed before their mind. Instinctively they realized:

“Wait—he’s on hiatus now... and Mundae dropped out of high school... he could come take the GED!”

Their thoughts bombarded them. Their rational self screamed that it was absurd, but after a moment, they shook off the swirl of ideas and resolved:

“I have to be careful!”

Though the odds were infinitesimal, speaking or staring at me would be rude—and I absolutely couldn’t disturb the exam. Steeling themselves, the candidate quietly sat at their desk.

And just like that, the thrilling GED began.