“Gasp! Hello, TeSTAR people!”
“Hello!”
We entered the open office.
The ones who opened the door were the very people who created <127 Section>.
It was a smaller office than when we were at T1 Plays, a subsidiary of T1. But it was full of energy.
Enthusiastic welcomes poured out.
“I didn’t expect you to contact us—really great to see you! It feels like it’s been ages...”
“Ha ha, yes. It’s the first time we’ve met in person since the collaboration. Oh, and this is... a housewarming gift, albeit late.”
“This is nice... wow, thank you.”
Ryu Geon woo held out an SF-themed mood lamp chosen for the size of their staff. True to their company’s style, the faces of the representatives lit up.
‘I knew it would hit the mark.’
It was good that Cha Yoo jin’s fierce objections had been ignored.
Naturally, talk about past events slipped out.
“Seeing this reminds me of when we worked on those tutorial characters! You explained everything so well and made it fun—I really enjoyed it.”
“Really~? We did too!”
The atmosphere became even more cordial. Well, back then we did manage to work without flushing.
There was a reason this meeting was arranged so quickly...but there was also a more practical one.
I scanned the faces of the representatives.
‘Networking.’
They had literally kicked T1 to the curb and come here on their own.
They might have boldness, but they couldn’t be free of worry—being at odds with a large corporation carries weight.
Even if T1 wasn’t a huge force in gaming, their influence across culture and platforms was significant.
‘Starting up from scratch as a startup would be stressful.’
Yet when a proven star marketer who had given effective publicity before requested a meeting, I would have taken it too.
‘Especially if our situations are similar, curiosity would spark.’
They too had left T1, and then even left that next company. It wasn’t surprising they might be mistaken for allies.
That was their aim.
We exchanged a few words and moved to what looked like a conference room, then sat down. Game posters, artwork, and figures were visible everywhere.
‘Oh, they even have <127 Section> characters.’
Without copyright concerns, it felt more a show of camaraderie than boasting.
I continued scanning until I spotted a strange new character poster on the wall—an engineer uniformed figure wielding a grotesque fleshy weapon.
‘This is....’
It wasn’t in the portfolios of these company heads. Good.
“Is this also a game character?”
“Oh, yes!”
“It looks really cool.”
“Really? That’s your taste, Mundae!”
Kim Rae bin peered at the poster with curious eyes.
“Is it for a new game?”
“It’s our main character image for a game we’re currently developing. But the launch schedule is quite far off...”
“When roughly is it?”
“The plan is... um, around the end of next year.”
That was ages away.
‘And they’re not even specifying the quarter.’
It meant development wasn’t proceeding rapidly or tightly.
It was vague.
It could slip into the year after next.
‘Hmm.’
I secretly smiled.
Then I examined the poster again.
It was oddly modern—high quality and still maintaining clear lines.
“So we’ll probably only start official promotion around next summer. It’s about the death-train...”
Perhaps thinking we’d be interested, the male representative’s eyes lit up and he dove right into the story.
Jeez.
‘They’re definitely hoping TeSTAR will promote or collaborate again.’
They were somewhat clumsy in sales.
I listened and glanced aside. Keun Sejin likewise nodded, clearly intrigued.
But I remembered.
When I told the members we had located the production team’s new company, Pyuhuh Gongdan.
This guy’s reaction:
“Whoa... only Mundae could find it, seriously! But you’re not thinking about another game collab, right?”
He acknowledged the find but meant we should drop any collaboration ideas.
I remembered my own response.
“Of course not.”
We didn’t need that.
“Honestly, from what you’ve said, the games made by the Pyuhuh Gongdan people are still uniquely awesome and fun.”
“...! Oh, thank you.”
“And there’s something we’d like to propose.”
I got to the point.
The reason we came here.
“We’d like to commission a game. Could you develop a game for us?”
Not a game collab, but a full game of our own.
“...!”
The representatives’ eyes went wide.
They glanced at each other, wondering if I was joking.
But sadly, none of the other members looked surprised.
Only Ryu Geon woo said,
“Well, the scenario is all prepared.”
“.......”
The reps looked at each other, then spoke.
“You know, developing a game usually takes a very long time. Even with a scenario, creating original art, graphics, UI, writing code, and implementation are a different story... it’s a complex process.”
Instead of shouting at our ignorance, they politely explained at a general level—a plus.
‘Working with them would be nice.’
I smiled inwardly and nodded seriously.
“Of course, we’re not shameless enough to take up all of Pyuhuh Gongdan’s time.”
“Huh?”
“I’m not asking you to develop the type of game you’ve been working on....”
I continued explaining.
A form of game content that wouldn’t seem out of place within the existing idol business’s Venn diagram.
Small in volume, but special.
‘This is definitely doable within the time.’
We just had to push ourselves—their labor plus ours.
As I spoke, the reps’ expressions changed.
It was clearly interest.
“Ohhh~ that’s....”
Yeah, that was enough.
“Thank you~”
After a few rounds of explanations and meetings.
