Debut or Die-Chapter 406
“The system holder who was supposed to be on the plane with me just evaporated from my mind.
As if they’d never existed.
But Cheongryeo here remembered them.
‘There’s no way this bastard didn’t notice that I didn’t know.’
After bickering for over half a year, there’s no way he wouldn’t have felt something off.
This was deliberate omission. And his reaction just now confirms it.
I ground my teeth and said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Cheongryeo smiled and replied, “I thought you’d react like this.”
“...What?”
“Right now you must have a lot of thoughts... um, aside from anger or irritation toward me, there’s only one thing left.”
He said it as if it were nothing.
“You’re worried, right?”
“...!”
“You’re worrying about someone whose identity, location, and circumstances you don’t even know. Aren’t you?”
“Of course I am! How could I not be—”
Fuck, a person vanished. Of course I’m worried...
Wait.
I recalled his reaction when I raised my parents’ memory glitch last time.
‘Memories always have errors, so as long as the info needed for progress is intact, it’s fine....’
Because,
– What you really need to watch out for is... the side effect of memories.
– Emotions.
And I realized.
“...Whether that guy disappeared or not doesn’t affect our goal?”
“That’s right.”
He let his eyes narrow.
“You tend to rationalize efficiency whenever something bothers you.”
What did he just say.
“Want an example? Even though your group’s already formed, you keep looking for TeSTAR members—not because it helps them.”
“...!”
Cheongryeo looked at me.
“Today you even did an irrelevant commemorative stage at a boring awards ceremony.”
“...”
“And you fuss over every little branch of this, so how much would you care about the safety of someone you pulled in?”
I shut my mouth. He stood up, smiling.
“I think I’ve explained enough, but if you’re mad you can—”
“He who held the system isn’t doing too well now, is he?”
“...!”
That’s it.
I stared at him.
“If it were just a matter of me not remembering and you remembering, there was no need to come all the way to this.”
He could have convinced me with, “Since you don’t remember, I’ll handle finding him.” After all, I can’t remember.
But instead he gave an over-the-top answer like, “If you knew the truth, you wouldn’t be able to work,”
“You can only explain it by knowing something happened to that kid.”
And in a pretty bad way.
Enough to shake me.
I folded my arms and glared.
“...”
Cheongryeo didn’t waver.
“Do you really need to dig so obsessively into someone you don’t even know? You two weren’t that close to begin with.”
“Mind your own business! The problem is you’re trying to deceive me.”
“I didn’t deceive you.”
He clicked his tongue. This bastard.
“You also left out info from me. Right? You thought it’d be hard for me to understand.”
“...”
I reflexively recalled the emoticon list in the status window that shows a colleague’s current state, then shut my mouth.
He laughed.
“Same here. I didn’t want you wasting time and resources on someone you know nothing about.”
He’s good at this twisted logic.
“When I say ‘If you find out who he is, you’ll freak out,’ I’m not bluffing—you do know him, even if you can’t recall.”
“Huh?”
He tilted his head.
“You really don’t know right now.”
I gritted my teeth.
Getting angry or hitting him would be stupid. Like it or not, he’s in my group, and any violence becomes a scandal.
‘I need to stay rational.’
I have a brain; I’ll use it.
In a runaway system state, what’s the worst that could happen to the disappeared system holder?
Right then.
[Why is this guy so shameless? Bro, I swear I would’ve decked him if I weren’t just a body!]
The status window.
I’d been staring at Keundal’s popup when I blurted out the answer.
“That bastard got absorbed by the system.”
“...”
Just like Keundal glitched and spat out coins.
“Right?”
Cheongryeo didn’t answer—practically a yes. I clenched my fist.
Then.
‘There must be a clue.’
I racked my brain desperately.
If that guy really was absorbed into the system, I—currently using it—might notice something.
Something that feels off.
Like when Keundal glitched and gave coins, something unexpected, breaking the usual rules.
An anomaly, something that shouldn’t flow naturally within the system.
“...”
It was.
