Debut or Die-Chapter 423
Kim Rae-bin spoke up with a tense expression.
“To summarize: if our concert broadcast airs, the promotional effect will boost demand, so the company is planning an encore tour—additional concerts—to match that, correct?”
“Yes.”
“But all of this is a premeditated path, a sort of conspiracy to make us accept touring more without protest?”
“Something like that.”
Not so much a conspiracy as flattering our egos.
Kim Rae-bin’s face fell as if he’d just realized his company was a global drug ring.
In any case, understanding was enough.
“Won’t the fans get suspicious? If we keep delaying our album like this—”
“Even if the fans suspect it, the general public won’t know, so there won’t be a wave of opinion.”
I figure most fans who casually enjoy content won’t think that far. From TeSTAR’s perspective alone, delaying an album doesn’t make sense economically—people will assume it’s late because we’re filling it with self-produced tracks.
“It’s not like we have decades of experience, nor did our last album perform poorly.”
“...Right. Technically we’ve only been together four years.”
Objectively, TeSTAR has just won a grand prize and entered the peak stage of being a top-tier idol group.
Big Sejin gave a wry smile.
“Still, it’s not a seven-year contract—it’s five years, so nothing we can do~” 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖
Exactly.
The problem is that bizarre five-year contract, and...
‘The fact that the agency is tied to a broadcaster that churns out high-profile rookie groups via survival programs.’
We created a label to keep our planning staff, but now nobody’s scheduling our activities and everyone’s sighing in frustration.
“But it feels weird to just tour endlessly.”
“I love touring! But we can’t lose. Let’s boycott the tour.”
“Protesting a tour we’re organizing seems strange. It’s our own company, after all.”
“W-Well, if we just say we don’t want to do it—will that work...?”
Protesting that we won’t do the tour.
I stroked my chin and imagined how that future would play out.
[Famous boy group... “We Won’t Do Concerts” Boardroom Uproar]
–Who is this?
–Initials, please
–Looks like T S T R from the context—can this rumor be trusted?
–It’s a rumor, but if true, isn’t it a disaster;
“They’ll call us uncooperative, say our contract intent is low, and drive down our value in the press.”
“......”
Bae Sejin’s face twisted with a bad memory.
“You know your stuff.”
Right. Early on I scraped info on my awful former agency. They were extreme, but outright cancellations are rare.
So we decided not to refuse the broadcast concert, but to wait for the right moment.
“We’re still preparing the album.”
“Okay.”
As expected, at some point the broadcast changed from our full concert to distributing only part of the setlist to guest artists.
“These bastards...”
“Mundae really hit the nail on the head~”
They even used the phrasing “featuring junior artists on a substage,” cleverly avoiding calling it an agency concert.
The title remained our TeSTAR show.
‘They want to exploit TeSTAR’s buzz wholesale.’
It’s infuriating, yet hard to refuse. The broadcaster, the agency, and the investors all have stakes, so dragging it into a copyright fight would just build our reputation as the angry party with no benefit.
‘We need a knockout blow.’
Until then, we’ll keep a low profile—acting as if we don’t fully understand the big picture.
“Let’s keep rehearsing.”
“Of course. Everyone, let’s reset our foot angles.”
While we fine-tuned the concert stages for broadcast, an unexpected call came—from a junior group, but not Spacer.
–Hello, senpai!
It was Park Min-ha of Mirinae, runner-up on AJUSA.
She said it was about “substage inquiries,” but when I answered, she veered off script.
–Um...
“Yes?”
–Senpai, I—uh, I have something urgent to discuss. Sorry to take your time. Is now okay? ...?! N-No.
“Yes.”
Then why so flustered?
“You’re not taking my time; get to the point.”
–...! Yes. Actually...
Min-ha came right out with it.
–Is there any way we could transfer other groups to your label?
“...!”
She said “other groups,” but there was only one group she meant:
Her own.
“You mean Mirinae?”
–...Yes. Including us. Since we’re under the same company, we thought maybe we could keep the same revenue split yet change our affiliation... is there any way?
I figured as much.
‘Why is she asking me instead of the label head?’
Having loudly announced at the awards show that we’d be under the label, I felt a bit awkward—but I gave a practical answer.
“You could negotiate it at contract renewal. But I believe Mirinae’s contract still has a year or two left, right?”
–Ah. Uh.
Her voice dipped and she hesitated.
‘Hmm.’
Is this...?
I asked pointedly.
“Is there another issue right now?”
–Actually...
She took a deep breath.
–Our album... is going to be delayed a lot.
“......”
–Our staff—our producers—left due to the recent reorganization.
I expected that.
“They didn’t resign, but moved to another team?”
–...Yes.
I more or less understood. But their case differed from ours.
–There’s a new group debuting under this agency, the ones from the Be My Girls program.
“Oh.”
She meant the newly concluded Tnet survival show. That broadcaster can’t give up idol competitions. It lacked AJUSA’s impact, but did modestly well overseas, building a basic fanbase.
