Debut or Die-Chapter 409

Wishes, that is, the so-called “rookie” career group half TeSTAR and half VTIC, have nearly reached their terminus.

The Grand Prize, that is.

“The digital chart performance is smooth. Recognition is excellent.”

At this point, in terms of sheer numbers, it wouldn’t be surprising if they actually won.

As the year-end approaches, the risk of predictions going awry only diminishes—barring any unexpected incidents... which seems impossible with all this tight control in place.

Only one thing remains.

The so-called issue of “tier.”

If Wishes weren’t LeTi, there’s no way anyone’d even talk about a Grand Prize, lol

When a rookie male group suddenly charts well, how likely do you think manipulation is?

It feels awkward to talk about a Grand Prize contender rookie male group, like they’re some variety-show project group

There’s a perception that “with that name value, winning is a stretch.”

It’s also a problem born of individual recognition outstripping group fame.

“Well, they’re acting like this precisely because they really might win.”

There’s no rule saying you can’t check themselves.

Since you can’t stop them from winning on numbers alone, these assholes are trying to plant seeds so that—even if they do win—they won’t get real credit.

Nothing’s changed since TeSTAR won Rookie Group... or rather, nothing’s changed since then up to now.

“I guess each member having separate antis makes it harder to counter them.”

Raising individual recognition through variety shows was fine, but that strong character exposure also polarizes opinions.

F--- that Yujin-chwa innocent foreigner ace-quarterback concept—what the hell is this garbage concept?

lol LeTi barfed up on us and now rookie boys are painting themselves as clowns—short-sighted as always

Kim Lab’s gonna have network issues later for sure—physiognomy plus attention-seeker: can’t go wrong

The more you know, the more you hate, and those haters multiply.

“Can’t be helped.”

Still, it’s a bit disappointing.

“If our debut song had exploded from the start, we’d be half-way there already.”

If we’d established an “insane debut worthy of Grand Prize” image from the beginning, there’d be less of this fuss.

Even though Kim Rae-bin’s personality could have made him an easy target in school, nobody ever tried to mess with him because of his presence.

We reluctantly abandoned maximizing album sales to strike the minimal balance, and of course there are side-effects. My mouth waters for a taste of what we’ll do next.

Anyway, a bit of damage control is needed.

At the large table in the living room—where I’d hastily cleared away candles and petals—I solemnly declared,

“We need to do it at least once.”

“Wh-what...?”

“A high-impact group performance that appeals to as many people as possible.”

“...!”

“We’ll use it to soften the internet backlash when we win the Grand Prize.”

So far, all status effects related to awards have been based on “public recognition.”

“No wonder we awakened those two.”

“I think it should be a single stage.”

Primarily to elevate the stage quality back to one of the top tiers it once was.

Of course, whether those VTIC guys—who got a one-hour crash course in ‘How Did We Get Here?’—can keep up is another matter.

“Uh... sure.”

Jin Chae-yul managed to answer. He still looks like he doesn’t know if this is reality or a dream.

Cheongryeo spoke without changing her expression.

“A single stage to flip everything seems a bit grandiose. Wouldn’t a quick comeback with a pre-prepared song be better?”

“One iconic moment is preferable. Multiple efforts would only dilute the impact.”

“That’s optimistic.”

“What we need isn’t long-term reputation; it’s a moment of explosive buzz at year-end.”

“Mm.”

Cheongryeo smiled slightly.

“Alright, then.”

She seemed indulgent but not angry—after all, the guy who’d been drenched in neon pink until moments ago trying to steer the mood.

(By the way, his party hat went straight into the trash as soon as work ended. True to his wealth, he doesn’t know how to save things.)

“Then, Geon-woo hyung... I mean, anyone besides Mundae who has other ideas?” 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

With a unanimous vote done, it’s time to get back to work.

Brainstorming.

“Let’s go BOOM! and make the audience scream! Wait... I know! Motorcycle! Let’s ride Motorcycles!”