—Why the hell is this popping up when it’s pointless?
Like the coins, a round golden form—but only shown as text.
[Consolation for failure arrived....]
+10G
+10G
Gold.
I’d assumed it was dummy data from 127 Section format just flying out for no reason.
But what if... it’s a signal.
A tolerated loophole or bug that the system can still dispense.
‘When I think of “Gold,” who comes to mind?’
Someone immediately popped into my head.
—Shall I call them Gold 1 and Gold 2?
Titles from AJUSA.
Two with ties to me until recently.
‘High Il-jun of Golden Age, and Kwon Hee-seung of Spacer.’
“...!”
I stifled a curse of amazement.
Alright, stay calm.
Which of the two would make more sense to know the future?
‘That’s too obvious.’
I spoke.
“Kwon Hee-seung.”
“...”
The one who won the new AJUSA season and due to being in the same agency spends more time contacting me—that’s him.
Cheongryeo’s face stayed blank, but I saw his eyes narrow and widen.
‘He knows.’
I clenched my fist and strode to the desk where he stood.
“Now that I know, answer me.”
“...”
“What exactly happened to that kid?”
And how the hell do you know it?
Cheongryeo’s expression vanished, and he spoke slowly.
“Ever thought about waiting until your goal’s complete?”
“No.”
“Hmm.”
He lowered his eyes.
When he looked back up—
[ ∥ ]
The world suddenly stopped.
‘Ah.’
I looked around.
I’d thought the room was already silent and still, but actually there were moving things.
The TV in the next room, the ticking of a clock, subtle light and shadow.
But everything froze, flattened. Motion vanished in this halted world.
And amid it all—
“Surprised? To fully visualize this, you have to stop progress for a moment.”
Only one moved with life.
Cheongryeo.
“...Stop it.”
“Yes. Um, in most games it’s common.”
He raised a hand.
“When you call up the settings menu, the gameplay pauses, right?”
Suddenly countless holograms began to appear before my eyes.
Ziiiiiing—
The frozen world filled with large and small boxes.
But the text flowed the opposite way.
Meaning... it’s not for me to see, but for him standing opposite.
Cheongryeo.
[Task: Assist the character’s smooth game activity!]
[▶Quest in progress]
[Environment Settings]
Beyond those hologram windows, I saw text I never imagined, in reverse. A UI similar to mine.
[Character List]
[Ryu Geon-woo (Park Mundae): Currently appalled (∑//ㅁㅍ;)]
Fuck.
I barely managed to speak.
“What is this?”
“Hmm, where should I start explaining?”
He tapped his finger on his chin, and his focus grew distant.
A few months earlier.
On Cheongryeo’s private jet crossing the Pacific.
[Bro, this is weird....]
Before losing consciousness on the plane, Shin Jaehyun saw it.
The actual form of what they call the “status window.”
‘Did it look like this?’
No great emotion, but what came next was a problem.
Amid the countless holograms flickering as if broken, he saw Kwon Hee-seung being absorbed between the windows like a graphic disintegrating.
‘Hmm.’
That could be troublesome.
By the time his thoughts returned, he was already in the practice room with Ryu Geon-woo.
–Damn it!
–Haha.
For a while he even considered that this might be the “restart” returning, diversifying his plans with various possibilities.
In the end, though, Ryu Geon-woo—Park Mundae—convinced him.
–Alright.
–Let’s go back to Kong, you bastard.
A flawless ally. He had minor complaints about Mundae’s choice of comrades, but he could accept that.
However, there was one incident before that.
When he returned home to accurately grasp the situation here.
Something happened that never occurred in any of the many restarts.
[New task has arrived!]
“...?”
A status ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) window popped up.
But he wasn’t the player.
[GM: Welcome, Shin Jaehyun.]
Server: Kwon Hee-seung (Stable)
GM: Shin Jaehyun
Player: ■■■
“Damn.”
Shin Jaehyun smiled faintly.
‘A variable.’
And his available moves increased.
“That’s right. Kwon Hee-seung is just shown as a status on the server.”
