Debut or Die-Chapter 358

At the end of May this year, TeSTAR had become undeniably a first-tier group both domestically and abroad.

What did Mirinae—specifically, its leader Park Minha—who was TeSTAR’s direct junior, think of TeSTAR?

“What do I think of them... I just think of them as seniors.”

In fact, she hadn’t seen them much lately. Even at the company, the label had set up separate areas so their paths didn’t cross.

But there was this.

...I’d love that! I’m so jealous!

It annoyed her a bit that TeSTAR had slipped out from under the director’s hand, but in truth there was no role model she envied more.

...And there was a certain senior member who had contributed greatly to making her think that way.

...And hijacking the label announcement at the awards ceremony... that was on purpose, right?

Indeed.

It was Park Mundae—TeSTAR’s main vocal, known as the “Squishy Rice Cake Puppy.”

Park Minha screamed inwardly.

Puppy my foot!

This extraordinary person who seemed to run the company, always showing up exactly where needed no matter what they were thinking... that person?

......

Seeing it all laid out like this, in a way he really is built for idol life.

Still, he was intimidating.

Thanks to him, she’d been breaking a sweat trying to dissuade any members who suggested being friendly with their successful seniors.

Romantic friendships are idol poison—what if our seniors and juniors went off together...!

Yet she couldn’t understand how someone so scary could look so harmless whenever the cameras rolled.

...In real life he gives off an intimidating vibe, though.

Through years of self-management and—though Park Minha didn’t know it—stat investments, Park Mundae already exuded the aura of someone whose job was forever under the camera.

And even now, watching footage, that friendly puppy image fit him chillingly well.

He was truly inspiring.

...He’s amazing. Really.

So she made a promise to herself.

When renewal season comes around, we’ll do things properly, too!

She would handle things decisively, never be taken advantage of, and protect her group...!

But just when she was lost in such thoughts, she got a call from the very person in question.

And it came with very suggestive timing.

“—Have you had any worries lately?”

......

The moment she heard those words, every possible bad ending flashed through Park Minha’s mind.

What is it? What is it?

W-what is he thinking...

So, like a reaction robot, she blurted out the safest answer.

“I have worries like anyone else! But I’m satisfied with my life right now, meeting fans as an idol....”

“Mm. I see.”

Park Mundae didn’t interrupt and listened to everything she said.

Her go-to professional small-talk repertoire quickly ran out.

Ugh!

The pressure to say something more intensified.

Oh please!

We’re not exactly at “therapy session” level here, senior!

Fortunately, just before Park Minha ran out of breath, Park Mundae gave her a hint.

“—That’s good to hear. But don’t you have another kind of worry?” 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

“...W-what kind of worry? I mean, what do you mean by another kind....”

“—I was wondering how things are at the company lately.”

“At the company?”

“—Yes. Since TeSTAR spun off into its own label, I haven’t kept up.”

Park Mundae stated calmly.

“—But it seems like you’re still operating all the groups with a U.S.-centered focus. Since we’re active on that side these days, how are the juniors doing over there?”

“Oh.”

If that was it...

Park Minha’s mouth opened in a conditioned reflex.

It was indeed a genuine concern she’d been wrestling with—she had plenty piled up. Though after saying it, she regretted thinking she’d been baited. It wasn’t a trap, but rather a stepping stone for Mirinae.

Of course, Park Mundae had baited her, too.

“—...So, we’re still working hard!”

“Mm.”

I summarized what Park Minha explained in detail—the current state of Mirinae and the unspoken info about that rookie group gleaned between the lines.

First, Mirinae’s position is...

It’s complicated.

They were in limbo. Though she hinted politely instead of bad-mouthing the company, she seemed aware that the buzz and controversy at debut had died down.

No wonder: they kept making music tailored for overseas markets and promoted mostly there, weakening their domestic connection.

But their fandom is solid.

Their own content was good and production value was high, so fan inflow remained steady.

They’ve fallen into a pattern.

In short, as public interest waned, their streaming numbers dipped slightly, but album sales kept climbing—they’d become a fandom-driven idol.

As long as they could break through to the mainstream once, they’d have it all—but the company only chases the U.S., so it’s frustrating.

Meanwhile, Youngrin’s company debuted that rookie girl group. And they began smashing it.

“—Y-yes, there are so many talented acts these days! We’re thinking we’ll have to work even harder....”

In other words:

They do feel threatened by overlapping positions.

A trendy girl group with global, especially Western, recognition. Two acts with similar images. Not only did they overlap in the U.S. market, but their selling points in Korea blurred, too.

And a stronger newcomer usually naturally takes the spotlight.

So, perhaps now—before that rookie girl group’s buzz fully eclipsed Mirinae—was the perfect moment.

I held my phone between my shoulder and ear, arms crossed.

...Not bad.

Mirinae had its first-tier image and strong album sales. The rookie girl group, PauTI, had weaker physical sales but strong overseas streaming, and domestic streaming was rising on that buzz.

Each had strengths and weaknesses.

This is a clean match, easy to plot out.

I reached my conclusion. But one more gate remained.

It’s up to them.

I nodded along as Park Minha spoke, waited for the wrap-up, then spoke again.

