Debut or Die-Chapter 290
“This week’s special music broadcast format was one we’d done several times before.
‘A mass K-POP concert.’
Every six months, Tnet held a global-targeted concert called “TaKon.” It was broadcast live to dozens of countries with barely adequate infrastructure—a typical broadcaster’s arrogance—but it looked glossy on the surface. This time, since they’d even booked VTIC, they ambitiously split it into Part 1 and Part 2 over two days.
And TeSTAR... of course had to appear both days—it’s Tnet’s cash cow. The network no longer had just one golden child, but two.
“Hello, seniors!”
On Day 1, at rehearsal we ran into this season’s Ajusa debut group. I heard they were covering one of our songs. Among their energetic greetings, I spotted Gold II grinning widely—he’d scraped a dramatic #1 debut, so that grin made sense.
“Seniors, please give us lots of guidance~”
“Oh my, it’s us who should be in your care~”
Big Sejin still clicked perfectly with them. But the real person to watch wasn’t there—he slipped into the group greeting unnoticed. Chae Seodam, the guy who’d mucked around with Seon Ah-hyun at school and repeated his antics on Ajusa until it all blew up, was in the debut lineup.
‘He’s sure got nine lives.’
Amazingly, in the back half of Idol Corporation, clever editing had bestowed him with an aura of “desperate, life-or-death effort,” and he debuted 10th. His “it was all a misunderstanding” explanation somehow clicked with general viewers—though fellow debut-group fans still roast him mercilessly online.
‘Still, debuting beats being eliminated—first opportunities differ.’
Seon Ah-hyun barely even registered him now.
“Good luck today...! We’ll be cheering you on!”
“Thank you so much!”
We all just pretended he didn’t exist. And since Seodam’s hype had already fizzled, this debut group’s momentum had stalled, so their producers really needed to deliver.
“The division head?”
‘Not too nervous.’
“Don’t be too tense—give us a great stage.”
“Yes!”
So I only considered what benefit this unwelcome reunion could yield. ‘If we can use it... buzz, right.’
“See you next time!”
As we parted, Big Sejin murmured, “They swapped our venue with theirs, right?”
“Yeah.”
The timer for our first decisive moment was set.
“TeSTAR, up!”
As we climbed the rehearsal stage, the dawn air hit my nose. It was an outdoor stage—one that should have hosted the Ajusa group, but swapped in our name as a courtesy to remind us of “the old ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ days.”
‘Thanks for that.’
It would make for a great narrative. I recalled the forecast I’d checked days ago: a 70% chance of rain on show day.
“Son of a—!”
“Shut up!!”
Kim Rae-bin’s fan shot to her feet at her brother’s remark, smashing a keyboard once with her fist—result of a keyboard war with VTIC’s fans.
‘They gloat about their overseas wins like it’s all they’ve got!!’
Her fight spirit, honed since the charity concert, had only grown. But now she needed to calm down.
“Hey, you’re watching this, right?”
“Yeah. Move.”
Without even bothering to clean up her speech, she shoved her brother aside and sank onto the couch. On TV, TaKon streamed live.
[NEXT STAGE]
[TeSTAR]
I lost count of how many countdowns they’d aired, but it had to be about our turn—the show was nearly over! Then TeSTAR’s intro VCR began...
“Okay...??”
But she was speechless at the sight of the venuewide shot.
“What the hell is this?”
“Why?”
Why indeed: ‘Why the hell are they on the outdoor stage?’
TaKon, being live, rotated two stages for quick turnaround. This time, the layout forced one stage outdoors and one indoors. Normally, by seniority you get the indoor slot—and the biggest acts, regardless of tenure, always get indoors. So naturally we expected TeSTAR inside...
But we were outdoors. In a pouring evening downpour!
‘What kind of treatment is this, damn it!’
She’d already griped that the network treated top-tier acts like hostages by booking them two days in a row—now her blood boiled. Ajusa’s debut group got the indoor stage—she’d spotted that on social media—and fans were in stunned silence. Fighting VTIC fans had been a blessing; she was furious enough already.
...Yet the moment TeSTAR filled the close-up, Kim’s fan forgot her anger.
‘Whose idols are these? They look amazing.’
Every detail—Kim Rae-bin’s silver-trimmed robe over a wet white shirt—was flawless.
“Huh?”
Water... dripping on their heads?
‘Where’s the canopy?’
Even an outdoor stage should have a waterproof cover. The forecast promised rain, so previous stages must have had one—yet suddenly it was gone.
“No wonder the rain was so distracting...!”
“These insane bastards...!”
She nearly swore, but as the performance began, her focus snapped to the stage.
The rhythmic, thrilling intro—TeSTAR skipping and kicking as the music broke in.
[Take your STAR
On the day stars rain down]
A fresh, crystalline sound. TeSTAR seemed unfazed by the downpour—indeed, the raindrops added a new flavor.
As dusk fell and lights strengthened, droplets on their limbs, jewelry, and robes reflected the beams. Whoosh. Thanks to choreography full of flicks and spins, even the splashing water felt part of the show—each step sent decorative droplets flying.
And their feet were bare.
“...!”
Their legs looked long... but more than that: ‘The floor’s flooded??’
