Debut or Die-Chapter 242
Several hours earlier, behind the stage set up for TeSTAR’s virtual charity concert:
“Do you need water?”
“I’m fine.”
Cheongryeo was familiar with backstage.
From the modest local festival that hadn’t gone well, to a stadium packed entirely with VTIC’s own staff—he had experienced every level of the industry repeatedly, and that familiarity had layered deep geological strata within him.
That was why VTIC’s members were used to their leader’s composure. No matter the situation, he never wavered or misstepped—he seemed born for this work. Naturally, they too had caught his calmness like a contagion after debut.
“Wow, this is kind of nerve-wracking.”
“I know, right? I guess that’s the burden of being a guest.”
“Yeah. You always have to shine more in someone else’s party!”
VTIC bantered lightly in front of the camera set up for their WeTube upload, waiting for Cheongryeo to jump in at just the right moment. It was a sound decision.
“This is such a meaningful project. I hope it helps our juniors at TeSTAR.”
“Exactly~ Thank you for inviting us to this wonderful event, TeSTAR juniors!”
The members smiled and waved at the camera. Cheongryeo watched them, smiling inwardly.
‘No, this is a loss for us.’
Saying something so ridiculous with a straight face—he couldn’t blame the members; they’d been selected solely on stage-quality and accident risk. None of them were perceptive enough to realize that, at this rate, they’d only be padding someone else’s success.
‘Play nice and you’re a sucker; mess up and you’re washed up.’
All-star guests at a rookie’s concert, performing the juniors’ own songs—this was unheard of for first-tier seniors in the same industry.
Of course, he couldn’t entirely blame the members.
‘The trap is just too delicious to resist.’
Cheongryeo recalled the conversation that had arranged this appearance—the day he visited Park Mundae in the hospital, when Mundae first proposed the charity concert.
“Why don’t we co-host it?”
“I’m not sure...”
At that moment, VTIC’s schedule was on the verge of becoming murderous—they were preparing a full-group comeback. After Cheongryeo’s solo album had been a huge success, VTIC’s freedom had expanded greatly. The board’s hesitancy to release a domestic album—fearing any sign of decline—had vanished. So their comeback preparations had gained momentum without him having to prod them.
As usual for a group of VTIC’s stature, they planned a week of domestic music shows, then an overseas tour. But rehearsing a stadium tour while preparing a new concert?
‘Impossible.’
There wouldn’t even be time to sleep. Just visiting Mundae in the hospital had already cut into Cheongryeo’s rest. And that was before comeback—what came next was a foregone conclusion.
Cheongryeo had spoken the truth.
“My promotional period will be busy—I don’t think I’ll have time.”
Park Mundae didn’t seem fazed.
“In that case, as a guest?”
“Hmm...”
“If it’s going well, the platform will want to hitch their wagon too.”
Mundae’s plan was clear: LeTi would sign an exclusive contract for the concert format. In return, as a gesture of friendship and promotion, LeTi would invite Cheongryeo—who happened to be close with Mundae—to appear.
“So you just want us to do any stage and get our name on it.”
In that moment, Cheongryeo realized.
‘He already knew.’
Knowing that a co-production was impossible given VTIC’s schedule, Mundae had steered the discussion this way. Cheongryeo narrowed his eyes.
‘He wants to use me as the guest...’
And do “any stage” at all—at first it sounded like consideration for the seniors’ busy schedule, but in truth it meant “show up and do whatever.” While TeSTAR trained for the special concert stages, Cheongryeo alone would perform a standard set—a mismatch of scale. If things went poorly, his reputation would take a hit. It might not be as damaging as Mundae appearing as a guest on VTIC’s tour, but it was risky.
“Your thoughts?”
But outright refusal was dangerous too. He remembered:
‘The recording.’
The audio of their conversation during his abduction must be on Mundae’s cloud. The moment that leak hit the headlines again, VTIC’s career would be finished. Yet Cheongryeo judged that Mundae was unlikely to release it.
