Debut or Die-Chapter 438
The situation’s surreal: a club senior who used to buy me drinks suddenly appears in a video call as my fan—exactly at the moment my job is being an idol. It’s deeply disorienting. Yet my years of professional training compel my mouth to speak truthfully.
“...Yes, Seo-jin unnie.”
[Yes.]
I’m losing it. Seeing Ryu Seo-jin’s satisfied face on the screen only makes me more unsettled. I vaguely remember that senior saying something at a drinking party, which helped me sneak into the “Ajusa” karaoke casting—but did ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) she even like idols? I was too busy making a living to care what the club crowd’s tastes were, and she mainly shot portfolio photos. She never sent me any paid gigs as a proxy. And yet...
‘She kept it secret for the sake of her social life.’
She’s even a home manager. “PuppyBear,” the account that posts photos of Lee Se-jin and me, has produced so many high-quality shots that even I remember its name. Judging by the posting frequency and guidelines, I was sure TeSTAR wasn’t its first idol. I either hadn’t paid attention, or she hid it expertly.
‘No wonder everything looked so natural.’
Maybe we learned similar composition in the photo club? No—stop it.
‘Work. Just work.’
I must think of her only as a grateful fan participating in this event. I can’t let any odd cues creep into the recorded live video call. If I think of her purely as a fan...
But another question nags me: why did she send a story about me instead of Big Se-jin? I thought maybe she liked him but wanted to expand her reach by including me, the most popular member. Then I realized:
‘They rushed it and forgot to limit one application per member.’
If she were meticulous, she’d have crafted seven distinct stories—one for each member. Journalism majors would certainly have the edge. And the story this senior—no, this fan—submitted for me was:
—Back in high school, I chose a career path similar to my sister’s; can I ever learn to accept and love myself now?
She’d written a truly plausible tale of sibling rivalry, low self-esteem, and a sudden rise to first place via a survival show—essentially my story. And of course that sister was none other than Ryu Seo-rin, writer of “Ajusa.”
[First, your sister is someone with extraordinarily strong goals and great drive.]
Absolutely. I nearly twitched, thinking of that spotlight-grabbing author. Yet I masked it and nodded thoughtfully.
“She sounds amazing.”
I’m surprised at myself.
[Yes. So working in the same field felt difficult—I kept comparing myself to her.]
Ryu Seo-jin recited her polished, press-release-level résumé story with flawless diction—like a fabricated self-intro letter. But the overall flow was clear, making it easy for me to reply.
“I remember the first time I joined an idol-survival show, I looked at the other contestants and felt the same way.”
Calmly riding that narrative, I felt as if I were reading from a script. By the end, I’d completely found my pace.
“...Hearing us discuss our worries like this, I’m certain Seo-jin unnie is just as driven as your sister.”
It was a predictable but lovely conclusion: trust yourself more, and don’t compare yourself to others. And the fan on-screen, surely expecting a rote broadcast-style response to her sweeping novel-length story, listened intently.
“...”
Right. Whether she’s a senior or anything else, I mustn’t forget she’s a hardcore fan spending her time and money on me...
[So, could I get your “puppy version” cheer, Mundae?]
My lip trembles.
“...Of course.”
‘Fuck, seriously.’
What do you call this feeling—shame?
“Fighting!”
Despite myself, I pinched my cheek, flapped my hand over my head, and cheered back. My mind went hazy, but after a few more signature fan-meet gestures, the first call ended successfully.
– Ding!
“...”
I feel like ashes. Drained, I collapsed to the floor. The staff didn’t stop me—just then the door swung open.
“Mundae-Mundae, this is fun! It’s kind of meaningful, too~”
The guy in the next room, who I guess had been waiting outside, shouted excitedly.
“I just did a call with my fan.”
“...??”
If he’d barged in earlier, he might’ve gotten more out of the story time compared to his own submission. What a shame.
My first call was a shock, but in itself it was no big deal. Sitting in a pension with staff, chatting a few minutes with a fan? I’d do it for free. Each member only had seven fans assigned—enough to pick one or two decent clips for the concert VCR.
‘I could’ve had more.’
With five or ten minutes per call and a ten-minute break between, it wrapped in two hours. Felt like they didn’t squeeze enough value out of it. I smiled at the next prompt:
[Has Mundae ever struggled living here in the dorm?]
Any answer’s a minefield, but they meant no harm.
“Hmm... Once we had to camp out in the living room because a bug showed up, and the members wouldn’t go into the room.”
A response that sidesteps but stays relevant.
[Whoa! Who was it?]
Perfect—they took the bait. And with that little anecdote, I finished another call. I’d pre-selected stories with clear cause-and-effect, ones easy to empathize with, and randomized them. So about half the fans had never imagined talking to an idol, making it quite fresh. Of course some familiar faces popped up, too.
On the fourth or fifth call, my first home-manager fan appeared.
[OMG, hi Mundae!]
“Is your story about liking another idol, not me?”
[...?! Oh, no...??]
Just kidding. It was about debating dropping out of high school over career worries. Less than three minutes in, it drifted from counseling to a standard fan-meet chat—but I kept the conversation going.
