Debut or Die-Chapter 430
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The drip of water echoed through the dark corridor.
“Looks like the power’s completely out.”
“But at least the emergency lights are ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ still on—that’s a relief.”
By the time they’d treated my back in the waiting room and I’d changed my top, even the flickering lights had gone out, and the second-floor hallway felt bleak and deserted.
‘One corner of the wall even collapsed....’
It was dangerously unstable. Thanks to the flashlight Kim Rae bin brought, we could at least pick our way along.
“M-Mundae, lean on me....”
“I said I’m fine.”
We couldn’t afford to slow down any more. I could still walk.
A moment later, at the stairs leading backstage, we faced the reality.
“Hmm.”
Through the gap where the ceiling panels had fallen onto the stage and torn away the door, we could see chunks of concrete.
“When I heard the second crash, it was already blocked.”
That meant the hall on the third floor—where I’d been—had collapsed too.
‘No wonder they told us not to come here after the first rig fell apart—too dangerous.’
If we tried to clear that debris, it’d take at least an hour, so we abandoned the idea.
There was only one way through.
“We have to go down this way.”
I headed to the spot where Seon Ah hyun had helped me earlier.
The wall beside the stage was completely gone.
“.....”
I shone the flashlight downward.
Whooooo—
A cool, musty air brushed past as the space opened up.
I saw the wreckage of the collapsed stage, but everything that could fall had already fallen, so it looked fairly stable.
“Let’s go down onto the stage, then.”
The stage spanned from the first-floor audience seats up through the second-floor rigging.
They’d blocked off the right side of the second floor—where the waiting rooms were—so nobody could go upstairs. It was good design for keeping outsiders (performers and staff) away from crew areas, but now we were trapped.
‘So if we want to move at all, this is our only route.’
I grabbed something from the waiting room.
A makeshift rope, twisted from the thick curtains they’d hung for changing.
“Will curtains hold as a rope?”
“I twisted it several times—it’ll be fine.”
Even now, time was slipping away.
[00:33:12]
“Thirty-three minutes left. Time’s tight—we have to try moving.”
If we wanted any chance to prevent another collapse, we had to act.
Kim Rae bin squared his shoulders and spoke with determination.
“I’ll go first.”
“No, wait—let me—”
“Got it! I’ll hold on tight...!”
“Thank you!”
“.....”
Fine, do as you like. I’d brace myself to catch you if needed.
Rae bin cinched his belt tight around his waist, and Seon Ah hyun secured the other end of the curtain-rope as he asked:
“M-Mundae, do you know exactly how that one-hour timer was determined?”
“That’s something I’d like to know too.”
“So it’s uncertain, then.”
He nodded, then carefully set a foot onto the edge of the concrete.
“If it really collapses exactly one hour later, it sounds less like a prediction and more like someone warned us they’d bring the building down. That’s why I asked.”
That kid.
“Let’s talk after we get down. Be careful.”
“Yes!”
He was sharp in theory—clearly itching to ask how the status window knew that.
‘If I say the system’s targeting me, they’ll overprotect me and stall everything.’
‘Better to stay quiet.’
I climbed down onto the stage debris after confirming Seon Ah hyun’s safe landing, then turned to look at the audience seats, but...
“.....”
“...Is anyone there?”
Only a faint echo answered. It felt wrong.
‘Why is nobody here?’
When we met that graduate-student fan earlier, he implied others had been trapped too.
‘If anyone in the audience saw us descending with flashlights on that wrecked stage, they’d have reacted.’
Yet there was no sound, no response—very unsettling.
“M-Mundae, I’ll... look for a way through.”
“Right.”
I gathered the curtain-rope and carefully descended into the dark seating area, fanning out in every direction.
‘The doors are crushed.’
As the student said, all escape routes were blocked. The twisted debris had jammed them shut.
‘If we try to force them open and it collapses, we’re done.’
No way out to the first-floor lobby.
And no one else was here.
“M-Mundae, the Grand Halldal you’re looking for would have come as an audience member, so they probably evacuated already.”
“True, but I’m sure Grand Halldal stayed behind... so if they’re not here, maybe they moved somewhere else?”
“Have you seen anyone else, M-Mundae?”
I had.
“...There was a fan over by the emergency stairs on the opposite side.”
“...!!”
“I spoke through the gap in the collapsed wall. Since my room caved in, I don’t know where they went afterward.”
Worry and confusion flashed across their faces, but I offered the practical answer first.
“Then they might’ve gone up.”
Right.
But the emergency exit leading to the opposite stairs was half-buried in rubble.
“They must’ve blocked it when I... fell earlier.”
We were trapped.
[00:26:51]
Meanwhile, under thirty minutes remained.
‘...Stay calm.’
Panic wouldn’t help. Think.
‘Clearing the stairwell in twenty minutes is too tight.’
Maybe we should try prying open a door and at least get these two out.
I swallowed my dread and peered into the half-exposed darkness beyond the stairwell.
It was too narrow to pass through unassisted.
‘All three of us are too tall.’
Yelling might damage the building further.
‘If only we could communicate somehow.’
Even a broadcast would help... wait.
“Rae bin.”
“Yes?”
I lowered my gaze.
