Debut or Die-Chapter 237
The call to Cheongryeo connected after a few rings.
But there was no polite greeting like “Hello.”
“You’re alive.”
I expected as much.
“It just worked out that way.”
“Ah, not that I hoped you’d die or anything.”
“I’m not sure anyone specifically wanted me alive, either.”
Unless they thought that if I kicked the bucket one competitor would be out of the running—talk about a windfall.
But the voice on the other end didn’t laugh.
“You said you couldn’t restart, though.”
“.......”
“Well, then you have to be alive. Strange thing to say.”
Right on.
Being scolded by this lunatic for bad manners—that was the strangest thing of all.
Still, I can’t deny it was oddly refreshing. Hearing a crazy guy I saw in a coma talk about the value of life—time really is the best medicine. Of course, they just stole my reset button.
“Thanks for your concern. Anyway, I’m fine.”
“Alright. But why’d you call?”
“I have something to ask.”
Once I’d done the math, I got straight to the point.
“Would you be available the day after tomorrow—or the morning after that?”
“And why do you ask?”
Simple.
“I’d like you to visit me in the hospital.”
Since I can’t leave under current circumstances, I need to summon him here.
At last I heard a laugh through the line.
After negotiating a few details, Cheongryeo agreed to visit on the weekend morning three days later.
The other members, cycling through daily visits, would be home for the weekend—everyone but one.
“When are we eating melon?”
“When the hospital gives permission.”
“I’m asking you!”
“Be patient.”
Cha Yoo-jin, left behind at the dorm even on weekends, had been keeping watch by my bedside. Word of my injury had brought his parents into the country, though they apparently returned home last week.
It makes sense—hard for a working adult to stay abroad more than two weeks. Even in the U.S., taking that much vacation is tough.
Instead of melon, I tossed him several large, improved-variety tangerines that Seon Ah-hyun had bought. They’ll keep well and be ripe the moment I’m cleared to eat fruit... though they probably won’t last that long.
“Here.”
“Are they as sweet as possible?”
Learned that from Big Sejin, huh.
“Yes.”
“Wow!”
I watched Cha Yoo-jin peel and devour the tangerine. It was basically a bribe.
“In about thirty [N O V E L I G H T] minutes someone will come. You don’t need to tell the others.”
“A guest for you, hyung?”
“Something like that.”
“Who is it?”
“VTIC’s Cheongryeo.”
“Oh.”
Cha Yoo-jin shrugged around a mouthful of fruit.
“Okay~”
Good. He’s straightforward—refreshing that his personal boundaries shine through.
“But why’s he coming?”
Because it bothers me.
“I have questions about upcoming activities.”
“Ask me!”
“You have to ask someone with more experience.”
“Aw.”
Luckily the interrogation ended there, but I knew it would repeat once Cheongryeo arrived.
And thirty minutes later—
“I want to listen, too!”
Of course.
“Go buy yourself a snack.”
“Ugh...”
Still, after dealing with him directly, my command held weight. Cha Yoo-jin grumbled but left—though he did remember the Korean etiquette greeting.
“Hello, sunbaenim!”
Clack!
He bowed deeply, then swung the door closed behind him.
Cheongryeo watched him go, then laughed.
“He’s a tough one, but your team atmosphere must be good. You manage him well.”
“.......”
“I’ve handled someone similar once... he skipped schedules six times in sixteen months. Haha.”
He really excels at killing the mood.
Anyway, I crossed my arms and got down to business.
“I asked you here because it’s urgent.”
“Okay.”
“I think we’re going to fail the mission.”
“.......”
No point hiding it. Even a misfire—since my reset is blocked—can be leveraged at the right moment.
“This mission?”
“To gather an audience of four hundred thousand.”
“.......”
Cheongryeo paused, then tilted his head to the side.
“That’s very specific.”
“.......”
“How can you be so certain... interesting.”
Of course.
‘He’s piqued.’
I’ll postpone the status-window talk for now, just in case.
But we need these concrete parameters to proceed.
‘I need as precise a prediction as possible.’
With the tour canceled, the risk of sudden death is skyrocketing.
He might think it’s unfair I have backup and he has to bash his head against the wall—but I need to rein in that line of thought.
‘Let’s change the subject.’
I shrugged.
“Well, knowing specifics isn’t bad. After all, whether mission or accident, I almost died twice in my two years of activities.”
“Originally, this profession has a lot of variables.”
“Right—you nearly killed me twice.”
“Twice?”
“Yeah. The first time was you.”
He burst out laughing, then quickly offered a sheepish smile. Smart—he felt some remorse. The gamble paid off: twenty dog photos generated a bit of guilt and camaraderie.
Still, he’s unstable—let’s move on quickly.
“Anyway, the tour’s canceled, and I’m stuck here in the hospital. But I still need to meet three hundred thousand more people.”
“Hmm, scheduling a dome tour at year’s end would be tough.”
“Exactly.”
Year-end is peak season. Most weekend slots at large venues are already booked by TeSTAR.
And I can’t even mention it to him, but if we go through with a lawsuit, the whole year’s entertainment activities will be toast.
