“Taeha!”
“...Oh, uh, Harin.”
Mirinae’s Park Min-ha had been looking like she was about to lose her mind lately. With the company in chaos and the group schedule all up in the air, everyone was stuck at the dorm longer than usual, each member throwing themselves into hobbies or practice to shake off their anxiety. Yet Min-ha alone was behaving like that.
‘Is she under too much stress?’
The weight of being leader again... Seong Ha-rin crossed her arms in concern.
Then Min-ha suddenly spoke.
“Harin, if we could move to another company... would we?”
“...?!”
“Oh, no. Pretend you didn’t hear that.”
Anyone able to pretend ignorance at that point wouldn’t be an idol!
‘Another company? Another company?’
Had she gotten some kind of tip? Ha-rin knew the company was unstable. But deserting an agency mid-contract was nearly impossible. If something realistic was happening in the meantime... surely not!
“We’re going to Testa Label?”
“Shh, shh!”
Min-ha gasped, then darted her head left and right as if someone might be listening, hurriedly bringing her hand to her mouth.
“Is it real?”
“No, no, it’s not that!”
But she hesitated and added,
“...It might be possible, though.”
What!?
Min-ha wasn’t the type to spout baseless rumors. She must have heard something to say that. In that moment, Ha-rin’s long-buried suspicion struck her mind. Those two had been exchanging particularly meaningful glances.
“......”
Could Min-ha’s source...
“Don’t tell me... Park Mundae sunbaenim told you?”
“...?!”
Min-ha froze. At that direct hit, Ha-rin’s lurking doubt rose again.
‘Are they dating...?’
“Harin, surely you’re not implying there are rumors going around about us being close? Among company people, other idols, or even fans?”
No, obviously not.
“Oh, no! I was just guessing!”
“Phew.”
Min-ha sighed deeply, then perched on her chair with a look as if she’d just been through a fire.
“You were right...”
“...Mm.”
It seemed so. But Ha-rin decided not to dredge up that last suspicion again.
‘Right—Min-ha cares too much about being an idol to be that obvious!’
So they’d been speaking purely in business terms with Park Mundae.
“Then what exactly is going on?”
“...He asked us to wait a little.”
Min-ha stared at her phone with a wistful expression.
“...?”
Ha-rin couldn’t make sense of it, and Min-ha offered no more explanation. A few days later, a cautious message arrived from the company: they would let the group itself own its name rather than the company.
“Why are they doing that?”
“They’re probably aiming to reverse the mood. Some image-making move?”
“Ah.”
The members discussed it, but in any case, buying their own name was an incredibly tempting offer! Even if the company changed, they’d still keep their name!
‘Amazing.’
Harin covered her mouth, but soon reality set in.
‘...We don’t have that much back-pay to buy it that easily.’
Wait a minute. If they used the name sale as an excuse to lend them the money and then recoup it from their back-pay, wouldn’t that just fleece them further? If they planned to run the group only briefly, they wouldn’t care about the trademark!
‘They’re doing this because they don’t intend to nurture Mirinae long-term!’
Yet the company’s ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) asking price proved reasonably honest.
“...?”
Although the figure was in the billions of won, it wasn’t some crazy hundreds-of-billions number.
“I really want us to buy it—okay?”
“If Min-ha’s for it, I’m in!”
Buoyed by Min-ha’s enthusiastic leadership and Yul-gi’s cheerful agreement, the members pooled their money and purchased the trademark under joint ownership.
“What about the other groups?”
“They sounded like they’d buy it too.”
Of course—they wouldn’t want to miss such an opportunity, unless you were a rookie on the brink of scandal. Though it rankled that the company spun it in the press as if they’d graciously transferred the name, the mood was positive. Public reaction: “They really operate differently than T1, which treats artists like disposable goods.” Bittersweet, but good long-term.
‘We still have years left on our contracts.’
Testa’s had five years, but after that season hit big, they bumped it to seven.
‘Great. Our next album will be a smash—Testa Label, here we come!’
Harin resolved to think positively... until she saw the headline.
[Testa’s Contract Renewal Falls Through... Where Will the K-POP Stars Land Next?]
“......”
They said Testa wasn’t renewing.
‘No way.’
Their own Testa Label was about to dissolve?!
‘They’re escaping, you idiots!’
They were running away on their own! Then what had Min-ha been talking about? Ha-rin turned from the YouTube screen to Min-ha, but...
“Min-ha?”
“Heh heh heh... heh heh.”
Min-ha stared at the screen with a hollow laugh. Not shock—more like the look of someone who’d made an irreversible decision, as if she’d just put a multi-thousand-dollar purchase on a 24-month installment plan.
