Debut or Die-Chapter 217
Cover stage.
It refers to a performance of a song not one’s own but by another group or artist. And, of course, there was an unspoken rule:
“If it’s a junior’s song, don’t do it.”
If you perform worse than the junior, it looks terribly awkward. Even if you do well, you risk being accused of having “no sense of honor.” In a cover stage—where you must master someone else’s song in just a few days of practice—that risk is deadly.
Moreover, many of the idols appearing as mentors on this Ajusa variety show were already mega-stars.
“I mean, there are tons who aren’t even at the level to do a year-end cover stage!”
No one had expected to see them cover a rookie’s latest hit in the video.
“Whoa.”
Related SNS feeds at similar times were spammed with “??” and the like. But Cheong-woo’s fan immediately realized:
“True, there aren’t many senior idols with a hit in the last five years besides VTIC.”
And covering a song that’s already too old wouldn’t be fun either—it’s been overdone.
“A rookie girl-group song... that’s guaranteed fun!”
Come to think of it, it was the first time since his debut year that Cheong-woo had tackled a girl-group song! The fan’s heart pounded at the rare tease. They had zero doubt Cheong-woo could pull it off. And as all these thoughts flashed by in two or three seconds:
–We gonna fly high
The close-up cut, and the stage began.
Dung dung dung dung—
A bass and drum groove underpinned by a crystalline string part that sounded like a synth. Idols in sleek leather harness outfits cut through the formation and launched into choreography on a purple-lit stage. The dissonance of members from different groups melted away seamlessly. Their years of polished experience helped, but decisively... the center was extraordinary.
Naturally, it was Cheong-woo.
–You shout, high up
Fly up, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° way up
Break free, shoot up
Escape, Paradox
“Ah!”
The intense chorus crashed in without warning. Cheong-woo’s fan fell silent.
“This is amazing...”
On screen, Cheong-woo connected thirty-second chunks of choreography as fluidly as a single movement, wrapping up the intro before you could recall the original song—like it was instantaneous. It was phenomenal.
“Aaaah!”
Aside from incoherent screams and shouting of member names, similar comments appeared sporadically in fan communities:
–“Cheong-woo kills it, f–k”
–“World-class level, insane”
–“They only changed the key but the vibe’s totally different”
They hadn’t just shifted the key. They’d changed the nuance.
Mirinae’s debut song “high up” used a metaphor of a caterpillar trapped in a cocoon, gradually hardening, only to break out as a butterfly. Its retro-tinged lament yet sleek, rhythmic style fit current trends perfectly, making it a hit. A flawless debut song combining rookie-sharp precision with intentional emotion—but also one with a strong signature sound. After all, its metaphor was about rising above the controversies of Ajusa Season 4.
Seasoned idols weren’t fooled by that trap; they didn’t awkwardly mimic the original’s mood in this cover.
–Rip off your shell, cast it aside
Take off, take off, take off
I’m taking flight right now
They preserved only the song’s power.
“Wow, damn.”
Unlike rookie debut songs, there was no stiffness—only expression amplified by confidence. And Cheong-woo’s carefully held choreography prevented that confidence from seeming arrogant. The result was a ravenous, all-consuming stage that felt entirely new. A prime example of the “strong, charismatic concept” that drives global K-pop fandom wild.
Coming from different groups, no one gave ground—heightening the competitive energy. Especially during the chorus:
–You shout, high up
(high-up, up, up, up)
Farther up, even higher
“Yeah!”
Cheong-woo led the formation with graceful yet dynamic control, drawing every eye. When the center paces the energy perfectly, the whole performance looks elevated. As soon as episode 3 dropped, people who skimmed straight to the performance probably began churning out endless GIFs.
“Oh, they’ll say ‘no honor among idols’ for sure!”
Despite picturing the backlash, Cheong-woo’s fan couldn’t stop smiling—the stage’s magic was irresistible. The lyrics “fly up” sounded like smashing everything into pieces to use as a launchpad.
–high up!
Then the second verse. A sudden, dramatic melody shift highlighting vocals. Of course Park Mundae took that part—originally Mirinae’s center, their number-one member’s section.
“He can dance well, too.”
Cheong-woo’s fan remembered Season 4’s all-rounder center for a moment, then saw Park Mundae on screen and felt a strange unease. Though Park had improved, many non-fans still doubted his dance—his debut “POP☆CON” on Ajusa was just too striking.
“Huh.”
But that worry proved unfounded.
–Pain or scars
Can never hold me down
〈THE WAY OUT〉
Can’t let us down
“Whoa.”
Park Mundae’s dance had a gripping tension. The snap when he straightened his body was extraordinary.
“He’s good.”
Since TeSTAR rarely puts him center for heavy choreography, it felt fresh. In a group of dance specialists, his skill stood out. Cheong-woo’s fan nodded:
“But these lines look kind of...”
A fleeting déjà vu of “our guy”? But before that thought landed, the song clinched the fan’s attention again:
–We gonna fly high!
