Debut or Die-Chapter 228

“Formation of a dedicated artist team exclusively for TeSTAR.”

On paper, it was run by the Planning Coordination Office, but in reality, I expected the Head of Department to have his own influence.

‘There’s no way that guy wouldn’t meddle in something like this.’

Even if headquarters mandated it, he’d tweak the direction to suit his taste. So I was considering nudging the Management Office under the guise of “coordination,” even if it meant taking on a couple of extra bodies.

But there was no need.

‘They just do it.’

“Ah, of course! Naturally, the TeSTAR members’... um, opinions must be reflected...”

That simple acknowledgement was effectively a declaration of surrender: the dedicated-team plan would fully incorporate TeSTAR’s input.

‘What the hell.’

How was this even possible? It turned out to be simple. This comeback’s signal was so strong. Even after only one week of promotions, the response was beyond imagination—not just measurable metrics like album sales or chart positions, but palpable buzz.

[Is this how it’s done...? TeSTAR’s “Burum” challenge!]

[DIY Nail Art: TeSTAR “Burum (Nightmare)”｜Personal custom interpretations included! :]

Even non-fans were imitating or discussing it everywhere—from unrelated online communities to everyday conversations. Trendy YouTube variety shows even lifted MV elements instantly. In short:

‘We’re at the start of a trend.’

I’d felt it on stage yesterday, too. The cultural-arts promotion event was broadcast live on network TV.

During our performance, I noticed fans of other groups were unusually enthusiastic—VTIC fans included. Other idols’ supporters typically maintained some restraint, but that barrier was gone. A shared sense of the trend had formed. Even among internet-savvy idol fans—within just a week.

‘...Our own fans’ reactions were above average, though.’

I could still recall the tearing screams and shouts pouring into my in-ear monitors.

-“Aahhh!!”

-“Uaaahhh!!”

Part of it was the concept, but overall, the explosive success and buzz were astonishing. So much so that the artist closing the event opened with:

-“Congratulations. You’re going to win the Grand Prize, right?”

-“...I don’t know how it’ll go.”

-“Haha, you don’t know?”

-“....”

-“It’s obvious how this will flow.”

With that, Cheongryeo stepped onstage.

‘Fuck.’

I wasn’t about to crack his skull with a hammer, but how was that guy still so dense?

‘The dog looked perfectly fine.’

Anyway, his solo achievements soared to the same celestial tier as the group’s, so no one could blame TeSTAR for a slump. And in truth... he was right.

‘We could win a Grand Prize.’

If the run continued without controversy, given our results and momentum, we’d have at least one or two major awards locked in.

‘They typically split categories into two or three sections—take VTIC’s spot out, and we’re still in the running.’

And to summarize it all in one sentence: our market value was skyrocketing.

“Mundae-mundae, did you see our ad rate this time~?”

“I saw it.”

It was double what we commanded during the “Haengcha” promotions. The agency was cherry-picking only the best, highest-paying deals, but still—remarkably encouraging.

‘Even “Haengcha” felt like first-tier treatment.’

Now rumors of a generational shift, with TeSTAR challenging VTIC, sounded credible. So the agency must have thought:

‘This will be a long game; let’s keep them happy and maintain a good relationship.’

The earlier vibe of “we’ll squeeze every last drop from their five-year contract before renewal” had quietly evaporated. It was too precious to burn through in five years.

Of course, they’d likely start looking for any weakness before renewal season—but that’s a story for later. For now, note that even if TeSTAR took a hard line, the agency staff were bending over backward to placate us.

‘I guess my tough stance on progress issues during Rae-bin’s remote work set a precedent.’

Maybe they feared we’d run wild again, so they coddled us even on the dedicated-team issue. As a result, internal meetings to form the dedicated team could be slotted into our busy comeback schedule.

But they were mostly pointless.

“First... I’d like anyone from the AR team who worked with us since ‘Magic Boy’ to join.”

Rae-bin shot his hand up.

“I completely agree! And they said they’d love to come!”

“...??”

An impromptu spokesperson appeared.

“Rae-bin, when did... um, you ask them?”

With pride, Rae-bin answered, “As soon as rumors of the dedicated team circulated, I reached out and they all agreed!”

“.......”

“Rae-bin, be careful—security issues...”

“Oops, sorry! They brought it up first in AR team chat...”

That was how it went. Everyone who wanted on board had heard the buzz and pitched themselves. And since the company was suddenly so favorable, everything was apparently a yes.

I tapped my chin.

‘This is tacit agreement all the way.’

So the only negotiation left was: “Don’t assign the old staff; give us new recruits instead.”

“All right, let’s make sure to say we really want those people.”

“Yessir.”

But just as silence fell, Bae Sejin, looking uncertain, spoke up.

“...Then shouldn’t we focus only on the new hires? Like holding interviews and such?”

That made sense. We were adding about a third new personnel anyway—especially on the management side.

Ryu Cheong-woo nodded.

“Yeah, it’d be good to get to know the new people, too.”

Yet reality hit. Before I could speak, Big Sejin had already said:

“But I’m not sure we’ll have time for interviews~ right?”

True. With how hard it was to even schedule this meeting, who had time to interview candidates?

I crossed my arms.

‘Even drafting preliminary questions takes time...’

Ah. A method came to mind. I thought silently:

‘Status window.’

Time to spin the slot machine again.

