Debut or Die-Chapter 321

The murmurs of the crowd below, the whir of the stage machinery, the flickering lights of the glowsticks—all of it awakens my senses.

I have returned.

“.......”

Someone grips my shoulder. I turn, and see Big Sejin and the faces of those standing around me. He’s smiling, but his grip is firm. I must have nearly stumbled earlier, and it was him who called me back.

‘Did I actually stagger?’

I remember nearly collapsing when I first saw the Truth Confirmation at Ajusa debut. It may have been a similar situation, though my sense of elapsed time feels wildly distorted.

I quickly scan the faces behind me.

‘It’s been a while.’

From Ryu Cheong-woo on the outskirts all the way to Bae Sejin. Actually, I saw Bae Sejin just a few days ago, but he seemed like a different person back at debut—remarkable how much he’s changed.

‘We’ve known each other a long time.’

Four years, even. It’s as if we all went from the same high school to the same university together. Six complete strangers, forced into a team—and here we are. A rare experience.

And yet, using the discerning eye granted by the status window, I doubt I could have assembled a better group.

Strange.

I see Kim Rae-bin’s pupils trembling and can’t help but smile.

‘Just as you said.’

—Though we didn’t meet for friendship, I believe genuine solidarity can grow from within those bonds!

There’s more to this feeling than simply wanting to ride the high of our grades forever. And the glowsticks waving out there are no different.

I give a small nod to the members behind me, then turn back to face forward.

The people cheering for TeSTAR.

And as TeSTAR’s Park Mundae, standing here before them—it’s me.

After everything that’s happened, the conclusion remains unchanged.

“.......”

This isn’t working. Perhaps it’s because of what I heard in the Imaginal World, my mind is drowning in sentiment.

‘This is awkward.’

Then I notice text appearing on the teleprompter.

—Please share your thoughts briefly.

“...!”

Right—my speech.

I snap back to reality. Remembering there’s something I must do immediately pulls me back.

I must have frozen for three or four seconds. Everyone’s been complaining about award speeches dragging on, after all.

‘Still, it’s our first Daesang won fair and square—you’d think they’d understand.’

I chuckle and grip the microphone.

“I kept you waiting too long, didn’t I? I’m sorry—I’m a little nervous.”

A ripple of laughter comes from the audience.

It wasn’t meant to be funny... but I’ll take it as a good sign.

“Looking back on my time as TeSTAR, it feels both like an eternity and like we debuted just yesterday.”

I take a breath, then continue.

“The moment I decided to try being an idol feels the same way.”

It began with that absurd death threat—our journey started there.

“To be honest, a complete novice like me had no confidence or expectations about how far I could go. I just... joined the program because I was told I could do it.”

I never would have considered it without the death threat. But...

Just before I fully regained my senses, I recall what I said to Bigdal:

—I never thought I’d want to be an idol—but I guess I did.

I can vividly imagine the perspective of whoever’s sneaking video from under this stage, dodging security.

I’ve done it plenty myself.

And I didn’t probe the root of that satisfaction—I never even imagined looking down at the stage from up here.

“But meeting these members and meeting our fans... somehow, TeSTAR has made it this far.”

But if standing on stage itself feels more real and thrilling than watching from the audience...

Then my data-driven approach genuinely gave me vicarious pleasure. And if I think that this true enjoyment is thanks to my Infinite Potential trait, and that makes me feel even more high... that would be a delusion.

‘That’s too much.’

Countless variables aligned—and I wasn’t the only one moving them. After all, an idol is a group.

“Regardless of this award, I’m really glad I decided to pursue being an idol back then. ...I’m very happy.”

I never expected to say something so embarrassing, but it’s a Daesang—if they don’t understand, so be it.

“I believe the members feel the same.”

I throw my arm around Seon Ah-hyun beside me.

“...!”

‘...She looks startled.’

I thought she’d roll with the moment, but she nearly blushed. Still, she didn’t look unhappy, so I pressed on.

“Thank you.”

“.......”

A rush of emotion washes across their faces, and they spontaneously break into a celebratory group huddle—half congratulatory, half triumph.

‘My goodness.’

Glowsticks swing wildly from the audience, cheers erupt. I accept being one of the seven professionals embracing {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} each other.

And I think of one more person.

‘Did you make it in okay?’

I imagine he’s watching on TV as I finish my final words.

“Thank you all so much for this award.”

A wholehearted expression of gratitude.

A triumphant fanfare to hurry us off the stage sounds, and clutching our trophies, we move backstage. Immediately after our award, we have to perform again—probably why the first Daesang was scheduled here.

Still holding the trophy, I quietly reflect.

‘I’ll have to give up the next Daesang.’

Now that reason has returned, I realize how overexcited I was.

‘They’ll mention it, so next time I’ll have the rookies prepare their speeches....’

But I can’t keep calculating. Even before reaching the dressing area, urgent questions come.

