Debut or Die - Chapter 333

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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A Fatal Illness if I Don’t Debut – Episode 333
Lee Sae-jin had made her own guesses about Park Moon-dae’s ‘secret.’
And among them, there were some that seemed unrealistic yet plausible enough.
‘Could he be Park Moon-dae’s older cousin?’
In fact, the Park Moon-dae she knew was older, so her speculation was that he might be using the identity of a younger sibling due to circumstances.
Of course, when she tried to recall the reasons, her deductions would unravel into absurdity, and she’d quickly abandon the line of thinking.
‘He said he’d tell me.’
While listening to him, hadn’t she precisely identified the inconsistency surrounding Park Moon-dae and gained his acknowledgment?
Still, because she’d entertained so many wild theories over time, there was once when she’d even deduced that he might be a spy who’d defected from North Korea.
Amnesia, the way he pushed himself to produce results, the way he manipulated public opinion—it all fit perfectly.
Of course, she’d laughed it off immediately.
‘What kind of drama is this? A spy?’
But now Park Moon-dae had said something even more unrealistic than that.
—I’m not Park Moon-dae. I’ve returned from the past.
It was the kind of statement a cult leader would make.
Cold sweat broke out all over her.
‘What?’
A dream… isn’t this how dreams usually go?
Without thinking, Lee Sae-jin turned her hand backward and pinched her thigh.
‘Damn it.’
…It hurt.
Meanwhile, Park Moon-dae continued speaking.
“…I was originally a civil service exam candidate named Ryu Gun-woo.”
“….”
“The video call you saw yesterday was with that body. The original Park Moon-dae is in there right now.”
Lee Sae-jin forced herself to answer calmly.
“Ah… really?”
What kind of ‘really’ was that—a frozen, lifeless ‘really.’
She should have thought things through properly before responding, but instead she was just spouting whatever came out of her mouth.
Lee Sae-jin stood still, trying to discern what Park Moon-dae’s intention was…
“Yeah. If you want, I can even make a video call right now. Want to check?”
This was driving her insane.
“…Mm.”
Lee Sae-jin was now utterly bewildered. Her words had completely dried up.
At that moment, Park Moon-dae, watching her vacant expression, gave a bitter smile.
“You don’t believe me.”
“…!”
“Well… I figured as much.”
Park Moon-dae spoke as if it were nothing serious.
“That’s why I’ve kept putting off telling you until now. There’s no tangible evidence to show. It’s all just testimony.”
Yet his body language told a different story.
His friend was breaking out in cold sweat.
‘Ah….’
Lee Sae-jin felt the world spin beneath him. And paradoxically, in that same moment, as if struck by lightning or bitten by ice, his mind snapped into sharp clarity.
Was Park Moon-dae—the Park Moon-dae he knew—really the type to say something so absurd in a situation like this?
‘No.’
Absolutely not.
The man who’d performed at a concert with cracked ribs as if it were nothing, who’d pushed through schedules despite sleepless nights plagued by nightmares—there was no way he’d say something like that.
He’d never met anyone who lived as fiercely as Park Moon-dae.
And if he wasn’t mistaken about what was happening, his friend was being sincere right now.
“I figured you’d suspect mental illness. So….”
“No.”
“….”
Lee Sae-jin shifted his position and walked forward.
Then he sat down across from Park Moon-dae, the table between them.
“I’m listening. Take your time and tell me.”
“…!”
After a brief flash of surprise, a faint expression crossed Park Moon-dae’s face.
A smile.
A brief wave of relief.
“Then I will.”
And Park Moon-dae’s words became slightly more natural.
“So… if I’m telling you from the beginning, I woke up as Park Moon-dae a few months before Ajusa.”
The story that began then unfolded from a perspective Lee Sae-jin had never anticipated, despite knowing the events well.
Park Moon-dae’s circumstances for participating in Idol Stock Company, where he’d risen to success.
Of course, there were parts that were difficult to accept.
“Like how I’d die if I couldn’t be an idol.”
