Debut or Die-Chapter 223

The car was silent as a grave.

No, every so often I could hear Kim Rae-bin’s choking sobs.

Under normal circumstances, the others would be trying to comfort him with something like “It’ll be okay,” but they sat in silence—driving or patting his back.

Because comforting him might only make things worse.

“Yes, sir. ...Yes, at this hour? We’re on our way now, so please stand by nearby as soon as you can.”

I relayed the message to the manager and snapped the phone shut.

Was now really the time to argue about “work-life balance”? Who the hell cared about that?

“.......”

After that... what was I doing?

Nothing, of course.

Just thinking.

Thinking that no matter what, getting to Rae-bin’s parents’ home in Gangwon Province would take at least three hours.

“If anything goes wrong, we could be late.”

...But suppose we’d left straight from Seoul, like before other vacations.

We’d have shaved off at least an hour and a half.

An hour and a half difference.

I couldn’t help calculating that.

“Fuck.”

Because the guy in front of me would be thinking the same thing.

Rae-bin still held his phone, unconsciously waiting in fear for another call.

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to call back...

“.......”

I felt breathless.

“Enough.”

It was ridiculous. I wasn’t the one involved, I couldn’t help, and yet I was obsessing uselessly.

I laughed at myself, leaned my head against the window, and stayed silent.

That seemed the least disruptive course.

About three torturous hours later, we passed the final toll gate before our destination. Ryu Cheong-woo spoke up in the calmest tone he could manage.

“We’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“.......”

Bae Sejin spoke to Rae-bin with an effortful quiet.

“Change your clothes.”

“.......”

Rae-bin, who’d been stiff with tension and worry for so long, slowly began pulling off his shirt.

The salt and sweat crusting it dropped away as it slid under the seat.

Putting on fresh clothes, he stood frozen for a moment—then tears began streaming down his face.

“It was... my fault. I asked to go on this MT... and now we’re late.”

“No.”

I answered without thinking—just blurting it out.

I should have come up with a plausible excuse on the spot, but there was no time to explain.

Someone else interjected.

“He’s right! It’s my fault.”

“......!”

“I was the one who suggested it. It’s not Rae-bin’s fault!”

Cha Yoo-jin spoke stoutly but looked as if he were about to break down himself.

Rae-bin let out a hoarse sound.

“No, no! The MT was my idea—we planned it... I chose the place....”

“Don’t think about it now.”

I cut him off.

“Think later. Right now, go see your grandmother.”

“.......”

Rae-bin managed a nod.

This was the moment not to burden him with more thoughts. That was the right call—based on experience.

Soon the car’s navigation announced our arrival.

“Let’s go.”

“...Yes.”

Rae-bin stumbled out of the car and walked toward the hospital.

The rest of us followed as far as we could—to the waiting chairs outside the wards, where we sat silently until he emerged.

“.......”

“Oh, my mother....”

Outside the room, relatives and medical staff moved about, but we sat quietly, not daring to speak or draw attention to ourselves.

Judging by the atmosphere, thankfully... we weren’t too late.

I wasn’t sure I should call that fortunate, but I did.

By the time dawn’s pale light showed through the windows:

“Mundae.”

“.......”

“Park Mundae, why don’t you go rest in the car for a bit.”

“Cheong-woo hyung... He’s the one who should rest, right?”

Who stays awake after driving all night?

But Cheong-woo shook his head.

“I’m fine.”

“Me too.”

“.......”

That brief exchange ended there. No one else mentioned resting, and we waited in silence.

Moments later, Rae-bin emerged, face ashen, and shared the situation.

“Rae-bin.”

“You okay?”

“Yes... Grandma told me everything... She’s sleeping now....”

So the immediate crisis had passed.

“Hah.”

I felt my muscles unclench for the first time.

Rae-bin was... not too late.

But from his expression, I could tell he wasn’t relieved.

“There will be more crises to come.”

I realized this might be the worst vacation ever for him.

Company staff arrived a bit later, received the report, and members who had homes to return to were sent off.

Rae-bin’s sister, who came out of the ward afterward, politely urged them to go.

-Thank you so much for bringing him here.

-It’s nothing. Of course we would.

-I heard you’re on vacation. Thank you for taking time out of your day... Please travel safely home.

It was understandable—they hadn’t expected to manage so many visitors, and it was appropriate.

For guys whose families visited once or twice a year, coming this far showed real loyalty.

Cha Yoo-jin, who would have been heading back to the dorm anyway, declined firmly.

-I’m fine. I can’t go home! I’ll stay here.

-Yoo-jin....

Thanks to his former agency days, he was acquainted with Rae-bin’s family, so they accepted his decision.

But we couldn’t leave him alone... not when he wasn’t the type to fully take care of someone.

And if one of the two guys who would stay at the dorm chose to stay here, it’d be ridiculous—like the younger kid getting to skip out.

So I stayed, too.

-I’m fine staying, I was planning to be at the dorm anyway.

After some refusals and reassurance, we followed Rae-bin’s sister and grandfather to his childhood home.

Along the way, she explained the situation.

-They’ll monitor her for a few days, and if conditions allow, she’ll have surgery.

-The chances aren’t high, though.

-Still, it’s better than her collapsing suddenly like last time... Rae-bin can prepare himself.

I didn’t press for the exact illness—it wasn’t my place. But overhearing the relatives, it seemed to be a pituitary issue.

