“Are they the ones?”
“Yeah.”
After finishing his personal schedule, Keun Sejin checked the link on his smartphone.
For context, the guy who’d been torn between everything from performance contests to adventure variety shows made a surprisingly obvious choice.
[Hope Game – Choices and Reversals]
He signed up for a death game survival reality show.
Produced by OneTube under the public broadcaster, the program isn’t exactly mainstream, but it has a dedicated fanbase and strong internet buzz.
– And they sneak a dice symbol into everything~ Since our album is called Roll the Dice, it’s perfect cross-promo.
– Plus, if I shine, they’ll use footage of our game in their edited clips.
And true to his savvy, likable-as-a-spice persona, he’s been blending in as the affable guy, then showing up at key moments to score points.
Oddly enough, this builds his image more clearly than in plain-vanilla variety shows.
They batch-film two episodes at a time, and he’s reportedly still surviving through episode six.
“He’s a veteran of survival shows anyway.”
He’s definitely staying aware the cameras are rolling.
Anyway, that meant the moment he joined, he’d pinpointed this situation sharp as a tack.
“TiHolic seniors, juniors... hmm, WonderHall Entertainment.”
The group name is iter.
Their teaser dropped.
I refocused on the phone playing the video.
“.....”
A dreamy-toned background.
A faint sepia filter layered like a film camera vibe.
A lawn, soft smiles, subdued saturation, gentle highlights—an atmospheric vista.
Then the boys.
They run, leaping through countless spaces.
An old school rooftop, a bus stop, a junkyard, a city-lit bridge, a grass-covered field...
Props of bygone scenery materialize or float in midair in a surreal way.
Though the spaces feel deserted, a fresh filter casts even an empty intersection in a wistful glow.
After a few stylized dance cuts synced to the ethereal, upbeat music, silence falls but for their song.
[Leap beyond the timeline
To you I haven’t met yet]
A boy standing atop a traffic light launches skyward as if to greet the dawn’s soft glow.
A white hand points upward, sunlight glinting off his fingers.
[Show the way
White captions fade in soundlessly over the shot, then it ends.
“.....”
Keun Sejin watched it all without a word, then checked the view count.
In the millions.
“Huh.”
He knit his brows and smiled.
“Shall we get the expert’s take first?”
“So, Rae bin, what’s your impression?”
“There are some intriguing elements in the chord progressions and instrumentation...”
Soon after all of TeSTAR regrouped, that “expert” began commenting on the teaser.
Kim Rae bin.
He’s on a solo stint, appearing on a show where unknown singers receive songs.
Of course the composer’s identity remains hidden at first. Contestants audition with 30-second snippets of given songs, snatching them up and evaluating.
Only after one picks a song and it becomes theirs do they discover the composer’s identity and hear the full track.
MC: “The mysterious composer of track five, ‘Melody,’ is none other than... TeSTAR’s Kim Rae bin!”
Kim Rae bin: “I look forward to working with you all...”
Contestant: “Aaaah!! Ah!!”
Contestant: “Thank you!”
Kim Rae bin: “...??”
Even in that moment designed to celebrate TeSTAR’s name recognition, he didn’t enjoy it—only the viewers did.
After watching the full teaser, he offered this evaluation:
“Our melodies’ development and choice of backing instruments seem quite aligned. I’d love to know how you arrived at this approach.”
“.....”
Bae Sejin, who had held back until then, finally burst out:
“You literally copied us!”
“Excuse me?!”
Indeed.
I rubbed my chin.
“They analyzed your song and «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» used it as reference.”
“...!”
“To me, it feels inspired by ‘Magic Boy’ and ‘Wheel.’”
No doubt he could list dozens of other tracks with similar sections in his head.
Seon Ah hyun blinked in surprise.
“Now that you mention it, even the teaser imagery...”
“Right. It has a vibe similar to our debut teaser.”
But it wasn’t just the ‘Magic Boy’ teaser.
The pacing and editing resembled the ‘Royal Procession’ shoot.
The color palette recalled ‘Aircraft,’ props evoked ‘Picnic.’
They’d cherry-picked elements from TeSTAR’s past activities, mixed them with other appealing ideas, and re–established them.
“A puzzle.”
“...! Do you think they actually built a world narrative too?”
“Most likely.”
These days, it’s harder to find a boy group without a lore.
I looked it up and found a summary:
– Superpowered boys traversing past and future in virtual reality.
Guides of dreaming eternity.
They wander through their individual youths in search of light.
Show the way – ĭter
“Oh.”
Time-travel, magic, dreams.
Bae Sejin’s hand trembled.
“...This is way too similar to our previous concept!”
“Strictly speaking, only the keywords are similar.”
I scanned it coolly.
“And not identical keywords either.”
They replaced time-travel with virtual reality, magic with superpowers—subtly twisted.
“More modern, tech-driven.”
Fits today’s platforms better.
“And they’ve nailed their identity too.”
“Where?!”
“Here.”
I pointed to their group name.
–ĭter
“It means ‘path’ in Latin. They built their concept around guiding the way and attached a unique image.”
“.....”
I probably should have expected something conceptual once I heard their name was iter.
Bae Sejin muttered half-heartedly:
“So... they didn’t copy us?”
“They did copy, but it’s benchmarking.”
Technically, not plagiarism.
“It’s like researching the market’s hottest product and making your own version.”
“.....”
Bae Sejin sat with a queasy expression.