Contracts were wrapped up smoothly.
Ryu Geon woo, having sent the signed contracts back to the company, said brightly,
“It’s convenient since we have the authority for this.”
“Right! Definitely nice not to take any useless feedback!”
Bae Sejin nodded in agreement, unusually excited.
“This is settled. Now, the album prediction... we’re going to do that, right?”
“Yes.”
Of course.
Then suddenly someone interjected.
“Oh, Mundae—before that, one more thing! You all heard this, but just once more.”
Keun Sejin grinned.
“Whether on broadcast or wherever, let’s not say we’re company executives~!”
“Huh?”
“Like, we have contract authority and all—that kind of talk, no. Just say, as before, ‘We’re producing the album!’ that’s enough!”
Mm, yes.
This was important.
If we didn’t want to be tied to responsibility when the company screwed up, we needed to cut that early.
Now that we were independent, it was even more crucial. The risk of people conflating us with this new company was greater.
Even T1 got so much hate—there’s no guarantee Orbit wouldn’t follow the same path.
...Sometimes you make choices that draw criticism because outsiders don’t know the background.
So.
‘I don’t need any benefit from looking like company executives.’
Our idol image alone was enough.
“Okay, got it!”
“Mm... yes.”
“Sounds good~”
Some were convinced, others weren’t sure it was necessary, but everyone agreed.
Then, entering the company conference room.
“Hmm, Mundae must be tired... so let’s do the album prediction after going back to the dorm and resting?”
“Um, it’s fine to do it now.”
It didn’t take much energy on my part.
I simply connected my laptop to the conference room screen and began typing the album production hologram.
‘Since company people might come in, I’ll hide the staffing section a bit....’
I filled in the rest carefully.
[Album]
[Staffing: A]
[Capital: S]
[Duration: B]
(Staff bonus +150%)
(Capital bonus +200%)
Start Production ← Click!
Everything looked almost the same.
Staffing and duration.
Only after the ellipsis in the staffing section, additional info appeared.
‘External staff.’
I thought of the external personnel invited under our contract with Pyuhuh Gongdan.
And based on that, the direction of the album project we had created.
...If everything went as planned.
‘I’m sure it will be an impressive album.’
I pressed the ‘Start Production’ button.
The effect credits began to burst forth.
[External Staff: Configuring]
[Plus Effect Activated!]
Moreover, with this method, we didn’t need to compete with the industry’s top 1 or 2 companies to produce a physical album.
‘Even if T1 interferes, it doesn’t matter.’
[Production Company: Configuring]
[Minus Effect Nullified!]
‘The concept is... set.’
[Concept: Game]
[Plus Effect Activated!]
Not only games, but it seemed unified.
‘What matters is that the effects activated.’
The text popped brightly.
[Plus Effect]
External Staff: New Attempt
Concept: Sense of Immersion
[Predicted Outcome Complete!]
I didn’t take my eyes off the screen as I read all the text.
And finally, the moment the grade appeared.
“.......”
I clenched my fist.
[Expected Album Grade: S+ ~ A+]
That’s right.
“...Let’s produce it.”
A few weeks later.
On a day when it began to get warm.
The sudden news of TeSTAR’s album pre-order announcement shook the idol gossip boards.
It had been less than a month since they changed companies.
How was this possible?
It was quickly revealed.
A repackage.
It means adding one or two new songs to the previous album and releasing it anew.
In fact, TeSTAR had intended to make a completely new mini-album or single album. That was the stance of some members: ‘Let’s ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) not provoke T1 any further.’
But after T1’s dirty tricks were exposed, things changed.
‘It’s already recorded anyway.’
So they boldly decided to reuse the previous songs and concept entirely!
Fans were even more excited.
They changed companies but could still release the previous album!
Their high-teen concept album, active for only two weeks and without a proper concert, was reborn!
Light fans unaware of the details saw the T1 escape as refreshing, but she knew.
Cutting ties with their original broadcaster was not a good sign for activities.
‘This comeback is crucial!’
Someone as smart as Mundae would know that releasing so suddenly was a concern... so results—only results!—mattered.
She nodded.
At that moment, an SNS popup appeared on her phone.
“...!”
‘TeSTAR official account...!’
It was definitely the album announcement. She tapped quickly.
Then she reviewed the information she already knew.
This album had three versions, and....
An article said they would produce only 1,000 of the ‘limited set’ and then stop.
A friendly note promised a general edition MD later, so it was well received, but people complained because the exact contents weren’t revealed.
‘...It also looked like a money grab.’
Reading the SNS post in a flash, her eyes nearly popped out.
“...A board game?”
And at midnight that same day.
In the teaser for TeSTAR’s new song.
[Hmm....]
In a dim attic wrapped in blankets, lamp and fairy lights gathered around, the seven in casual clothes.
It was the high-teen concept TeSTAR from the previous album.
They sat on the attic floor in a circle.
A board game lay in the center.
“Let’s start
The free-for-all begins
The dice rolled.”
