Debut or Die-Chapter 435
“Injured nowhere, yet hospitalized?”
Thanks to my superhuman recovery from ‘Bacchus’ and ‘Nectar’, I’d long since stopped fooling people about injuries—and never imagined I’d end up in this bulls-t.
‘No.’
My brain’s going to atrophy. I set down the e-reader Bae Sejin brought me as a ‘gift’ and spoke.
This was four days into my hospital stay.
“There’s a shortage of beds—don’t you think using one like this is unfair?”
“Ah~ This is a suite. I heard it’s rarer to have the whole thing occupied.”
“But I’d rather be out.”
“Mundae, Mundae, even if you ask me, I’m not medical staff. You understand I can’t help it, right?”
“......”
This insufferable... wait. Is she imitating what I did during the collapse?
I stared at Keun Sejin in disbelief—but she just flashed a wide grin and left the room.
“Rest up~”
“......”
Next up.
Kim Rae bin surprisingly showed up in the evening lugging a turntable that could play LPs.
“Classical music helps calm the mind and body!”
So avoid modern music, huh?
I tried a logical approach with someone clearly blocking ‘albums’ and ‘promotions’ from his brain.
“I have no injuries. This extended stay doesn’t make sense.”
“You went through an extremely dangerous situation. You need a few more days of observation.”
Kim Rae bin seemed to truly believe it. A few of them must’ve conspired to cook up this plausible excuse.
“You could do that at the dorm. It’s a waste of money, honestly.”
“Don’t worry. The company’s covering the cost!”
“If they expense it, our net profit drops—and so do our payouts.”
“...??”
A question mark and exclamation flickered across Kim Rae bin’s face, but he nodded as if he understood.
Did it work?
“No problem! I believe the whole group won’t mind that expense for your peaceful rest!”
“......”
I lay back down, suppressing a groan.
Next hitter.
“My muscles will waste away. Time to get back to my routine.”
“Really?”
Ryu Cheong woo, who visited that morning, reacted positively. I’d planned to build up to a request... but he booked me the hospital’s solo workout room next to the rehab center.
“......”
Come to think of it, if the company covered the room, Cheong woo must’ve arranged it.
He was practically the mastermind behind this ordeal, and I’d considered appealing to him. Not likely to work.
“The equipment’s great. Let me know if you want it longer.”
Enough.
I gave up and approached the machines.
Lower body, I guess....
“Serves you right.”
“Serves you right.”
“Whatever.”
Cha Yoo jin, acting as caretaker, shrugged and bit into an entire apple. I grit my teeth and said quietly,
“Anyway, give me my smartphone.”
“I don’t have it. You can watch on the smart TV.”
“......”
I snapped at the suite’s OTT apps—I counted four. The Wi-Fi was blazing fast with zero delay, yet I couldn’t use it for internet.
‘They’ve crossed a line.’
Two days ago the manager gave the same excuse.
–The doctor warned it might hurt your mental health, so please limit usage.
‘Bullshit.’
This was overkill.
“But you have to bear with it.”
“......”
[You know already, right? You need to regain what’s most important now. Trust.]
Right.
I pressed my temple.
Honestly, in this insane situation it wouldn’t be hard to grab a loophole and get discharged.
The hard part is persuading everyone else that I should be discharged.
But this time I couldn’t ignore it. After all, these idiots had been trapped in a collapsing building because of me...
‘They must have been freaking out I might’ve died.’
Since everything was undone, no one to consult—if this was some twisted revenge, fine.
...But.
“That has limits.”
How long do they plan to keep me here? When will I release an album, prepare year-end events, plan next year’s activities?
Patience only goes so far.
I decided to give one last try.
“Hey.”
“What.”
“At least tell me what’s going on outside.”
I could endure a few more days just on intel. Cha Yoo jin shrugged.
“Nothing much. No terror, no buzz—I’ve only seen ordinary traffic accidents in the headlines. Oh, and bank fraud.”
“...Not that.”
Who asked for a news briefing?
“I meant: what’s the online public opinion about our group and VTIC?”
“I don’t know. That’s not my concern.”
I balled my fist, but pictured Cha Yoo jin scrolling through forums and SNS—which didn’t suit him at all.
Better find the next candidate.
I spent the afternoon de-stressing with jazz LPs and detective novels.
That evening Bae Sejin visited and...
“No.”
“......”
He avoided my gaze.
“...I can recommend more books.”
I didn’t need that.
I resisted letting him slip up, then devoured the mung bean chicken soup he’d brought.
It felt like getting food in prison from a visiting lawyer.
The last hope... though I figured it was hopeless.
Seon Ah hyun had visited fairly often.
But since day one I’d never asked him directly to help me get discharged.
He clearly wasn’t shameless enough to say “I don’t know~.”
So I cut to the chase.
“Mundae, you’re... okay, right?”
“You know I’m anything but.”
He, too, looked away while peeling a tangerine.
But now was the time.
“Staying here is tougher. I want to practice.”
“Hmm.”
Seon Ah hyun avoided my eyes. Unlike Keun Sejin, he lacked the gall to fake ignorance.
So I spoke bluntly.
“I’m serious—I can’t stay like this. Let me out of the hospital.”
“...But.”
His voice trembled.
“You lied to me. About something... bigger.”
“......”
He peeled a tangerine and set it in front of me. His hand shook.
I stifled a sigh.
‘The shock must’ve been huge.’
When I faked evacuation up to the second floor and then contacted was abruptly severed by the collapse, it was inevitable.