“Mo-ro-sa-i-col...?”

“Motorcycle. Bikes.”

“...! Preparing dangerous props on short notice is reckless. And besides, it doesn’t fit Wishes’ songs!”

“Rae-bin can rearrange!”

“I have an idea too! ...I think a time-travel concept would be good! There’s a movie releasing now on the subject, so an homage could yield a unique arrangement.”

“Rae-bin’s idea isn’t bad, but that OST is so famous it might actually backfire. What do you think, Mundae?”

“I’m open to some, let’s hear the next.”

“Yes!”

“.......”

The TeSTAR guys—now too accustomed—pushed the discussion mercilessly.

The two VTIC guys, newly awakened to the conversation flying by, blinked.

Only Joo Dan spoke up.

“For costumes... a little sex appeal, but not over the top....”

“They’re minors.”

“Rescind that.”

Ideas came fast, the plan gradually taking shape. I tossed out prompts, nudging the direction.

“It’ll take time, but I think this is best.”

Once people agree, they work harder. Novel ideas might emerge.

Yet Cheongryeo, who surely prefers not to do this, only smiled. His silence signaled he wouldn’t interfere.

“A tacit surrender, perhaps.”

Fine by me if he doesn’t block us.

“Shall we take a break?”

“Yep.”

Before the discussion went nowhere, we paused.

“Might as well tidy up.”

“Coke?”

“I’m good.”

One by one, we drifted off—some to the kitchen, some to their rooms—and I returned to mine.

I planned to organize what we’d covered. Just as I sat and picked up a pen,

knock knock.

Someone knocked at the door.

“Come in.”

My roommate entered cautiously through the ajar door.

Jin Chae-yul.

“Uh, hello.”

He gave an awkward smile, looked around, and stepped in.

Only yesterday morning he’d swung the door open humming and dancing; now the room seemed strangely unfamiliar as memories returned.

“This is your room—please make yourself comfortable.”

“Um, okay.”

Still, he slunk onto his own bed and, smiling, spoke.

“You switched to informal speech with Jae-hyun hyung!”

I had pissed him off and dropped to half-formal without realizing.

“...Yeah. It just happened.”

“That’s great!”

Chae-yul grinned then sighed softly.

“I’ve calmed down now. We want to go back to the old way, so we’ll participate properly.”

“Oh.”

Had I erred in consideration?

“I’m sorry. You must’ve been shocked—we proceeded too urgently.”

“No! It’s just... unusual. We don’t usually break things down from the ground up like this.”

He waved his hand. Then, earnestly nodding,

“It’s just that roles are already assigned, and each of us does our best in our part.”

“Mm.”

“So, even if it’s a dream, being active here has been fun. We’ve thrown out a lot of ideas.”

He murmured in a slightly childish tone.

“I liked that sub-song gesture I picked!”

“Yes, the reaction was great too.”

“Ahem ahem—wasn’t that something? Geon-woo. I mean, junior!”

He raised his volume.

“Until we go back, can I keep calling you Geon-woo hyung? I know you’re Mundae in my head, but after half a year of seeing Geon-woo hyung’s face—!”

“I don’t mind.”

I have to prevent controversy when we return.

“Feel free to drop formality. You’re seniors, after all.”

“Ah, I will!”

He accepted eagerly, as if he’d been aiming for it. Chae-yul patted my back like an experienced senior:

“Mundae hyung, then feel free to drop formality with me too! I’ll be off to the military before long, so I won’t be active...”

“......”

“......”

“Fighting.”

“Yeah......”

I might go twice. You’ll endure it too.

Anyway, I’ll give the two time until they start offering useful ideas from the next meeting.

And a few hours later.

“Okay, let’s list what we’ve decided.”

“Yes!”

I grabbed a scrap of paper with “Welcome VTIC” printed on the back and began writing.

“1. Appearance programs.”