‘Hmm, I’d like “Sleep is for the dead” to pop up again.’

Or an ability to add six hours to a day... boosting work speed would be nice, too. First, check status.

[Name: Park Mundae (Ryu Geonwoo)]

Level: 19

Title: None 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Vocals: S

Dance: B+

Appearance: A–

Charisma: A+

Traits: Infinite Potential, Time to Indulge (S), Bacchus500 (B), Piercing Sense (A)

!Status Ailment: Death if not an audience member

Remaining Points: 1

‘There’s natural regeneration.’

My voice rest got me from S– to S. No wonder the reviews have been better lately—can’t deny the sense of accomplishment.

‘Good. Next.’

Other changes: one level-up, two trait draws from pop-ups.

‘It hasn’t been that long since the last check.’

In just a few months, accumulating this much was impressive—proof of how Spring Out and this comeback stood out. So... I’d save the point and gamble on needed traits.

‘It feels silly to “waste” two draws.’

Last time I drew five and only got one S on the final try. Now I know:

‘They won’t hand me the perfect trait at once, so spit it out right.’

I watched the “Click” prompt sparkle, then raised my arm as if to signal and pressed it. Two spins would finish while they chattered. The lever in the image spun, panels flashing in colors. Past familiar candidates... it stopped on a gold panel: B grade.

Pop!

[“Bacchus500 (B)” acquired!]

“...!!”

[Trait: Bacchus500 (B)]

– Clear mind and healthy body!

: All fatigue accumulation speed –50%

My fatigue-recovery totem trait appeared again. And unexpectedly, a pop-up followed:

[Same trait detected!]

“Combine traits?”

“Of course!”

The moment to reinforce this essential trait had come...! I clenched my fist without realizing.

“M-Mundae...?”

“You okay?”

I was more than okay. I was thrilled.

“Well, with a dedicated team forming, I’m excited and in a great mood.”

“R-Really!”

“Wow, is that so, Mundae? How long has it been since you gave such a long answer?”

No more excuses—let’s do this. I hit “Yes.” A loading circle appeared in the status window, then triumphant fanfare rang out.

[Synthesis Success!]

“Bacchus1000 (A)” acquired!

– Clear mind and sturdy body!

: All fatigue accumulation speed –50%

: All fatigue recovery speed +100%

It was gone over the top.

‘Now I only need sleep every two days, right?’

One thing’s certain: activities won’t suffer, and I can carve out time for those interviews.

‘A huge long-term benefit.’

The rebound on vacation... well, that always happened. Even if it’s worse, who cares? It’s not a lasting side effect—just a few days off the grid. Actually, with recovery rate up, I might not crash at all.

‘Come to think of it, I didn’t drag during the last break.’

Perhaps because caring for Rae-bin counted as work, the status window didn’t flag it as downtime. Anyway, I didn’t expect this quirky system to yield something so useful this time.

‘Good.’

I hope it remains this cooperative—though I might die if it does, it’s the least it could do. Satisfied, I viewed the updated traits in the status window, then nodded.

“Mundae, you’re nodding now?”

“I... I guess I’m imagining the dedicated team members?”

Close enough. I already looked forward to its launch—more precisely, the effects it would bring.

TeSTAR’s first ever manager frowned on his way into work.

‘Fuck.’

With the boys blowing up, they’d grown arrogant, making his job progressively harder. They say idols with star fever treat staff coldly—that’s exactly what was happening.

A parachuted-in staffer had taken his spot and blocked his promotion chances. He thought X-shit Entertainment was the shadiest outfit ever. The manager seethed at the injustice but had no recourse.

‘Just hang in there a bit longer.’

In a few days, it’d be TeSTAR’s 2nd anniversary—and thus his two-year milestone. With that on his resume, he’d try to jump to a higher position elsewhere.

‘Then I’ll fuck everyone over later.’

Despite the non-disclosure clause, he allowed himself a bit of bravado as he trudged into the company.

The night-shift boys were all in the conference room. But the moment he entered the lobby, he was summoned to HR—and struck by a bolt from the blue.

“Excuse me?”

“So... I’m not joking. You don’t need to come in starting tomorrow.”

He was being fired. The manager gaped at his team lead and exchanged a few words, but soon realized there was no negotiating.

“Pack your things, okay?”

Fear gave way to anger.

“No, team lead. This is unfair dismissal, right?”

The lead looked so exasperated he refused to continue the conversation. Then he played a recording.

—Bro, Rae-bin’s grandma collapsed during our travel...

—What? In the middle of the night?

—Yes, “in the middle of the night.” We’re en route, so please be on standby nearby ASAP.

—...Okay.

And then a faint curse as the call ended.

If TeSTAR hadn’t blown up, or if he had connections at headquarters, he might have survived. He might’ve spun it as “we were friends, so it was rude”—but he had none of that.

“Yesterday, the artist’s phone cloud was almost hacked and leaked. You know?”

“Uh—uh.”

“Just... get out quietly. If this hits the media, you’ll have to leave Korea, judging by the current climate.”

It was a death sentence. Defeated, the manager resigned on his own.

Park Mundae, who’d heard the gossip from the AR team upstairs, smirked.

‘What a dumbass.’

He’d never once turned off his call-recording setting since high school.

‘Got one more.’

Feeling refreshed, he powered on to the next task.

‘...Second anniversary.’

June 18, TeSTAR’s debut date, was just around the corner.