I just... needed to level with him.
“I was scared too.”
“...!”
“No one would be calm at the thought of sudden death—plus if I died, someone else could get caught in it.”
“......”
“And I felt helpless—no one could help.”
I’d never faced an experience that felt like I was doomed, either.
“So I couldn’t explain properly... but if you felt betrayed, I’m sorry.”
I meant it.
Seon Ah hyun’s mouth moved, then he forced out,
“It’s... okay. I’m sorry too... for not believing you...”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for.”
Honestly, for being blindsided, that was a pretty mild reaction.
I chose my words.
“I like resting too, but right now there’s too much on my mind to feel rested.”
“...!”
“I want to leave the hospital.”
He seemed to hold back tears, then nodded resolutely.
“I’ll talk to them...!”
“Thanks.”
A sign of resolution.
That evening.
“Got your things?”
“Yes.”
I finally could start discharge procedures.
It had been over a week.
‘Done.’
I felt relieved but had a lot to do—first scan public opinion, plan activities, then visit the company.
And make time to debrief the others at the dorm.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
Ryu Cheong woo volunteered to drive me through the discharge process.
But the car didn’t head to the dorm—it sped in the opposite direction.
“...?”
Wait.
“Where are we going?”
“Not the hospital.”
“Then where?”
“Haha.”
Answer me.
We got on the highway, then turned toward the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province and arrived at a secluded country house with a white stone wall.
Cheong woo chirped,
“We’re here. Go ahead and get out.”
They’d holed me up in a pension.
‘Seon Ah hyun!’
This isn’t different from hospitalization. Discharge only meant moving here!! But escape routes were already cut off.
“By the way, the dorm’s being remodeled, so we’ll all stay here.”
“......”
“And we’ve agreed to avoid going out. It’d be awkward if sightings leaked.”
Since when did these idiots become so thorough?
Inside, Kim Rae bin and the others awaited with a “Get Well Soon” cake and party poppers.
Pop!
“Congratulations on your discharge!”
“......”
Only Cheong woo had come to fetch me—everything had been planned.
I had to admit it.
‘I lose.’
I silently brushed cake crumbs from my hair.
But luckily, it turned out I hadn’t gained nothing.
“Here!”
After an irritating celebratory meal, Cha Yoo jin called me to his room and handed me my own smartphone—it had my cracked screen and all.
“...!! Thanks.”
My persistence in demanding outside news had paid off.
“You owe me delicious food now. I’m your traitor.”
He’d tried so hard to persuade me—and apparently still hadn’t told Bae Sejin the {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} truth, Cha Yoo jin shrugged.
[Let’s rephrase: you were loyal to me.]
I happily texted back in English.
[It’s fine. Honestly, everyone’s overdoing it. Forcing someone to rest doesn’t guarantee they actually ‘recover’.]
He emphasized “recovery” with one hand, explaining,
[But if you overuse it, I’ll be proven wrong. Promise me that won’t happen.]
“Okay.”
I promised and returned to my room, plugged my drained phone into the charger, and powered it on—addressing Keun Dal.
‘Can you hear me?’
Suddenly a popup struck like lightning.
[Hyung, you’ve been discharged now?]
‘...Yes.’
I answered gloomily; the popup flinched.
Even he hadn’t mentioned a word of outside news all this time.
“Who the hell muzzled you?”
But instead, we’d had some good conversations.
I remembered my first-day chat with him—about the status-ailment failure and the reward popup.
[Mission Failed Scenario Complete]
Victory: Player Park Mundae (Ryu Geon woo)
Reward: Fragment of ■■■ 1 (1/4)
–What is this ‘fragment’ reward?
I’d realized that calling mission failure a “scenario” meant the collapse became a scenario, not reality. But the “■■■ fragment” made me quite pessimistic.
[I don’t know either. When I forced a mission failure... the status window naturally generated that form!]
Oh, really?
[Yes!]
So I replied,
—Then actually, the system remains shattered, and by defeating a fragment, I get it as loot. How about that interpretation?
[]
The popup froze.
Then in trembling handwriting it chattered:
[Actually... I wondered if the system only remained as fragments, which is why I didn’t notice...]
Of course.
[Sorryyyyyㅜㅜ]
—What are you apologizing for? I thought you’d wiped it out.
I made a sour face.
‘I thought it was completely gone.’
Not beads or pizza—pieces remained. And the “1/4” annotation bothered me.
One quarter.
“While we’re on the topic...”
[Yes!]
“Surely we won’t have three more of these incidents.”
A short, dizzy silence fell.
[Oh, no. I missed the system fragmentation this time, so I’ve monitored the fallout and scoured your status window!]
[You’re clean now!]
Okay.
That was positive feedback.
But I wouldn’t fully trust it. I’d been blindsided too many times.
In that spirit, I decided to start planning how to prevent a second status-ailment failure.
‘Let’s see.’
They say the strongest urge defines your status-ailment symptom.
Like how I fixated on releasing an album.
Yeah—looking back, I did obsessively want to drop an album. It must’ve influenced me.
‘Then the thing I most want to do now is....’
What else? Situation awareness. That’s all I can think of.
So before diving into smartphone searches, I’d get a quick summary.
First, to prove I’d been discharged, I texted Keun Dal:
‘Any word on the VTIC charity concert?’
Cancelled or downscaled? After that chaos, one or the other.
I was going to take that stance before scanning SNS... but then:
[Uh, it’s being promoted successfully...?]
“......”
What kind of magic is this?
