Debut or Die-Chapter 244
A semi-transparent popup appeared with triumphant fanfare.
[Successful Encounter!]
You have succeeded in meeting an audience of “400,000”!
!Time Limit: Met (Success)
!Status Ailment: “Death if Not an Audience Member” removed!
With a single free online concert, you eradicated the status ailment requiring 400,000 spectators.
No wonder. After VTIC’s appearance, vote counts neared 300,000. I saw the count rise myself on the big screen—no different from verifying live audience reaction with my own eyes.
‘I knew it would register.’
Moreover, on this platform, viewers can watch without registering. Casual onlookers likely didn’t sign up. Many of VTIC’s overseas fans also aren’t registered here, so the real view count must have been astronomical. Even generating 300,000 registered participants actively voting in real time would have been a stretch for TeSTAR alone.
“......”
Thus, the basic plan to draw in VTIC was amply successful. Though the outcome differed somewhat from my prediction.
: “Confirm Truth” ☜Click!
The coin choice disappeared.
‘I thought the default would remain now.’
The previous coin was clearly an anomalous option.
‘...So the system predicted that error and provided it.’
It seems the system detected the risk of my former manager screwing things up and proactively guarded against it. The identical “audience” status ailment reappearing only with inflated numbers now fits that logic—after offering “Confirm Truth” with the coin option, it ran the same ailment again to revert to the original. I recalled how my status screen had flickered with all sorts of ailments before vanishing. It must have diverted the pathway just to hand me a coin, even if it meant generating an error.
‘But why?’
I’d never detected any trace of emotion or intellect in this system. Yet from tampering with gacha probabilities to this—there was a pattern of favor.
“......”
I thought quickly and reached a conclusion.
‘It wants me to clear the ailment.’
This status screen must be designed to force me to survive and clear this madness. Without the status screen, I’d have...
“What are you staring at?”
“...!!”
I looked up to see Cheongryeo studying my expression closely. I reflexively replied.
“Just... lost in thought.”
“Is that so?”
He answered casually, then turned to fix his gaze on the empty space I’d glanced at—where the status popup had been.
‘Fuck.’
I dismissed the popup at once. Cheongryeo showed no sign of noticing, simply smiling. He’d read my glance.
‘He saw me glance that way?’
He was one of those people whose battle-hardened instincts never dulled.
‘...He asked if I got what I wanted.’
I let go of unnecessary tension and gave the orthodox answer.
“I think it worked out well. The performance.”
“Indeed. Good to hear.”
Cheongryeo nodded, as if he understood the implication. Then he extended his hand.
“I enjoyed today.”
“...Likewise.”
He was confident. I reached out and shook his hand—his glove felt cool.
“Good luck with the rest of the show~”
“Fighting.”
VTIC’s members grinned and elbowed into the handshake line. I suppose they felt our connection had deepened. A few of our guys seemed to think the same—like Kim Rae-bin, who’d figured out the rearrangement software.
“I hope you have a safe trip home, seniors...! Thank you for all your guidance!”
“Aww, what guidance did we give~”
“You’re heading overseas, but still—thank you. We’ll be careful!”
“Yes! Thank you~”
“Thank you!”
The farewell ended warmly with multiple handshakes exchanged. Well, we weren’t enemies, and industry colleagues seeing each other again might as well part amicably. But the real problem lay elsewhere: the fandoms.
‘The internet’s gonna lose it.’
At least both sides broke even. Neither would win outright. So in the worst case, it’d just be gossip that two groups had a bit of a power struggle at a charity event. Not ideal, but survivable.
“Se-jin, four minutes left on the big-screen vote.”
“Coming!”
Bae Se-jin, tasked with the next vote announcement, dashed down the corridor. With VTIC gone, he moved even more recklessly. I shrugged and returned to gauging audience reaction.
‘Let’s nail the remaining stages.’
The next one was a performance where I’d have to pretend to gush fake blood. At least let’s keep the quality high. This turned out to be a sound decision.
TeSTAR’s charity concert ended in roaring success.
[Total Donations This Concert]
[!! ₩252,096,000 !!]
[Thank you for your enthusiastic participation and warm hearts.]
Real-time donations exceeded ₩140 million, and peak concurrent viewers surpassed 1.12 million. The platform wiped cold sweat, proclaiming their temporary server expansion was not in vain. Public response was overwhelmingly positive.
“—Amazing”
“—So much fun, seriously lol”
“—I donated ten bucks and feel great—saw a great show and did a good deedㅠㅠ”
“—Wish they did this often”
“—TeSTAR really are solid—don’t they have an InHeart? I want to follow themㅠ”
Everyone who watched loved it, and they cheered that each performance would be posted to WeTube. The platform smoothly offered the full concert as VOD for purchase—no pushback, since individual stages were free to watch.
“—That’s fair—they gotta eat.”
“—Thanks, TeSTAR~”
“—VTIC were epic too—cheering for both groups! ^^”
Fans, eager to catch all the little hilarious moments, bought the full video at a good rate. And there was more: news on SNS.
[TeSTAR is donating as much as you did! (Photo)]
[All funds raised will be safely delivered in the name of “Follow Your Heart.”]
TeSTAR matched the audience’s donations. The photo showed them sweaty-faced right after the show, holding up a hastily scrawled sign with the amount, grinning. It was a flawless conclusion that silenced any “Why do they deduct from the audience’s money?” complaints. Actually, the extra donation was a bit over-the-top “good” behavior, but there was a reason. Idol-obsessed communities were already buzzing with chatter about VTIC versus TeSTAR. At first, it was all praise for the surprise VTIC set dominating popular posts and nearly monopolizing the internet.
