Debut or Die-Chapter 253
On the first day of the holiday, at nine in the evening, Park Mundae showed up unannounced at the front gate of Ryu Cheong-woo’s home.
This was a situation Cheong-woo had never imagined.
‘I did post in the group chat that anyone was welcome to drop by...’
It had been a joking remark about how good the food was.
Yet for someone who had firmly declined the invitation to spend the holiday together to appear out of the blue at this hour... it was extraordinarily strange.
‘And it’s that Park Mundae?’
The level-headed, sharp-judged younger member—yet now standing outside in the dark...
“Hyung.”
“...Ah, sorry. Of course.”
Cheong-woo paused, then stepped aside so Park Mundae could enter.
After all, he couldn’t leave him standing outside at this hour.
Still, an inexplicable tension made his body taut.
‘What is this?’
He heard Park Mundae’s calm voice.
“I’d like to wash my hands.”
“...Over there.”
Cheong-woo pointed toward the bathroom, thinking he should talk calmly once Mundae had freshened up.
‘I should let my parents know first, too.’
By now they’d likely overheard voices and guessed the visitor was an acquaintance.
As he moved to close the door...
He caught sight of Bae Sejin’s sheepish face behind Park Mundae.
“...??”
Why are you here?
“Oh, hi.”
“Y-yeah. Hi.”
Sejin quietly lifted a piece of fruit.
“This... is an apple.”
“Ah, thank you.”
Cheong-woo hurriedly accepted the fruit. The strange tension vanished.
‘Hmm.’
Only then did he ask:
“I’m glad you came to visit. But the two of you... what brings you here?”
“I just followed Park Mundae.”
Sejin glanced toward the bathroom where Mundae had gone.
“He said he was coming here, so... I was curious.”
‘He felt something odd and came along.’
Reading Sejin’s concern, Cheong-woo asked:
“Did he mention why he wanted to come?”
“No... but...”
Sejin leaned in to whisper.
“I think he remembered something.”
“...!”
“You know, every time he’d suddenly wake up remembering before.”
Cheong-woo immediately recalled last summer in the U.S.
“When people face terror and pain... it’s normal to get angry, blame others, and still be okay.”
He had said that to Mundae when, after drinking, Mundae finally opened up. Later, noticing Mundae’s alcohol-dependency signs, Cheong-woo regretted his approach.
‘Wasn’t there another way?’
In any case, it had been a shocking experience. Anyone would be shaken to see their composed, logical younger sibling suddenly overwhelmed with pain, triggered by a fleeting memory.
‘Is this a similar... feeling?’
Cheong-woo felt déjà vu from the tension he’d sensed in Mundae earlier. He steeled himself, but when Mundae emerged from the bathroom, he changed his mind.
“Hyung, I have something I’m curious about.”
There was no hint of rejection in Mundae’s expression.
Rather... his eyes were blazing.
‘Oh no.’
Cheong-woo quickly exchanged glances with Sejin.
“Um, first... shall we greet my parents, then talk?”
“Yes.”
Sejin washed his hands quickly and stood next to Mundae. Cheong-woo introduced them.
He felt a cold sweat.
“These are... my juniors. They came by with some fruit.”
“Oh my!”
“Welcome~”
His parents looked surprised but welcomed them warmly.
“Hello.”
“...Hello!”
They bowed politely. Cheong-woo, wary, checked Mundae’s eyes—and saw a detached, observing gaze.
‘Why... that?’
More confused, Cheong-woo seated them in the living room.
Ggami the poodle bounded over and sat on Mundae’s lap; Mundae expertly scratched the dog’s ears and said:
“Hyung.”
“Y-yes.”
Mundae’s eyes flared again.
“You said you’d repay my kindness.”
“...I did.”
That choice of words felt odd, but Cheong-woo answered honestly. Beside him, Sejin’s pupils trembled.
“I have a request I’d like you to grant.”
Mundae spoke plainly:
“I’d like to see some photos from your childhood.”
“...??”
He hadn’t expected that.
“Actually, I’d like to watch some videos, too. Do you have any records of a large, happy family at once?”
Cheong-woo asked:
“Why do you want that?”
“Just because.”
An unassailable answer. Sejin mouthed:
‘Early memories!’
“...!”
Right. He likely wanted to find clues to his early memories and be stimulated by seeing similar scenes.
‘Was I closest to Sejin’s family back then?’
Cheong-woo vaguely thought, then relaxed with a relieved smile—he had some idea what's going on.
“All right, shall I fetch what I have?”
“Yes, please.”
Cheong-woo hurried to the master bedroom and brought back albums and video tapes.
Returning, he saw Mundae stroking Ggami skillfully and Sejin tense beside him.
“.......”
He hesitated, but decided that although Mundae might still be stunned, he wouldn’t be paralyzed by shock this time.
“Here—shall we look at the photo albums first?”
“I’d prefer if we could watch the videos along with the albums. And if possible, I’d like to see when you were in lower elementary school. Is that okay?”
The specificity of the request—and the exact age range—made Cheong-woo think Sejin’s guess might be right.
