Debut or Die-Chapter 233
Kim Rae-bin adjusted his grip on the box in one hand as he walked down the hospital corridor.
His other arm was still in a half-cast, so he had to move even more carefully.
Kim Rae-bin kept his mouth tightly shut.
I can’t afford to drop this box!
Since the hordes of reporters who’d been waiting around the hospital since the shocking accident had finally thinned out, he’d been able to get this far without trouble.
Ten days had passed since the “in coma, recovering from surgery” headline first broke, and the media had moved on to fresher prey.
It was the entertainment world, after all—there was a new scandal or disaster every other day.
Still, pessimistic speculation articles, columns, and fans’ worried, angry posts swirled online like a war zone.
[Testar’s Park Mundae... Is He at Risk of Brain Death?]
[“May Groom”’s Accident: Reconstructing the Day]
[Day Seven After Surgery: Prayers for Park Mundae’s Recovery]
Kim Rae-bin barely had time—or the expertise—to scrutinize all the online reactions. He only checked the occasional search-engine headline and used fans’ comments on the official account to piece together the basic facts.
Everyone’s pouring so much interest into whether Mundae hyung will wake up.
That much was true.
Just then—
“Kim Rae-bin!”
“...! This is a hospital, keep your voice down!”
Cha Yoo-jin burst out of the room beside them, brandishing his crutches at terrifying speed as he chased after Kim Rae-bin.
He’d broken a larger bone than Kim Rae-bin had and was still hospitalized.
“You going to see Mundae hyung?”
“...Yeah.”
“I want to come too.”
Cha Yoo-jin strode alongside Kim Rae-bin, matching his pace. It was hard to imagine this calm, determined guy was the same one who’d sobbed and muttered rapid Spanish prayers at the time of surgery.
Kim Rae-bin briefly envied Cha Yoo-jin’s blissful lack of overthinking, then resumed his steady steps.
Park Mundae’s room was just ahead.
“Hyung.”
“We’re here.”
“Mm, oh, come in....”
Inside, Seon Ah-hyun, as still as a statue, quickly stood and answered softly.
“Hyung, are you comfortable?”
“...Yeah, he said there’s nowhere he’s uncomfortable.”
“Got it!”
Cha Yoo-jin plopped down beside the bed and began eagerly updating the unconscious Park Mundae in a mixture of Korean and English.
“The fans say a ton of new paper gifts are coming in. [It’s amazing—seems like every country has similar stories. Anyway, they all wish for your full recovery, right?]”
His theory that “he might be listening” was doubtful, but the group didn’t stop Cha Yoo-jin, because his words somehow gave them hope.
“The other hyungs already came by earlier.”
“...Ah, they went to the company earlier.”
“I see.”
Kim Rae-bin nodded and waited for Cha Yoo-jin to finish. What he had to share was too important to be drowned out by Cha Yoo-jin’s ongoing chatter.
‘Keep it down in here—I’ve gotta respect the visiting hours!’
Determined to appear dignified in front of the great Mundae hyung, he held back the urge to shout, “Stop wasting visiting time on repeats!”
Finally, without any squabbling with Cha Yoo-jin, he was able to take up the baton quietly.
“Hyung, hello....”
Of course, there was no answer from the lying Park Mundae.
Kim Rae-bin felt tears welling unexpectedly—perhaps it reminded him of his grandmother—but he simply held them back.
“I have something I prepared.”
He tried to sound [N O V E L I G H T] composed and opened the box.
It was packed to the brim.
Several sheets of paper covered in musical notation and treble clefs, some iconic props, and... a laptop.
Seon Ah-hyun, who’d been standing quietly, widened his eyes.
“Th-this is....”
“...Concept materials for the next album.”
Kim Rae-bin replied cheerfully.
“I’ve prepared everything, so please don’t worry at all about future schedules—just rest comfortably until you get up!”
It was what he’d done as soon as he’d heard Hyung would be discharged.
“....”
Even Cha Yoo-jin was at a loss for words as he stared at Kim Rae-bin.
In truth, it was highly irrational.
No one knew if Park Mundae—should he awaken immediately—would be able to begin rehabilitation and return to activity so quickly.
