Debut or Die-Chapter 366
The shock of seeing his own “mission” revealed in hologram form—surreal proof!
Kwon Hee-seung only regained his wits tens of seconds later.
“W-what... how, uh, how is this even... how does this work??”
Correction: his head had come back online, but his mouth was still in freefall.
“Ui-aak!”
What is this, some sci-fi movie? RhymeStone flick?
Yet Park Mundae’s voice through the phone was calm.
“I don’t know the mechanics exactly, but think of it like... hacking.”
“Hacking...? But this is a phone?”
“....”
It was a non-answer, but Park Mundae fell silent, ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) as if pondering. Then, with slight curiosity, he added:
“Could be.”
‘It could be!?’
This isn’t the metaverse or some AI virtual reality!
Just as the IT-term-dropping Kwon Hee-seung recovered enough to ask in detail how on earth this happened, Park Mundae jumped in first.
“Anyway, what did you see earlier? The mission details, I mean.”
“Hmm.”
That vague but unsettling phrase “status ailment” lingered, but clearly this senior was asking about what followed beneath it.
Reflexively, Kwon Hee-seung answered.
“It... was something like releasing a collaborative work?”
“Right.”
“It’s amazing... that it really is a self-produced album....”
Kwon Hee-seung tingled like someone who’d fallen for a magic trick. He felt like a movie protagonist—good or bad, he wasn’t sure.
But Park Mundae was unsentimental.
“No, that’s not quite it.”
“Pardon?”
“The criterion isn’t ‘self-produced album’ but ‘collaborative work.’”
“Oh... but isn’t that the same thing?”
“Not really. A collaborative work doesn’t have to be the entire album.”
“Aha.”
Having sliced the definition cleanly, Park Mundae flexibly applied practical insight.
“It’s much easier to get the public to recognize something simply as a ‘collaborative work.’”
“Wow.”
It sounded like a secret-organization operative speaking. Stunned into seriousness, Kwon Hee-seung held his phone with both hands and asked:
“So... with this album, I’ll succeed? The probability really did go up, right?”
“Yes.”
Oooh.
Hee-seung murmured in admiration, then immediately thought it through. He wasn’t a fool: he considered the possibility that Park Mundae might be deceiving him or plotting some scheme.
‘Hmm....’
But no matter how he looked at it, there was no reason for him to lie.
‘If he wanted to screw me over, there’ve been plenty of chances.’
He’d been so helpful—and even shared this... superpower-like thing—so there’d be no need to double-cross him now.
‘He’s not some Joker; if he wanted to, it’d be chaos already.’
He decided to gratefully accept Mundae’s goodwill!
But then a cautious voice came through first.
“Want some help?”
“Whoa!”
Hee-seung asked at once.
“Of course I’d be grateful, hyung! But... you’re not going to put some lien on this or anything, right?”
“I wouldn’t do that without telling you.”
“Sorry. I just... saw it in movies, so I thought I’d ask! But you’ll still help me, right? Hehe....”
A soft chuckle sounded.
“Yes.”
And Park Mundae truly began to help Kwon Hee-seung thoroughly.
It started with production planning.
Park Mundae adeptly identified where Spacer could meaningfully contribute to this album.
“The lyric booklet is best. It’s not the part shown externally or the photo book fans consume, but it’s a recognized component with your name on it.”
“Ohh.”
“And even a non-expert’s input won’t ruin the outcome. It’s not pre-released, so it’s easy to touch.”
“That’s great... really!”
Hee-seung thought to tell the member who’d stubbornly refused to join album production, but the very next day he saw that member, on the company’s suggestion, offering design ideas for the lyric booklet.
“Huh, what?”
“I dunno. The company asked.”
And the revised lyric booklet was approved for replacement in two days.
‘...This fast?’
Has our company ever moved decisions this swiftly?
He felt a bit stunned, but the process continued. The physical album was printed, and the promotional copy was revamped:
Driven by dreams and leaps of faith!
Every member’s touch from the tracks to the packaging—look forward to Spacer’s album 〈Determination〉! 🎆
It wasn’t front-and-center marketing, just an extra blurb fans would accept with a “Oh, I see.” The album’s theme of idols’ aspirations fit perfectly, with no awkwardness.
Mundae’s finishing touch added the right answer cleanly without undermining Spacer’s original plan.
“Wow, this really works.”
Hee-seung marveled. Even though Mundae had lived longer before traveling back, this sense and clout(?) felt like another level entirely!
‘So the rumor that Hyung built the label himself... could be true?’
When he’d asked about that office rumor before, Mundae had reacted awkwardly, so he’d doubted it—maybe it was just modesty.
He nodded in agreement, though he felt a chill. Someday, if Spacer grew large enough to rival TeSTAR...
‘...the seniors from TeSTAR would go independent!’
Right—renewals are next year. They’d of course escape this lousy company. Ha!
He decided not to dwell on a problem with no answer. Better to live in reality!
First, he thanked the one who’d helped.
“It’s all thanks to you, hyung! Really, thank you! I’ll repay you!”
“Yes.”
Mundae’s reply was brief but not curt—rather, gentle. Internally thrilled at the thought of treating him to lobster once settlements arrived, Hee-seung cried out happily:
“This feels like it’s definitely going to work—right?”
He was free at last!
But his confidence was premature. Mundae’s answer had been ambiguous.
“You’ve met the condition.”
“...Uh, then why doesn’t it feel...?”