Cheongryeo then offered the most sensible alternative.
“How about a non-face-to-face performance?”
“...That’s the issue.”
I furrowed my brow.
“The counting criteria are ambiguous.”
“.......”
The fan meeting I held just before the accident was streamed online, but neither paid live viewers nor illegal viewers were counted. Only the in-person audience qualified as “audience.”
At first glance, remote performances seem useless, right?
But some fully online events did count certain viewers.
“A few comeback-show lives streamed via paid live W Live were counted.”
During those, viewer messages and feedback appeared on the big screen.
Considering all these trends, one very vague criterion emerged.
“It seems only those audience members I personally recognize during the performance count.”
I have to acknowledge the audience—see them, feel their energy.
“Oh.”
Cheongryeo’s eyes narrowed.
“So it’s an audience in the theatrical sense.”
“Theatrical?”
“Reactions are part of the performance. Kind of... old-fashioned, but true.”
“.......”
He’s lived a bit in the academy world. He quickly defined the concept.
Cheongryeo stroked his chin.
“Still... that makes it tricky.”
“Exactly.”
I clicked my tongue.
“We need about three hundred thousand people simultaneously able to interact in real time. Not just VOD purchases, but sitting in front of their screens together.”
‘Even increasing repetitions has a limit.’
Even if we change the performance each time, once we go beyond two shows, real-time audience numbers will drop each time—due to diminishing returns and scarcity.
Busy people buy it now and watch later. And they’ll think, “Well, I already bought one, so the rest can be free.”
Cheongryeo saw my dilemma and grinned.
“Alright, then do you want to be a guest on the VTIC tour? If you endure for a month or two...”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Haha!”
He shamelessly asks, even knowing it’s absurd.
A guest appearance at a VTIC concert? That’s pure hell. Fans of both groups would light me on fire.
But Cheongryeo remained unfazed.
“Better than dying, I think. Think about it—it might be your last chance.”
“.......”
True, VTIC would have more excuses than TeSTAR. I might survive the backlash.
‘But it’s still a loss.’
This perfect, obsessively top-tier idol offering such a crazy proposal? It reminded me of the coma offer to join VTIC as main vocalist. I responded halfheartedly.
“I don’t know why you’d want to take such a loss.”
“Because I feel guilty.”
“.......”
Was he joking? He seemed calm, not trying to deceive me.
“Let’s call it repaying a debt—remember when I messed things up for you a couple times? How about it?”
“...Hmm.”
Seeing how I nearly died in this accident must’ve made him reflect on his past actions.
‘Having a dog really does help your psyche.’
Still, I have no intention of investing in that plan. I reconsidered everything.
‘What resources do I have...?’
My stats, connections, time, money...
‘...Money?’
“......!”
My eyes nearly popped.
Found it.
“No, I won’t go that route.”
“Then?”
“...We’ll do a remote concert.”
I ended firmly.
“All free of charge.”
“......!”
Other barriers aside, I can cover the monetary entry barrier.
‘I can handle the cost of staging a concert.’
I’ve got enough unspent funds. Donors not needed.
“Oh—like a settlement?”
No, this is what I want.
I chuckled.
“The biggest barrier to a free concert isn’t money.”
It’s the existing contract.
‘TeSTAR signed a three-year exclusivity deal with the W app.’
And W won’t support free concerts. But TeSTAR’s online concert must stream via W, so I need a workaround.
“Let’s borrow your platform.”
LeTi—the exhibition-and-performance platform VTIC created with an overseas crowdfunding partner.
‘The contract only names TeSTAR, not individual members.’
We can manage other propriety and public-opinion issues by tweaking the format. With him onboard, it’ll be smoother and faster—it’s the company brand after all.
‘This seems like the surefire winning combo now.’
As expected, Cheongryeo laughed and nodded.
“Good idea.”
Better than his other proposal. I almost clicked my tongue but instead replied calmly.
“Sure beats touring with VTIC.”
“Yeah? Haha. Obviously. Who would do that?”
“.......”
“I only meant we could even do something like that. Apparently it sounded plausible.”
Damn liar.
That coma VTIC main-vocal offer must’ve fallen apart too—fucking hell.
Park Mundae almost lost his temper, but quickly regained composure and hashed out the details with Cheongryeo.
He then immediately contacted the company to discuss “engaging with a new platform” in depth.
‘So easy.’
Calculating that this would quell the unrest, the company—though devastated—gave the go-ahead surprisingly quickly: approval fell on Monday morning, right after the weekend.
“Thank you.”
Clearly a terrible miscalculation—but Park Mundae was happy to let them be mistaken.
‘Hope it goes smoothly from here.’
Now he just needed to persuade the other members. Park Mundae scheduled all their Monday afternoon visits to overlap perfectly. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚
‘Better to discuss it all at once.’
And a few days later...
Park Mundae found himself sweating cold drops as the members forcibly demanded he take time for reflection and cocooning.
“Park Mundae, sit and listen.”
For some reason, the members already knew the news.
Because Cha Yoo-jin couldn’t keep quiet.
“I asked the company!”
‘That idiot.’
Of course, it was his own doing.