“...??”
Min-ha let Yul-gi poke her shoulder and pondered her choice.
‘This... is right, isn’t it?’
She’d never steered wrong before—she had to see this through unflinchingly.
‘Please, let it be right!’
Min-ha slumped, holding her phone.
Zzzrring.
Right on cue for the press. Deleting messages from everyone else, I replied:
She wasn’t sending it to genuinely congratulate me.
‘Testing the waters.’
I added:
A reply came seconds later.
Oh ho. She was warning me not to backstab her, since I could add her to that chat at any time.
‘Sharper now.’
I smirked and sent “Understood,” then powered off my phone. I wasn’t the only one watching the incoming messages.
“Wow, the messages are pouring in.”
“Mhmm...”
News inquiries flooded every member. And I recalled yesterday’s tidbit.
‘The CEO quit.’
He jumped ship without missing a beat. And the story that Testa wasn’t renewing had hit the press—of course not on the company’s site.
‘We leaked it.’
Not directly, but as if an insider let it slip.
In short order, the company had suffered three monumental betrayals at perfectly unexpected times. With the company at its weakest...
“Time to move on to the next step?”
Indeed. I turned to the person I trusted most in the group—the one with the most reliable, stable image.
“Hyung, I’m counting on you.”
“And I on you, hyung.”
Ryu Geon woo grinned and left the dorm, already prepared. His destination: not T1 Stars’ conference room, but Testa Label’s meeting room.
‘Phew....’
Spacer Kwon Hee-seung—still nicknamed Gold2 by Park Mundae—was scrolling through the group chat history. The “Great Escape” chat that Mundae had created.
‘I thought I’d have to use a wish token from that weird virtual world...’
He’d nearly been dragged into that simulation, but Mundae had reached out first—though with one condition: stay put no matter what.
So Kwon Hee-seung had stood firm through the board arrests, the trademark sale, the CEO’s departure, Testa’s exit.
‘He must have a big plan.’
Despite Mundae’s blunt style, Seung knew he valued loyalty. Though Testa’s departure almost made his heart stop...
‘It’s okay. He’s not ditching us!’
But the next news knocked even the ever-optimistic Seung’s heart.
“Dude, I heard all the label staff have resigned.”
“...!? Wha—?”
“All the Testa Label and Orbit people are quitting!”
Good heavens. Word of mouth soon confirmed it: nearly every staffer had resigned. Naturally, the original company went ballistic.
One by one, anyone who could leave started a relay of departures. Nearly half the staff fled in a mass exodus, and the already crippled company ground to a halt.
“......”
Seung grew more uneasy but resolved to trust Mundae. He wasn’t a top-tier idol anyway—best to stay positive for his own sanity. He did message:
Replies came quickly:
“...?”
That very evening, flashy headlines lit up the entertainment news:
[Testa’s Unbreakable Loyalty... Their Next Nest Isn’t a Startup, but “Label CEO”’s Agency]
[Testa Signs with Newly Founded Agency... It’s the “CEO” Who Resigned!]
“...!”
Right. Testa didn’t form their own agency. Nor did they join the old one. Instead, their label’s CEO resigned and established a brand-new agency—and they moved there.
In that moment, Seung realized:
‘All the label staff resigned... because Mundae cooked them? He rallied them by stoking the crisis, the accidents, and the fear that they’d have to ditch the company!’
– “We really might reconsider renewing if we could keep working with you.”
The label’s CEO snatched the lifeline. At news of Testa’s move, most label staff, after checking around, jumped off the sinking ship together. So the label couldn’t stay intact—it reassembled into a new agency!
‘Amazing. So that’s why hyung said it wasn’t evaporation.’
Seung was amazed, then realized his own predicament.
‘Wait—what about us?’
Spacer. Were they going to abandon them?
A reply arrived:
‘How much more?!’
Seung wanted to scream and messaged again. To his relief, Mundae didn’t get angry. He simply replied:
“...Huh?”
Shortly after, news came that no one expected.
“The company... got acquired.”
“...??”
“Testa’s new agency bought T1 Stars....”
What??
Seung nearly dropped his phone at his manager’s words, then spotted a fresh message from Park Mundae:
“......”
‘Unbelievable.’
After ramping up the panic about the company going under, slashing its market value and prospects, at the moment when they were most receptive... at the lowest price... Testa’s new agency devoured T1 Stars itself.
“......”
So that was why he told us to stay put. Seung realized reflexively: if he’d shown any confidence or acted hastily, it would have disrupted the plan.
‘Wow.’
It was truly an unbelievable escape.
