Debut or Die-Chapter 353
“Come in.”
“......”
Park Mundae, hoodie pulled low over his head, staggered through the entryway. Konga trailed nervously around him, whining.
Only the dog’s small cries echoed through the spacious, silent dorm.
“Konga, your paw.”
Cheongryeo, already gearing up to wrap up the walk, reached to lift his dog... but then paused.
“Hmm.”
He deliberately turned to his companion.
“Could you help me?”
“....”
Park Mundae silently wiped Konga’s paws, prepared his meal, and eventually accepted the dog resting its head on his leg.
‘Can’t pull it together,’ Cheongryeo thought. When he’d crossed the line, there had been no reaction at all.
Cheongryeo placed his hot drink across from Mundae and spoke casually.
“You said you failed?”
“......”
The hooded head lifted. No pushback.
‘Right.’ Depending on the kind of failure, but it probably wasn’t work-related.
‘Then I’d have to know.’ He never missed a competitor’s movements. Maybe Mundae’s subpar agency would catch problems faster by tidbits from him than on its own...
Still masked, Cheongryeo studied his rival and continued.
“You said you wanted to say something. Go ahead. I’ll listen.”
“......”
Mundae looked down at the dog, then spoke in a flat, hoarse voice.
“You said you explained your situation to someone else.”
“That’s right.”
Ah—so that’s what he’d failed at. Mundae must have told someone else his troubles.
Since he’d already confided in one same-age peer, it was likely the other one. Social pressure works that way.
Cheongryeo could have said, “I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” but he held back. Mundae seemed to know as ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ well as anyone.
“You said you have an excuse... the excuse you use.”
“I do.”
Cheongryeo wondered if this was some kind of negotiation or threat, but his junior clearly wasn’t in that mindset—quite uncharacteristically calm.
Cheongryeo noticed Mundae’s hand trembling, keeping him from reaching for his cup.
The sleeve fabric quivered.
“......”
Like a cracked shell barely holding immense shock inside, barely animate.
Cheongryeo recognized a very old trace of himself in that figure—just like he’d seen in Mundae before.
So he spoke straightforwardly.
“First, build a storyline similar to mine. Pick references from best-selling novels or films with a good reputation.”
He’d even prepared examples by year.
“You talk about that first in interviews—focus on key words.”
“......”
“Conceptually, say you’re drawn to it, as if it’s foreshadowing.”
Then whatever the member who heard your secret says later will be dismissed as a joke or overidentification. You placate the public and sacrifice the relationship.
“It neutralizes the other person’s mouth. It works. It’s like a vaccine.”
Still, nothing came from the masked face.
Cheongryeo guessed, somewhat brusquely:
‘He doesn’t like it.’
Mundae could be overly sensitive at times. But hey, he’d only just come back—understandable.
Despite his misgivings, Cheongryeo offered another option.
“Don’t like that? Then just tell them it was a slip-up because you’re exhausted from promotions.”
“...!”
“Say it was a daydream you started joking about, but you ended up believing it yourself.”
Mundae lifted his head. Since this approach focuses entirely on putting the other person at ease, Cheongryeo himself rarely used it after the first few times—too many variables and efficiency issues.
But Mundae seemed to find it plausible. Given how carefully Cheongryeo had explained, no sloppy delivery this time.
Cheongryeo added kindly:
“They’ll still trust you. It’s positive and close enough to their expected answer.”
Without being asked, Konga nudged Mundae’s hand. Cheongryeo watched the dog and gently concluded.
“People like that don’t easily change a conclusion they’ve already made.”
Then he smiled.
“They don’t want to be wrong, right?”
“......”
“Give them the answer they want. Then it’ll settle.”
Steam still rose from the unclaimed cup before Mundae. When their eyes finally met, Park Mundae was certain.
“No.”
Damn.
My head felt like a mudpit.
Here I was, in someone else’s dorm—identical to TeSTAR’s in layout—plopping down uninvited at dawn. I knew how ridiculous it was.
Yet I couldn’t figure out what to do; my mind was a labyrinth of convulsing worms, except one function still worked: denial.
“No.”
Cheongryeo tilted his head. It was like cold water in the mud, clearing my head.
“Hmm?”
“He’s not that kind of person.”
That I could refute.
‘Seon Ah-hyun is someone who admits when she’s wrong.’ To a fault. She’d always lived with that, trauma and flaws constantly on her mind.
[!Status Abnormality: Low Self-Esteem]
She carried that abnormal status, finding and admitting her flaws and things to fix. Excessively. Then she tried to overcome them.
[Trait: Grit]
His trait showed that mindset: determination to overcome and make the right decision.
‘He’s not someone you appease by telling him what he wants to hear.’
That was the problem. I remembered Ah-hyun’s words:
“I-I’m sorry... for not trusting and not helping....”
“He wanted to trust you.”
“Of course.”
“But he thought not trusting was right anyway.”
“......”
“He sought the uncomfortable truth, not the comforting conclusion—that’s why this happened.”
Because I hadn’t explained properly, he’d mistaken the pathology for the truth.