“Thank you for letting me know. I have one more question.”

“—Yes?”

I asked slowly.

“Even if it gets a bit chaotic, would you prefer more people to take an interest in your group’s activities?”

......

She knew what I meant by “get chaotic.”

I mean, being trashed online.

Of course, lower buzz means less trashing. So I was asking if she preferred the stable status quo to risking baseless rumors, styling, past-photo scandals, and the pain of being beaten against the wall with falsehoods.

Anyone who’s been through AJUSA would be traumatized by that.

I waited.

Moments later, a firm voice came through the phone.

“—Of course.”

Good. She had guts.

I nodded to myself at the satisfying conclusion.

“Then shall we proceed with the company’s plan?”

“—Uh, what do you mean?”

Just like that, the very next day articles began flooding the entertainment pages.

[“Rookie PauTI’s Unstoppable Global Advance... Will They Shatter Girl-Group Records?”]

[“PauTI Tops Search Rankings, Surpasses Mirinae’s Blue Rain”]

[“Mirinae Teases Comeback—Feeling the Heat from That Monster Rookie?”]

Some articles were blatant, others coy, but the tone was the same:

Didn’t PauTI beat Mirinae right out of the gate?

Predictions of PauTI’s dominance filled the column inches.

And, predictably, the reactions followed.

All manner of extreme outcry.

“Stop pulling hair, for fuck’s sake”

“If that’s the case, bring back Youngrin... these idiots are obsessed with rookies—who built your building anyway?”

“But objectively, PauTI is doing better than Mirinae, right? Why the holier-than-thou attitude? lol”

└“Troll, piss off”

└“Okay, I guess I want to believe it’s trolling, haha”

Yet they all shared one assumption:

Everyone believed Mirinae’s company must have pushed those press releases. Targeting a senior act with media play was a time-honored method to boost recognition.

Of course, Youngrin’s company wasn’t stupid—they’d planned similar releases themselves, and we confirmed as much.

Our staff contacted the press and learned that that agency had already promised those promos to the outlets first.

Which made things easy.

“—So it worked out great, right? Just swap the subject and it fits perfectly.”

Our staff said enthusiastically.

So...

This was us helping them.

A kind of donation. They would have done the PR anyway—we just front-ran it. The company should be thankful at that level.

Well, they’d meant to target TeSTAR, not Mirinae... but it still worked in our favor.

I flipped down my phone screen.

Buzz was erupting everywhere.

“Good buzz volume.”

Mirinae’s fans might be tired, but better hot chatter than silence and stagnation.

A rival is good motivation.

And Mirinae’s comeback is coming soon.

If this translated into domestic buzz, all the better.

“—Yes. The song’s great!”

They sounded confident.

I smirked and tossed my phone aside.

Now we just had to wait for Mirinae’s comeback and its results.

By the time it ripens, the company will add mention of our record in their press release... so in as little as two weeks, mission results will emerge.

Unless something unexpected happens, we’d pass this gate.

Smooth.

I stretched lightly and stood up.

“Ah.”

There was one more thing to manage. Until the results came out, TeSTAR needed to maintain an image entirely separate from these others.

An activity that would generate buzz yet provide a breather.

What could it be?

A hit solo variety show.

Perfect timing—the producers who’d been sending us over to hawk pancakes in the U.S. had contacted us again.

“Hello there~”

“Good day to you!”

“Come on in, TeSTAR! Have a seat!”

A few days later, we were summoned for a meeting about a new variety show.

“If you look at the title....”

On the presentation materials, I could already see the logo.

〈Grandma’s House Grandkids〉

The naming sense gave the vibe away.

A delightfully absurd lineup, no doubt.

It felt like pure silliness, which was actually appealing.

Some familiar writers, looking excited, began explaining.

“You’ll head down, cook some homey meals, tend a vegetable garden... it’s all about real healing.”

“Ahaha. Sure!”

Of course it was a trap. The members exchanged knowing glances.

What will it be?

Probably some endurance training.

That actually makes sense.

A chance we’d end up on a fishing boat in debt?

But the writers stayed firm.

“Oh, and this time—absolutely no fishing! It’s mini-games for fun... really, totally not fishing.”

Right. Let’s play along.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

The writer nodded vigorously. We were about to nod back, when they added more, eyes blazing with indignation.

“You can even sue us, for real!”

“.......”

Ryu Cheong-woo’s face registered a bewildered smile; the others looked similarly stunned.

Man, they sound serious.

“Are they really planning a simple healing show for exhausted modern souls?”

“As idols, you could tie it into your professional skills, make it meaningful, perform for the locals...”

Kim Rae-bin was impressed.

“...! That really does sound like a meaningful opportunity!”

“Mm, indeed. The concept’s good.”

Big Sejin flipped through the materials with a relieved expression, and Seon Ah-hyun was taking notes.

Everyone was in a peaceful mood.

“...Yes.”

Then I looked over at Big Sejin.

He was forcing a polite smile, but when our eyes met, his eyelid twitched.

Right.

We were in trouble.

All that talk of healing—yeah, right.

These production guys had completely lost their sense of variety show reality.