Debut or Die-Chapter 311
TeSTAR’s Concert Act Two was a nonstop series of climaxes.
The narrative from Kim Rae-bin and Seon Ah-hyun’s unit stage continued, and the boy ruled by impulse ultimately drifted toward a dangerous, dark direction.
A stage that unleashed that passion.
[“At last the day has come
Procession”]
Where traditional instruments once played, now fragmented electronic sounds produced an ominous racket.
[“In the end, here today
Never get away from me, yeah”]
This version of “Procession,” far darker than the original, was so intense and sexy it verged on the grotesque.
Center-stage, Ryu Cheong-woo nodded expressionlessly.
“Joseon zombie....”
The gamer thought no concept could top this peak of conflict—surely this was the ultimate climax.
But it wasn’t.
Every time she thought they’d reached the pinnacle, a new build-up kicked in, ratcheting the tension even higher.
“Huh?”
Next came “Better Me,” depicting the boy’s wandering doubts even after victory. It was an overwhelming shadow performance.
“This is the climax for sure!”
Nope.
After wandering, the boy finds enlightenment and returns to his true self with a glorious homecoming.
“...??”
The next stage combined TeSTAR’s last two title tracks, “Wheel” and “Drill,” into “Daybreak.”
Firework-style pyrotechnics exploded in a wild, dazzling, heart-stopping performance that drew every eye.
[“Turn my ferris wheel around
Lights bursting like stars!”]
A shiver ran through her.
It truly felt like a concert climax... but by now the gamer knew better.
“No way there’s more?? Huh??”
At this point she’d started to expect something else—she secretly hoped this insane show would never end.
The thrill and immersion were too delicious!
As if in reply to that wish, the next stage began immediately.
Thump.
But something was different this time.
“This is taking a while...?”
The prep time was longer than any previous stage.
Even after the VCR ended, only drumbeats echoed on the blacked-out stage.
“What’s this?”
Then everything returned to the stage at once.
With a triumphant whistle.
Swoosh!
Water was already flowing out onto the stage floor.
“Crazy!”
Whatever budget this show had, it looked like something from a massive water spectacle—water pooled on the floor, forming a shallow reservoir.
And light poured out. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖
Shhh-whirr!
Spotlights lit in ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ time with the water arcs, creating a fantastic landscape as liquid shimmered across the stage.
At that moment, the performer appeared.
From the darkness above the front-center water jets, someone dove down into the water below.
“...!”
It was Cha Yoo-jin.
Unlike the unit stages, Cha Yoo-jin was the only member to take the stage entirely alone.
[“Yeah, yeah, yeaaaaah”]
Without pause, he launched into a solo dance.
Like a fish in water, wading in calf-deep pools, he delivered a dazzling intro of light and spray.
Water and light formed parabolic reflections, sparkling everywhere. Yet every effect served only to accentuate the soloist’s movements.
In an instant, Cha Yoo-jin owned the stage.
The gamer couldn’t help but gasp in admiration.
“Wow, damn.”
Was he even human?
As the intro ended, Cha Yoo-jin tossed off his goggles and grinned at the audience.
Wooooaaaah!!!
Even as the roar threatened to deafen her, the gamer didn’t frown—because a familiar prelude began.
“Ah, this one!”
It was TeSTAR’s latest hit, still dominating the digital charts: “Promise.”
The hottest track in TeSTAR’s catalog. Even the gamer heard it half the time she stepped outside, so she knew it well.
She made a plausible guess.
“So they’ll lead a mass sing-along festival now?”
Sadly, no.
Instead, what had been at the very start returned with the intro.
The lighting.
Vroom~
Rippling blue lights washed over the arena. And this time, instead of dry ice, bubbles like soap suds floated out toward the audience.
“Huh...?”
The final stage, the ultimate finale.
The venue became the ocean once more.
But this time, the boy did not sink.
[“Umm”]
Cha Yoo-jin turned, shrugged his shoulders, and looked up—up at the ceiling, at the surface of the sea.
And right there, the stage floor split open and six silhouettes rose.
TeSTAR.
[“Take your STAR”]
They were ascending toward the water’s surface.
“...!”
No sooner did the first verse hit than TeSTAR, smiling, began kicking up water.
[“On the day the stars rain down”]
That performance they’d shown in the pouring rain now unfolded as intended—grand and spectacular, worthy of a concert.
All anxiety the rain had introduced was gone, replaced by the ease and joy born of endless practice.
