Debut or Die-Chapter 296

On the day the agency announced the concert and ticketing schedule, they just so happened to have our joint performance rehearsal scheduled too.

Thanks to that, we got some reactions toward the end of practice.

To sum it up... it was exactly as expected.

“Wow, this is going to be epic. When’s the live broadcast?”

“T1 really pushes their Ajusa alumni hard—what’s up with that TV slot;;”

“They’re not delusional enough to think they’re successful because the kids are, right? Please don’t.”

“Seriously, hyping the Ajusa debut team kekeke—give it a rest. It’s been ages since our kids left that place, ugh.”

“The joy of the agency’s concert being televised vs. the rage of having our schtick stolen”

A whirlpool of excitement, worry, annoyance, and interest.

It can’t be helped. An agency concert on TV is a unique case, carrying both risk factors and reasons for high expectations.

Plus, with three teams coming from audition programs, the public appeal is solid.

Since it’s on Tnet, anyone interested can just flip the channel and watch.

And there are few who like all three of this agency’s teams.

“So there’s only one thing that’s certain.”

Among these three Ajusa alumni teams, the weakest one will be torn apart by ridicule on all sides.

Fans don’t feel any pride or grudges toward the agency, so they won’t cover for each other.

“Eventually people will turn on them and get fed up.”

No need to pour fuel on the fire—that went for today’s joint stage with Mirinae as well.

Besides being mixed-gender, there was one more factor to consider.

“We should avoid a stage that sets us up for direct comparison.”

And the stage was already structured that way.

...Though I hadn’t expected it to be this intense.

“Here, here! If we land this step at the end, it’ll look so cool, right?”

“If it’s okay, could we emphasize the freeze at the end of our first chorus a bit more...?”

“Ah~ can we all look over here once? We’re doing great as is, but if our heights line up in a straight line during the bridge, wouldn’t it look ten times better? So clean~”

Since the other side was just as hungry for a show, neither team wanted to lose, and the overall difficulty kept climbing.

Our stamina drain skyrocketed like an escalator.

“Is this really the time to level up our dancing?”

I glanced at my remaining points, but knowing I could no longer use the system to power up, I held back.

The moment of natural stat growth will come. I can already handle this with my current stats.

“Inh, one more run?”

“...!”

In the end, we all scrapped ourselves as if possessed, making that special stage people expected us to half-ass.

After checking my teammates’ state, I conceded.

“At this level, we could even show behind-the-scenes footage.”

No matter the mix of genders, with so many dancers, it felt like extreme training. I wiped the sweat from my temple.

“But it’ll look great.”

“Oh~ now we’re in sync.”

“Re– really proud of us!”

I hoped the agency wouldn’t get any wild ideas from seeing our stage.

“Let’s finish this run and wrap up.”

“Yep!”

I shrugged and got back to practice without another word.

The remaining downtime flew by in an instant.

Backstage, the audience’s cheers and the music’s pounding bass vibrated through the air.

“I have to do well.”

Mirinae’s unofficial leader, Park Minha, who debuted second, swallowed hard.

Performing is fun. But a performance where “if you mess up, you’re done” is nerve-wracking right up until it starts.

Because an overwhelming pressure washes over your brain until you feel dizzy.

“Uwhang cheongsimhwan... I don’t know what I would’ve done without it.”

What are the others doing? She suddenly looked at the person next to her.

There was Park Mundae, leaning on a staff member’s shoulder.

Sweat dripped indifferently from his tall, fair face. He pointed at his waist with a finger.

“Here. The mic pack fell off.”

“Okay, okay!”

“Wow...”

Park Minha almost marvelled, then snapped back to reality.

He was handsome, sure, but after all she’d seen and heard, it didn’t make her flutter.

Right now his words were playing in surround sound in her head.

“Have you heard any talk about going to America from the company recently?”

“The side affected didn’t rank very high. They probably didn’t have many friends.”

Whenever the company talked about anything related to TeSTAR or any scandal, it felt like talking to a ghost.

“How much did they actually know...?”

It was impossible to guess how far ahead his strategy extended.

“How does someone grow up to live like that?”

Thinking back to how cute she once thought Park Mundae was during the Re-Listing season made Park Minha want to bang her head against the wall.

Past me, that wasn’t it!

Just then, a pleasant voice came from right beside her.

“Shall we head up~?”

“...! Yes!”

At Lee Sejin’s words, Park Minha snapped back fully.

“The stage!” 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Meanwhile, Lee Sejin, still smiling, gestured once and then began jogging off with Park Mundae, chatting.

“.......”

Honestly, that senior was scary too. Park Minha recalled the last rehearsal.

“Before I knew it, I was doing exactly what he said...”

Looking back, she even wondered if some elements that seemed group-decided were actually something he’d pulled everyone into.

Do all audition alumni do that? If so, why is our group so innocent...

“Sigh.”

“Minha, let’s go!!”

“Y-yes.”

Park Minha ran after Jeong Yulgi, who was gleefully moving to the tempo, her doubts swirling.

But right behind the stage...

Waaaah!

“.......”

The smell of dry ice, the metallic scent of the stage’s framework, the feel of costumes and lenses.

The stage air has a magic that wakes you fully.

So Park Minha thought, “I’m strong on stage.”

She could do it.

“I won’t be outshone.”

When she turned her head, she saw the three others wearing the same determined look.