“Mm.”
He mentioned something like instructions floating in empty space, and the symptoms of mental illness came to mind so vividly that Lee Sae-jin pressed his lips firmly shut.
‘Was that… schizophrenia?’
Of course, Lee Sae-jin had no interest in such matters and had never bothered to look into them, so he couldn’t be certain. But fortunately, he could quickly dispel that impression.
Park Moon-dae showed no signs of paranoia or mental instability from any angle.
Above all, he didn’t want to harbor such suspicions about Park Moon-dae right now. It didn’t feel right.
So instead, he simply listened.
With light affirmations.
“Yeah.”
“I see.”
He even cracked a joke.
“So you got close to me and Ah-hyun because of that too? Because you’d do well in the future?”
Though there was a barb beneath it.
Park Moon-dae looked at me with a slightly relaxed expression and let out a soft chuckle.
“What’s this guy talking about, grouping me together when he never even tried to get close?”
Park Moon-dae said that when he was studying for the civil service exam, Lee Sae-jin and Sun Ah-hyun weren’t among the debut artists he’d vaguely heard about.
“Ah.”
It wasn’t something I should be thinking about in this situation, but it was oddly pleasant.
Ultimately, regardless of what the truth was, it meant that Park Moon-dae’s resolution of my fabricated cigarette photo was genuinely pure goodwill on his part.
‘This is ridiculous, really.’
Even listening to such an unrealistic story, I ended up absorbed and nitpicking over details like this.
Meanwhile, Park Moon-dae’s story progressed past debut into his time with Testa.
And among it all, there was content so absurdly unrealistic that it felt like fitting the final missing puzzle piece into place.
“There’s someone who came back to the past before me.”
“…!”
VTIC Chung-ryeo.
“…Chung-ryeo?”
“You didn’t add the senior honorific, I see.”
“What senior in this mess. Really….”
So that guy really was a lunatic.
Park Moon-dae only told me that Chung-ryeo had come back to the past. He glossed over it as blackmail for future knowledge, but I read between the lines.
Chung-ryeo’s utter lack of common sense.
‘…Is he a psychopath?’
What if Park Moon-dae hadn’t properly shared his future knowledge—would Chung-ryeo have actually tried to kill him in a fit of rage?
Goosebumps crawled down my spine.
But Park Moon-dae’s attitude was oddly lenient.
“He’s gotten his head on straight now, so don’t worry about it.”
It wasn’t simply a “if we report it, we lose too, so let’s move on” kind of thing.
It was Park Moon-dae’s characteristic tolerance shown in close relationships.
‘…They shared the same experience.’
I suppressed the brief surge of resentment rising in me.
Truth be told, my sense of reality had long exceeded acceptable limits even now, so this was a moment to move past rather than dwell on it.
Besides, another bombshell was waiting.
“And about Chung-woo hyung… he’s my relative.”
“…!”
“Same Pungsan Ryu Clan. Turns out we’re closer in relation than I thought.”
Like fitting another puzzle piece into place, the situation became even clearer.
Why Park Moon-dae had avoided Ryu Chung-woo, and why they’d grown close so rapidly after becoming roommates recently.
And when the two of them went out together.
“…They went out to meet Ryu Gun-woo.”
“….”
Park Moon-dae deliberately didn’t mention his parents or Ryu Chung-woo’s accident, but even that was enough to complete the structure.
‘So that’s why Chung-woo hyung….’
Had Park Moon-dae’s attitude toward me subtly shifted recently?
Every detail aligned perfectly.
In the end, Lee Sae-jin emotionally accepted Park Moon-dae’s excuse that he’d been “caught.”
Moreover, Park Moon-dae had also accounted for the next person involved.
“Bae Sae-jin hyung wasn’t there because it happened to be Chuseok. I was at his place, remember? I had no idea about the details.”
“….”
By that point, Lee Sae-jin began to feel a faint sense of embarrassment.
‘It was nothing, and yet….’