“Now it’s going to take off. Just a moment.”
“Sure.”
Crackle.
“Kyaah!”
A glitch splashed before Hee-seung’s eyes, followed by another strange hologram.
[Successful Release!]
You have successfully released a collaborative work!
!Time Limit: Met (Success)
!Status Ailment: ‘Make It Work’ Cleared!
*^@5#& Confirm ???? Click!]
“...!”
This message of success looked even more stable than when Mundae had shown it before. And the tempting, flashing button.
‘Can I... just press it?’
Hee-seung saw the blatant “Click!” button and, entranced, raised his arm....
Suddenly, Park Mundae’s voice poured cold water on him.
“About you repaying me...”
“...?”
Hee-seung paused mid-gesture toward the hologram.
“Don’t press it.”
“Y-yes?”
“Waiting a few days on that button is the best way to repay me.”
Did Mundae have eyes in his head? Hee-seung dropped his hand as if burned.
“Why...?”
“Um.”
There was a moment’s silence, then Mundae asked, a hint of amusement in his tone:
“Interested in doing something great you can finish in just one day of vacation?”
“...??”
Under a large Seoul concert hall.
The audience’s cheers still buzzed like tinnitus. The members around me laughed.
“Thank you all for your hard work~”
“That was fun!”
The joint concert hosted by a credit card company was over.
“Mundae, shall we head to the back of the van?”
“Sure.”
After the flawless performance, riding home happily with the guys, I sat in the very back seat.
And I replayed yesterday’s conversation with Kwon Hee-seung.
‘First premise.’
Thanks to the “truth-check” function, I could adjust the timing on clearing a status ailment.
And that was solely the status window’s doing.
‘So I thought the reverse.’
Anyone with the status window could do it, right?
If I could access the status window on someone with an ailment, I could adjust their clear timing, too.
So Big Dal had accessed Kwon Hee-seung’s system, opened his status window, and popped it up:
[This is uncomfortable... Euahh]
He said it was more awkward than his own, but he succeeded without side effects.
Because it came as a mission reward, his power simply increased.
“Good.”
It was inspired by how Big Dal changed my status-window conditions, and it had worked perfectly.
And Kwon Hee-seung readily accepted my proposal to “support the system destruction.”
“Of course! Feels like a mission!”
...He didn’t have to talk like he was in a VR game, but anyway, at least we’re mutually helping each other.
“Good.”
I nodded and adjusted my neck pillow.
The timing was just right, with room in our schedules after promotions and before the tour.
“I can take a day off.”
A day would be enough to see the results. I nodded, then entered the lodging that had arrived.
Today I’d review the plan....
“Mundae hyung, can we talk a moment...?”
“Sure.”
I’d better delay; sounds like something’s up. I answered Kim Rae-bin’s call and moved over.
For some reason, all the members were gathered at the kitchen table.
“...?”
What are you guys doing?
“Mundae.”
“Yes?”
“We’ve got some time before the tour.”
Right, I’d been thinking the same.
‘Why though.’
Ryu Geon-woo smiled slightly and turned the laptop screen on the table toward me.
“Shall we go here then?”
“Pardon?”
On screen was... a glamping site.
—Healing Glamping—
Photos automatically transitioned—forest bathing, hot springs, countryside... animals.
Keywords we’d seen a lot.
They were the healing themes from and what production had promised next.
‘What is this.’
Big Sejin grabbed my shoulder.
“Ah-hyun’s family went here on vacation! They said it’s amazing!”
True, the facilities and setting looked great. If her well-off family went there, it must be good.
But why so suddenly?
I looked at Seon Ah-hyun. He hunched his shoulders.
“Y-you liked the town from our variety show... I just didn’t want it to stay a bad memory for you.”
“...!”
“So I looked it up.”
I was speechless.
“Y-you don’t hate it?”
“No.”
I answered.
“And... it wasn’t that bad.”
It was a little embarrassing, but it was fine until I learned about the production’s tricks. That made it even more embarrassing.
“But hyung didn’t give us any tasty food....”
“Cha Yoo-jin, be quiet!”
That’s separate from bad feelings and anger, you jerk.
But with these guys twitching and trying to read the room, I wasn’t going to bring it up now.
Bae Se-jin jumped in.
“Right. We don’t have to go with those variety-show people. Let’s go ourselves!”
“Exactly. Then let’s treat it as a vacation celebration and go have fun.”
Ryu Geon-woo finished.
I snorted.
“Sounds good.”
“Ooh~”
“Then it’s decided!”
“OK!”
The tension broke and the guys started chatting among themselves.
“Next holiday, should we take a cruise? If we do it somewhere in Europe, no one will recognize us~”
“Oh, that’s good.”
“What’s a cruise ship?”
“Cruise ship.”
“Ooh....”
“Y-Yoo-jin doesn’t like it?”
“My grandfather loves cruises. I’m too young.”
Consistent as always.
‘Good grief.’
The next morning I made a large, aimless meal after a long time. My housemates ate it without complaint, so cleanup was easy.
Funny, but it felt almost like a ceremony before a major event.
‘Ending then going on vacation.’
I snorted. Though not intended, it was such a textbook structure.
That afternoon.
I called my final collaborator.
After a few rings, his bark and then a voice:
“Long time no see, junior. What’s up?”
“I need to borrow your private plane.”
Laughter.
“For what purpose?”
I tilted my head.
“To make sure there’s no ‘next player.’”
I’m ending the system here.