That’s when the countdown ended.

“1!”

And the four of them began their stage.

First, what filled the hall was the vast bass derived from piano sounds.

The backing melody was a song the audience knew well.

‘It’s “Attack.”’

The mixed-gender band cover of the blockbuster action film series’ fierce OST from last season.

“Woa-Woah Woa-Woah...”

It wasn’t uncommon for K-pop idols doing a special mixed-gender stage to cover a famous pop song.

It might sound odd, but it felt less jarring than a mixed-gender idol song.

Perhaps the distance created by language and emotion made it feel more like “performance.”

So the audience reacted neutrally to what seemed an “expected choice.”

Until the singers appeared.

Fwiish.

First onstage were a group of dancers wearing strange monochrome outfits, performing a military-style routine of repeated movements.

‘Oh.’

It was grand at first, but repeating a short routine through the whole intro grew boring.

Even the lighting was monotonous.

“Is this supposed to be cool..?”

“??”

“What are they trying to do lol”

By only the 15-second intro, everyone was already used to it.

Chiiing—

With a sudden ripping sound, the black-clad group froze.

And through their midst, four pairs of trained footsteps shot forward in a straight line, fast and unhesitating.

Pinpoint lights followed them.

They wore sleek jumpsuits with loose silver rider jackets draped over them.

Behind them, the black crowd watched them intently.

Thuk.

At center stage, the four who’d tossed aside the black objects on their shoulders stood firm, chins raised.

[Ooh]

Then the track returned in full force—all colors and accompaniment.

[Sometimes it doesn't matter]

Amid vivid lighting and electronic sounds, Park Mundae’s strong vocals burst over the song.

After precise, powerful choreo moves, the black dancers clung like shadows.

[if the world comes to an end]

[or not.]

They formed formations mixing men and women by balance, but there was no pair choreography.

Instead, parts were distributed considering only vocal tone and lines, and they rolled through without a break.

[Wherever I go

This feeling survives

The mood is all right]

Behind Lee Sejin, who nailed the complex, extended choreography, a high note exploded again.

[Then I'm gonna jump into the fire]

A stage five times more dazzling than the original, with heavy electronic beats and equally fierce group moves.

As white noise swallowed the backing and the hook dropped—

[Like a bomb]

Lasers burst with the drop.

[Yeah-ahahahah]

Jeong Yulgi lunged forward, sweeping the floor, and picked up a black object.

It was what they’d tossed at their entrance.

An ambiguous rod with no special features.

But when Lee Sejin sprang forward again and mimed firing a gun with the rod, lasers exploded like fireworks.

“??”

“What is this?”

In truth, they’d timed and angled it to look that way.

Then came movements that looked like swords, bazookas, or guns chained into the choreography.

And colored lasers burst like ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) weapon recoil.

“Wow.”

The choreography’s angles matched so precisely that the lasers and LEDs felt like reactions to the moves.

The black dancers collapsed under the colored beams, and SF effects flooded the space.

Thanks to camera work aligned perfectly, TV viewers could taste something new.

With the center rotating among members like a well-shot one-take in an action movie.

They found the most effective moves for each body type, ramping up the impact as the center changed.

[Like a bomb

Light up tonight.]

When the insanely intense 1:55 run ended—

“Hah.”

Park Minha instinctively knew.

Mirinae didn’t win, but this stage was a success.

[Yeah-ahahahah]

In the fallen black crowd’s midst, the four who’d re-donned their shoulder props sang the last note in different tones, ending the song.

“That was insane.”

Park Minha stumbled down to backstage, dazed.

A stage that poured everything out until you wanted to throw up was strangely worth it. Even onstage it felt high-quality, making her heart burst.

“And using props brought cohesion to moves that had lacked unity due to body differences...”

Park Mundae’s idea was brilliant.

She couldn’t hold back her urge to gush praise and spun around.

Jeong Yulgi and Lee Sejin had dashed off with staff over a makeup issue.

Then at least Park Mundae...!

“Um.”

But Park Mundae was calmly watching the monitor, drinking water.

“D-doesn’t seem impressed?”

Was this level of stage just routine for him?

Park Minha was a bit shocked, but then realized otherwise.

“Oh, he’s watching the next stage.”

He was watching the stage directly after theirs—Ajusa’s debut team covering TeSTAR’s song.

And the one on now was...

[Go on picnic~]

“Not bad?”

She’d thought so even during rehearsal; the choice of arrangement played a big role, she nodded.

“Dear TeSTAR seniors! We’ve prepared a picnic cover for you!”

They’d picked “Picnic,” one of TeSTAR’s most conceptual titles, and apart from “Promise,” it’s their most popular song—encouraging sing-alongs while avoiding direct skill comparison was wise.

Curious about his thoughts, she casually looked over at Park Mundae.

“How do you think...”

“...!”

“Hmm.”

Park Mundae was watching the monitor, a faint smile on his face.

It wasn’t pride or a competitive glare—instead, it seemed to flicker with victory.

Or certainty.

“Uh...?”

But there was no time to ponder.

“Let’s move!”

“...! Yes! Let’s go!”

Somewhat confused, Park Minha saluted and ran off to prepare for the next stage.

“What was that...? No, don’t think about it.”

She decided not to pry any more than necessary from Park Mundae.

And a few dozen minutes later.

Ajusa’s debut team and Park Mundae met in the hallway.