And from what I’d seen online:
[“The final debut lineup is the most hopeful ever in a survival show”]
Interest spiked as soon as the debut list dropped. A clean-cut rookie group with an established fanbase? The agency must be excited and staffing them up.
Where did they find the staff? They poached from their own label.
–Our colleagues moved over there... and now our album production has stalled.
So for them, contract length wasn’t the issue. A promising new project emerged, so even core planners were diverted. Since they’re not independent, the artists have little defense—those staff always belonged to headquarters.
If so...
‘I’m guessing they pitched additional tour dates to them too.’
Mirinae must’ve been slated as a guest at our concerts. They’ll use the promotional excuse to keep us touring until new planners are onboarded. After all, Mirinae has a decent international fanbase.
Even if they scheduled it early, they won’t announce it.
Not many idols would happily tour all year.
Min-ha, in second place, continued calmly.
–I thought, since you’re an independent label you’d have separate staff, so maybe things were different for you... I wanted to ask.
Her honesty was refreshing—she clearly saw the seriousness of the situation.
‘She probably figured our positions were similar, too.’
Still, it’s bold to ask a senior group this. I admired her nerve.
But there’s no way we can move staff to her label—if I knew how, I wouldn’t tell her.
“Even if you’re independent, you’re still under the umbrella—no major difference. And as for switching labels... I’m not actually the person with that authority, so I’m not sure.”
–...Ah, yes! I’m sorry for dropping this on you so abruptly!
But before she could apologize further, I had an idea.
Hearing her situation confirmed one thing:
‘The company’s attention always shifts to whatever looks promising.’
“......”
Hmm, worth considering.
First, let’s set the hook.
–I should have thought this through more before contacting you—I gave a poor first impression. I’ll be more careful next time!
“It’s fine.”
You’d think I was her boss. Suppressing a sigh, I began to lay the groundwork.
“And about the album...”
–...Yes?
“Actually, even without transferring labels, there might be a way to secure your core staff.”
–......!
“Would you be open to cooperating on that? I can’t guarantee it’s risk-free, though.”
A moment of silence passed over the line, then she asked:
–What kind of risks?
She was basically saying she’d take it. I chuckled and replied:
“If things go sideways, the agency might dissolve.”
“...?!”
“So, TeSTAR’s side is settled?”
“Yes. We’ll proceed without any other special matters.”
The largest conference room at T1 Stars.
Staff attended the Monday morning all-hands meeting, nodding at each director’s remarks, offering polished responses, and praying time would pass quickly.
“This time, we need to secure even more airtime than the running time, right?”
“Yes, absolutely...”
This week’s topic was planning the agency concert version 2—masquerading as the TeSTAR concert—set to air on network TV. The hiring discussion briefly surfaced and vanished, but in any case...
A PR staffer, bright-eyed from years of experience ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) yet nearly bored to death, suddenly wondered:
“Why are we doing this with a network instead of Tnet?”
Tnet always snapped up broadcast rights the instant they were mentioned. Lacking a good answer, the staffer only grew more puzzled—before quickly dismissing it. Who cares? As long as my paycheck arrives, that’s enough.
“Thanks, everyone~”
“Let’s all put extra care into this one, please.”
After hearing the same lines, the staffer quietly slipped out of the conference and finally joined peers in the hallway, whispering.
“So Spacer’s the one getting the line now?”
“Looks that way, doesn’t it?”
Gossip about promotions, interdepartmental rivalries.
“They say label T1’s pushing Spacer hard, but who knows....”
“They seemed chill when I met Orbit people, though.”
“Right? Their workplace vibes are so different—it’s obvious. Normally you’d expect them to be freaking out~”
Thinking of Orbit—the unofficial name for TeSTAR’s label—employees chatted about “fun planning,” “high autonomy,” and “nice artist personalities.” Typical good-company talk mixed with malicious worry that this little island might sink their careers.
With the agency’s tangled state, no one knows which act will rise or fall next.
Pushing a new group over the current hottest one is the same gamble.
Ah, the entertainment business!
Even at their desks they continued the chat over messenger.
–That guy’s face is cute too ㅡㅡ
–Ugh so annoying lol
They said it as the management office chief passed by. This guy, known for handling TeSTAR matters, still had that slick, handsome mug.
The staffer thought, TeSTAR must feel similarly.
‘Well, they’ve earned a lot... the tour settlements are insane.’
If their comeback is sparse, that might be better—they could spend weekdays off touring to sightsee.
‘Whatever happens, they’re living better than me for sure.’
So the staffer decided to work only as much as paid.
They rechecked Spacer’s press materials one more time—unaware that a director would soon receive an urgent oral report and hastily call an emergency meeting.
Regardless of how all these uncertainties played out, the “TeSTAR Concert” special moved smoothly toward realization—and the broadcast date steadily approached.