Moreover, he’d been unconscious far longer than anyone expected. Rumor had it the medical staff were already discussing a full re-examination.
Yet Kim Rae-bin had acted as if it were all possible right this instant, coming with concrete “plans” for their next activities—to report to the sleeping Park Mundae.
‘I know.’
Kim Rae-bin thought.
He couldn’t believe someone could look at such an uncertain future with absolute positivity—and spend so much time on it.
But... I’ve experienced it.
His grandmother woke up, so surely Mundae hyung would too.
“I’ll prepare and... wait!”
Kim Rae-bin reaffirmed his illogical conviction and sat cheerfully beside the bed with his box.
At that moment, a loud shout came from beside him.
“That’s right!”
“...!”
“Hyung, wake up so we can have another concert! Lots of them!”
Following Cha Yoo-jin, Seon Ah-hyun—finally inspired—clutched his dropped knitting and cried out.
If anyone else had been there, they might have scoffed or pitied them for their desperation.
Yet they persevered.
“....”
Of course, Park Mundae still didn’t respond.
This wasn’t a cartoon, and comatose patients don’t awaken at the call of a friend.
But they chose to wait.
Instead of planning a future without Hyung, they made this choice.
And even the sleeping Park Mundae faced a moment of decision.
The “Click” prompt on the status screen flashed brilliantly, summoning a new popup—just like in reality.
The familiar slot-machine graphic appeared.
As he pulled the lever... the reels began to spin.
Between the golden reels, occasional platinum slots appeared.
But unlike reality, these slots weren’t filled with embarrassing labels.
They were all empty.
“....”
He simply waited for them to stop, a cold sweat dripping from his chin.
When the slowly spinning reels came to a halt:
Pafang!
[Slot Machine Jackpot!]
: You’ve drawn a Legendary Trait!
The pointer landed on a platinum empty slot.
[ Trait: _____________ Acquired!]
The blank in the popup was stark, as if begging to be filled with anything. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮
‘Is it because this is a dream?’
He didn’t know. But one thing was certain.
Platinum—a Legendary Trait.
‘That’s an A-rank.’
Which A-rank did he know...?
Before he could think further, a brilliant intuition struck him like a hammer.
He opened his mouth almost without realizing it.
“Bacchus... to 1000.”
[Bacchus1000 (A)—Confirm input?]
[Yes / No]
He raised his hand and selected Yes.
The additional effect granted to Bacchus1000 upon reaching A-rank was...
—All fatigue recovery speed +100%
Then what would happen at S-rank?
[Confirm same trait!]
Would you synthesize “Bacchus1000 (A)”?
Yes.
At that moment, colorful lights burst like fireworks before his eyes.
The popup shimmered with rainbow hues.
[Synthesis Success!]
‘Nectar (S)’ Acquired!
The Sweet Taste of Life
—Full Health Restoration (one-time use)
“...!”
This was it.
He collapsed to the floor.
‘I did it.’
He’d chosen the correct option.
He could feel his body, already standing, gratefully absorbing the rest.
As the tension ebbed and his limbs trembled, unresolved questions still roiled his mind.
But one thing he knew.
‘I can go back.’
The moment he activated that, his body would undergo complete restoration and awaken—a perfect match.
Could his dream-body “Ryu Geonwoo” awaken instead of reality? No—no chance.
‘This status screen never worked here to begin with.’
And besides, it had merged with the traits he’d originally had in Park Mundae’s body.
This was surely targeting his real-world body.
A thrilling rush surged through him.
At the same time... anxiety.
‘I have to do it before the status screen deactivates again.’
He didn’t know what other madness might occur in this damned dream. He moved to activate the “Nectar (S)” trait immediately.
He murmured without thinking.
“Let’s go back.”
“Already?”
“...!!”
When he turned, he saw someone’s face peering into the practice room—claiming he had a schedule to get to.
It was Cheongryeo.
Instinctively, he assumed a defensive stance. Plenty of excuses came to mind.
“I figured more practice wouldn’t help, so I meant I’d head back.”
“Lie.”
Cheongryeo strode into the practice room as if it were nothing.
If he tapped now...
Wait—if he made a gesture toward the air and felt a mismatch, might this madman attack?