[9th-Year Idol Cover Level]
[True First-Tier Dignity]
[VTIC – Heng-cha]
Countless comments debated “Better than the original” or “Still prefer TeSTAR.” Then TeSTAR’s performance changed the tone.
“—TeSTAR was great”
“—Love this vibeㅋㅋㅋ”
“—Both are amazing, great concept”
“—Main vocal... ah... that hit homeㅠㅠ”
TeSTAR had digested VTIC’s song freshly, removing the head-to-head nuance and uniting the setlist concept. The comparison fizzled, but in its place, hurt feelings among fandoms and opportunistic provocateurs flared up.
“—Maybe it’s just me, but the way they turned off the VTIC song on the old-style radio feels too calculated...”
└“Not mentioning they hummed it first—is pettyㅋㅋ It was clearly respect.”
└“It’s ’80s concept—of course the outfits look old-school.”
└“Why are fans trying to silence everyone? I felt it too.”
└“I think you’re just trolling.”
“—Honestly, VTIC had the bigger scale, but it felt like they wanted to dominate too much, kinda uncomfortable.”
└“If they didn’t do it, you’d complain they didn’t try.”
└“Sorry our kids did too well and hurt TeSTAR fans’ feelingsㅠㅠ”
└“I’ll ask at fandom events for them to tone it down so rookies aren’t embarrassed!”
└“So savageㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ”
└“Please stop—they were all great, why this hostility...”
Under the surface, wild overinterpretations of TeSTAR’s and VTIC’s motives and baseless speculation swirled. Fans eager to pit the two fandoms against each other confronted those trying to calm things down. Though the performances were acclaimed, each side couldn’t help but irritate the other.
“—So fucking pissed!!”
A college student, arguing with a VTIC fan on an article’s comment thread, was livid. She was a fan of Kim Rae-bin, who she’d ranked second behind Park Mundae.
“—You’re losers for calling them guests even though you couldn’t handle it...ㅠㅠ”
└“The guests ended up winning anyway, dancers and all.”
└“Are you blind? The guests crushed it; anyone could see that.”
“—It’s obvious, you idiots.”
The Kim Rae-bin fan clenched her teeth: “Why are T-cars so disgusting?” she typed.
└“You’re trolling because the guests tried to shine—they even turned aggression into part of the show; that’s impressive.”
But she also realized she was commenting on performance “skill” itself.
‘This did shift the atmosphere.’
In truth, TeSTAR’s recent image had been closer to “tragic victims.” Their running story overshadowed their idol work. VTIC faced similar baggage: news headlines about their main vocal’s scandal, or suspicions of a declining group. But all those reputations flew out the window in this topic. Instead, both groups were celebrated for their craft. Fans of both held opinions on “who did better”—the idols themselves were hot again. All the conflict felt very much like first-tier idol drama.
‘It’s kind of fun, though...’
└“ㅋㅋㅋㅋ Love-r viewer feels so obvious~”
“—You fucker!!”
The Kim Rae-bin fan withdrew her previous comment and fired back with:
‘Oh, you’re a T-car? Still pulling fans, aren’t youㅉㅉ’
And she sensed:
‘One wrong move and this will blow up.’
Both fandoms must hate each other right now. Somewhere out there, someone was digging up dirt on the rival group, she instinctively knew.
‘Ouch, my head hurts!’
At that moment, a notification dinged.
[Hello, I’m Mundae...]
“...!?”
It was from TeSTAR’s official account on SNS.
“—Yo, Park Mundae!”
The Kim Rae-bin fan abandoned the keyboard battle and clicked the alert immediately.
---------------------==
Hello, I’m Mundae 😊
What a fun concert. There are so many great photos that I’m sharing a few I took.
Thank you to all the Love-r viewers and every audience member.
♡
---------------------==
The attached photos... were VTIC.
“—Hey!!”
She screamed.
‘Feels like I lose if they post first!’
But she calmed instantly—Mundae followed up by posting TeSTAR’s own photos all at once.
“—Kim Rae-bin looks handsome.”
She saved the picture of Kim Rae-bin, wearing bandages from “The Summons” stage, giving an awkward wink.
‘Hmm, actually VTIC looks petty for pulling something like this on juniors.’
She reviewed VTIC’s pictures with cool detachment.
‘Ugh, Mundae annoyingly took amazing shots of them too!’
Cheongryeo’s solo photos looked even better than some home admins’! That allowed no excuses about “intentionally omitting some members.”
‘Wish they’d post a selfie or two of themselves.’
She grumbled, but looked forward to saving the fan-edited versions from various accounts. Similar things were happening among many fans. In an age where “I like them because my idol likes them” no longer holds, it still served to divert the atmosphere. People voicing “Look, a great event—so don’t call off invites!” now had substance and feeling behind them.
Even reluctant admissions surfaced in the undercurrent:
“—Gom-meo knows what’s up.”
“—When he’s on our side, he’s solid.”
“—Thx for the pics.”
The internet went into a temporary truce to digest this bait. Meanwhile, TeSTAR’s official account posted an announcement—fresh bait about the “abandoned choices.”
[For those curious about TeSTAR’s other options, we’ve prepared something.]
[Wednesday, last week of September at 11 p.m. on CVN—stay {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} tuned!]
Though specifics weren’t revealed, it clearly doubled as promotion for TeSTAR’s new program!
“...They work well.”
Their agency had been ludicrously incompetent, but letting the group handle things themselves produced this flawless result. The Kim Rae-bin fan, unusually speechless, toggled between the teaser and Mundae’s photos. Yet the mastermind behind all this wasn’t calmly monitoring as usual.
“We have to choose.”
“...Right.”
“Lawsuit or next promotion?”
Instead, he’d begun a detailed debate with the leader on their next move.