In the shallow pool where water reached their ankles, crisp vocals and sprightly choreography burst forth.
[“Kick the waves and run
Up to the sky, Run and Fly”]
With more members onstage, the water’s movement grew even more spectacular.
“Wow.”
The intimacy of “just like the original” combined with raw power became pure immersion.
The melody flew by in an instant.
So immersed in the spray-filled performance, she waved her lightstick until...
[“A mood that sparkles like stars
Come with me, promise
Make you fly”]
Arriving at the bridge, the members froze in choreography and the lights toward the water went dark. Just as it felt too overly dim...
Pop!
Suddenly, the entire auditorium began to sparkle.
“Gasp.”
The gamer stared, stunned, at her lightstick shining at maximum white brilliance.
Every lightstick in the house, no—the countless small lights on the ceiling joined in, forming a cluster of stars.
[“Past the horizon to the farthest isle
Today will shine”]
It was beautiful.
The boy, once sunk into slumber in the past, returned to reality—this star-sprinkled earth—through his enlightenment.
And the members, now on a stage almost drained of water, began to run into the starlight.
[“Umm, Umm, Umm~”]
The ending.
Stepping out of the water, the members sprinted to the front of the catwalk and performed a final highlight dance.
The lights weren’t blue anymore; the arena, bathed in bright golden hues and drifting confetti, felt like a midsummer beach.
The true climax and grand finale. A perfectly joyful last act, with nothing left undone.
[“Thank you!”]
And so, thoroughly as idols, TeSTAR closed out their story.
“.......”
The gamer sat in a daze, having taken in every scene.
It was the thrill of cool emotions.
Moments later, TeSTAR’s members returned one by one for a curtain call, greeting the audience.
The background music was their first fan song, “Magic Is You.”
[“I’m in a good mood today,
Feels like something great will happen”]
As each member’s part began, they leapt onto the stage with head mics, moving through the crowd to give fan service.
“Mundae-yaaa!”
“Aahhh, over here!”
A time for fans longing for closeness, and the second fan song and picnic segment, complete with a mass sing-along, stretched on quite a while.
But the gamer, far from bored, stayed in her seat like the other fans for some time after the curtain call ended.
“.......”
And once it was all over, she finally opened her smartphone.
[PM 10:31]
The show had started at 6:30. Four hours had vanished in an instant.
“Insane.”
She shook her head.
On the way home, her two friends quietly watched their gamer friend—clearly moved—and smiled.
“How was it? Worth the ticket?”
The question was obvious, but the gamer agreed.
“Yeah, it was fun.... Time flew by.”
This cultural experience was worth every penny. Her liking for idols had grown so much she could feel it in her chest.
Finally, she murmured like an exclamation.
“Wow, they were really good.”
“...!”
Her friends exchanged glances. If she praised someone, it was likely Park Mundae—the vocalist and fan-service king!
“Who?”
“Who was your favorite??”
In that suspenseful moment, the gamer answered seriously.
“I... liked them all.”
“...??”
“There’s nothing better than a group performing together like that. This is it.”
Indeed.
She had completed her viewing initiation with the rare all-fan mindset.
Similar confessions flooded the internet, but the performers themselves were rejoicing on a more primal level.
11:00 PM.
We’re still in the practice room pulling an all-nighter over feedback. But the mood is good.
The concert was a huge success.
“Total triumph~”
“Ah, the best!!”
“So fun!”
Even after executing that insane setlist, everyone still had energy and wore smiles.
“This paid off.”
There’s nothing like the exhilaration of succeeding at a new challenge—especially a big production like a concert.
I offered my verdict.
“Your idea was great.”
“...! Ah, come on~ I just added a spoonful to an already finished setlist~ Mundae’s idea was in there too!”
He protested with a grin.
Anyway, we plan to do a long W Live wrap-up after today, so for now we just celebrate the success and review.
But I had a few more points to make.
“Um, Yoo-jin looked a bit risky up there.”
“He was awesome!”
“I know he was, but let’s stick the landing more safely.”
I passed the guys trading feedback and found my next conversation partner.
“Kim Rae-bin.”
“Yes!”
Rae-bin was chatting with Ah-hyun about their unit stage. After a few words with Ah-hyun, I sat beside Rae-bin and got straight to the point.
“How was it?”
“Sorry?”
“How did it feel doing that stage?”
“.......”
Rae-bin looked a bit nervous but answered without hesitation.
