Chapter 309
Chapter 309
The comment from T1 Plays—the company that had acquired the production team for Section 127—was left on the theme song Kim Rae-bin had rearranged solo.
Less than a day after it was posted, the comment was already swarming with replies from people treating it like a site of pilgrimage, their voices thick with anticipation.
The atmosphere suggested that this arrangement might be officially adopted for a cinematic trailer at any moment. There was even a flood of foreigners posting international memes plastered with emojis.
“Uh... uh...”
Kim Rae-bin looked dazed. It seemed the unexpected situation had caused his brain to short-circuit.
It was a funny sight, but I felt the same way.
When did things get to this point?
I knew the reaction would be decent, but virality was a different beast altogether. How does a game parody video uploaded by a brand-new account blow up this much in just one week?
I’d left it alone since it was an anonymous account, but I couldn't do that anymore. I turned on my smartphone to find the source of this chaos.
Is it the algorithm again?
No. This was something more artificial.
It was true that Section 127’s golden age in Korea had passed, leaving behind only a niche fanbase as its popularity and revenue declined. However, perhaps because the vibe resonated well, it had established itself as a steady seller abroad with a powerful cult following.
Thanks to that, many international gaming WeTubers were obsessed with the series, and it seemed one of them had watched the video during a livestream.
That guy’s subscriber count was...
[25.92 Million Subscribers]
Right, no wonder it blew up. Thanks to that, it caught the eye of a hardworking manager, leading to this current situation.
So, what was the conclusion?
“What should we do?”
“I’m not sure.”
The frequency of “I’m not sure” as an answer had increased significantly lately. That was how ridiculous the situation was. It wasn't like he was creating an alter ego; he was about to build a second career as a professional composer. And all because his current business partner had bitten the bait all on his own.
At that moment, Cha Yu-jin raised his hand high.
“Let’s do it! It’s fun!”
I knew he’d say that.
“Wait, wait!”
“Let’s think about this for a second, Yu-jin!”
Watching Ryu Cheong-woo and Keun Se-jin stop Cha Yu-jin from trying to force a majority vote, I finally spoke up.
“First of all... if we actually accept this proposal, we’ll have to put a real name and a bank account on the contract.”
“Ah, then they’ll find out it’s us immediately?”
“Exactly.”
I could already see TeSTAR being used as a promotional narrative for the game. Since they were under the same parent company, the headquarters would mindlessly push it, thinking it was a great idea. They’d think it was a heartwarming story where both TeSTAR and the game benefit.
And then accusations of manipulation will run rampant everywhere...
Naturally, a coincidence that seemed too good to be true was often perceived as blatant marketing deception.
It would be foolish to create such noise right before the Grand Prize. Just look at the public sentiment during the Rookie of the Year Award, when people claimed ‘TeSTAR doesn’t deserve it.’
While actually winning the Grand Prize was important, having the public acknowledge that we ‘deserved to win’ would definitely affect the success of the mission.
Even if we try to stop it, the moment some higher-up at headquarters gets a different idea, we’re screwed.
I couldn't let that happen.
Then, an unexpected person spoke up with a serious face.
“W-what if we use a family member’s name...?”
It was Seon A-hyun. He probably suggested it because he felt bad about Kim Rae-bin giving up on his achievement.
“Oh, that’s not bad.”
“I like that!”
I answered with a heavy heart.
“No. The moment we’re caught, we’ll be hit with tax evasion charges.”
It was a certainty. People were sensitive about that these days, so we had to be careful. Bae Se-jin, who had gone through a ordeal during the first year’s comprehensive income tax filing, swallowed hard.
“Then... should we just ignore it?”
“That’s also a bit...”
Since it had already gained attention, if we kept uploading arrangements to this account, the talk of a contract would keep coming up.
With Kim Rae-bin’s talent, it’s only natural.
Besides, look at the comments—people were having a blast. If we didn't respond at all, that very silence might become a point of interest and draw more attention. Then people looking to use it for viral marketing would start popping up.
...Should I just scrap the account?
Well, I wanted to leave it be if possible, since this account seemed to hold symbolic meaning for Kim Rae-bin as the place where he overcame his slump.
To avoid that... the standard approach was best.
“If we’re going to refuse, I think it’s better to state our position with a reasonable excuse.”
“True.”
A proper excuse that everyone could accept would be perfect. If we just continued with the arrangements quietly, the interest would eventually die down.
“Hey, come up with something plausible. You’re good at this!”
“Me? Really?”
When Keun Se-jin laughed as if it were absurd, Bae Se-jin flinched. They’d been acting polite to each other for a year or two, but it seemed the effect was finally wearing off.
Well, at least he’s being direct.
Regardless, Keun Se-jin offered an opinion instead of getting into a useless argument with Bae Se-jin.
“The opinion of the person who contributed the most is what matters~ Rae-bin, what do you think?”
“Pardon?”
Kim Rae-bin, who seemed to have been lost in thought with his mouth slightly open, snapped back to reality when Keun Se-jin called his name. He answered cautiously.
“I... I am fine with declining!”
“Won’t you regret it?”
“No! It was originally created at the composition camp as a hobby, not for commercial purposes. The current reaction is already more than I deserve, and I am enjoying it!”
“Well, if Rae-bin says so.”
“Okay~”
The conversation ended with them coming up with a suitable rejection message.
“Would ‘studies’ be safe enough?”
“Yeah. Just polish the tone a bit.”
And so, this was the comment left on the video:
It was moderate enough to leave no room for criticism and common enough not to arouse suspicion.
That should be the end of it.
