Debut or Die-Chapter 337
Let’s revisit TeSTAR’s existing movie cameo appearance.
“The role is to back up a supporting actor when the protagonist leads a large-scale battle, then disappear.”
The scenario structure is perfectly suited for an homage or parody.
From the rough scenario pages, it looks like not only us but several game characters will appear in passing.
“My guess is somewhere just before the mid- to late-film climax.”
But what happens if we suddenly pop up as game characters, without veteran actors or heavy CG?
At best, it’ll be awkward.
If it’s even slightly off, it’ll become a somber scene.
“And worse, we’d be ridiculed online.”
No wonder the director or the crew on set might dislike it. This was clearly a corporate-level decision by the production company.
And the producer sitting across from us is the on-site head between the company and the production team. They have authority but can also empathize with the realities on set.
What’s more, we’ve already brought up our concerns first. That person is ready to listen.
“Suna-hyun did a great job setting the tone.”
Now that we’ve set the stage, they’ll likely accept any reasonable suggestion.
So I opened my mouth slowly.
First, the carrot.
“We don’t intend to disrupt the shooting schedule. Besides, it’s impossible due to our tour dates.”
We’re busy too, damn it.
When the interpreter relayed this, the producer nodded seriously. I continued.
“So how about we keep our appearance simple enough for people to recognize TeSTAR’s presence? After all, our contract still needs to be fulfilled.”
The interpreter conveyed the producer’s response.
“They said they’ll review similar scenes and secure the schedule accordingly.”
They’re inclined to agree when we concede.
Just as I expected, but that still won’t do.
I smiled inwardly.
We can’t go onto the battlefield in that lousy cosplay look.
We’ll appear with a different image.
“If it’s hard to match the original exactly, you can feel free to simplify.”
I steered the conversation.
I flipped through the scenario summary on the plane, recalling the scenes I’d noted.
Then I picked one.
“How about a scene like this instead?”
As soon as we returned to the hotel, I asked our staff who’d been observing the shoot if they’d heard anything about which actor would use which set.
I managed to get one useful snippet.
“Ah, this one...”
“Who mentioned it?”
“It’s said that this actor will use this set later.”
That was {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} the scene that fit the schedule perfectly.
I handed the producer the page from the summary.
“It’ll be more fun if singers actually play singers. A giant battle scene might look awkward on us.”
We could slip in and out with minimal disruption while shooting and still get usable footage.
“That’ll work. They only need a line and a background insert, so it should be easy.”
The producer nodded as the interpreter spoke. I glanced around.
Since it had already been agreed in the hotel, no one was particularly surprised.
Only Cha Yoo-jin, sitting closer to the producer, raised an eyebrow playfully. He seemed to have caught something.
“Oh.”
Cha Yoo-jin smiled, as if he understood what was happening.
A short while later:
“They said they’d like more details.”
That was practically an OK sign.
“Right.”
I shrugged.
Three days later in the afternoon, our cameo shoot proceeded as planned.
Late winter morning.
As with most Hollywood sets, the crew knew exactly what to do.
Even if they endured low pay, mistreatment, and tedious tasks, they stuck it out for the paycheck.
The production assistants were no exception. The youngest PA, checking coffees on set, barely caught the briefing.
“We’ve got extras joining?”
A brief cameo doesn’t usually get added at the last minute.
When she asked who the ‘exception’ was, a team member replied tersely.
“KPOP stars.”
“Ah.”
They were the foreigners who’d left the set days earlier without permission.
She had no idea how famous they were back home, nor did she know any KPOP bands.
“VTIC? That’s the only KPOP boy band name I know.”
Thinking of her KPOP-obsessed younger sister, she frowned briefly, then relaxed.
“Joan was really rude back then.”
Half the production and the assistant director had treated them poorly during the shoot.
That behavior was unthinkable even toward an unknown actor. Whether being unknown justified it was another debate.
“But quitting a trailer mid-shoot takes guts.”
Her comment dripped with irony.
If they dared walk away from the trailer, they had no future in Hollywood.
“This is going to be a rough day.”
She envisioned how this band’s departure would mess up her schedule and sighed.
“Are we extending the shoot?”
“By thirty minutes.”
“Let’s pray Steve doesn’t kill anyone.”
“We should pray it finishes quickly.”
Their small talk ended. She was called to run errands again.
This director favored practical sets over CG, so the set and effects were highly realistic.
In a franchise notorious for green-suit acting, this was a rare comfortable environment.
“What on earth are they going to shoot here?”
This scene took place in a bar on a space station where the protagonist met an ally—a far cry from a giant battle.
“They know, though. The AD, Joan.”
Joan managed the little details on set. She moved a cart and tried to stack chairs.
Her foot slipped.
“Oh!”
She misstepped.
“Goodness!”
She closed her eyes, but she didn’t fall along with the chairs.
Instead, someone snatched a chair from her grasp.
“Are you okay?”
“...! Ah, y-yes.”
“Goodness, why are you carrying so many? I see people just standing around.”