“Well, I was worried whether I could properly interpret another producer’s work and, as a professional, express their intent without shame....”
After that long preamble, he delivered the right answer.
“...But this time I think I did pretty well.”
That’s right.
“Of course, Ah-hyun hyung’s outstanding skill made it easier for me to ride his coattails, but still....”
Rae-bin’s eyes shone.
“I did it...!”
A solid statement. I smiled and asked again.
“Can you keep doing it?”
“Yes!!”
Good.
Hearing his firm answer, I pulled up his status window without hesitation.
And saw what I’d been waiting for.
[!Status Ailment: Déjà Vu (Inactive)]
His ailment status had been fully deactivated.
“Alright.”
Of course it isn’t gone forever—he could fall into that “My producing is ruined” state again someday.
But I wasn’t worried. He’d learned how to overcome it once.
And now he had the option not to take producing personally anymore—etched firmly in his mind.
That was enough.
“Good work.”
“Not at all... Thank you! I’ll keep improving.”
Rae-bin bowed deeply. Ah-hyun, next to him, clapped with a red face.
It was a solid wrap-up.
No more worries about tracks for the next album.
“Hmm, so there’s one thing left.”
Leaning against the practice-room wall, I prepared to say what had been on my mind for days.
“I have a proposal.”
“Yeah?”
Just before midnight on the way home, I raised my hand in the car.
“About that arrangement account.”
“Oh, that.”
The official contact for arranging that game-theme song we’d shelved for the concert.
I said calmly:
“If they just want to try it out, I think we can agree to it.”
“...!”
“How so...?”
In short:
“We’ll donate the proceeds.”
“...??”
We’d forgo the money.
“When we sign the contract, we’ll direct the revenue to a welfare foundation.”
No one here would mind losing that money.
Changing the account name seemed wasteful, and they wanted to avoid unnecessary attention anyway.
So we could just approve and keep using that account.
“If it’s an anonymous donation, there won’t be tax issues if it comes out later. We can handle the naming under a business entity.”
“Ahh....”
They wouldn’t bother doing illegal tracking on a novice business to dig up personal info.
“I see! I have no stake in the profits either, so I have no objection.”
Rae-bin replied brightly.
He seemed unaware that he held the largest share in TeSTAR’s arrangement account—so if anyone grumbled about lost money, they’d have to stay quiet now.
But I guess no one was going to mention money anyway.
Just then, Bae Sejin looked puzzled and asked:
“Couldn’t we just do it for free?”
No.
“That might make people think we’re using intellectual property recklessly because we have money to burn.”
“.......”
“They’d even talk about bad industry impact beyond attitude controversies.”
The public is harsh on idols. You have to prepare for everything.
I passed by Bae Sejin’s face twisted in dismay and asked:
“So, if we’re going to do it, what do you think about handling it as an anonymous donation?”
A cool “I like it~” came back immediately. Just as I thought.
“I do too!”
Even Ryu Cheong-woo grinned and agreed.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
Unanimous.
I rubbed the back of my neck.
With that, we could keep the composers’ camp account running without issue.
“All right. Let’s do it that way.”
And so, the arrangement account for TeSTAR—where Kim Rae-bin had the highest share...
“‘All kinds of songs’ builds a career, huh!”
...Yes, “All kinds of songs” would reply to T1 Plays.
“.......”
For the record, I was against that account name.
Why give it any tie to TeSTAR? But I had to accept the majority vote.
“Not all my plans go exactly right.”
Ironically, my plan didn’t play out perfectly this time either.
A few days after signing the formal contract with T1 Plays, posts like these started trending online:
“An arrangement YouTuber who flexes properly”
“Results of three visits...jpg”
“Who’s ‘All kinds of songs’ anyway?”
“...?”
No need to investigate the cause.
The person in charge had left public comments on the arrangement video:
“Thank you for the official contract! As requested, proceeds will be donated in full to the Haneul Sound Children’s Foundation. 😊”
“We’re so moved we’ve decided to match that donation ourselves!”
And so it went:
“Donating it all to a children’s welfare foundation, omg”
“Is this real?”
“God-tier arrangement! God-tier arrangement!”
“Look at that flex, damn”
....
“Shall we ignore it?”
“Yes.”
We sent a single complaint email to the coordinator and then stopped all feedback.
And so, amid the sudden rise of our side-project’s fame, the weather grew colder as the date we’d marked approached.
Year-end was coming soon.
