Everything happened so suddenly that anyone who hadn’t sensed the signs was completely caught off guard. There was nothing to be done.
“T1 is T1 lol”
Even after T1 received corrective measures and Tnet was warned by the KCC, neither company had ever had a spotless image, so people just clicked their tongues and moved on. Trolls trying to tie Testar to the scandals barely got any traction—everyone simply shrugged and thought, “T1 doing T1 things again.”
[T1 Stars board members arrested for stock manipulation... “The real face of T1”]
One day that headline appeared, plastered everywhere: the directors of Testar’s agency had been arrested.
—????
—T1, you insane bastards
—Are they connected to Testar?
—Ah shit, here we go again
At first, fans thought it was just another mundane scandal—some bad press for the agency, a bit of trolling at the expense of the group. “They’ll replace the board soon and pretend none of this happened.” But the articles kept coming.
[ Why did T1 build a major entertainment company?]
[T1 allegations... prosecutors “found evidence of collusion with headquarters”]
The agency stayed silent. T1 didn’t issue any proper response. Even casual fans began to notice... an ominous premonition.
—They’ve shut down their faxes and aren’t answering calls
—What the hell is going on
—What exactly is happening with T1?
Silence reigned like calm before a storm. Testar’s ambitious comeback run was abruptly cut short, barely finishing two weeks of music shows. They honored all previously scheduled appearances, but almost no new bookings were added. Surely some private events had been planned too, but those were all canceled.
By then, the hardcore fans realized: the company was in such dire straits they couldn’t even support Testar.
—No posts on the official account or DubApp
—This is infuriating; the concept and song were great, the charts would’ve been stellar, yet they can’t promote
—Hope the board rots in jail
—Testar’s under a label, not direct T1—they just need to draw a clear line, it’s not the group’s fault
Speculation flew, but the longer the silence lasted, the more serious things looked. Then one day this popped up:
[Tnet fairness allegations: insider testimonies—true or false? Prosecutors “no comment yet”]
It cast a strange light on Tnet’s latest hit survival show.
—Whoa
—Is Be My Girls rigged?
—All contestants were pre-cast; civilian auditions just for show
—Producer and writers deleted all their social media, wow
Fans eagerly pounced on the fresh controversy. Tnet, facing mounting allegations, had to confront them head-on. They canceled several planned new shows and quietly scaled back their “Global K-Pop” push. Amid that, news about Testar’s agency faded, offering fans a brief sigh of relief.
Under the bombardment of scandals and looming broadcaster troubles, T1 Ent made a radical move.
[T1 Ent subsidiaries to spin off, agencies stand on their own]
Without warning, the announcement came: T1 Ent’s talent agencies would become independent entities. Testar’s agency T1 Stars, Mirinae, Spacer—none were spared.
—T1 Stars going independent?
—T1 must’ve driven them so crazy they all agreed to bail
—They’re even letting subsidiaries cut ties first—T1 is next-level lol
The articles framed it as the subsidiaries leading the charge, and given T1 Ent’s endless troubles, the public took it at face value. Subsidiaries fleeing T1! An exodus! Some speculated deeper—“are they faking a separation to save T1?”—but that was as far as it went. Most believed the agencies welcomed independence.
—Testar’s a label anyway and top-tier; they self-produce, quality won’t dip lol
—Better this way
—Good riddance—the board’s gone, the artists can promote freely
The fandom mood turned overwhelmingly positive, especially for Testar. They’d already proved themselves. If they were a less established group, fans might worry, but Testar no longer needed T1’s backing. In fact, T1’s constant meddling had become tiresome. Better to break free now than endure rumors of Azusa rigging. Yes—nothing to lose!
—Go Orbit label independence!
It was irreversible, out of our hands. So fans steered the narrative, quickly shutting down doubts and rallying positive support. Dreaming of Testar’s bright future!
“We’re screwed.”
I ground my teeth. Beside me, Bae Sejin flipped through articles with a grim expression.
“They really abandoned us, right?”
“They did.”
T1 had cut ties with its entertainment subsidiaries—a political signal that “we’ve been hurt this badly, please show mercy.” A surrender and negotiation move. That meant the agencies were severed.
‘Once they cut us off, there’s no going back.’
They’d never lift a finger to help us again. Ryu Geon woo frowned, rubbing his chin.
“We have contract talks next week.”
“We were in positive discussions months ago, but....”
“No.”
“No!”
Both name-twins—who rarely agreed on anything—spoke at once and stared at each other. I agreed completely. ‘We have to break away.’ Staying on a sinking ship meant disaster. We already carried the T1 label, so switching lines was hard, but being cut by T1? ‘Game over.’ Even with our reputation, if we can’t promote properly we won’t last.