It has to be a competition show.

Let’s choose based on combined TV ratings and YouTube views.

I wrote the corresponding program.

“They’re doing a 100th-episode special—two birds, one stone.”

Next:

“2. Association play.”

We should slightly lean into the individual characters we each built.

It could backfire if done poorly, but—

We’re all good at this. So no problem!

No one could argue.

By the time I’d jotted down the third item on directing and concept, Chae-yul raised his hand.

“...!”

“About the program appearances?”

“That too, but... um, about that.”

“Ah, does the senior want to change to another good option you found?”

“No.”

He hesitated, then spoke.

“How about delaying our appearance by one week?”

“...!”

Why skip the 100th-episode special?

“I was a regular viewer of that show, and the week after the special, some incredible guests appeared.”

He ruffled the back of his head.

“I think ratings were even better then...”

“Who was that?”

“Senior T-holic.”

“...!!”

That’s definitely a big draw.

‘Somebody knew this better than him.’

I looked to Cheongryeo. Without turning his eyes, he said,

“Maybe.”

“......”

“I intentionally scheduled us early. There’s a first-mover advantage. Program bookings are tricky.”

That shut Chae-yul up.

He swallowed. Shin-o glanced at him with pity, then seemed about to back him up.

“Uh, but if we’re compared directly, the impact might be bigger! It would spark our competitive spirit.”

“...!”

Chae-yul spoke first. He looked a bit embarrassed but didn’t retract.

Cheongryeo showed no expression.

‘Hmm.’

Should I chime in?

I set down the pen and spoke.

“If it’s possible, even if it’s risky, I don’t think we’d lose. Look at our lineup.”

He shifted his gaze. I smirked.

“Facing a senior without losing in seniority is a revenge match worth trying.”

“......”

“Raise the stakes.”

Silence.

Moments later, Cheongryeo, who’d been stroking his chin, nodded.

“Not bad.”

“...!”

The three VTIC guys looked like a dog with wings descended from the sky.

“I’m in! I like it. Competition moves people!”

Thanks to Cha Yoo-jin biting in, the mood solidified.

“Any objections?”

“I don’t think so.”

Hearing Ryu Cheong-woo’s slightly amused voice, I wrote the last item.

“4. Comparative targets.”

The more groups to compare against, the better for viral buzz.

It was a solid idea—modern—and seeing Shin-o and Chae-yul high-five beneath their masks made me nod inwardly.

They’re willing to strip ranks and compete head-on; they can even trash-talk a ten-year veteran like T-holic.

‘No wonder they’re top-tier after a decade.’

Their ferocity was a relief. Without expression, I spoke again.

“Now we just rest before bed and turn all our waking hours into practice.”

“......”

“......”

“Is TeSTAR always like this?”

“Yes. Isn’t VTIC different?”

“......”

They couldn’t deny it. As expected, high-earning entertainment labor destroys work–life balance.

〈True Match〉.

Among the myriad programs where singers battle on stage for ranking and victory, this is the longest-running original.

Season 7, in particular, has recovered ratings well with new production and the return of the original PD. But there’s a downside to longevity.

A shrinking pool of participants.

So, even they—who once invited only powerhouse «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» vocalists and insane performers—have been forced to slightly shift their approach...

To featuring idols.

Where’s the初心 of showcasing talented singers? Shameful!

Even music shows they play unknown idols—why here too? Please stop~~

So they’ve been slowly, cautiously lowering the bar—booking only popular or skilled groups to lure viewers...

Then, in this episode’s preview, they nearly betrayed that approach.

Two idol groups...?

T-holic and Wishes? Who’s Wishes?

But at least both faces are familiar and both have known songs.

So the viewers, grumbling and cursing, will still sit down in front of TVs, computers, and smartphones to watch.

I’ll count it as guaranteed restroom break PD-nim

And as rookies, Wishes are scheduled to appear in the opening stage.