Park Moon-dae’s explanation, which I’d heard up until now, was so surreal it made me doubt my ears, yet it carried a clarity born from genuine anguish.
I could easily imagine how anxious he must have been to tell me this impossible story.
‘I shouldn’t have done that.’
I muttered honestly.
“…I’m sorry. For pushing you.”
Park Moon-dae let out a soft laugh.
“You had every right to. It’s been forever since you brought it up.”
After that, Park Moon-dae’s experience continued to unfold through his words.
He did omit certain daydreams from within the coma and some verifications that weren’t strictly necessary, but the content was still vast.
And Park Moon-dae remained serious throughout, making a visible effort to answer Lee Sae-jin’s questions with sincerity rather than evasion.
There were none of those telltale signs that usually appear when someone boasts or lies—no unnecessary obsession with details or repetition of the same words.
“….”
As a result, I found myself completely absorbed in this surreal story.
And the narrative had already flowed to the most recent events.
Park Moon-dae, who had briefly returned in Ryu Gun-woo’s body.
“…And so, I returned to the point where I was riding the target, and that’s how I ended up giving my award acceptance speech. The reason I suddenly forgot how to dance was because of that.”
Having wrapped up the ending that way, Park Moon-dae finished speaking as if relieved.
“This is… my ‘situation.'”
“….”
Lee Sae-jin looked at Park Moon-dae.
Then he stood up and brought water. Park Moon-dae accepted the plastic bottle without hesitation and brought it to his lips.
While Park Moon-dae drained nearly half the bottle, Lee Sae-jin silently organized his thoughts.
‘What do I think?’
What could I think? I’m confused out of my mind.
I can’t possibly understand this… a situation so surreal I can’t believe it could exist.
‘Even a drama wouldn’t go this far.’
I was absorbed because of how seriously he spoke, but my mind was saying something else.
There’s not even visible evidence to support Park Moon-dae’s words.
But….
“Now I get it. You put this off because you knew I wouldn’t believe something like this?”
“….”
“You said Moon-dae knows me well. But… you should have told me this too.”
Lee Sae-jin let out a soft chuckle.
“I always believe what you say, Park Moon-dae~”
“…!”
Lee Sae-jin debuting successfully and thriving as a first-tier idol, touring and performing concerts before tens of thousands—how was any of that realistic?
If I had known the future half a year before leaving Ajusa, I probably would have secretly mocked whoever told me and dwelled on how hopeless the reality seemed.
But I hadn’t done that.
‘I did it with him.’
Perhaps for Lee Sae-jin, that was even more surreal.
So I stopped laughing and answered seriously.
“You’ve always been like that. So I’ll do this the same way. I believe in you, Park Moon-dae.”
“….”
Lee Sae-jin added it as if joking.
“Whenever I believe what you say, the results are always good. All the members say the same thing, you know? Park Moon-dae, you should take more credit.”
In that moment, Park Moon-dae laughed.
“…Thank you.”
Park Moon-dae finished the remaining half bottle of water.
Lee Sae-jin pretended not to notice his hand holding the plastic bottle trembling slightly.
Instead, I realized once again how absurd it was that I was accepting all of this without question.
‘I’ve slept enough.’
Though it seemed like all sorts of thoughts and deductions would flood through me all night, Lee Sae-jin didn’t let it show.
Then it seemed Park Moon-dae started speaking all his own thoughts from his side.
“You probably understood as you listened.”
My friend, crumpling the plastic bottle, hesitated before muttering.
“I never originally intended to become an idol. You might have been disappointed.”
What on earth was he talking about?
“Are you an idiot, Park Moon-dae?”
“What?”
“You love being an idol so much, so why are you saying stuff like ‘I never originally intended to~’?”
“…!”
“Where is there anyone here who said from the start they wanted to be an idol… If you were trying to survive, that’s good enough, good enough.”
Park Moon-dae’s expression became unusually vacant.
“More than that, what about how we address each other? Will you call me Gun-woo? Gun-woo, Gun-woo?”
