Debut or Die-Chapter 391
It’s the day of the LeTi Survival, when they’ll stage an ambitious performance themed “Art.”
Backstage.
“Shall we shout our slogan before we go?”
“Yep!”
Following the teammate who shouted back loudly and held out a hand, Ryu Cheong-woo extended his own.
“Team D, who does everything well—let’s do this!”
The cheer was led with a smile by contestant Shin Jae-hyun—at least that was what Ryu knew him as.
Though he was VTIC’s leader, he was here now, caught up in this strange situation just like Ryu.
‘I never thought I’d end up sharing a stage with him.’
For Ryu Cheong-woo, it was unexpected. Coming back to the past and going to university alongside Ryu Geon-woo was already bizarre enough.
‘It feels like some fantasy.’
He’d never in his wildest dreams imagined he’d face such a surreal situation. Yet he’d come to accept it as a kind of alternate-life experience.
And preparations with VTIC’s leader had been remarkably smooth.
‘He really... knows how to use everyone and everything at the right moment.’
From contestants to trainers.
It was astonishing. The process of fitting together the image that was already fully formed in his mind was so solid it gave him goosebumps.
A bit mechanical, perhaps... but he was definitely the most capable leader in running a stage.
‘I need to hone what I’m good at even more.’
Ryu Cheong-woo decided, replacing a bitter smile with determination.
“Now you just wait here.”
“Okay!”
The camera that had captured their slogan pulled back to find the next act, leaving only the installed units backstage.
Because their stage was last, Ryu had been watching every performance from the green room below.
‘They all did great.’
Cha Yoo-jin and Kim Rae-bin had split off into other teams, each showing remarkable contributions.
-Yeah!
He thought of Cha Yoo-jin, center of the action-paint performance, and Kim Rae-bin, who almost single-handedly led the orchestral arrangement while chatting excitedly with the conductor.
‘Rae-bin’s especially incredible.’
He could practically see the growth.
Even without memories, it was that obvious—just like during AJUSA, a true genius.
“Hmm.”
And right before them, the third stage was about to begin.
Park Mundae and VTIC members.
In reality, it would be a lineup that made audiences faint—but that wasn’t the issue here.
‘...It’ll be fine.’
He remembered what Cha Yoo-jin had whispered when they first saw that team’s choreography in the practice room.
-That’s that stage! “October 31”!
Cha Yoo-jin had even remembered the team name, so impressive was that AJUSA first-team stage.
‘I got absolutely crushed by it back then.’
The team Ryu Cheong-woo had faced—you could have been on the same team if luck had turned with the push of a button.
‘I pretended not to mind, but I was really disappointed.’
He almost smiled at the memory, now feeling like a nostalgic daydream—until he recalled Park Mundae’s condition while they practiced.
To put it bluntly, he’d looked completely drained.
-Are you okay?
-I’m fine.
-Are you hurt anywhere?
-No, it’s not that.
His complexion was gone.
Even though they were different teams, Ryu and other TeSTAR members peeked a few times out of concern.
But with everyone guessing at the reason (except Kim Rae-bin), it was hard to say anything.
They couldn’t just dictate “do this” or “don’t do that” on someone else’s stage.
Especially not someone who’d vowed on a survival show, “I will win the grand prize and get out of here.”
‘If this had gone on a few more days, I’d have said something. But...’
After the midterm evaluation, things changed.
Park Mundae altered the stage’s structure.
-There’s not much time...
-Still, we think it’s worth the challenge.
When Park Mundae said that, his eyes lit up—he seemed to have regained his usual solidity.
He was unwavering.
Cha Yoo-jin neatly summed up.
-Mundae hyung, you think too much. We have to practice lighter this time. We’re here to watch.
Though one of the youngest members, Cha Yoo-jin could unexpectedly hit the heart of the matter.
So Ryu Cheong-woo chose not to intervene this time.
And now, the result was about to unfold on that stage.
He had planned to lean forward just enough to see the fully set stage up close, when—
“You always do well on stage.”
“...! Yes. That’s right.”
The VTIC leader beside him spoke.
Though Ryu was his senior, he couldn’t quite drop honorifics yet, and he watched the stage with a gleeful look.
“So this is what you prepared.”
“......”
Ryu Cheong-woo turned his head.
The stage that began projected a snow-covered birch forest.
-......
As the lights dimmed, a bell chimed and a yellow moon rose.
A female chorus sang.
-Ah- ha ha Ah- ha ha
A beautiful minor harmony.
Matching that ominous chord, three hooded silhouettes emerged among the trees.
White arms draped in linen cloth overlapped in a short, intense intro performance as limbs slipped out from the robes.
-Woo! oooo oo, oo
With the final chorus note, the three straightened up, pulling down their hoods in unison.
Their revealed pale faces sang in harmony, their voices rippling across the stage.
-It's cold outside
come here, come in!
Let's drink with us, tonight
“...!”
It was a carol.
The English title from last year’s LeTi agency joint Winter Special album.
That retro, nineteenth-century-evoking carol hadn’t smashed the charts but had cultivated a cult following online.
Its classical, warm melody met with an exaggerated orchestral accompaniment, turning it into something elegant and secretive.
The reason it worked was...
‘The accompaniment is from “A New World.”’
Right.
There was no restriction to choose only one song.
Instead of twisting “A New World” into a radical rearrangement like at AJUSA, Park Mundae had borrowed the original accompaniment.
The dark melody in minor combined with an elegant orchestral line fit for a flower fairy, enhancing the mood.
And the song’s rhythm shifted to suit dance.