[Thank you so much, Mundae! Let’s meet again!]
I just wanted to say that back. And suddenly I thought:
‘...It’s been a while, hasn’t it?’
I haven’t done something this hands-on as TeSTAR in over a year. After breaking the system and returning, I only toured, no album. Feeling so directly like an idol in TeSTAR again was nostalgic.
“...”
Well, I resolved to keep at it. I tidied my hair one more time and looked back at my phone. My final counseling call started just then.
And this time...
[Ah, hi! Wow, what do I do!]
“...!”
On screen was the face I’d seen a few days ago—the fan I’d spotted among the cheering lights against the dark concrete walls.
“...Hello.”
A graduate-student fan.
[It’s my first time winning something like this!]
Her bright face, surely someone who’s never lived through a building collapse. My fist clenched under the table.
The excited fan launched into her personal story before even stating her worry. I’d already heard it then, past the collapsing storeroom. She must always be this cheerful and optimistic. I said offhand:
“...You’re a grad student.”
[Yes!]
Because it was an academic worry, I thought my experience of passing the high-school equivalency test might offer a fresh perspective. But:
[But I don’t recommend it...]
Oh, it was about grad school. I let out a small laugh.
“I think having research or study you want to pursue is admirable. You’re amazing for that.”
[Heh, hyung.]
A weird sound, but typical at fan meets. I listened and reacted sincerely, just as before. When time was up, the grad student’s face brightened:
[Thank you. Really...! I’m still struggling, but I feel I draw strength from you and TeSTAR, truly.]
She smiled warmly.
“No, I’m the one who’s grateful.”
It was genuinely nice. Only after we hung up did I realize she hadn’t requested any specific lines or poses.
‘Damn.’
Missed that chance for extra impact. Maybe I’ll see her again at the next fan meet.
Anyway, the video calls that began at 7 PM finally wrapped up near midnight. Once we filmed the ending shot outside the room, today’s shoot was done.
“Great work, everyone~!”
“That was fun!”
Because the work wasn’t grueling, the crew’s faces were bright—and so were the members’.
“I think we could hold fan meets like this sometimes. Standing in line at live events doesn’t feel like one-on-one conversation.”
“Diversifying how we meet fans using modern media.”
“I... like it...!”
They seemed pretty into it. I scrolled through today’s feedback, chuckling:
Bae Sejin asked for textbook recommendations—no questions taken.
Requested a heart challenge from Geon woo—awkward to say something unrelated to my concerns, but it was worth the embarrassment (video).
Kim Rae bin, you dare put your hair up like that? Call me ‘unnie’? Steal my clavicle-knit looks—I will.
Everyone had a memorable experience. I finished reading Big Se-jin’s “KakaoTalk Boyfriend Profile Generator” review and Cha Yoo jin’s “Top Spanish Tutor for Travelers,” then went back to my phone. One voice quietly asked:
“Hyung Mundae, are you enjoying this?”
“Yes.”
Thanks to me smuggling my phone out, I hope they remember and treat me to something good later. And not just Cha Yoo jin—the atmosphere felt like a company dinner was imminent.
“Can we get delivery here? If not, I can go out and buy it.”
“Oh, we’ll go—we were just heading to the mart.”
The charity-concert staff, joining the chat, offered to fetch pizza. I appreciated it, though I suspected they just wanted to escape a dinner with unfamiliar celebrities. Understandable for working folks.
After seeing off the rushing staff...
“Then let’s set the table before they get back...”
“Ohhh, the cat’s here again! We’ll take care of this cat!”
“Yoo jin, Bae Se-jin hyung is allergic to cat fur...”
“Oh.”
After a brief cat-led chaos, we set up for dinner. Then:
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang. The guys setting glasses looked up in surprise.
“Hm?”
“Already back?”
No way—they’d left just ten minutes ago. The pizza wouldn’t even be in the oven.
‘They must’ve forgotten something.’
“I’ll get it.”
Because I was closest to the entrance, I went.
Ding-dong.
I hurried and grabbed the door handle.
Click.
Light and sound poured in through the crack.
“Hello!”
That voice...
“Surprise~!”
“Wow, applause!”
“...!!”
I froze.
VTIC members in plain clothes were standing outside the pension’s front gate, bursting in.
What the hell?
“Mundae-ssi, hi!”
What on earth was happening? Cheongryeo stood there beaming and waving. It felt like some insane description, but it was real. Behind them I saw the cause: above the camera, gleaming lights shone—and the ones holding the lights were...the staff who’d just gone out.
‘Oh.’
I grasped the situation and let my fist unclench. We had agreed on a surprise “mini stage” at the end of the charity-con VCR...
‘...So this was the plan.’
I never expected we’d be the ones surprised.
“We’ve come for a special stage with TeSTAR!”
Jin Chae yul grinned in front of the lights and waved.
‘They’ve nothing to lose before enlistment, do they?’
A bizarrely infuriating reunion. Yet...
“...Welcome.”
“...!”
There was no reason to refuse. I smirked and stepped aside.
“Let’s do it.”