‘That would drag us both into the mud.’
A scorched-earth tactic wouldn’t serve Mundae, who needed to stay active. Still, he could bluff with that recording to threaten Cheongryeo—and that would destroy their rapport. Cheongryeo didn’t want that either.
After a swift decision, he smiled.
“Fine. I’ll appear as a guest.”
“Then...”
“Oh, the whole VTIC will appear?”
“......!”
“That’s okay, right? The audience will be even bigger.”
It was madness. If only Cheongryeo had appeared, any fallout could be chalked up to “friends hooking me up.” But he refused to give so much advantage away.
“......”
Mundae was silent for a moment, then nodded calmly.
“Alright.”
“Okay. Let’s do it that way.”
This was a gambit. Having VTIC appear risked far greater damage than Cheongryeo alone—but the potential gain was larger too, since the two groups would be compared directly. And knowing VTIC’s stage quality, Cheongryeo assessed the odds clearly:
‘Seventy percent or more.’
He even raised the stakes further.
“Wouldn’t it be fun if we swapped songs?”
That way, Mundae would fill out the numbers too.
“......”
Returning from his reverie, Cheongryeo smiled. After all, it was a game he’d set in motion. The members had fallen for it naturally—he had picked them for being manageable. But their strength lay in «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» their craft.
He recalled Mundae’s terms again.
‘Four hundred thousand viewers.’
Did Mundae know how many viewers VTIC’s online concert had drawn in a single day last year? 610,000—paid viewers counted on that platform alone. With VTIC confirmed, there was no threat to Mundae’s survival.
‘We’ll have to accept some TeSTAR fandom bleed—but that was self-inflicted.’
He couldn’t be responsible for Mundae’s regrets.
‘Hmm, I should let Kong-i meet them.’
Thinking of his dog, Cheongryeo briefly considered a small gesture of comfort.
“Let’s go.”
“Today, VTIC wins again! Ah, Victorious~!”
The cheesy cheer the director had concocted at debut popped out as a joke from his lips—after all those restarts, it was the only thing that hadn’t changed. Perhaps because Cheongryeo never bothered to change it—he always wanted to win.
“VCR ends in 10 seconds!”
Watching the stage machinery opening before him, a strange thrill crawled down Cheongryeo’s spine. It felt unfamiliar after so long—the sensation of risking everything and charging toward an uncertain outcome. A challenge.
[Ah.]
A brief test tone in his in-ear. Then the stage began.
The moment VTIC strode out into formation, comments flooded the screen with question marks, exclamation points, and astonished cries—changing too fast to read.
This wasn’t limited to the concert page.
“—Yo, VTIC!”
“—VTIC really came out!”
“—T-ickers, what are you gonna doㅋㅋㅋㅋ”
“—Insane!”
People seeing the real-time posts on SNS scrambled to join the TeSTAR concert stream. Pop-up notifications sent to VTIC subscribers on the platform also startled countless viewers into clicking.
[VTIC has appeared!]
The pop-up even featured VTIC’s logo as an emoticon. In that moment of pandemonium, VTIC launched their set:
Wee-ing, wee-ing, weeee-ing!
Sirens blared, and deep drums rolled like formal applause. Rough, rapid, intense percussion and brass heightened the tension—and the signature riff melody kicked in.
“Heng-cha!”
“ㅅㅂ, Heng-cha?”
VTIC opened with TeSTAR’s signature song, “Heng-cha.” But all of its elegant Eastern vibes were gone. In their place surged technical electronic tones and orchestral bursts racing over a fierce trap beat.
Dressed in suits overlaid with black harnesses and gloves, VTIC interpreted “Heng-cha”’s choreography faster and more modernly.
“Heng-cha, we bring it today—
No escape, you’ll feel our sway.”
The rap slowed into a groove that masterfully underpinned the performance. There was no room for beast-like motions—instead, they were a special-ops unit, precise and authoritative, as if capturing a wild creature. Salutes followed as the bass swelled.
