Keundal was in an unexpectedly extreme situation.
He thought he’d be relieved once his body was back to normal—but now a hidden threat had appeared.
“Long time no see.”
Who was this sitting next to him, speaking like they knew him?
He was sweating cold drops, desperate to send an SOS to anyone. He couldn’t even run off with this camera from the audience seats in front of the stage.
“But selling data as a side gig after you got a job must be tough.”
“.......”
“Well, you know.”
‘I have no idea...!’
He didn’t understand the context at all! It felt like an old acquaintance of Ryu Geon woo’s, but he couldn’t be sure.
‘Is... that data-seller person? One of his connections?’
But he couldn’t call Park Mundae. Testar’s comeback stage was about to start. He couldn’t let something like this interfere with their first performance.
So he told himself,
‘...I’ll keep my answers short!’
and replied calmly.
“You’re not charging money to sell it. It’s just a hobby now.”
“Is that so?”
That seemed to satisfy them—thankfully, they didn’t ask about his background anymore.
‘I got through it!’
Keundal let out a sigh of relief, but Ryu Seo jin next to him was thinking, “They’ve mellowed out.” Assuming he had more cash on hand, she asked again.
“Oh—are you also filming Testar?”
“...Yes.”
“Who do you usually film?”
“Mundae.”
He answered that without shame, and saw the other person nod.
“Your eye for talent’s still sharp.”
“.......”
That choice of words wasn’t casual. Keundal realized,
‘They really are a data seller!’
And Ryu Seo jin concluded,
‘They’re still selling data.’
It was a perfect misunderstanding.
Then—
[...Now, let’s meet them!]
the MC’s voice rang out.
At once, as if by agreement, both of them thought,
‘Ah, it’s starting.’
The two Testar fans—each thinking the other was a data seller—turned their eyes to the stage.
The white spotlight used for award ceremonies went off, and finally the prelude began.
‘It’s Savior!’
Keundal gripped his camera excitedly. He planned to take just a few shots after watching with his own eyes.
—Click.
Blue and red lights flooded the stage. Before he knew it, they shone on Testar in formation at center stage.
Their costumes were dazzling coats inspired by traditional Korean robes.
‘Heh heh.’
He couldn’t believe he was seeing this up close.
—“There, a voice calling out desperately
Listen, the sound of my running footsteps”
The familiar opening.
Park Mundae strode onto the vast stage and launched into the song with a pointed gesture.
—“First to appear
The vanguard!”
The thrill of those high notes live.
‘Wow....’
Keundal felt his heart tingle as he watched.
This “Savior” arrangement leaned more retro rock, giving it a strangely modern feel. The point where band sound and orchestral sound intersected made his pulse race.
‘Rae bin really is a genius....’
Thanks to his work at the ice-cream shop, Keundal had struck up a rapport with Kim Rae bin, and swallowed hard.
—“That’s my savior!
Drop tension and enjoy
A victorious night!”
“Savior” tore forward into a new dance break like a runaway train, ending with a grand remix fit for an award show.
“Waaaaaah!!”
The roar was ear-splitting. Keundal was overwhelmed, but he couldn’t shake his camera.
‘I forgot to bring my light stick...!’
Still, the disappointment was brief.
The lights on stage shifted and the music resumed.
A brief instrumental.
“Hup.”
...A new song.
Keundal’s eyes widened.
—applause—
On stage, Cha Yoo jin—his blond hair slicked halfway back—had moved out of formation and sat at the edge under a spotlight. He clapped with an impressed expression at the rest of the members who’d just finished “Savior.”
The others sighed and broke formation.
“...?”
Between members stretching or lightly warming up, Bae Sejin began walking around, clipboard in hand, as if giving directions. The camera caught everyone’s reactions, from Seon Ah hyun nodding attentively to Kim Rae bin frowning with mild annoyance.
‘Is this acting?’
It felt like a musical or theatrical setup.
Then came a crisp whistle.