“I get it, but it still stings.”
Me too—it didn’t feel great.
They’d spliced from various references and mixed in the agency’s own identity, so it wasn’t outright theft.
But if not for TeSTAR, that group wouldn’t exist.
“Hmm.”
And everyone felt that.
Bae Sejin finally murmured with a bittersweet look:
“We’re not the only ones who have to do this concept, but... it feels like we were the only ones doing it until now.”
“.....”
Keun Sejin hesitated, then cracked a wry smile.
“Actually, there were plenty of groups like this before.”
“Huh, what??”
Bae Sejin froze.
But it was true.
“In the industry, followers tend to roll out whatever’s proven to work.”
Several groups tried benchmarking TeSTAR’s conceptual vibe over the past few years.
The only decisive difference was...
“But none of them got much traction—so you probably never noticed.”
“.....”
“These concepts are hard to pull off slickly.”
Exactly.
It comes down to planning and budget.
Conceptual images demand heavy investment; cheap, quick copies rarely break even.
“And those iter kids...” I answered,
“They spent three years and 20 billion won.”
“...!!”
“They even formed a new project planning team. They must have thrown a ton of manpower at it.”
That was the hint we gleaned.
So: planning, capital, manpower. They had all three—and three years.
“.....”
Silence fell.
Ryu Cheong woo, quietly listening, finally spoke:
“So... they came fully prepared.”
Not long after, their title track dropped.
[Ready and shut, go!]
Punchy moombahton thumps and cutting laser beams split the screen.
Flashy CG bursts and rapid coding interfaces zoom by, then superpowered boys raid a boss monster in goggles!
A brutal dance-break that conjures a giant beast rounds it out.
“Wow.”
Che Yoo jin chewed popcorn with a bored face.
“What do you think?”
“The typical nerdy stuff. [Seriously, when did K-pop open an academy?]”
He claimed gaming geek types would love it, lounging on the sofa as if he forgot he made a game for our last album.
“You did it too, you know.”
“I’m cool at everything. But those kids didn’t do that. [Engrossed]?”
Hmm.
I rewound the music video.
“They’ve got decent visuals.”
The camera work dazzled—tight close-ups and dynamic angles felt like game cutscenes.
Che Yoo jin’s point eluded me, but it didn’t look awkward.
Already die-hard K-pop fans were commenting:
– The silver-haired boy has perfect skin
– They’re literally five flawless stars! Can’t wait for their music show stage :D
– IMO iter will be one of the biggest K-pop groups
Yet TeSTAR’s verdict was cold:
“This reminds me of ‘Better Me’ or ‘Drill.’”
“Yep. The dance-break mirrors our ‘Royal Procession’ style.”
Segments look similar enough: the bike prop shot recalls Drill, the combat staging and sealed-facility mood echo Better Me.
Of course, casual viewers might not make the direct connection.
“But those in the know probably caught on.”
Even we, who self-produced every track, noticed this more keenly.
“Fans must be talking, right?”
“.....”
“Park Mundae, just say it.”
I glanced at my phone.
“They are.”
“...!”
Right away, top English comments show:
– Is it just me, or do they look like TeSTAR copycats? :(
“Aha!”
“But that’s not necessarily bad.”
Bae Sejin looked poised to ask “why,” but held back with practiced restraint.
Seon Ah hyun murmured tentatively:
“...Well, you can’t call it plagiarism?”
“Exactly.”
It could even be fodder for satire:
– Did TeSTAR pioneer the dreamy-ethereal trend?
– People must be salty because the quality’s good lol we’re the only ones allowed to do this!
– Magic Boy came out years ago—get over it, iter didn’t even wear school uniforms lol
– If you compare every TeSTAR music video frame by frame, then every idol group is a plagiarist, you losers
Debate rages.
Could backfire if the crowd swings to “copycat TeSTAR.”
Unless they catch on!
I immediately opened the entertainment gossip board and skimmed the popular posts:
[That iter visual member is the one in question]
[Not TiHolic rookie but reminds me of TeSTAR]
[Have you heard iter’s debut song?]
[WonderHall’s rookie looks so small-timeㅠㅠ]
Ruthless bashing, praise for visuals, mixed takes on the song—all trending.
“.....”
Damn, we got played.
“Hyung, you look grim.”
“.....”
Ryu Cheong woo spoke gently:
“Is this the so-called backlash?”
“No need to go that far.”
I rubbed my shoulders.
“It’s buzz. This group’s trending.”
“...!”
“These controversies can be rolled out by fans over time. Good song, good choreography—makes people click more.”
“So that’s the plan.”
Exactly. They’ve massively boosted their buzz.
Viral marketing.
“Damn.”
At once I sensed it:
“They timed this exactly.”
“Now?”
“.....”
I looked up. Keun Sejin gave me a wry grin and spoke:
“When we were at odds with T1... remember?”
“.....”
“No industry insider would’ve missed those rumors back then. If they’d gone public, it would’ve been a sure thing.”
“....Right.”
The members’ expressions shifted.
“So when we... were falling out with T1, they debuted?”
“Exactly.”
The moment TeSTAR was weakest—brutally discarded by the broadcaster’s affiliates, distanced from the public, low exposure—they pounced. Rising stars are hardest to challenge then.
“Right now, we can’t book any T1-related schedules—broadcast or OneTube.”
“But they can go anywhere.”
Thus began the unfair game.