Since the indoor stage, they must have removed the canopy, leaving a substantial puddle. ‘Too dangerous...’ Yet barefoot, TeSTAR didn’t slip—instead the performance looked cleaner and more delightful.
No, it looked even better. Each step the toes sank halfway then popped out, sending rings of water up. Especially in the chorus, the signature foot-shoot moves were spectacular.
[We fly so far]
Between formations, water spouted—robes billowed, scattering droplets. Every eye was glued. A performance more dazzling than “refreshing,” made all the more spectacular by wet costumes and hair. It felt like a meticulously planned aquatic show.
‘Ah.’
Then she realized in a thunderbolt: the robe’s embellishment colors and the stone accessories matched the MV’s tail-fin hues. A mermaid symbolism performance, executed in flowing water.
‘They did this on purpose?’
They’d planned barefoot choreography in the rain to evoke the mermaid concept? Ridiculous—but TeSTAR looked so astonishing that her mind buzzed with question and exclamation marks.
[To the island beyond the horizon
Today will sparkle]
Seon Ah-hyun’s acrobatic move traced a perfect vertical arc of water droplets for the ending. Supported by his members, it elicited awe instead of nerves—a choreography that seared itself into the mind. Their final humming seated pose became a linked-shoulders spin.
[Umm]
They gazed at the rainy sky on the last bass hit—ending. The stage ended.
“......”
[Drumroll—! Soup’s the best!]
An advertisement slate cut in. But Kim Rae-bin’s fan stayed on the couch. Her brother poked her thigh.
“Hey, they killed it, right?”
She was torn between amazement and confusion—this wasn’t just “they did well”... it was genius.
“Ah, damn!”
She whipped out her phone and dived into SNS—she had to know what had just happened!
“Oof!”
“Yujin! Is your foot okay?”
“OK! I’m fine!”
Cha Yoo-jin peeled off the transparent, nubbed pad from his foot himself—the staff’s help only stung. It was custom-made anti-slip rubber gear.
“Running barefoot on that flooded marble is suicide.”
They’d ordered those even before the comeback. I shrugged and tore mine off too.
“Does it hurt?”
“A bit, but I’ll live.”
Once the sticky residue stung, there’d be no lasting damage. And I’d just seized a bigger opportunity.
“We nailed that, right?”
“Oh, really? I think so too, Yoo-jin.”
“Hee-hee.”
“I hope our viewers enjoyed and felt great!”
“Yes. They have to.”
Bae Sejin said firmly—fair, since he’d suffered most to perfect it. I smirked and nodded.
“Exactly.”
Time to verify. Back in the waiting room, I wrapped a towel around my head and went online. Fan forums... already ablaze:
[Idols who just performed in a downpour]
[TaKon’s legendary rain-soaked stage]
[TeSTAR’s stage: dangerous VS awesome?]
[TeSTAR’s thrilling moment]
Chaos. On SNS too, “downpour” and “TeSTAR” trended.
This is insane?
How should I even process this?
Our kids are geniuses;;
Is my mind tricking me? Looks better than a normal stage—
They were right—how could it not look stunning? ‘They choreographed it assuming water.’ Specifically, they’d commissioned a routine simulated on a set flooded ankle-deep to leverage the album’s ocean/summer concept—originally for a concert—then smashed it into this show.
And of course one more dramatic element would make it even more riveting: the rain. Planned or not, it kept people talking. Already:
Great crisis management
Obviously planned
If planned, they’d have ads already—seems like damage control lol
Why else would TeSTAR go outdoors? Special stage, duh
Rain-forecast choreography? Too wild treatise or genius?
I hoped the buzz would spread further. ‘A YouTube Recca around high tide would be perfect.’ I checked viral clips and called the agency.
TeSTAR’s rain-soaked performance became the week’s hottest trend amid speculation and admiration. Fans already keyed into the VTIC rivalry and killer track latched on quickly—it wasn’t just “a great stage,” it was a unique scenario everyone wanted to weigh in on.
It even sparked safety debates, but before controversy exploded, official statements clarified the facts.
[TeSTAR’s rain performance? “Not mishap but sacrifice”]
[TaKon’s thrilling downpour stage... nature’s impromptu set]
TeSTAR had swapped stages to accommodate their juniors’ first joint-concert. Spotting the weather, they pivoted the event, donned safety gear, and carried on. Agency-vetted articles flooded entertainment headlines, promoting TeSTAR’s stage. Excluding schedule flips, it was all entirely accurate.
TeSTAR even posted their anti-slip gear on SNS, celebrating:
Ahhyun danced in these barefoot ballet-style! We all copied lol
(video)
Thought Tnet was just using them as a feel-good shield—turns out it’s real
What did they plan for the concert? Gotta snag tickets next time!
♡♡♡♡
First time seeing idols who care so much about idol safety;
Because it broke so quickly, TeSTAR’s sincerity remained intact—and since it was a real incident, the explanation caused no loss of prestige. Viral clips kept rising on YouTube—praise, nitpicks, clickbait compilations, water-vs-dry dance-challenge remakes—all fueling the buzz and propelling TeSTAR’s streaming rank.
Thanks to that, Cheong-ryeo could finalize his calculations. “.......” He concluded: domestically, we’ll cede the crown—but on our terms.