Against these chains
Say goodbye
Though color-graded for TV, the build felt more dramatic than the original.
“Wow.”
The contrast between dance-focused and vocal-focused members was striking.
“He’s really good.”
Cheong-woo’s fan watched Park Mundae’s youthful, glossy face and felt an odd fondness—then anger flared. It was the slimy ex-MTV main vocalist who’d made everyone suffer.
“That incompetent jerk was hogging center and making everyone miserable...!”
He lacked talent and was busy stuffing himself into screentime!
“Screw all-fan loyalty! I should’ve ranted and fixed his head ages ago!”
Recalling foreign fans still whining “VTIC’s down to fiveㅠ,” Cheong-woo’s fan ground their teeth... but the performance was so captivating the anger quickly subsided.
“Phew.”
It was such a joy to see Cheong-woo tackle a classic conceptual rookie song after so long.
–We gonna find
〈THE WAY OUT〉
After Cheong-woo nearly flew across the stage, Park Mundae briefly reclaimed center for the final chorus, ending the song.
“Hmm.”
Stat-wise, Cheong-woo deserved center—but Park’s impressive turn kept the fan from complaining. Especially since Cheong-woo got plenty of screen time.
“This was fun...”
Cheong-woo’s fan lay back, saving screenshots and GIFs of him from the new clips. Such approachable teases were rare. They even saved a few of Park Mundae.
“Well, he’s cute.”
“I bet after TeSTAR ends, he’ll sign with LeTi.”
They ended the day satisfied. A few days later, when the behind-the-scenes video appeared—showing Cheong-woo giving Park notes—the fan smugly thought, “My eye was right.”
“Hey, Mundae, when did you secretly join the dance line, IQ-300 genius pup?”
“The best husky, highly recommend” (Park Mundae chorus GIF)
“Park Mundae’s concept-chameleon skills are unmatched. Rare is a performer who can express precisely in any style. He’s definitely one of that few.” (photo)
“No wonder he was Season 3’s winner—peak-era champs have a certain aura lol”
“Not bad reactions.”
I monitored the initial stage feedback. Since it was a T1–backed rookie group, no one asked “Why cover a junior’s song?”
“Everyone knows the producers pushed this.”
Nor were there many complaints that “T1’s favoring Mirinae too much.”
“When the result’s this good, details get forgiven.”
A strong outcome justified the process. But grouping unrelated idols together sparked a fierce “who did better” vibe. Usually the most popular wins.
–“Look at Cheong-woo’s face—he doesn’t look like a ten-year vet, he could pass for a rookie”
–“Cheong-woo’s still god-tier”
└“At his age he’s an old manㅠ”
└“Your rock-star is an old idolㅠ feels bad, cheer up!”
–“Cheong-woo is truly a millennium idol”
“A millennium, sure—he might keep idoling for fifty years, who knows...”
I scrolled past the SNS page with mixed feelings. This time... grudgingly, I admit, the “most popular guy” had the biggest role on stage, so no special comment.
“Anyway, it was a success.”
Domestic views climbed, and the separately uploaded WeTube video was racking up views at a terrifying rate. The company must be celebrating—boosting both the variety show and Mirinae’s recognition.
“We didn’t lose out either.”
As this show’s overseas profile rose, the TeSTAR members featured as mentors also gained global notice.
“And my own special stage got great feedback.”
Next up was Seon Ah-hyun; I expect to ride this momentum. Youngrin was on that lineup, too—she has good overseas recognition, so Ah-hyun will benefit. And with their age gap, there’s no needless dating rumors risk.
“It was a coed-unit song, right?”
I’d heard they covered a mixed-gender unit hit from a popular agency. I even saw them do it impromptu on tour—an excellent song that fit Ah-hyun’s vibe perfectly.
The person next to me monitoring my own stage must’ve finished the video and spoke up:
“M-Mundae, you were so cool...!”
“How was my dancing?”
“Uh-huh! Your strength was awesome!”
Ah, a solid reaction.
“Thanks. You’ll do great, too.”
“R-right?”
Ah-hyun giggled—he must think he did well.
“Good thing we didn’t switch.”
I figured he’d do fine, but I’ll still monitor next week. I thought that as I turned off my phone.
But contrary to expectations, things didn’t go smoothly. A few days later, after the second special-stage teaser:
[Choi Ki-woon’s secret account on Inheart got exposed.jpg]
[Choi Ki-woon’s alt account fully leaked ㄷㄷㄷ]
The nameless guy who performed that coed-unit stage with Seon Ah-hyun had his private account publicly leaked.
“I honestly never thought about him—only considered Youngrin.”
Up to that point, it wasn’t our concern. If his controversy meant less screen time, it might even help us. The problem was... the mind-readers showed up again:
–“Isn’t this about Seon Ah-hyun? (screenshot)”
–“The timing’s perfect—it was filmed the same day”
“...Time to start the extermination phase.”
It was time to eradicate the pests.