“...”
“There was no special benefit for me. Just a way to monitor your progress more accurately.”
I frowned.
Cheongryeo tilted his head as if recalling, then smiled.
“And... a minor support ability.”
“You.”
I spoke from a fleeting memory.
“Don’t tell me Kim Rae-bin came out first in the comrade selection.”
“Um, once you gain experience points, you can briefly adjust probabilities.”
Damn.
I bit my tongue.
‘I should’ve suspected.’
The very first friend given in a game tutorial isn’t a real living account.
Usually it’s the GM’s account.
“A secret...?”
I grabbed him by the collar. My grip was enough to tear fabric.
“I have to give you the same answer.”
“What?”
But he didn’t move and looked down at me.
“I already told you I didn’t tell you because I figured you’d react like this.”
“...!”
“You can’t switch servers with this hologram anyway.”
“So,”
“Then the remaining effect is obvious. You waste efficiency worrying about the server...”
Cheongryeo muttered indifferently.
“You’d be anxious about what I’d do all the way through, suspicious.”
“...”
“You might as well keep quiet and stay until you receive the reward. There’s no harm in telling you afterward.”
“So you followed that advice.”
“Rather, I was convinced by what you said.”
He snickered.
“You said that once you get the reward, you’ll see the ending and have the choice to return.”
“...”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you everything.”
I stared at Cheongryeo. He smiled like he was frowning.
“That’s right. There was more. They told me they’d give me something in the form of salary.”
He sent a hologram forward, presenting it right before me.
[GM Ending Reward: Comrade Selection Ticket]
“...!”
Wait, if that’s the case...
“So, I’ve been thinking.”
I sensed his next words.
“If we wait here until Kong is born, and choose with this ticket...”
He narrowed his eyes.
“I have nothing to lose. It’s a bit of backtracking, but—”
Fuck.
“Think about it, junior. If you can inherit everything of value, isn’t this place better?”
He gently removed my hand from his collar.
“I was going to follow your decision, but now I want to hear more of your thoughts.”
He sat down, propping his chin, and asked earnestly.
“What do you think of this possibility?”
“...You—”
“Oh, the schedule’s fine. We can just keep it paused. It’s my first time using this... no time limit appears.”
He smiled and tore his gaze from the status window.
“So tell me. We’ll debate until we both fully accept one conclusion.”
“...”
“Our time is infinite, haha!”
Fuck.
A tension like stepping on a landmine filled the air. Cold sweat ran down my spine.
‘Still.’
I opened my mouth.
‘What do I do?!’
Park Mundae himself—Keundal, now a status window—spun in the consciousness realm, screaming. This madness of a paused world had lost all its vitality.
And Season 2 of the kidnap drama was about to air!
‘Ahhhh, why isn’t this working...??’
Then he realized.
Huh?
He found himself outside, as if his shared vision with Ryu Geon-woo had slipped free of his body.
‘What?!’
He shot through the ceiling of WISE’s dorm and soared above Seoul.
‘What the hell is this?’
Why could this happen? No, he had to go back! He couldn’t leave his brother alone.
As he steeled himself to cram his consciousness back, a gleam caught his eye.
‘...Huh?’
Golden orbs.
Like Dorothy’s yellow brick road, they sparkled, forming a path in the void.
And at its end... as the status window, he instinctively knew.
An error indicator.
‘Wow.’
Being in “progress paused” must let you see these.
He almost went slack at the intense sparkle of error, then caught something.
Here, the only thing worthy of being called an error: the abnormal recovery of memory without system detection....
‘Seon Ah-hyun!’
Realizing that sparked another possibility in his mind.
With his ability extended, and that person being an error, could it be...?
‘I don’t know! Let’s try!’
With his freed consciousness, he rushed toward Seon Ah-hyun.
And attempted:
[Please help my brother!]
“Uh, uh...?!”
On the way to Incheon International Airport.
Seon Ah-hyun, startled as the world froze and by the suddenly appearing hologram, stumbled out of the car.