Just as Park Moon-dae deliberately tried to make me grimace, he actually winced a bit.
The atmosphere lightened somewhat.
“Forget it. We’ve been like this for years.”
“Yeah. Since we came from survival shows, everyone uses stage names these days anyway. Park Moon-dae is your name too.”
“….”
“Right, Moon-dae, Moon-dae?”
“…Yeah.”
Lee Sae-jin let out a soft laugh.
Before returning to the present, I felt a sudden urge to ask if he’d truly heard nothing about me at all—but I held back.
‘It wouldn’t have been good.’
Without Park Moon-dae, I would have certainly stepped down due to the school violence controversy… and even if Park Moon-dae had known about me, it probably wouldn’t have been welcome news.
So instead, I said this.
“Thank you. It must have been hard to talk about.”
“….”
“Honestly, Moon-dae, saying something like ‘there are letters in this world that only I can see~’—that must have felt dizzy, right? I could totally see you getting embarrassed… wap!”
“Be quiet.”
“Haha!”
Dodging Park Moon-dae’s hand, Big Sae-jin laughed refreshingly.
That day, Park Moon-dae and Lee Sae-jin had quite a long conversation before heading to bed to prepare for the concert.
“So how old were you originally?”
“…I was 29 right before I came back.”
“Oh~ Should I call you hyung then? Hyung-nim?”
“Don’t bother.”
“Wow… right. True professional idols really do prefer youth over seniority… wak! I dodged that one!”
“Tsk.”
Most of it was trivial talk.
But having personal stories I’d never heard before gradually unfold felt strangely good.
“…Moon-dae, Moon-dae, you’re totally from a prestigious university! Don’t you regret it?”
“I don’t regret it. It’s not like money.”
Park Moon-dae seemed at ease.
So Lee Sae-jin didn’t need to regret getting angry at his friend over something pointless.
Without a drop of alcohol, the conversation flowed well, building a deep foundation as it concluded.
It was trust newly layered on top.
And the next day.
Unlike yesterday, without any awkward discomfort, Lee Sae-jin recovered his original sense once he took the Stage.
‘Good, good!’
He flanked himself with Cha Yu-jin and Sun Ah-hyun on either side, delivered a stylish ad-lib, finished with a brilliant encore, and came down humming.
And the moment he was about to look for Park Moon-dae.
“Looks like you two made up well.”
“…!”
Lee Sae-jin turned to see the group’s leader, who had briefly tapped his shoulder.
Ryu Chung-woo was smiling softly.
‘It showed.’
Lee Sae-jin immediately bowed his head.
“I’m really sorry, hyung! I’ve been a bit off these past few days, haven’t I?”
“No. You were fine. I just saw it directly… I was just being nosy, wondering if you two might be struggling.”
“….”
Nosy?
Now that I think about it, the assembly time for the next day was suddenly pushed back by about three hours last night.
I’d assumed it was due to schedule adjustments.
“Don’t tell me the delayed assembly time was….”
“Yeah, well… it was so everyone could recover their stamina too.”
It was a considerate gesture to let the two of us talk comfortably.
“…Thank you.”
“We’re a group like this, after all. These things need to be worked out together for us to last long. Everyone agreed on it right away.”
Ryu Chung-woo laughed. Lee Sae-jin was momentarily at a loss for words.
I’d believed no one in this group was more sincere about putting in effort to maintain us for as long as possible than I was.
‘…But still, I was worried that once seniority kicked in, everyone would drop out for individual activities.’
That might have been a rather arrogant assumption, Lee Sae-jin admitted to herself.
Ryu Chung-woo’s words continued in the meantime.
“Sae-jin, Bae Sae-jin was the one who suggested it first. He was really worried about you two.”
….
“Anyway, I’m glad it worked out. Oh, there he is.”
Following Ryu Chung-woo’s chin gesture, I turned to see Bae Sae-jin in conversation with Park Moon-dae, who was holding a towel beside the steel structure.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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