“Now, we arrive—warning upon warning
We approach with chilling precision
I, I, I, I—
Take off.”
Their rap shifted rhythm, pouring out like an aggressive onslaught. Then the chorus:
“Finally, the day has come—Heng-cha!
Oh, oh, oh...”
At an unexpected moment, the backing dropped.
“Never get away from me, yeah.”
Their languid, ominous wave-style moves contrasted with the tight, rapid formations again. Dancers waving giant flags behind them, VTIC stretched every inch of the stage, driving the performance to its limit.
Their main vocalist was gone—but they erased that absence with rap and choreography. They didn’t care about any void; they forced the audience to hold their breath in awe.
“Wow.”
The comment feed slowed—their extreme focus made applause unnecessary. Amid red and blue lasers, and under the deeper, grander riff melody, VTIC rampaged.
They skipped straight to the bridge, omitting the second verse intro. The backing leapt to where the bridge should be. The members paused, turned, and reformed. But instead of the expected melody, the familiar rap chorus hit:
“Sangun—
Their claws are hella sharp
Readily tear you apart
You can’t catch me—no, you can’t.”
Then their iconic hand-and-hip moves.
“—??”
“—Sangun!”
“—Whoa, here?”
One of their signature tracks: “Sangun.” The melody and bass intertwined perfectly as “Sangun” grew even more imposing. The traditional wind-instrument reference—most emblematic of the song—was added.
“Make me a Boss—
That’s right, that’s right.”
VTIC had woven two songs around the keyword “beast,” and pulled “traditional style” firmly into their own camp—almost promising to show who did it first. They’d completely rearranged “Heng-cha” to escape mere imitation, and the attempt was utterly convincing.
“—So damn cool.”
“—Sangun! Sangun! Sangun!”
“—Look at the dignity of a hit song.”
The public and VTIC’s fans roared at this melding of massive hits—“Sangun” devouring “Heng-cha” and dominating the latter half. At its best moment, the stage had all the persuasive power needed.
“Sangun—
Their claws are hella sharp
Let me prove it.”
An explosive final dance break, then VTIC closed in a four-man formation between giant flags. The stage ended, but the comments never did.
“—They killed it.”
“—Insane, as expected from VTIC.”
“—Why are they here?ㅠㅠ”
“—Gives me chills.” 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚
“—Wow, so awesome.”
VTIC gasped for breath, waved to the dancers exiting, and smiled at the camera. They even sat on the chairs thoughtfully placed by staff and chatted for a bit.
“Thank you for choosing such a great option, everyone!”
“That was so much fun~”
Even though they’d have appeared no matter what, they played it off casually—applauding and praising the concert’s intent. Of course, they couldn’t resist a joke.
“Oh, come to think of it—we have our own concert going on~”
“If you’re interested, please check it out! Haha!”
In the comments, people wailed:
“—They stole our votes...”
“—This is so cruel.”
“—Now I get why they’re friends with TeSTAR.”
And some ticket-holders muttered under their breath:
“ㅠㅠㅠ you jerks, give us a heads-up next timeㅅㅂ”
“They’re so good it’s stopping me from un-stanning... stay first-tier forever, plebsㅠㅠ”
“My resell tickets bought this crap—fucking hellㅋㅋㅋ”
“LeTi and their fat wallets—how long are they going to exploit these kids for business? They’re good so they keep doing this.”
The mood had completely shifted. No one could tear down VTIC’s performance without performing a mental gymnastics worthy of a true anti-fan. Meanwhile, Park Mundae watched this entire spectacle from backstage.
If this had been a real live show, screams would have filled the air.
I stuffed a water bottle into my mouth.
That was one terrifying son of a bitch.
‘I really called the tiger here.’
Of course, I plan to skin him and turn him into jerky—but letting things continue like this? No way.
TeSTAR’s next stage was right around the corner.