—Phrrreeeeeee!
In an instant, every ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) member on stage froze and looked toward the audience.
The big screen lit up with comic-book–style letters.
[PRACTICE IS OVER!!]
A school-bell effect played, and an upbeat riff melody and drumbeat surged in.
Testar, looking relieved, tossed off their coats and dashed to the front of the stage—as if heading out for fun.
‘Hup.’
Under their open coats were outfits straight out of an ’80s American teen movie: knits, jeans, each with slightly different accessories. Soon Cha Yoo jin picked up a star-patterned jacket, put it on, and rejoined in proper formation at center.
“...Phew.”
A final subtitle appeared at the bottom of the screen.
[Testar – POSE]
A mechanical MIDI sound bounced like droplets between beats.
Testar bounced into new formations with their steps.
—“Make a pose
With what you want
Find your own style”
After Cha Yoo jin’s mid-low vocals, Park Mundae’s gritty high notes carried a similar verse melody.
—“(Make a pose!)
Maybe being bold’s okay too”
The tempo rose.
A mirror ball spun above. In the dazzling lights, they executed light, complex steps perfectly in sync—and used full-arm, finger-point moves that made you feel like you could follow along.
—“Like dancing flames
Melting hot summer night
Charge through this night like it’ll never end”
Testar blazed across the stage, a symbol of color, light, and youthful recklessness. The song felt endlessly ascending, racing along disco-styled steps.
Then, as the pre-chorus passed, the melody locked into a catchy minor key and the bass dropped.
—Drrrrrrrr—!
An engine roar.
A hip-hop–style chorus tied retro sound together with modern structure.
In the chorus, Kim Rae bin, stepping forward as if kicking up his feet, rapped with a playful bounce. His EMO-or-goth-style black outfit heightened the mood.
—“Slowly, slowly
Come closer
Grab this moment so you can’t move”
Electronic off-beat sounds danced over a heavy rock bass.
Cha Yoo jin, now jacketless, switched formations with steps reminiscent of Latin dance.
—“In the pose!
Don’t worry about going overboard
Just think about now, come in now”
That undeniably catchy hook was clearly the chorus.
—“In the pose!
Don’t hold back today
Now’s what matters, right now
(yes) Right now!”
Then the riff melody raced on without vocals.
Lee Sejin, hair swept back, stepped out with a grin. She seemed to hi-five Ryu Cheong woo, then performed a solo dance in center.
‘Ah.’
It was a move from their debut song, “Hi-Five”!
Indeed, Testar had reserved an interlude specifically for members to ad-lib, separating it in the performance.
They all laughed as they followed Lee Sejin’s move skillfully, naturally shifting into the next move.
—“Yes, I’ll remember
Your moment now
Slow or fast, more freely”
Park Mundae, in bright jeans and a short denim jacket, slid forward on one knee and sang the last line.
—“So hold on—and pose!”
Boom!
Fireworks exploded.
LED fireworks lit up on the big screen.
Their choreography remained crisp and lively to the very end, brimming with energy.
Naturally, the audience let out shattering cheers.
“Waaaaaa!!!”
“Aaah!”
It was a party track—everything you’d expect from a mainstream boy-idol group. The flying confetti seemed to foretell the future.
‘...This is amazing!’
Keundal was suddenly moved, and realized one beat too late that the person next to him was furiously firing off shots, while he’d been holding his camera idle.
‘Right—take photos!’
He hurriedly raised his camera to his eye.
Then—
[Keundal.]
Huh?
Keundal reflexively looked up.
A popup glowed peacefully on his screen.
[There’s something I want to show you.]
It was Mundae hyung.
...He was up there on stage just now!
‘Done.’
The comeback—seemed to have succeeded.
I remained kneeling onstage in the ending pose. The others did the same.
“Huh.”
We were all out of breath, but no one gasped here. No matter how tight the awards-show schedule was, they always took a few extra seconds for the headliner’s ending shot—and a few more after the lights went down.