Though our exits were blocked, one route remained.
Backstage.
And it hit me:
‘They brought new shooting equipment this time.’
“Can you fly a drone?”
“...??”
This network had PPL’d cutting-edge tech and tested a new drone during our shoot. I’d seen a couple buzzing around before, and I’d noticed wreckage in front of the stage earlier.
‘Then there should be at least one backup.’
I slipped into the makeshift control room backstage, where they managed the live feed. It was pitch-dark, but expensive equipment always goes in obvious spots.
“Here we are.”
Under a desk, in an opened box, lay a drone.
I grabbed it.
“Let’s send this through the stairwell gap.”
“Ingenious, Mundae! I didn’t know you were into drones.”
“I’m not.”
“...?”
I gripped Rae bin’s shoulder.
“I believe you can do it.”
He was the type who mastered musical gear and electronics—surely he could handle this.
“I’ll do my best....”
“Alright.”
“Um, the computer has no power...”
“Use my laptop.”
No internet, but the drone had its own cellular system, so it’d work.
Then:
[Whirrr]
“...! It’s working!”
Rae bin skimmed the manual, grabbed the joystick, and with shining eyes, connected and powered the drone in an instant.
“Amazing, Rae bin...!”
“I got lucky! It was already paired with this laptop. Sending it to the emergency stairwell now!”
“Right.”
‘He’d be wasted as an idol.’
I briefly admired his skills, but now wasn’t the time.
[00:17:52]
Time halved again.
‘Huff.’
I clenched and unclenched my fists, then headed to the stairwell.
Creak.
Seon Ah hyun held the metal door open with one foot.
Rae bin sat down with the joystick.
“Okay... launching.”
“Go.”
[Whiiir—]
The drone flew into the black gap.
“Good thing the battery’s full and the attached light is doing its job.”
“Yeah...!”
On the laptop feed, the shaky, beginner-piloted drone wobbled as it ascended the stairs, its light revealing...
“There’s a hole in the wall here.”
‘This is where I was standing.’
Earlier, when I spoke with the grad student, that cracked wall slanted from the third floor into the void where the prop room should be, but now the drone’s light shone straight across empty air.
“.....”
On the opposite side was the path connecting to backstage through another metal door, but a drone couldn’t open that.
...So where did they go?
“Keep going.”
“Yes.”
We searched for any sign of people.
Climbing past the red fire-hose cabinet light and green exit signs, around the banister corner, the view rose to...
“.....”
“...It’s blocked.”
Thunk.
Beyond that, debris from the third-floor entrance had sealed it off. The floor collapse must’ve caused it.
“.....”
The search was over. No trace, no clue.
“Ah....”
“What should we do now?”
[00:15:47]
Damn.
I swallowed and wracked my brain.
If the upper routes are blocked...
“Let’s try going underground.”
“Oh!”
The emergency stairs should lead to the basement parking.
Though people instinctively avoid going down in a collapsing building, rationally it’s a viable escape—they’d built it to support heavy loads, and the entrances are large enough to have survived.
‘Grand Halldal might’ve thought of that.’
“Alright, let’s go that way.”
[00:14:25]
The drone flew again—down, down...
“...!”
“The door is open!”
Remarkably, we saw a metal door held open by a fire extinguisher brace.
‘They anticipated twisting under weight and propped it.’
“There must be someone inside...!”
“I’ll send it in!”
Rae bin deftly maneuvered the joystick.
Onscreen, the drone’s light flickered down a corridor that didn’t look like the parking entrance.
It seemed to be a maintenance area—break room or CCTV control room.
‘Could everyone have evacuated here?’
But there was no sign of people... wait.
“Look.”
“Ah!”
“That’s... a person.”
Next to a rough gray door at the corridor’s end, a figure stood. Rae bin zoomed in.
“...??”
“...!?”
It was someone all right—but...
“Senbae?”
It was Joo Dan.
He stood guard at the door as if on sentry. He met the drone’s light with a curious expression, rested his chin on his hand, and nodded. Why wasn’t he surprised...? No, more importantly—
‘Why are you here?’
VTIC had been in the waiting room, so he could’ve escaped with them. Actually, they were in the waiting room too, and they couldn’t get out.
I glanced at Seon Ah hyun and Rae bin—both were stunned by the unexpected senior contact.
‘This is insane.’
[00:12:46]
I shifted my gaze between the popup’s remaining time and Joo Dan on the laptop.
‘Think. If I think too hard I’ll overload....’
Suddenly, a bell rang from behind.
[DING-DING-]
“...!”
Not a smartphone tone—it was...
“An announcement?”
At Seon Ah hyun’s voice, I tore my eyes from the laptop and looked up.
From the speakers hung around the collapsed stage, a flat, distorted voice filled the hall.
[To everyone still inside the building: The shaking has mostly stopped. However, attempting to break doors or other drastic actions can be dangerous.]
[Please wait for rescue in a safe area such as the emergency stairwells, restrooms, or around the central pillars.]
It was a calm, resonant male voice—perfect for an emergency broadcast.
The problem was, it was a voice I knew.
And the others next to me did too.
“...S-Sejin?”
That was Bae Sejin.
Why the hell was he still here doing announcements instead of evacuating!?
