Debut or Die-Chapter 330
TeSTAR’s global tour.
We couldn’t simply transplant the musical-style Seoul concert wholesale, but we extracted and inserted all the important core parts and stage gimmicks.
“The planning and AR staff really do amazing work.”
Now that we’d launched as a label, their labor was even more exceptional. They seemed to be savoring the taste of escape.
By the way, the label CEO post went to the head of Planning. A career-minded person who avoids needless drama, he’s the perfect fit.
“He’s not a celebrity, so even if something goes wrong, no one will unfairly blame an individual.”
We’d heard some preposterous suggestions during the process:
“–How about Mundae for label CEO?”
“–Huh? You want to do it, hyung?”
“–Ha ha, sorry.”
One guy had proposed an idea fit for someone with at least ten more years’ seniority: having an idol serve as label head. You could find endless nitpicks with that. Might as well tell him to start his own company and be president. I suppressed a sigh.
Anyway, to cut to the chase... the first show of the tour was an enormous success.
[Let me breathe!]
The moment the final encore song ended, the cheers went on and on, even until we staggered offstage, dripping sweat and water.
Waaaaah!
Thud!
Cha Yoo-jin bounded down the metal stairs, laughing joyfully.
“This is so much fun! Concerts are the best!”
“Y-yeah...!”
“The stage lights are so dazzling—I love it. We have to do this a lot!”
He must really have enjoyed wielding the laser swords. I smirked and shook the water from my hair.
Instead, Bae Sejin, rubbing his stomach with a towel, spoke up awkwardly.
“Definitely... concerts have real charm.”
“Hyung!”
Before debut, he always looked like he was about to collapse from exhaustion and nerves, and now he’s saying stuff like that.
‘Maybe being roomies with Yoo-jin influenced him.’
Cha Yoo-jin linked arms with Bae Sejin and shouted even more excitedly,
“Don’t rest for a week—no problem! Do it again! And rehearse a ton!”
Really?
“We won’t rest for a week.”
“Ah??”
I draped the towel over my shoulder.
“We’ll camp.”
“.......”
“.......”
“Yes! We’ve prepared so you can make the most of it!”
Only the workaholic was excited. Wait—didn’t you all like working?
“You don’t want to work?”
“...! N-no...!”
Then what is it?
At that moment, following Seon Ah-hyun’s remark, Bae Sejin turned and murmured,
“If you put it that way... something impossible always happens.”
“.......”
“Yeah, because Park Mundae said it so ominously everyone freaked out—it’s all Mundae’s fault... ugh!”
Shut up. I flicked Big Sejin on the back. Immediately regretted it when the water on his skin splashed up. Watching that with satisfaction, Ryu Geonwoo on screen spoke.
“Um, so after tomorrow’s Osaka concert, instead of an afterparty it’s camp?”
“Ahh....”
The mood melted. Yet no one argued for an afterparty instead of camp. ...Could they really be intimidated?
‘Maybe I spoke too unilaterally.’
I hadn’t properly gathered opinions. I rubbed the back of my neck and shook my head.
“We’ll have the afterparty... too.”
“...!”
I relaxed and smiled.
“It’s been a while since a concert—gotta celebrate. We were so busy even after winning the grand prize we didn’t # Nоvеlight # do it properly.”
“Park Mundae....”
“Mhm, y-yeah...!”
If we want to work everyone to the bone... no, if we’re going to work together, stamina is crucial. I nodded, satisfied by the warm mood.
“All right, let’s move.”
“Yes~”
TeSTAR, following the staff and leaders’ directions, ran through the backstage to the still-resounding cheers. I let the others go ahead and slowly rose from my spot. Then Big Sejin slipped in beside me.
“Mundae, y’know it was a joke, right? Everyone’s been happy with the outcomes when you push things, so we’re going along.”
“.......”
“It’s not that you forced it, okay?”
“Got it.”
“See~”
I looked anew at Big Sejin’s smiling face. Certainly... deeper-minded than just sharp-eyed.
And that made me more convinced.
‘He’s definitely waiting.’
He’ll wait until I lay everything out. He’s probably mentally analyzing this weird tension.
‘Maybe I should pick the timing during camp.’
While we work, then when he’s completely exhausted and loses critical thinking, I’ll cite examples from movies and dramas...
“Let’s make sure the next album is amazing, too.”
Right. I knew that was your priority.
‘For now, let’s do our work well.’
The next day’s concert also wrapped up in astonishingly great condition, without a single minor injury. And the pleasant, well-timed afterparty went smoothly. It was the perfect foundation.
Thanks to that, everyone showed up to the next-day camp grinning ear to ear.
“Should we order room service?”
“The manager already packed our songwriting camp laptops!”
Everyone looked in good spirits from having a fun time, their enthusiasm overflowing. I didn’t stop them as they excitedly arranged food and seating. Instead, I helped appropriately, and once they’d relaxed, I struck.
In the living room of the suite, I sat on the sofa facing them and fired up the teleprompter.
[Direction for TeSTAR’s Future]
“Ahhyun, look at this—I even prepared presentation slides. I’m totally serious.”
“Mhm...”
If it’s work, it’s serious, not a joke.
“First, I’ll present our analysis of the current situation.”
Cha Yoo-jin quietly set down the popcorn he’d been eating.
“As you all know, TeSTAR won grand prizes at five ceremonies this year.”
“Ooh.”
“But this isn’t where we should focus.”
“Huh?”
I changed the slide.
[Distribution of Fan Reviews]
[→ Grand Prize and Popularity Award Voting Pools]
“These are the popularity award voting results.”
I reached out.
“As you can see, we won Popularity Awards at three ceremonies. What’s the common factor?”
“I don’t know—tell us!”
Confident.