While he quickly calculated the odds, Cheongryeo stood before him.
Then, with an indifferent expression, he spoke.
“Hm, you’re less tenacious than I thought.”
“What did you say?”
“You said this was your third time? I thought restarting at this point over something like this might be premature.”
Ah, that’s what he meant.
Of course Cheongryeo had no way of knowing this was a coma dream.
Apparently he’d understood it as “going back to the beginning.”
He lowered his tone.
“I’m not restarting. I just spoke seriously while thinking things over a bit—I really am going back to the dorm.”
“Fine. Then tell me this.”
Cheongryeo’s accusation didn’t get through at all.
He continued, confident that Kim Rae-bin had indeed decided to restart.
“For now, those two you gathered... they’re tricky to handle. They won’t always cooperate. You saw that just now, right?”
“....”
“It’d be better to wait about a month before deciding who joins. This was a bit hasty. There were some good signs just before.”
“Right.”
Kim Rae-bin smiled.
“I just wanted to work together.”
“...!”
Cheongryeo’s face twisted into something strange—like a distant memory had surged back.
He muttered, “...Well, it’s the start, so one or two missteps are okay.”
“....”
Kim Rae-bin didn’t bother replying.
Instead, a moment later, he tossed out a casual remark.
“But if I do decide to restart, please debut the others. I’ll leave you with plenty of useful information.”
“Hmm, those two?”
“They’re not great, right? They won’t threaten VTIC.”
Cheongryeo shrugged.
Though he didn’t fully understand, Kim Rae-bin took it as approval. If everything went smoothly, there was a good chance Cheongryeo would follow through.
He almost ushered Cheongryeo out, then sent a few pre-scheduled emails.
[202X-08.txt]
Future knowledge arriving every two weeks.
And... he tipped off the prosecutors about the gambling den run by Bae Sejin’s father.
—“It’s an illegal casino trading large amounts of narcotics. Please investigate.”
There was no point staying here longer, so he didn’t mind being revealed as the informant.
This might help a little.
Lastly, he searched for the hospital contact info of the counselor who’d been Seon Ah-hyun’s current caseworker in reality and sent it to his parents.
—“This is the counselor I saw—he helped me a lot.”
Tap.
After finishing, he closed his smartphone and felt oddly refreshed.
Anything else left?
Just then—
“Oh—are you tight with Cheongryeo senpai?”
He turned to see the guy who’d just left with his phone reentering the practice room.
Kim Rae-bin glanced back at the popup, then answered Lee Sejin.
“...Not nothing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but I won’t introduce him to you.”
“...!”
“That guy’s a lunatic. Be careful around him.”
“...What?”
Lee Sejin looked as if he’d misheard—an expression not seen very often.
“....”
The moment Kim Rae-bin left, this damned dream would vanish.
It would just be self-satisfaction, but what did it matter?
He reopened his smartphone and quickly said to Lee Sejin:
“I’ll introduce you to a composer instead—listen up. When you debut, he’ll be useful.”
“What?”
He immediately texted Lee Sejin a composer’s contact. An unknown up-and-coming composer.
Vrrriiiing!
The vibration was loud, but Lee Sejin looked bewildered.
“Contact him here... listen to the samples, then choose No. 3 or 7. They’ll work best.”
“...Why all of a sudden?”
Kim Rae-bin chuckled quietly.
“You’d probably pick them anyway. I just thought I’d mention it.”
“...!”
Because real-world me had done exactly that.
Lee Sejin’s confusion was obvious. He rubbed his face with one hand, then finally spoke.
“Um, thanks, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why don’t we talk after you calm down? Also, why is senpai a lunatic....”
Seeing him peeled back like that, Kim Rae-bin thought:
If only there’d been a bit more time, he might’ve loosened up.
It felt strangely pleasant.
He looked at Lee Sejin a moment, then turned toward the door.
“Hey, wait.”
“See you.”
In reality.
There was nothing left to do here.
Kim Rae-bin waved one hand behind him and strode confidently out of the practice room.
The popup still hovered in his field of vision:
[Activate “Nectar (S)”?
※Warning※ Consumable trait / one-time use]
“Alright.”
Then his vision went white.