-This night
The bell outside the window
Ding-dong Ding-dong
A ballad-like verse.
Two members lifted Cha Yul by the waist, a striking motion that grabbed the eye.
Ryu Geon-woo’s low harmony under Cha Yul’s vocals was solid and round like droplets.
-Ding-dong Ding-dong
The first verse began, mixing storytelling with idol-style choreography.
As vampires would, they didn’t smile for mood, but every facial gesture was perfectly executed with accompanying poses.
Rather than shouting “I’m a vampire” with fangs or blood makeup, they hinted through costume style, dance, and gesture.
The hooded robes flickered like capes, revealing outfits with ornate chains beneath.
-The beautiful sound of winter
Ding-dong Ding-dong
The voice of winter
The red lining inside the robes fluttered.
After a pre-chorus dance holding their necks and turning their bodies, the chorus broke into a powerful, precisely controlled group dance.
The dark, intricate orchestra swelled again as they reached the chorus.
-Tonight!
In the middle of winter
Lal lalalalala!
The three arched their bodies in an impressive pose, then dispersed in all directions as the verse ended, the music quieting.
In the empty center, a piano melody slid in.
-♬♩ ♪♪♩ - ♬♬♪- ♩
What followed was the verse melody of “A New World.”
Here, a new figure appeared on stage.
A white hand emerged from behind a tree in time with the music, then the full form extended onto the stage.
-♩♫
A black-haired ballet mentor in white costume.
A light tour, then a grand jeté.
His jumps were measured, like a doll in a snow globe, balancing with the backdrop.
And a music-box voice.
-Can't you feel me.
From stage left, another hooded silhouette turned.
“...!”
Ryu Geon-woo.
He gripped the headset mic with both hands, singing the lyrics softly and low.
-Warmth from your touch
lifts me up, so beautiful
a spring garden
The lights turned a warm beige, banishing the winter mood for a moment.
Powerful, beautiful ballet moves continued.
Arabesque.
-Umuum, Umuum....
But it was fleeting.
At the end of the bridge, the orchestra surged again.
The ballet dancer fled offstage as if in panic.
In an instant, three silhouettes reclaimed his spot.
They threw off their hoods, charging forward in dazzling costumes.
Cold lighting burst across the stage again.
-Woo! oooo oo, oo
The chorus choreography resumed—this time with new moves woven in.
Turns and jumps reminiscent of the ballerino’s steps, though cleverly reinterpreted.
‘It feels different.’
As if imitating, yet clearly a different genre of dance-pop movement.
You couldn’t directly compare the quality—only feel the overwhelming caliber of the stage.
-In the snowy garden
in a teacup, in a sugar bowl
A high-impact idol group dance and close-up gestures filled the stage.
Then a powerful finale.
-The bell rings
ring ri-ring
ring-ring-ring
With a fluid head turn in another direction, the static formation ended.
Mixed into the shredding arrangement, a high-note ad-lib joined every voice together.
At last, the silhouettes smiled and faced forward, raising their arms.
-The winter is... in!!
The music stopped.
All motion froze onstage.
Waaaah!!!
Applause and cheers poured out without pause, even screams of support.
“Well done!”
The hooded silhouettes adjusted their robes, bowed, and composed smiles.
A dizzying, intense, dark performance.
Deliberately a bit obscure.
On another stage, it might have been criticized as too experimental to win over the public.
But the keyword this time was “Art.”
Both audience and judges would expect something different.
“Hmm.”
Ryu Cheong-woo turned slightly to look right in front of the audience seats.
Sure enough, he spotted the agency head twitch his lips in a grin and give a discreet thumbs-up.
As if saying it was excellent.
‘Whoa.’
This is fun!
Knowing his turn was next, Ryu still laughed and applauded.
The stage ended.
“Hoo.”
I pulled off my hood and clenched it in my hand.
Damn, it felt refreshing.
‘What is this?’
The sense of liberation was tremendous. Someone might think I’d already won the grand prize.
I folded the hood and handed it to a staff member.
‘I nailed it.’
No need to check the scores; I knew. That sluggish, bogged-down head of mine spun taut again as if # Nоvеlight # by magic.
‘It’s a direct line.’
Stage adrenaline—once it hits, nothing beats it.
I swept my hair back.
“Hyung!”
Then the paint-splattered guy who’d stripped off his costume ran over and grabbed my arm.
Cha Yoo-jin.
“Hyung, you were amazing. You were so cool!”
“Ugh.”
Wait a minute... does this lunatic always have to grab my neck like that?
This football-playing maniac almost snapped my neck. I managed to free myself.
Then I heard a calm voice.
“Hyung, I’ll tell you first.”
Tell me what.
“You can use whatever you want from my stage. Don’t worry about it!”
“...!”
He pointed alternately at his head and chest with the same arm that nearly broke my neck.
“Our stage is here. And in reality. Even in the multiverse, it won’t disappear!”
“......”
“We mustn’t forget that. Got it?”
If I’d heard this a few days ago, I’d have mouthed, “Then do it properly,” and smashed my head against a wall in determination.
But hearing it now, with a clear head... it was perfect.
‘The one who was buried was me.’
Who knew I’d be the first to lose my senses in this bizarre situation? I smirked and patted his shoulder.
“Got it.”
“Then we’re good!”
He smiled broadly.
“And I’ll use it however I please. Get ready to watch!”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
I watched him head off for his interview, changed out of my costume, and a moment later, as he returned to the waiting room after his stage, he spoke again.
Ryu Cheong-woo.