First, Big Sejin:

“Park Mundae, are you okay?”

“...?”

“You almost fell back there. If you’re not feeling well, let me know—I’ll grab you some painkillers before we go on.”

So that’s why he gripped my shoulder. I understand his reaction.

‘First check what actually happened.’

“I almost fell?”

“I thought you were collapsing....”

Seon Ah-hyun mutters, her face drained. Apparently I really did stagger.

‘Oh dear.’

I sigh and rub the back of my neck.

“Sorry. First Daesang jitters, I guess... I can’t even remember what to say—I was just nervous.”

“...You were nervous?”

“You’d...”

These guys are suspicious of everything.

I answer as calmly as possible.

“Of course.”

“Hold on a second.”

“Manager, can we get a thermometer here?”

My hands go up in mock surrender.

“I’m perfectly fine. I was just... really happy.”

I look at each of their stunned faces and laugh.

“It’s our first Daesang. I do get emotional.”

“Park Mundae....”

Surprise gives way to warmth. I knew the rookie buzz would smooth this over.

“...Right. That makes sense.”

“Late as it is, that was an amazing acceptance speech!”

Good. The soft-hearted ones have fallen in line.

‘...Well, it wasn’t a lie.’

Because I did genuinely feel that joy. I hand off the trophy to the excited members.

“Let’s do our best next year, too.”

“Uh—okay!”

“Gooood!”

Ryu Cheong-woo, beaming at our teamwork, wraps it up gently:

“But I’m still checking your temperature.”

“.......”

Fine, do what you like.

In the costume-change area, I’m declared a normal body temperature—ridiculous, but I feel like I’ve cleared some hurdle.

“Thirteen minutes remain~”

But simultaneously, I realize the real problem.

‘Oh, damn it.’

I rack my brain, then poke Seon Ah-hyun.

“Ah-hyun.”

“Uh—yeah?”

I speak quietly.

“Could you help me run through the revised choreography... quickly?”

“Why, Mundae? Suddenly can’t remember the dance?”

A perceptive one.

“...Just checking, now that I’m not nervous after the speech.”

“Ah~ Got it.”

Not a lie.

‘I haven’t sung or danced for days...’

Right before entering Ryu Geonwoo’s body, we had one week to rehearse a year-end one-off routine—and now I have to perform it.

I’m sweating cold bullets, worried I’ll blank out onstage.

“Anyway, let’s practice.”

“Okay! Let’s do it...!”

Perhaps because there’s no time, we skip small talk and dive straight into a mini choreography session.

With two of us on the dance line, the formations snap into place.

“Kick here, spin... point your toes, transition....”

“Mundae, your timing’s half a beat early—watch it!”

“Okay.”

“I know this move best—want me to show you?”

“Yujin, could you grab some drinks for everyone?”

With everyone’s help, I relearn the choreography in three minutes flat. I used to prefer doing everything alone, but there’s a certain charm in having a team.

Tonight, for the first time this year, a prestigious year-end music awards show is being broadcast live.

– Did Park Mundae almost collapse just now?

– Drama queen lol

– Isn’t his schedule overkill? Looks like he’s still feeling the aftermath of that accidentㅠ Better be careful.

– He was just overwhelmed, look at all these fan accounts flooding in

Watching the real-time comments that shatter any faith in humanity, Twin Homa—an office worker who photographs TeSTAR and a twin home manager—clicks her tongue.

But this kind of thing is par for the course; what really catches her attention is something else.

‘He actually got so emotional during his speech.’

Park Mundae has handled everything with razor-sharp logic... yet this one time, he couldn’t hold back.

He froze before speaking, staggered, looked at the members, rambled... he did everything he normally wouldn’t.

Whether there’s a backstory or the Daesang just meant that much, she isn’t sure, but...

‘Not bad.’

She nods, understanding why Lee Sejin yielded to him. Given his usually unflappable image, this rare moment of vulnerability comes off as charming rather than irritating.

It’s no different from seeing a star shed tears at a concert.

By the time Park Mundae’s speech ended, the comment reactions had shifted.

– That was kinda touching

– Park Mundae is giving major puppy vibes, what’s up

– ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ

– TeSTAR, you’ve worked so hard...

– He was genuinely moved, you jerks

And their final gesture of affection for the team only reinforced that sentiment.

Clearly, those moments struck a chord.

‘This really works.’

There’s a reason compilations of debut-first-win reactions trend on YouTube. People love a star’s downfall, but they also love seeing a star overwhelmed with gratitude.

Precisely meeting that desire, TeSTAR’s raw emotion hit home.

Twin Homa nods in satisfaction.

‘Well done.’

Park Mundae hadn’t calculated any of this—he didn’t expect a positive reaction—but regardless, his Daesang speech will be remembered as a touching acceptance.

The awards season has only just begun.

And this season, TeSTAR is set to have a very large presence.