“We absolutely can’t renew with them.”
“...!”
I’d have spent three sleepless days convincing anyone who suggested renewing. It was that dire. ‘Since our schedule’s already ruined.’ Communications with label staff and managers had been garbage. I clenched my phone like I’d snap it. A couple of softer members hesitated, then nodded.
“Um... okay...”
“But if not them, we all need to sign elsewhere. Should we start scouting agencies now?”
Exactly. That was the problem. Time was tight, and it was unclear if any agency could coordinate Testar’s usual activities. ‘We need a place that won’t turn us into a constant touring cash cow.’ We’d built a label with people we trusted, only to be abandoned—infuriating. But the biggest snag was this:
“And... there’s a high chance we can’t use the name Testar anymore.”
“...!”
“Ah, I see.”
Testar was a name created by Idol Corporation, with the agency holding the trademark. ‘They know that’s our bread and butter.’ Whether by custom, finance, or sentiment, they’d never relinquish it easily.
“.......”
As expected, my remark cast a gloom. Five years of history with that name made it precious. Yet in that moment, Cha Yoo jin shrugged.
“Even if we change the name, we’re still Testar. I like it. We can create a cool new name! A fresh new start!”
“Ooh.”
A few members nodded at his bold spirit, and Kim Rae bin agreed too.
“That could be a major plus. Yoo jin’s often right—and he’s right now!”
“I’m always right! Kim Rae bin’s wrong because he thinks I’m not!”
“...?? ...! Retract that! Yoo jin’s only right this one time!”
“Ha ha!”
Their consistent banter lightened the mood. As veterans of countless pre-debut crises, they managed morale brilliantly. I chuckled and Big Sejin applauded.
“That’s it—Yoo jin, come up with a killer English acronym!”
“Yeap~ I’ve got tons of ideas!”
“Ooh~”
Big Sejin smiled in agreement. But I saw him force that smile when the group name was mentioned. It was inevitable. ‘Yeah. Ideally....’ Ideally, I wanted to keep the name. It was already a symbol. Brand value isn’t easily rebuilt; a name change can alter the group’s entire image. ‘In this image-driven industry, that’s a huge risk.’ I needed to think harder.
I rubbed my hands, weighing options.
“First, let’s avoid arousing suspicion from the agency.”
Tasks were assigned. Ryu Geon woo, as group rep, made a suitably vague proposal at the renewal meeting.
“Um, could we continue discussions a bit longer before redrafting the contract? Things are so chaotic right now.”
He expressed themselves ambiguously, buying time—making headquarters think we feared the turmoil.
“We intend to renew, but please give us some time.”
That stance worked thanks to Ryu Geon woo’s credibility. In the time we gained, Bae Sejin arranged for legal counsel. Now we needed to seriously vet other agencies... but here’s the catch:
‘...Usually, the agency comes to us when we’re a hot free agent, right?’
Have you ever seen a top free agent chase agencies? Approaching them lowers your leverage. Plus, if we poke around agencies, our current label might take offense and rumors would swirl. Yet... we’d had almost no inquiries during renewal season.
‘No incoming offers.’
The problem was word had spread we’d be cut. Since forming our label was treated as a done deal, few agencies reached out. ‘Those who did were fringe offers.’ “Sign with us and you’ll be huge.” But we couldn’t join an agency like DreamK where Bae Sejin used to be. I remembered her fuming and deleting the pitch messages.
Eventually, the guys sprawled out in the living room even joked.
“Ah~ what if we just start our own company?”
“That might actually work....”
Seon Ah hyun sighed—a rare sight.
“Is it impossible to go independent with our label staff? I kind of want to try, even under a new name.”
“I don’t think that’s possible....”
“Right....”
At Kim Rae bin’s words, Ryu Geon woo fell silent—a rare moment indeed. ‘Everyone’s exhausted.’ I restrained a sigh and checked my phone. If no offers came, we’d have to quietly test responses from potential agencies... but then:
‘Hmm.’
A text arrived. No ad, no greeting, no stalker. It was... a congratulatory message.
-VTIC Joo Dan sunbaenim: Congratulations on your independence^^
I was stunned.
‘When did that guy find out?’
But the next messages made me pause.
-VTIC Joo Dan sunbaenim: You’ll need a new home.
-VTIC Joo °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Dan sunbaenim: What do you think?
“.......”
A new home?
‘No way... Leti?’
It was our first scouting offer.
