Debut or Die-Chapter 422

“Strike while the iron is hot.”

In any field where money’s to be made, that formula holds true—especially in show business. Even the same thing can explode or flop overnight, depending on the current trend.

And now that variety shows are sending in a flood of momentum, the company wants to delay the album that our subsidiary label has already fully planned?

“Trends? They matter, sure. But TeSTAR has moved beyond needing a momentary spike in attention. We’re indisputably a top idol now.”

“......”

“By the way, I heard the previous director forced TeSTAR to self-produce their debut album in just one month—and it caused quite an uproar.”

“Yes.”

And it became a massive hit, you bastard.

I stared at the slick-faced executive director speaking to us. After the head of the main division got smacked around when our label went independent, it’s interesting to see this guy suddenly calling us together to spout his mouth.

“Back then, rushing a debut to capture the broadcasting impact was crucial. But now TeSTAR is its own brand.”

Oh.

“So I thought it would be more fitting at TeSTAR’s level to focus on each album detail, refining the quality.”

The director made his recommendation calmly, and Kim Rae-bin raised his hand at once.

“But our current schedule isn’t overly tight compared to before.”

A week after producing a film OST mockup, our workaholic’s comment made the director shrug.

“I suppose you anticipated as much.”

“But if we have more time, we can identify additional improvements and develop them further, right?”

“Hmm... that’s true!”

Kim Rae-bin accepted the logical point immediately. Cha Yoo-jin almost shot him a look until she realized it was well said.

Having cleared one hurdle, the director continued in a composed, polite tone.

“Of course, if TeSTAR insists on releasing the album now, the company will do everything to support you.”

Is that so?

“It’s just a suggestion that this approach might suit you better.”

“Is that your judgment, Director?”

“Well, it actually came out of our mid-level management meeting. Even the CEO agreed.”

Oh—blame passing. Since the former division head got burned when we went independent, this guy treats us like formal business partners, not subordinates to bark at. As if he’s pitching investors.

“After all, TeSTAR is our most iconic, highest-grossing artist. We deliberated carefully before making this suggestion.”

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me—that’s the agency’s job.”

He even cracked a joke, then seriously laid out a new plan.

“I’m not saying we should ditch the variety buzz. We’ve received an offer to air TeSTAR’s concert tour live on network TV—and we’d like to pursue that.”

Being an entertainment person, the director presented the plan convincingly. The members listened intently. The atmosphere remained good.

“First of all, thank you for your suggestion. Could we discuss this more among ourselves?”

“Of course.”

At Ryu Cheong-woo’s cue, the director let us go—giving us space to decide.

Back at the dorm:

“...I don’t think he needed to call us in so urgently.”

“I appreciate their serious concern for our album’s quality, but I feel we’ve had enough support recently!”

Some murmured doubts, others saw it in a positive light—and both sides found it odd that the higher-ups summoned us so abruptly. Meanwhile, one member stood aside with a wry grin.

“Ah—so they’re starting to not want to invest as much.”

“What?”

“The album release is still an investment, after all.”

Exactly—that’s the core of a label’s conversation.

“They don’t want to release it.”

Big Sejin said matter-of-factly, making Bae Sejin raise an eyebrow.

“...This company has money.”

“Well, not everything’s about money. Quality staff or promotional ideas are limited resources, you know?”

Just as Bae Sejin’s question mark face turned into an exclamation, I delivered the conclusion.

“We’re better off running the tour and investing in groups with longer contract periods. That’s more profitable for the company.”

“......!!”

Their eyes nearly popped. Looking again, Rae-bin and Seon Ah-hyun wore the same expression.

“So if that’s the case....”

“Yes.”

That’s the reality for a first-string idol whose contract is nearly up.

“From now on, we’ll focus on maximizing consumption by fans we’ve already built, rather than a new album.”

“...!”

“Our next album might only arrive early next year, depending on contract renewal negotiations.”

It’s lucky we aren’t under contract for an album in Japan—otherwise they’d just milk that market.

Bae Sejin’s face went pale.

“...I don’t get it. We’ve even set up our own label... We’ll renew our contract and stay, so why would they do this? What if we renew right away?”

That’s not going to work. Any change in contract terms is a disadvantage for the party that negotiates first. And the better the terms, the worse it is for the company. Big Sejin shook his head and spoke.

“Typically, when you renew, artists get [N O V E L I G H T] a higher revenue share—so from the company’s viewpoint, that lowers their return on investment.”

“...!!”

Exactly. The better the artist settlement, the more the company loses. And there’s a more practical issue.

“Also, we’re going to the military.”

“.......”

VTIC doesn’t have that looming so soon. Since we debuted older, we still have a few more years, but the point stands. I waited until the one directly affected processed the shock before continuing.

“And from the company’s perspective, investing in a rising group looks more attractive than an already successful one.”

“...Really?”

“Yes. Shareholders like seeing promising new ventures. Executives relish that sense of their own competence.”

Especially now, with the division head’s business mania fueling the board. They even contractually promised to let TeSTAR be the cash cow, so the moment a junior group overtakes us, TeSTAR’s role shifts.

In short:

–From a business standpoint, they want to use TeSTAR’s revenue to build up new groups!

“Phew...”

“Take a deep breath, hyung.”

Bae Sejin’s face flushed, then slowly calmed. I had some good news to share.

“But hyung, now you can finally pursue acting seriously.”

They’ll allocate us to individual activities instead of an album. I raised both fists in encouragement.

“Fighting.”

“I’ve already done enough...!”

