Debut or Die-Chapter 265

As expected, the encore itself went off without a hitch.

[See ya!!]

Cha Yoo-jin sprinted across the stage as if he’d only just remembered to shout, hunting down cameras and fans alike—and kept up that same tension all the way until he disappeared backstage.

‘Good.’

I let the exhilaration of the concert settle in my head. I planned to head down, talk to Yoo-jin, and then, with the company involved, have a word with the film crew—make them pull the footage. I knew they wanted a good “story,” but this was overkill.

Before I could make a move, the camera operators from backstage trailed us as we headed offstage.

‘These guys just don’t know when to quit.’

I got a strong feeling that if I snapped at them, they’d secretly be delighted at how they’d blurred the line between staged and real life.

“...”

Yoo-jin glanced at the documentary crew without saying a word, took the water handed to him, and drank it.

‘He really calmed down.’

He must have worked off his tension onstage. I wiped my neck with a towel and sorted my thoughts.

Then it happened. A crew member darted up to me, camera in tow.

“Mr. Yoo-jin regained his composure incredibly fast... was it because of your previous accident—”

“Stop it.”

“...!”

Yoo-jin burst in, slapping the camera down with his hand.

“What the—!”

“I told you to stop. Why won’t you listen?”

“Wait a minute.”

What was this sudden outburst?

‘If this keeps up, it’ll look like we’re the ones crossing the line first.’

Startled members rushed to restrain him, but Yoo-jin held the camera down for a long moment, staring the crew down.

“Yoo-jin, let go of the camera.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Just a second, please—Director, sorry, but we really need to talk among ourselves. Just a moment.”

Big Sejin finally intervened, gently steering the crew away and escorting them to the waiting room.

Thud.

“Have a seat.”

“...”

Yoo-jin quietly sat on the sofa. Ryu Cheong-woo cleared his throat.

“Yoo-jin, I know the crew made you uncomfortable, but you can’t start pushing them away at work. You need to talk it out.”

“They wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Hold on—Sejin, let him explain.”

Big Sejin cut in.

“Back on Idol Corporation, you endured even with tears. When reality cameras swarmed our dorm at debut, you said nothing, right?”

Maybe because of the urgency, his tone wasn’t his usual gentle coaxing.

“But now? Do you think people will judge whether you’re right or wrong? They’ll just think you’ve changed.”

“That’s different.”

“Sure it can be. But if viewers don’t see your side, what good is it?”

“...”

“Yoo-jin, not everything at work can seem rational or fair to you. If it could, would you be a god, not a person? First apologize for touching the camera....”

But before he finished, Bae Sejin spoke up sharply.

“...No, they really were wrong first. It was rude.”

“...!”

That was Bae Sejin.

“I think you definitely should make that clear. You held back at debut; it’s weird to expect you to hold back now.”

“Sejin-hyung...”

Seon Ah-hyun called uneasily, but Sejin didn’t back down. A flicker of irritation crossed Big Sejin’s face.

“Look, now’s not the time. You’re not saying we should apologize to them, right?”

“Yeah, he’s trying to smooth it over. But do we have to?”

“...Wow, just... sigh.”

“Enough.”

I raised my hand and pressed my temple.

“No need to drag this out among ourselves. Just talk to the crew and pull the film. That’s all.”

Though opinions diverged, it wasn’t worth a full-scale fight—just be careful in this moment. I summed it up in one sentence.

“This kind of thing happens at work.”

“...”

They fell silent. They’d tried so hard not to clash, and it still didn’t fit.

‘That almost turned into a disaster.’

I stifled a sigh, then turned to Yoo-jin, who still sat with his head down.

“...You need to cool off.”

“...”

No answer. I checked—Kim Rae-bin was hesitating but still in the room. I set water down in front of them and stepped outside.

I planned to loop Cheong-woo in and talk to the crew, but the cameras—not again... Damn, enough already. I let Cheong-woo’s polite concern for Yoo-jin’s camera and the director’s well-meaning apologies wash over me, then got to the point.

“I think everyone could use a rest today. Why not meet tomorrow and talk again?”

“Yes, yes. But I’m really sorry—could we do a very short interview now? I thought you had the day off, but just a quick one.”

“...Just a moment.”

Great, they still don’t get it.

‘Is this why Yoo-jin’s so pissed?’

From an idol’s perspective, intrusive cameras are one thing—but hounding you like paparazzi is another. I could see how enraging it might feel. And for the crew, they wouldn’t miss this chance—raw answers from a fatigued performer.

They think—“They won’t tell him to scram; they’ll just keep filming!” Seeing us try to rein Yoo-jin in must be proof of that.

Fortunately, company staff burst in like bullets, placated the crew, and sent them away.

“If you persist, we really can’t proceed! Please understand.”

Then, anxious, they asked us:

“Mr. Yoo-jin, did you... have a conflict with the documentary crew?”

“I think there’s some tension, yes.”

Cheong-woo glanced around and sighed when our eyes met.

“Let’s leave it for today. Let him cool his head.”

“Right. That’s best.”

Since tomorrow truly was free. After the concert, the guys would hole up in the hotel room, maybe field a few more doc-crew comments—and that’d be it.

The staff looked tense but eventually agreed to wait for Yoo-jin to come out.

“Probably best we don’t touch him right now.”

“Yes, yes. We’ll be very careful.”

They’re used to self-solving conflicts within the group, so this was foreign and embarrassing. But they did their job.

“All of you, get some rest. We’ll wait until they both come out.”

“...”

Yeah. We’ll see him at breakfast anyway—no need to force a confrontation now and risk another pointless fight.

‘At least Rae-bin’s staying—that’ll help.’