Most of them probably thought the same, but things didn't go that way.
*
“Wow, this person is persistent.”
A few days later, we found another comment from the manager under our pinned comment.
And as if they were impressed by this corny joke, people flocked to the replies with even more excitement.
...It’s starting to pop up on community sites too.
[Ruin Factory in the middle of a ‘Three Humble Visits’ recruitment]
[Is that arrangement really a masterpiece? It sounded a bit difficult to me]
[Update on a hardworking big corporation]
Someone had screenshotted it and was spreading it around because it looked entertaining.
The atmosphere made it seem like if we refused now, we’d be the rude brat killing the mood. Of course, some people would criticize the manager, asking why they were bothering someone who said they wouldn't do it.
Then it really becomes a mess... Nothing spreads faster than a topic that sparks a debate. If it were revealed in that chaos that the arranger was actually TeSTAR, a truly unwelcome situation would erupt.
It could easily turn into a controversy.
Furthermore, as elements other than the arrangement became the focus, the number of people intentionally writing malicious or overly complimentary comments was increasing. The very essence of why the account was created was already being blurred.
Damn it.
They’re being such a pain.
We’re busy enough focusing on the concert; what is all this chaos? Kim Rae-bin even looked a bit discouraged because of it.
“I am truly sorry for making you worry about something unnecessary during such an important time...”
I let out a short laugh.
“What, are you apologizing for being talented?”
“T-that is obviously not what I meant...!”
Kim Rae-bin was horrified but couldn't find the words to refute it. I checked with him one more time to shift the conversation.
“Your agreement to decline this isn't because you feel pressured, but because it’s the cleanest way to handle the situation, right?”
“Pardon? Yes. That is true, but...”
“Then that’s fine. You can ignore all of this. The concert comes first.”
“...Yes. Understood!”
Kim Rae-bin seemed relieved after getting that confirmation. Keun Se-jin walked in with a grin and put an arm around his shoulder.
“That’s right~ We have to show our best selves at this concert~ We’ve been preparing so hard!”
That was also true. In fact, very few of us had enough energy left to pay much attention to this game company’s antics. The more we immersed ourselves in the setlist he had overhauled, the more details there were to take care of.
He’s a useful guy.
I looked at Keun Se-jin anew. When there was a benefit to be gained, he was quite good at designing a realistic path to get there.
That’s why he was the one who played the biggest role in the plan I set up.
That’s right. The curriculum I had designed when planning the mountain cabin trip was still incomplete. There was one last step left.
Since he had recovered his confidence through Step 2, this time it was about how to prevent a mental breakdown even in a slump.
And that is...
To make him feel a sense of achievement and worth in a situation where he is cut off from the authority to touch the production.
That was exactly what this concert was for.
*
“I think my heart is going to explode.”
“Me too, totally.”
The grad student gushed with her friend, Park Moon-dae’s fansite master, who was sitting diagonally in front of her. And unlike the excited pair, a third person sat nearby with a reluctant face.
Why am I even here...
It was their friend. She had participated in the ticketing as a ‘mercenary,’ but surprisingly, all her friends had succeeded, leaving an extra ticket. Driven by her friends’ coaxing and her own curiosity, she ended up in this seat... but she was already regretting it.
I should have just sold it as a scalped ticket.
She hadn't done it for fear of getting caught and having it affect her employment, but sitting here in this uncomfortable chair, she couldn't help but feel it was a waste.
I could have done a hundred-pull with that money!
Indeed, she was a modern mobile gamer who wasn't afraid to spend money on gacha-filled trash games.
I was tempted because they’re such famous idols, but... sigh.
She watched her friends chatting excitedly and shook her head.
This is also a bit embarrassing.
The lightstick was so flashy that she wanted to put it away. But in a concert hall where everyone was excited and sharing the same vibe, she had no choice but to hold the lightstick helplessly.
Ugh, seriously.
Just as she was starting to resent her friends.
—Vrrr.
An announcement in a smooth voice began to ring out.
“AAAAAAAHHHH!!”
“Oh, geez.”
Is starting really that exciting? She was startled by the cheers erupting around her.
The male voice calmly explaining the concert etiquette was pleasant to hear, but there was a slight sense of dissonance. It was because the choice of words felt more suited for a theatrical performance with formal decorum than a concert, though she didn't notice the specifics.
-
At that moment, the grad student turned to her with a huge grin and mouthed the words:
‘That’s Moon-dae!’
Huh?
In that instant, the lights went out.
The performer’s final announcement rang out right on cue. And in the concert hall that had suddenly fallen silent, sound slowly began to emerge.
It was the sound of the sea.
And within it, an orchestra and electronic sounds slowly blended in, eventually coming to the forefront.
A fluttering, clear sound. It was a song she had heard before.
Is this TeSTAR’s debut song?
But in the next moment, another intense melody mixed in. She knew this song too. Yet, in just a few seconds, the next accompaniment revealed itself...
What is this?
It was an overture. A preview played at the opening of an opera or musical. The difference was that this wasn't meant to introduce the songs. Everyone present already knew them.
This was for immersion.
...It’s got a nice atmosphere.
Then, the lights returned to the venue. It was an intense blue light that covered the entire audience. But it wasn't static.
“...!”
Countless shades of light and dark blue rippled, dyeing the indoor venue. The air moved.
—Ssssss.
Dry ice spread across the floor. The smoke billowed softly.
“Wow.”
The lighting, the rippling motion, the cool scent, and the slightly muffled accompaniment...
The five senses lent themselves to the metaphor. Inside the venue, it was as if they were submerged beneath the sea!