“Ha ha, sure.”
Relaxing slightly, he played the video. On screen, his childhood self appeared.
[Cheong-woo~ wave your hand here!]
The shy young Cheong-woo filled the frame; he felt a bit embarrassed too.
He remembered that must have been Chuseok, when relatives chartered a bus for a big trip together.
“...What grade is this? You’ve grown tall.”
“I think I was in second grade.”
A faint look of defeat flickered on Sejin’s face, but Cheong-woo didn’t notice—Mundae was busy scratching the dog’s chin.
“Of course.”
“...?”
And so the three watched albums and home videos, chatting here and there. His parents peeked from the hallway with proud yet slightly bemused expressions—‘Why show this now?’
It was probably because, after his retirement due to injury, Cheong-woo had become defensive from media scrutiny.
He forced a wry smile at a twinge of guilt.
‘Still, I must tell him that he once saved my life.’
He had planned to, if Mundae came over for Chuseok.
Cheong-woo continued watching. The mood stayed pleasant.
[Waaa!]
Another home-video clip began.
Sejin stared, unsure what to do with the dog on his lap.
‘Nothing serious.’
They’d probably talk a bit more then leave. He considered offering some holiday snacks—late-night food wasn’t healthy, but it was Chuseok.
Then suddenly, Mundae stood.
“...!!”
“Wait.”
Mundae grabbed the remote and paused the video.
Then he walked toward the TV.
With a look of certainty.
‘I’m here.’
Cheong-woo realized instantly.
On screen, the boy sitting in the corner of a pension sofa, holding a book with an uninterested face—that was Ryu Geonwoo.
“.......”
No wonder the tension drained away.
His head felt clear, blood rushing happily.
‘He was here too.’
This tape was still early—he could rewind more so his parents might spot him, but he held back.
He raised his phone and took a picture of the frame.
Click.
At that moment, Sejin asked in surprise:
“Is that... someone you know?”
“.......”
Right.
He’d been so eager he forgot to explain.
‘Is my brain rotten?’
He clicked his tongue inwardly and replied:
“He’s someone I know—I owe him a debt of gratitude.”
“Oh....”
The longer a lie runs, the more it feels like a lie. He answered quickly, and it naturally brought to mind when he bought Mundae that meal.
Sejin’s eyes lit up.
“So did he come because he remembered this person?”
“Yes? ...Yes.”
She made the story for him—thanks, Sejin.
Cheong-woo filled in:
“His name is Ryu Geonwoo, so I wondered if he was related to Cheong-woo hyung. There aren’t many Ryus.”
“Is that so...? Hmm. Now that I see it, they do look a bit alike.”
Do they?
In any case, his flimsy excuse worked thanks to appearance, and Cheong-woo nodded kindly.
“And shall I ask my parents if they remember any relatives by that name?”
“...I’d appreciate that.”
Honestly, he rarely saw distant relatives more than once every few years, so his parents probably wouldn’t recall—but it was worth trying.
‘What if they say he died in middle school or something...?’
He shuddered at possible misunderstandings but pressed on.
As expected, his parents said they didn’t remember.
“Hmm....”
They looked troubled, as if remembering amnesia was too impactful.
Someone even suggested:
“We could ask the clan registry. With an approximate age and name, they might find something.”
“...! That’d be great.”
“Don’t thank me for something like this.”
Cheong-woo laughed and made a call; after a few words, he reported encouraging news.
“They said they’ll look into it quickly and let us know.”
“Even during the holiday—they’re kind.”
“I’ll pass that along too.”
Thus, the search for “traces of Ryu Geonwoo” ended quite successfully.
After that, the only topic left was the dog.
Sejin asked softly:
“...Is that it?”
“Yes.”
Worrying that Sejin’s mother was alone, Cheong-woo gently said:
“I’ll call you as soon as I hear back. Don’t worry.”
He also made clear they were free to leave.
After thanking Cheong-woo’s parents again, they returned to Sejin’s home together—of course, he didn’t forget to say:
“Thank you for the fruit.”
“Well, I bought it since I was out...!”
He seemed proud despite his protest.
In any case, having avoided being rude in the confusion, Cheong-woo planned to make some holiday food the next day.
“Sigh.”
He changed back into pajamas and lay in bed.
But thanks to the scene he’d seen during Truth Confirmation, sleep didn’t come easily.
“.......”
Damn it, I quit. I have no memory of that—I’m thinking about nothing. What’s the point?
He shook off the thought and summoned the status screen.
“Status Screen.”
It was probably still on that “Calculating” message...
Puff-puff-boom!
“...!!”
Suddenly, a shower of flower petals ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) burst before his eyes.
The holographic petals sprang from the popup, scattering beautifully over the bed.
Then the status screen flashed with a dazzling rainbow glow.
[Great Success!]
User: Park Mundae (Ryu Geonwoo) has successfully removed all status ailments!
Reward: Permanent Status Screen, Title
[Title Created!]
: “The One Who Succeeded” (Idol)
May you enjoy a sweet life.
“.......”
What did it say?