In times like this, a peer is better than someone older.

“Let’s go in.”

“...Okay.”

The members looked uneasy, but they complied and got into the car.

“Sh-should we text him? In English?” 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

“Hm. Maybe it’s better to meet tomorrow morning over breakfast and talk.”

“Right...”

Comforting is fine, but Yoo-jin would also need time to reflect. I returned to my hotel room, exhausted, showered, and went straight to sleep.

“...Phew.”

Tomorrow morning, I’ll cater to Yoo-jin’s mood—and get the full story from the crew.

But the next morning, while everyone else showed up by the usual breakfast time, Yoo-jin was nowhere to be seen.

“...”

“It’s past 9:30, right?”

“Yeah.”

I spoke up.

“Rae-bin.”

“Yes?”

“How was Yoo-jin yesterday?”

“He was silent and looked drained, but he didn’t «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» show any extra anger!”

“...Is that so?”

“Yes. I suspect he’s either overslept or it’s his way of protesting!”

I see. So...

I straightened my cap.

“I’ll go get him. You come too.”

“Me...? Sure, got it!”

Leaving the others waving awkwardly, I took Rae-bin with me and headed for Yoo-jin’s room. We rang the bell immediately.

Ding-dong.

“...”

No response.

“Yoo-jin. Open the door.”

Still nothing. We controlled our voices—even though we’d cornered this hallway, shouting felt too much. He must’ve heard that at least.

‘Is he really protesting?’

I sighed, took out my phone, and called Yoo-jin. But the call... didn’t go through.

[Your phone appears to be off...]

“...”

This was unsettling.

“Hyung?”

I tried calling once more, then accepted the situation.

“Rae-bin.”

“Yes?”

“I think we need the manager.”

Yoo-jin’s room was locked, so we fetched the manager. Let’s just say he was... alarmed. This was the first desertion of its kind since promotions began. But he wasn’t completely unprepared.

On the dresser was a single note left in bold Korean script:

“A lot is going on... Yoo-jin must be really upset.”

“But disappearing like this... wait—might this be a kidnapping?”

“If it were, the room would be trashed. This idiot left willingly.”

“That’s true.”

It fit. The room was tidy, and a hotel break-in would be nearly impossible. Calmly, I pieced it together.

“...Hmm.”

I surveyed the room, then nodded.

“He didn’t go far.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah. He left all his luggage here. He only grabbed his wallet and phone... probably an impulsive move.”

It made sense that he stormed out in a fury. Just then, Rae-bin shot his hand up.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt, but can I share my thought?”

“...Sure.”

He swallowed and said hesitantly:

“I think... he just went out to hang out, since there’s no schedule.”

“...”

“...”

Wait.

“That... could be it.”

“Really?”

Bae Sejin chimed in.

“But his phone’s off...!”

“Maybe he turned it off so nobody would bother him while he’s out.”

“...”

Right. On a day off, he may not feel the need to check in with the company. The members exchanged surprised looks.

“Y-yeah, that’s possible.”

“...Who would think that...”

Cheong-woo broke the tension.

“Let’s not assume. We should look into it more carefully.”

“Okay. Shall we check the CCTV?”

“I’ll check it, but please wait here. Someone else will come too.”

The manager and hotel staff dashed off. They were eager to work, but honestly, I didn’t think we needed a full-scale search.

“I can find him with this.”

I pulled out my phone.

Cha Yoo-jin was standing on a sandy beach, sea breeze in his hair, tapping the sand with his toe.

A rare day off, a leisurely stroll on a sunny morning.

‘Nice weather.’

Yet his mood wasn’t exactly crisp. He clasped his hands behind his head to shake off his gloom.

‘They told me to “cool off,”’ he thought. ‘But I’m not sure I actually did anything wrong.’

‘Hm—I won’t apologize.’

He decided he’d explain to the team why he refused to say sorry to those camera-wielding fools. He felt uneasy, though.

‘Nobody cared how I felt.’

He grumbled that he deserved at least one text overnight. Could anyone really understand or acknowledge his feelings...?

“Cha Yoo-jin.”

“...!”

At the familiar but unexpected voice, Yoo-jin nearly leapt from his chair.

“Hyung??”

“It’s me.”

It was Park Mundae.

‘Oh my god.’

His team member sprinted across the sand toward him. It was a welcome sight—and baffling. What kind of magic trick was this?

“How did you find me? Did you find me?”

“Does that matter?”

Mundae was dressed casually, pink hair whipped by the sea breeze like he’d really worked to track Yoo-jin down. Instead of scolding him, he smirked and held out a paper bag.

Inside was ice cream from a nearby beach shop.

“You’d go somewhere obvious. I searched for cafes selling sweets near the shore—this place was closest to the hotel.”

“...”

“I knew you’d be around here.”

It was a flawless deduction. Yoo-jin, feeling grudging admiration first, found himself impressed.

“Hyung, you’re amazing.”

“Yeah. Since you know, just eat the ice cream. They allow outside food, right?”

[TIP: If you pay enough, sure. This isn’t Disneyland, after all.]

It was a decent joke, but Mundae didn’t seem to get it. Yoo-jin—used to these situations—let it slide. Culturally, a dyed-haired guy lounging on the beach wasn’t exactly an everyday scene in America either.

When Yoo-jin had eaten half the ice cream, Mundae got to the point.

“So while you eat, tell me—why did you do that to the crew?”

[Like some interrogation, huh?]

“I’m not interrogating you—instead, I figure you had your reasons.”

Mundae crossed his arms.

“You’re smart.”

Hearing that, Yoo-jin, uncharacteristically, felt genuinely touched. He shrugged, then opened his mouth to speak.