‘...He’s had quite a track record.’ I grimaced, recalling his fits and even alcohol issues.
...Don’t know why I thought he’d believe me.
“So... I won’t use those methods. They won’t work. It’s the exact opposite scenario.”
If Ah-hyun repeated that, she’d realize it made for a fitting excuse—and then it’d be truly irreversible.
“Is that so? Got it.”
Cheongryeo nodded as if unconcerned.
“But... didn’t you think it was arrogant to presume so much?”
What?
“I....”
“No, not you—him.”
“...!”
“Wasn’t it unfair that he was troubled because you were certain of the wrong answer? Why cater to him so much....”
“......”
“Aren’t you angry about that?”
I balled my fist but then sighed, relaxing.
“I was the one who spoke, and I have to deal with the fallout.”
Spoken calmly.
“No one tortured me; if I unleashed it, I should handle it.”
“Mm.”
Cheongryeo didn’t exactly share the sentiment, but he didn’t argue.
“Right. Cheer up. If you don’t want to, you can quit anytime.”
“Even if you leave TeSTAR, your life won’t end, right?”
The guy sounded healthier than before... but why did it grate on me?
‘Not the time to be thinking about that.’
‘Someone else might revert to the status window.’
I ground my teeth. But if I said anything, he’d just reply, “Anyway, you won’t die... Fine, got it.” So I shut up.
I glared at him anew.
‘This guy with no empathy is giving counseling.’
I’d come to clear my head on the bench. I hadn’t expected to get invited in and served tea.
‘...It’s kind of a contrast.’
I recalled when Cheongryeo came over for the dog’s hospitalization—he’d closed the door on me. Still, dropping by unannounced and coming here were different. I’d say thanks at least.
“Anyway... thanks for the advice.”
“You’re not going to follow it, right? Haha.”
That’s my choice, you jerk.
Anyway, clearer-headed than last night, I began to think again.
‘First, the restrictions on TeSTAR’s promotions....’
...Absolutely no clue from him. He’d love that.
“Want to give Konga a treat?”
“Woof!”
I watched him skilled with his own dog and fell silent.
Ultimately, there’s only one path.
‘We have to reactivate Seon Ah-hyun’s trait.’
Grit. Reactivate it to cancel the status abnormality—that’s the surest move.
But... I doubted she’d even want to talk again.
‘Maybe she already has a hospital recommendation list.’
‘Stop.’
I cut off the useless thought. Time for something productive.
‘Meaning: someone else has to do it.’
The members need to perform what I did using my trait at Ajusa.
“......”
Recruiting helpers, huh?
I sprang up, brimming with ideas. Or at least I tried to.
“Whine.”
If that dog hadn’t grabbed my leg...
Cheongryeo’s eyes narrowed.
“Konga’s upset. Since you’re here, why not stay a while?”
In the dorm?
“What about your members?”
“I heard they’d put out an album before enlistment. Why haven’t they shown up?”
“Personal schedules. Or on leave.”
I see. The dog’s clinginess made sense after all.
I glanced around. I didn’t want to pry into someone else’s home, but I noticed things: framed debut photos, souvenirs on the living room shelves.
“......”
Wait—those looked like the ones I’d sold after taking them... never mind.
I turned back to Cheongryeo and the dog.
Impulsively, I asked:
“Do you have any plans to tell the other members?”
“No.”
Not even a hint of hesitation.
“I’m curious why you said anything at all. It wasn’t necessary.”
“......”
That was my own question, too.
Fuck, why the hell did I speak up...
“I don’t know. I just... wanted to say it.”
“......”
Cheongryeo stroked the dog’s head and replied simply:
“That’s fair.”
“......!”
“Because it must’ve been suffocating.”
Surprisingly, I sensed a trace of understanding in that tone.
“Aren’t you suffocated?”
“Not really. Hmm... I think I was before, but people adapt.”
He removed his hand from the dog and smiled faintly.
“They say we’re creatures of adaptation. You’ll be fine soon.”
“........”
I thought it was bullshit. Funny how it felt comforting.
I sighed and answered:
“...Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
With him occupied by his dog, I took the chance to stand.
I finished the now-cold tea in one gulp and rose.
‘Never doubted he spiked it.’
Guess I’m still not all there.
Shaking my head, I left the table.
Ding—dong.
The doorbell rang.
I glanced at the intercom, thinking to hide if it was someone from his agency.
On screen: a masked figure, casually dressed, tall...
It was Seon Ah-hyun.
”...!!”
I recoiled. Why... was she here?
‘Did she come looking for me...?’
No way. How would she know I was here?
And she had no reason to.
‘No contact from the agency or members.’
My phone wasn’t even on silent, and I hadn’t felt a buzz...
“......”
Wait.
I checked my light pockets, then looked up at the intercom.
One of the two smartphones in Ah-hyun’s hand—
‘That apology case.’
It was my phone.
“I see.”
And I understood. Right now I was... fresh from last night’s chaos, cut off from contact, crawling around outside at dawn...
“Someone’s here so early.”
...About three hours late, it seemed.
Damn it.
