Debut or Die-Chapter 211
The smartphone ad wasn’t actually a joint campaign with the junior idols. If it had been, I would’ve known already.
They just filmed a few shared shots.
“Okay... on this cue, come in here together and show what you’re holding in your hand!”
“Yes.”
“Oh, and hold the tablet with one hand please—keep it light!”
“Got it!”
The juniors were advertising the same brand’s tablet line, but to add something extra they’d slipped in a few two-group shots.
Because TeSTAR was senior both in tenure and recognition, Mirinae had waited on standby until our day, then slid in.
‘Still, not telling me until the day of is over the line.’
Whether our first manager was so stunned by Ryu Cheong-woo’s cut-off that he forgot, or the company purposely buried the detail, I can’t be sure.
But I’m pretty convinced it was the latter.
‘These days he’s been pushing back against the director’s opinions—finally got some spine, huh?’
They must’ve feared we’d all demand changes to avoid mixing the artists.
And if they’d warned us in advance, that’s exactly what we would’ve done.
‘Too many potential complaints.’
We’d already stirred up enough buzz around “Magic Boy.”
In fact it could’ve gone much worse:
“Ugh, bundling again? What now?”
“Clearly this was supposed to be our solo, but they negotiated to tack on juniors lol so greedy”
“They should’ve pushed Mirinae—the brand appeals to everyone, but they just didn’t have the vision”
“Those fans really don’t get it—no streaming or sales wins, so it won’t stick, haha”
“Yeah, we hate it too—don’t lump our gods with some ancient boyband✋”
“This always ends up in shipping rumors—bet at least one couple’s already dating by now, album on the line lol”
From comparisons to shipping rumors—an endless annoyance.
Fortunately, the company must’ve sensed the backlash, because most of the suspect two-group shots were cut.
Instead they emphasized Mirinae’s premium electronics line “Cosmic,” featuring T1 Stars artists.
“My identity shines like a star.”
“Chosen by the stars: Cosmic!”
Which still grated a bit.
‘They didn’t even develop us, yet act like we share some grand vision.’
They’re probably itching to launch another rookie and decided it’s time to build Mirinae’s own brand identity beyond just being an AJUSA spin-off.
Existing groups slid in fresh off a hit audition show—they must feel that’s bold for rookies.
‘Maybe they’re eyeing a stock listing next.’
Either way, that director must’ve come up with this.
And at that point I realized I could use it.
‘Better start gathering some evidence.’
Right as my shoot was wrapping, my chance came.
“Great work today!”
After my solo shots and a brief joint sequence with Mirinae were done, I walked over to a kid still monitoring playback.
He snapped a perfect 90° bow.
“Oh, senior! Thank you so much for today’s shoot!”
“The pleasure was ours.”
He was the junior who placed second on last season’s AJUSA.
“How was the shoot for you?”
“It was great! Ah—senior, you were amazing! As expected of the people’s choice for first place...”
“Let’s stop there.”
“Right.”
His expression grew solemn, as if he knew he’d overdone it.
“How’s everything these days?”
“Huh?”
“The company, I mean.”
“Um......”
So at least he didn’t launch into some over-the-top ‘I’m so grateful!’ spiel—he must’ve caught my drift.
He lowered his voice with a serious look.
“It’s still the same...!”
“......”
Quite a lot packed into that.
“Have they approved any self-produced tracks for the next album?”
“...Well, they’re pushing for a double title release.”
“I see.”
Since TeSTAR’s debut formula used that, they must be riding that success.
“They insisted one song be in English.”
“...!”
He continued in the tone of a resigned office worker.
“But... they promised to include at least one of our songs, so we’re all just trying to be content with that...”
“......”
I’d guessed as much—his side was going through its own struggles.
“How’s the care side of things?”
“Care? Oh, it’s good! They handle hair and styling really well...”
He skirted it. I steered back.
“The manager we had here originally—he moved over there too, right?”