I sent the popup to Keundal at that perfectly timed moment.
[Are you going to show me something?]
Yes.
I took a deep breath and whispered,
‘Want to share my view?’
The popup shivered in puzzlement, then seemed to connect senses as I’d asked.
And then...
[...Wow!]
He finally saw my view.
‘This is....’
Was it majestic or overwhelming? Nearly twenty thousand lights—including standing fans—wavered all around.
It was like the awe of nature itself.
From the darkened stage, it gleamed even brighter—like standing in a sea of falling stars at midnight.
‘I never thought I’d make that comparison.’
I chuckled, and Keundal seemed thrilled.
[...It’s really amazing! Wow! But thinking they’re all people is a bit scary... Anyway, thanks! I’ve never experienced this!]
Right.
And I said what I needed to say.
‘Thank you.’
[...!]
[Why thank me? Because I acted well today?]
Not exactly....
‘Because it’s a view I got to see thanks to you.’
[...??]
I stood, brushing the hand that tapped my shoulder, and looked at the stage again.
Then I replayed a realization.
‘Why does Youngrin remember me?’
There were many reasons—my professional attitude, the fact that I was unknown and had few cameras back then.
‘But...’
If I had to pick, it was probably the meaning behind that fancam.
‘A chance to succeed as an idol.’
The impression and emotion he gave to push that opportunity forward.
In that sense, he was the most direct supporter who gave me the chance to see this view as an idol—something I’d never imagined back then.
I said softly,
‘You told me there was nothing I couldn’t achieve with what I had... but that wasn’t true.’
I’d tried to die.
If he hadn’t wanted me to survive, if he hadn’t persistently stayed in my status window to help me pass the idol mission, I’d never have seen this.
‘So—I really wanted to show you this.’
[...]
‘That it’s a view you gave me.’
I couldn’t put him on the stage, but couldn’t I at least let him see this too?
[...]
The popup didn’t display any text for a few seconds.
But for some reason, I felt he’d quietly nodded from the audience seats.
“Mundae, it’s time to go down.”
“Yes.”
I turned away and began to descend from the stage, leaving the audience behind.
Keundal’s popup reappeared only then.
[...I’m so happy.]
I let out a small laugh.
I felt like everything was finally going right.
That’s why, as soon as I stepped off stage—before checking the monitors—I checked this first.
‘...Mission failed popup.’
And the result was...
‘Park Mundae (1 / 2), Ryu Geon woo (2 / 2)’
[Lost target ‘Park Mundae (1 / 2)’]
[Lost target ‘Ryu Geon woo (2 / 2)’]
[Released]
Success.
[Mission Failure Scenario Complete]
Victory : Player Park Mundae (Ryu Geon woo)
Reward : Fragment of ■■■ 2 (2 / 4)
I clenched my fist.
‘Good.’
But then a new popup appeared above.
As if waiting for me to check it.
[■■■ fragment 2 / 4]
[Condition met!]
[■■■ forming]
“...!”
...Forming?
A dark premonition struck me.
■■■ seemed—by all evidence—to be that thing I called the System. If so...
‘No way it’s resurrecting itself again...’
So I’d helped it back to life, only for this bastard to run rampant again?
‘Fuck.’
I stopped in my tracks.
“Park Mundae?”
“Hyung, are you hurt??”
Wait.
I took a deep breath and stared at the popup. I had to see what happened.
But it ended with words I never expected:
[■■■ (ver. Beta) bound complete!]
[Owner : Player Park Mundae (Ryu Geon woo)]
“.......”
‘Owner?’
The System... belonged to me?
At the same time.
On an online stock-forum thread.
------------------------==
[Last Chance to Escape]
T1 Entertainment
A major bad news hits in February. Sell now.
------------------------==
The post got a few upvotes but more downvotes and was quietly swept away without much controversy.
But no one expected its screenshot to go viral on pilgrimage sites soon after.
...It was the sign of the coming storm.