Muttering “Psychopath Four” under his breath, Bae Sejin slumped gloomily into the sofa—his acting experience in the system’s fake world hadn’t been wasted. Ryu Cheong-woo cracked a wry smile and proposed:

“Since they said they won’t stop us from releasing the album, should we start preparing it?”

“They won’t stop us... but it’ll keep getting postponed due to some sudden company issue.”

The subsidiary label can plan independently, but the release schedule is set by headquarters.

“Lots of excuses.”

Like overlapping with another artist’s release, bad timing... maybe we’ll squeeze one out before renewal, but with weak promotion. The usual pattern.

“Well, I expected this much.”

Given the season, I predicted as soon as they proposed delaying our album that this would be the arc. But there’s one more twist.

“They’re not telling us everything.”

I smirked. Rae-bin, who looked stunned, asked in disbelief:

“There’s more?”

“Yeah.”

I fetched my laptop. A few members trailed behind; they didn’t need to come, but whatever. I opened a file on the screen.

“This is our company T1 Stars’ Q4 plan for this year.”

“How did you get that, Mundae?”

“It was announced at the shareholder meeting.”

All you need is a contact who can access the company document server. Anyway:

“If you look at the monthly plan... October.”

Right when we planned to drop the album.

“...!!”

“This.”

I nodded.

“It’s Spacer.”

[Mid-October — Spacer first full album release / Target: increase overseas revenue]

They blocked Spacer’s album from being overshadowed by TeSTAR. And that’s not all.

“So how does this connect....”

I shook the mouse and explained.

“Remember they suggested broadcasting our concert on TV instead of a comeback album?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“If that happens, they’ll change their tune.”

We can’t air the entire concert—for copyright and VOD reasons—so we do only certain stages. Then fill the rest of the slot with another group: the label’s rookie boy band.

Spacer.

“We’ll expand our concert broadcast into Part 2 of the label special, slotting them in and using that buzz for our comeback.”

“...!!”

In other words, a bundled sale—expecting fans to switch to Spacer during our hiatus, kickstarting the generational shift. At that moment, Rae-bin snapped back to reality and yelled:

“Wait, Mundae, you said they wouldn’t do a generational shift! We’re renewing our contract, remember?”

“Yes, I thought so too, but they’re doing it.”

“......”

...We’d built a good relationship, so I didn’t expect this blatant move. They must be frustrated by losing influence since going independent.

‘These bastards are trying a transfer trick.’

And so overtly.

“Waaah!”

“Isn’t this against the principle of good faith? We could contest it... how do we pressure them....”

“Hmm. Probably tough.”

Even if Bae Sejin tried coercing the agency head to apologize, his options were limited. But a dispute with the company over this is hard.

“Because this isn’t a fight with our agency.”

“...Then?”

“They’re just delaying the album—pushing us down the priority list.”

It’s a natural flow for any agency raising rookies. This company isn’t especially malicious.

“......”

Bae Sejin sank back onto the sofa. The others gave wry laughs.

“Complicated.”

“Tell me about it.”

“...After all those supernatural experiences, I never thought we’d be worrying about this.”

“Even heroes saving the world have their issues. We’ll win this too!”

Cha Yoo-jin shrugged. It might feel infuriating that, after all our struggles and success, people want to exploit us—but capitalism is what it is. In a nation at the heart of capitalism, her crisp remark lightened the mood.

“Yeah... we’ll come up with something.”

“Right, we have Mundae.”

“...?”

You’d think I’m some magic wand. Of course, I’d rather not wait until next year for a new album. Raising the quality isn’t bad, but their real goal is to milk existing fans dry. They think they made us famous just by investing.

I clicked my tongue—just then:

“Um.”

“Hmm?”

Seon Ah-hyun raised her hand and spoke firmly:

“What if we outperform Spacer?”

“...!”

“Ooh.”

“If we rock the live broadcast, deliver a better performance—they might reconsider. If they see we won’t be overshadowed...!”

It was a bold suggestion coming from her, but it was the classic approach we’d always used: meet them head-on, dethrone them.

But this case is a bit different.

“Spacer will still benefit.”

The reason is simple:

“We’re not in the same weight class.”

Compete with them? Of course we’d do better. It’s the bare minimum. Plus, since they’re our label-mates, we’d get the halo effect of “senior group smashing it,” capturing additional demand.

“Hmm....”

“I’m sorry....”

“No, that was a cool, satisfying idea.”

Amid her encouragement, Ryu Cheong-woo cut straight to the question:

“So do we want to refuse the concert broadcast altogether?”

“Hmm.”

Anger can make you consider extreme options—several actually looked torn. But not everyone.

“Wait! We’re getting too one-sided. Let’s think on it a bit more before deciding. We can keep preparing the album in the meantime.”

“Oh, right.”

He ended the discussion deftly. Big Sejin looked at him as if the answer was obvious, but it worked.

The meeting paused there.

“Let’s take a break.”

“Okay.”

Each member left, deep in thought. I stayed seated, chin in hand, then made a call.

The cleanest solution with no further conflict? There is one:

“Remove the alternative.”

Eliminate Spacer. Force the company to invest only in TeSTAR by erasing choices.

–......

“......”

“Um, hyung—I should use my wish right now? Should I?”

“No. Save it.”

Through the speaker, I heard Spacer’s Kwon Hee-seung’s long sigh of relief. I’d called to see if he knew about the concert broadcast, and he was perceptive.

‘I owe him one anyway.’

Better to plan long-term. The agency will net new groups from Tnet survival shows, so even if not Spacer, there are plenty of investment options.

‘I’ll need a different approach.’

I reached that conclusion. Meanwhile, the agency began showing exactly the schedule I’d predicted.

“They say they might add tour dates?”

That was the first step.