“...! Yeah...! I feel so grateful and sorry...”
“No need for that. I was just curious how that sort of care’s been.”
He looked like I’d yanked him back to reality with “Is this workplace harassment?!” written all over my face.
“Do they brief you well on your schedule? Keep an eye on everyone’s health? Stuff like that.”
“Ah... um.”
He paused, as if recalling, but what he said next sounded sincere.
“I don’t really know. They seem so busy... and since there are so many of us, it feels like they can’t keep up. I’m sorry they look worn out.”
I sighed.
‘Nine members, right?’
One-and-a-half times our size—they definitely needed more managers, yet only two were covering them.
‘The producing team’s flip-flopping between the director’s wishes and the higher-ups too.’
Since the director’s trying to hold the reins tighter here, the management chief’s influence is waning.
Hmm... that gives me an angle.
“Understood. Hang in there.”
“No, no! We’re all having fun working hard here. Thanks for your concern!”
“Right.”
I almost ended it there, but then thought of something.
“Oh, right.”
“......?”
“Would you be interested in setting up a dedicated team?”
That was the real point.
Ever since the manager fallout, I’d been mulling this solution.
“A dedicated team...?”
He looked stunned, then snapped to attention, seizing on the idea.
“Oh, you mean a team just for our group?”
“It’s not finalized, but I’m planning to bring it up. If you want, I can share examples from juniors too.”
“...!”
“Of course, I’ll say I heard it from someone close to the company, not directly from you. How does that sound?”
He swallowed, then his eyes lit up.
“We’d really appreciate that.”
Smart move. Once he’d confirmed it wasn’t a trap, I didn’t need to hide the plan.
“Alright, then I’ll mention it.”
“Yes! Thank you!”
Just then, someone called him from behind—they must’ve wrapped shooting.
“Minha! Hey, come here quick! This chocolate is insane, tastes amazing!”
“Okay, unnie~ Oh, senior, I’m off then!”
“Take care.”
He sprinted off, swinging a massive box of chocolates like a trophy—fresh off a win, indeed.
So... that kind of bright personality really is popular.
Or maybe it’s just the audition effect.
“Hyung!! Look at this! So Cooool!”
“Oh, nice.”
I responded to Cha Yoo-jin, who’d appeared out of nowhere with a surfboard prop, nearly drifting into some odd industry reverie.
But there was no time. I had calls to make before midday.
‘Time to push the dedicated team proposal.’
I’d already talked it over with the others that same week Ryu Geonwoo recovered.
– A dedicated team, huh...
– I doubt the company will willingly take on that cost.
– I’m all for it! Mundae must have a good reason~
– ...I’m for it too.
– Cool!
– They keep messing up management.
Funny thing was, Bae Sejin unexpectedly agreed on the spot and pushed for it.
– They’ll keep treating us like this... better to act while we still can.
– Sejin’s got guts.
– ...! Not trying to look cool... anyway! Let’s at least put it to a vote!
– Yeah!
So by sheer momentum it passed unanimously.
Here’s how:
“Are you still polishing the email draft?”
“Yeah. Anything you want to add?”
“No! We all worked hard on it, so I hope it goes through...”
“Right.”
We sent the proposal for “Establishing a Dedicated Artist Project Team” straight to T1 Culture, our parent company.
If the parent pushes under the banner of “brand value,” the director won’t be able to refuse.
‘Of course some will resist on cost and principle grounds—expected that too.’
Then we’ll just move to step two.
My brain was buzzing—it felt almost fun.
‘Bring it on.’
But the call around 7:30 pulled the situation in an unexpected direction.
“...A survival show appearance?”
– That’s right.
The voice at the other end answered crisply.
– Did you know the Idol Corporation production team has moved into our studios? They’re producing a new program there.
“Hmm.”
– This time, TeSTAR isn’t a contestant but a mentor.
‘Only third-year idols mentoring on a survival show?’
A deal I never could’ve imagined.