The voice was brisk and easygoing.
Who was it?
She struggled upright, startled—and then even more so when she saw who stood before her.
“Everyone has their own job...!”
“That’s true.”
She looked up to see over ten people. All East Asian, mostly male.
The tall boy who’d taken the chairs from her smiled.
“My job is the cameo. Nice to meet you. We’re TeSTAR.”
“Hello!”
The boys behind him greeted her politely. They all had great skin and good looks, though a few struck her as overly pretty.
“But they’re so polite.”
Her earlier concerns vanished like smoke.
“Thank you.”
She almost blurted out “You speak English well,” then swallowed it and managed a normal response.
Noticing this, a pink-haired boy behind them spoke with a curious look.
“This one’s local. California.”
“Oh, really?”
She realized his accent betrayed him the moment he spoke. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎
She studied him carefully.
He was well-built and confident, with the aura of someone successful.
“You can call me Yoojin.”
“Hmm, all right.”
“Do you mind not eating that delicious sandwich in the trailer today?”
That tone... definitely Californian. Turning negative into something positive. She forced a weary smile.
“Perhaps. I’ll take you to Joan... the AD, right away.”
“Thanks!”
As she led them to the assistant director, she heard foreign voices behind her.
“You’re amazing, Yoojin!”
“I know!”
She didn’t understand the words, but the cheerful tone wasn’t unpleasant.
“Did they extend our cameo?”
At least the AD’s attitude toward them had changed drastically. Joan suddenly treated them with exaggerated politeness.
“What’s going on?”
Regardless, they claimed the set before the lead actors arrived.
She hurried back to grab snacks and drinks.
“Where should I bring these after you’re done?”
Instead of her own staff, the pink-haired boy glanced back and raised a hand.
Up?
“Thanks. Up there.”
“...?”
She followed his pointing finger.
“We’re going to perform.”
My goodness.
He pointed to a corner of the bar set, made specifically for authenticity.
A small stage in the bar.
They were there as background performers for a live set in this scene.
It was absurdly modest.
“Why... why are we doing this?”
Even in costume, it was hard to imagine them fitting in with this bizarre space-bar vibe.
Meanwhile, the shoot progressed smoothly. The boys went through camera tests and then stood on the back stage of the bar.
“They’ll dub the audio later, so just mime it.”
They adjusted the mics, and one even sat at the keyboard. Another boy asked about the strange space instrument.
Then, when filming finally began:
Woong~
The bar went dark, mirror balls and glow lights flashing.
“Black hole”
A rich sound echoed from the singing mic.
“...!”
A stunning vocal harmony burst out, with lasers and starlight-like accompaniment.
But it wasn’t elegant. It crackled like rough crayon strokes.
A kitschy space-opera track with a fast, addictive beat, sung with a defiantly rebellious attitude on a cramped stage.
“Let me swallow it”
All of it blended seamlessly into the bar’s SF back-alley vibe.
Talent that seizes the moment.
“.......”
She finally understood why that boy would travel so far from home.
“It’s hard to say no to a group like this.”
Considering they weren’t an established team but a makeshift group from a survival show, it was astonishing.
In any case, their two-minute OST performance left not only her but many crew members stunned.
By the climax, some staff were swaying along, caught up in it.
Thunk.
“Thank you.”
Their relaxed bow at the end further underscored their star quality.
“Unexpectedly amazing.”
They acted like seasoned pros, ignoring the cameras as though they weren’t there.
Which made it all the more tragic.
“It’ll all be cut anyway...!”
There was virtually zero chance this performance would make the final film. It was too out of place and external.
It was at best a candidate for behind-the-scenes extras!
The unfairness of it galled her.
She could see why they’d picked this cameo, but it was a misjudgment born of ignorance.
“Sigh.”
Yet her worries were unfounded.
The performers themselves never expected anything else.
What they aimed for wasn’t just a cool clip in the movie.
It was the connection to what came next.
“Hmm.”
“They won’t film more of the performance, right?”
“Judging by the vibe, I don’t think so.”
Park Mundae, stepping away from the mic, spoke to Bae Sejin among the waiting members.
“Hyung, now show them your acting chops as a former child prodigy actor.”
“Fighting!”
“No pressure, but please know our deep faith and trust in you!”
Once ridiculed for having only one line yet acting like they controlled the camera, Bae Sejin now nodded seriously.
“...Got it!”
“They’re into it.”
Park Mundae noted Sejin’s focused state.
Refusing the water offered by staff, Sejin calmly adjusted his gown costume.
A while later, with the lead actors on set, the “real” cameo shoot began.
“...!”
The youngest PA finally understood on set why a KPOP band would choose this.
She was equally bewildered.
“Why is this person... a boy band?”
Two months later.
The film’s rough cut internal screening debuted, and TeSTAR’s edited duration remained unchanged despite feedback.
Rumors spread, and speculation articles popped up domestically.
“‘A new film set in the Rimestone gaming universe... Will a KPOP idol appear?’”
It was like a lit match about to ignite dry tinder.