“They barred overseas voting. Without overseas fans, TeSTAR ranks in the top two among artists who made comebacks this year in domestic fan power.”
“Wow.”
“Mundae, where’d you find this?”
“On the Internet.”
I continued to the guys with agape mouths.
“But as soon as overseas K-Pop fans get to vote, it flips.”
“...VTIC sunbaes win every time.”
“Right.”
I switched the slide to a graph of voting ranks. Several capture examples showed TeSTAR in third or fourth.
“We even lose to idols from other big agencies.”
“Hmm.”
“We’re still clearly weak overseas.”
I drew my conclusion—this was why I’d brought them here.
“So, for the next album I want to go at it properly with a global focus. What do you all think?”
“.......”
The members exchanged glances or stared at the slide. No enthusiastic approval, not even from Cha Yoo-jin, whose home base is the U.S. I inwardly smiled.
‘Good.’
No one should be swayed by naive propositions.
Instead, a rebuttal came.
“If we do well at home, won’t overseas fans notice? We studied cases where forced expansion flopped.”
Right. We’d actually decided not to obsess over foreign promotions so far for that reason.
“We’ve already won grand prizes, so domestic audiences know us. Isn’t it time to boost overseas exposure and appeal a bit?”
“Hm... yeah.”
Ryu Geonwoo seemed to accept that. But Big Sejin jumped in.
“But on the flip side, domestic fans might not like it much.”
“Of course we’ll keep doing W Live and our own content, but honestly, it feels distant. Right after winning a grand prize, it might look unfaithful!”
I folded my arms and laughed.
“Right. The biggest domestic idols switching to an overseas-friendly strategy could seem overly deferential to foreign markets.”
“Eh, not that bad, but we should be considerate of fans’ feelings. You know, Mundae~”
He nailed it.
“That’s true.”
I nodded.
“So, it’s perfect if we go as invitees.”
“Invitees?”
“Yes—let them call us from America. Then we can test the waters, boost exposure, and come back.”
“Call...?”
It would feel like, “They invited us over to do a show,” rather than us pining to break into the U.S. market. I didn’t offer an answer, only conditions.
“I’d prefer it not be overtly K-Pop–related fields. VTIC sunbaes already own that territory.”
“And I don’t want it to look too contrived that they invited us.”
“It needs enough buzz to leverage.”
As I rattled off criteria, the members’ faces gradually blanked. Right—be picky and think slowly. But the moment I fell silent, someone raised a hand.
‘Oh.’
Kim Rae-bin.
“May I share my opinion...?”
“Of course. Go ahead.”
“Yes! I’d like to suggest a field where we already have ties and that’s recognized strongly in the U.S.!”
I inwardly grinned. I sensed the right answer was coming.
“Where is it?”
“The ‘127 Section’ company, ’Ruins Factory.’”
“...!”
“They just released a new game that’s a hit in the U.S., and they’re making a movie from its world. I think we should try participating in that film’s OST!”
“A... movie??”
Naturally, objections erupted.
“Hmm—doing it with them again? We didn’t start the ‘StarsCrossMelodies’ account for nothing.”
Of course, tying to that game company again seemed ridiculous. Then, surprisingly, Bae Sejin backed him up.
“Right! And that company is owned by T1. It’d look like an in-house scheme...”
True, unless it’s a corporate plot, there’d be no way we’d contact them first. But image is crucial.
‘If it looks like we’re self-congratulatory press-playing, it’ll become a joke.’
Yet Kim Rae-bin didn’t back down and offered more info.
“...! That might be so. But from what I’ve confirmed, the film’s production isn’t with T1. It’s produced elsewhere.”
“Where?”
“A Hollywood studio.”
“...!”
“It’s the ‘Limestone’ company, famous among gamers. They’re known for their hero films.”
Cha Yoo-jin whistled.
“They’re part of that animation giant notorious for IP ventures. Definitely an American company.”
I spoke.
“So... we can arrange contact quickly through T1, but it can appear as though the U.S. company invited us.”
“And since the production company is a well-known IP holder, it’ll avoid the stale ‘we’re just reusing the game’ vibe.”
“Right! How does that sound?”
How does it sound? It was perfect.
‘We nailed candidate number one immediately.’
Even setting aside his radar, he had a knack for picking the fun stuff he wanted.
“I like it.”
“...!”
“I’m curious what you all think.”
“I’m in!”
“Count me in, too!”
Quite a few raised their hands readily. Their concerns had been largely resolved, and they were intrigued by the fresh challenge. Finally, Big Sejin smiled and spoke.
“Great. Let’s do our best~”
“Hmm, we’ve got our answer.”
We decided to aim for participation in the Hollywood hero film’s OST—pure subculture at its core. Scattered applause broke out.
“W-we’ll contact the prospective label CEO and... ask if they want to work with us, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Wow.”
“I liked that game. A movie would be awesome.”
Bae Sejin muttered grudgingly,
“But what if they say no...?”
“So what? Limestone would lose out.”
“...Maybe.”
Cha Yoo-jin shrugged, teasing why he was so nervous when we’re award-winning artists. The mood lightened.
‘Perfect.’
Great timing. I opened my mouth.
“For this title, let’s create a concept that appeals to those drawn in by the game-origin hero film—something fun and aligned with TeSTAR’s color, yet not too on-the-nose.”
“Exactly.”
“It’ll be a really exciting project.”
“Mm, I like it.”
I smiled.
“All right—let’s brainstorm a concept that ticks those boxes: appealing to that audience, not too contrived, and showcasing TeSTAR’s identity. Begin.”
“Begin....”
And so the K-Pop Hell Camp’s brainstorming spree began.
But there was one issue: unlike a fun songwriting retreat, the gap between high performers and low performers stood out glaringly.