At home, Rae-bin finally relaxed and spoke through tears.

“When she was hospitalized last time, they found it, but she told them not to tell me... so I wouldn’t worry. I didn’t know, and I didn’t even think to worry... I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“No, I was stupid! Today too... I couldn’t even think straight, I messed up....”

“You did fine.”

I cut him off.

“You handled it calmly. You saw Grandma and did everything you could. No one’s an expert at this.”

“.......”

Rae-bin slumped his shoulders.

And I felt a strange satisfaction that my words had gotten through.

“Right.”

Who could ever be prepared for something like this?

He’d done well.

As pre-approved by his sister, I stood and opened the fridge, pulling out electrolyte drinks.

Handing one to him, I made sure he drank before speaking softly.

“I’m sorry I pushed you so hard in the car. You did well.”

“Oh, no...! Thanks to you, we weren’t late....”

Even if we’d been late, it wouldn’t have changed things—but that was his worry, not mine.

And I realized this worry would linger.

“No matter how this goes, it’s going to be tough.”

Including the talk he’d have with the company after vacation.

“Order something tasty, Rae-bin. Delivery!”

“D-Delivery... you mean delivery food.”

“Okay, order it!”

Rae-bin, now back in his usual tone arguing with Yoo-jin, managed to place an order—though he couldn’t eat much.

And so our risky attempt to maintain normality continued as we waited through the hospital’s emergency call.

Then... the difficult moment arrived.

On the last morning of vacation:

“They’re going to operate on Grandma,” Rae-bin said, after waking to a call from his sister—calm, though holding his phone upside down.

“Tell me over breakfast.”

“Rae-bin, this is your seat!”

“I know, it’s my home! ...Yes! They say her condition’s improved enough to undergo surgery!”

So there was a chance of recovery.

But again... it also meant her survival was still unlikely.

I wasn’t sure whether # Nоvеlight # to dampen his hope or encourage it.

Instead, I brought up the realistic issue I’d thought of on day one.

“You’re planning to stay by her side?”

“Yes...?”

“Know this: vacation ends today.”

I put my spoon down in the bowl.

“You have to return by tomorrow morning.”

“...!!”

“Think carefully whether you can be back in Seoul. If her condition suddenly worsens, you might not make it in time.”

I remembered Rae-bin’s words from our debut days, when Grandma first collapsed.

– In that case... if I’m in the middle of a performance or shoot, is it right to stop and go? But then... it feels unprofessional.

Family or work.

That damned choice.

Not a momentary decision, but one stretched over four weeks of surgery recovery.

“This situation sucks.”

But even back then, the right words were clear.

“I’ll tell you now: It’s okay not to return for a while. It’s all so we can live well—we shouldn’t make things painful.”

“...You’re right. Thank you!”

“I’ll help convince the company, so don’t worry.”

Cha Yoo-jin actually spoke up with support—he’d been paying attention these last few days.

I thought Rae-bin would close his eyes and cry, “I’m sorry, but I’ll do that.”

But he didn’t.

“I... I think that will be painful, too.”

“...!!”

“But this is an important full album. I haven’t fully finished a single track I’m responsible for... The title track, it’s still in progress....”

Of course—Rae-bin had responsibilities and dreams, too.

“The music video, choreography, stage... I won’t be able to contribute at all.”

He was the member in charge of producing. He knew that if he dropped out entirely, TeSTAR’s musical identity would suffer.

“If Grandma recovers... that’s what I want, then what I do will matter.”

“Okay, got it.”

I stopped him—his words were right. If she recovered, he might regret resting.

And despise himself for it.

“Maybe I was too biased.”

I’d overlaid my past onto his present.

I tapped the table with my fingers.

“The best solution is to delay the album release by a month or two.”

But that was a problem for me—tour schedules would shift, risking failure to clear debuffs.

“I’d go insane.”

Then it hit me.

“We’ll do both.”

“...!!”

Cha Yoo-jin shouted.

“There are plenty of good options! Calls and... um.”

“In English.”

“Right! We’re multilingual, yes?”

Yoo-jin’s eyes lit up as he tapped the table.

“There’s email, video calls, even live streaming now! We’ll have Rae-bin work on tracks from here! And we’ll prepare everything else!”

“...!!”

It was shockingly sensible. I spoke up.

“Yoo-jin says you should work on tracks here, remotely.”

“Remote work??”

“I think it sounds fine.”

As expected, Rae-bin’s expression brightened instantly.

“I—I think that’s good! Then for everything else....”

I laced my fingers together.

My mind was firing on all cylinders for the first time in days.

“Here’s the plan. For choreography, we’ll make two versions: one with you, one without.”

“Huh??”

“Great!”

“And for filming, we’ll shoot individual cuts and group shots first, then push your solo shoot as late as possible.”

“Oh!”

“We’ll delay your join-time, and have a version ready if you can’t make it.”

Rae-bin’s jaw dropped.

“...I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? It just means you’ll have a harder time later on.”

I asked him:

“You still want to do it?”

“...Yes!”

Good.

Rae-bin nodded vigorously and then blinked back tears—understandably moved.

“All right, let’s do as much as we can.”

“Yes....”

I added:

“And if it becomes impossible, you can stop midway.”

“That’s right! It’s not your fault, Rae-bin.”

Those words were true.

And so began four weeks of trying to catch both family and career in one go.