Free Web NovelThe Olympic Gymnastics Arena.
After the awards ended, the audience streamed out like a receding tide. In the biting wind, people chattered excitedly with the person next to them.
“Every stage today was amazing.”
“Right? I have to watch the fancams when I get home. Did you see Hwiyeon’s expression? Her eyes were glistening.”
“You know what? I accidentally made eye contact with Yeon-hu earlier.”
“No way, that’s crazy.”
They talked about their favorite artists—how each stage had been, how beautifully a hand had swept away hair as someone sat. Amid these loving conversations, one group’s name popped up.
“But didn’t they do great earlier? New Black.”
“They’re not rookies, honestly. They were so good.”
“I was stretching my neck like a turtle without realizing it when the red-haired member came out in verse three.”
“But what’s that guy’s name? I only know Woo-joo.”
“Let’s look it up... It says Ji-ho? Huh, he’s a minor. A high-schooler.”
Wherever people wandered talking, a certain cluster of walking figures secretly grinned. Their fingers flew over phones—Soufflé fans logging into the fan cafe to post:
Soufflé who’d seen the stage live were bouncing with joy, and Soufflé at home or work were the same. Photos, fancams, on-site reactions, community buzz—it made even the stoniest face break into a smile on the bus home.
While Soufflé across the land reeled from the stage’s aftermath, idol communities reacted similarly:
[Today’s Mango rookie performance blew up.metube]
I was like wow the entire time
Especially at 2:40
When they switched from “Fireworks” to “Masquerade,” going from blue to red lighting—so cool..
Praise poured in. Riding that goodwill, posts promoting individual members appeared:
Had this been another group, such posts would be rare. For those who only knew Da-gil’s friend, Woo-joo, or Ri-hyuk by name, it was a chance to discover new members. The result of big-budget staging plus stellar performance.
Some noted deeper points:
One fact stood out: the title “Rookie of the Year” and New Black’s name were now inseparable.
And another:
New Black’s performance would not only dominate domestic reaction but capture overseas K-pop fans too.
Thailand.
Ahead of the K-pop cover dance contest in March next year, members of “WeeWhO,” who’d made the finals two years ago, met for a heated discussion: song choice.
“Above all else, it needs choreography that grabs attention.”
Their leader tapped the table for emphasis. One by one, members queued up fancams of dances they liked on their laptops—but most were rejected.
“This needs too many people,” “I don’t like that choreography,” etc. Then someone said,
“What about New Black?”
“New Black?”
It wasn’t ignorance—they were K-pop fans who knew New Black was the year’s hottest rookie. It was more,
“You remember their ‘Fireworks’ bit? We tried it and suffered.”
“...True.”
“But it helped with our diets. My mom loves that move.”
They all stared into space with nostalgic expressions. “Fireworks” was easy at a glance but endless if you tried every wave and nuance. Then someone said,
“But ‘Masquerade’ is blatantly harder.”
“Right. Could we even do that?”
One member tried mimicking “Masquerade” choreography clumsily, bursting into laughter mid-move.
“But there were so many posts about it on K-pop sites yesterday.”
“Really?”
Someone typed the address of an overseas K-pop forum. Soon an English thread appeared, with over a hundred comments. They parsed “Wow” and “What’s their name,” then someone asked,
“The reaction’s huge... All this over an awards show stage?” freeweɓnovel.cøm
“At this rate, it’s like they parachuted in from a helicopter. How good were they?”
“Let’s watch.”
They opened a low-quality upload of the performance. On the “Fireworks” stage in blue light, the members sang in flowing shirts.
“They’re good...but was it that good?”
“Shh, wait.”
Dancers emerged and the mood shifted. From the fireworks backdrop, focus turned to them until the atmosphere flipped to intense red. Dozens of dancers launched into razor-sharp choreography, jaws dropped.
“Wow... huh?”
Members revealed themselves one by one among the dancers. As cameras zoomed on their gazes, the audience cheered.
“Woah...”
They watched, mesmerized. It was a performance you felt in your bones. When the video ended, they understood the K-pop site frenzy. Images lingered: the blonde member gliding in, the red-haired member’s expression acting, and the handsome member anchoring the final formation.
“...”
Silence settled, then the leader said,
“This is tough, but... should we at least give it a shot? I instantly wanted to try when I saw it.”
“Me too.”
“Even if it’s hard, let’s do it.”
Entranced, they nodded vigorously. A decision bound to bring regret, but all thoughts vanished in light of that stage. Determined voices spoke,
“Let’s nail this. It’ll be unique.”
“Yeah.”
“No other team could even attempt this choreography.”
They laughed in agreement. The next year, at the contest venue, teams arrived with confident faces—only to see “Masquerade” listed everywhere in the prelim bracket and fall silent.
I woke up to yesterday’s buzz.
Countless articles had been posted; one even made the front page:
– 2014 MCA Rookie Award New Black “Thanks to Fans, Forever Together”
– New Black’s Rookie Award “Truly Grateful” Laughs at Member’s Rap
– New Black’s Bold Stage “We Are This Year’s Rookies”
I’d been avoiding reading comments lately because hate comments had spiked, but Assistant Manager Hong from PR sent me captures of the positive ones. Just seeing them cheered me up. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom
But in our waiting room, it felt more like a nap room. Ji-ho whispered from beside me.
“They’re all asleep.”
“Ji-ho.”
“Yes?”
“No need to announce the obvious.”
The pouty maknae crunched a chip he’d bought at the concession stand. Crunch. Each time, drowsy Ri-hyuk cracked an eye open and glared. Each time, Ji-ho froze like in “Red Light, Green Light,” then crunched again and Ri-hyuk blinked.
“Ahhh...”
Ri-hyuk had no strength to touch the maknae, so he thrashed like a fish out of water. Then he leaned against me.
“Biju hyung, sorry but I need to...”
“It’s me.”
“Huh?”
Ri-hyuk made a weird “heu-ee” sound, then turned back toward Biju and flopped over. As the maknae applauded himself like a seal, I sat wide-eyed. What is this? I hadn’t done anything wrong but felt utterly ambushed.
“You guys are mean.”
“I’m going to sleep. Be quiet.”
Biju absentmindedly patted Ri-hyuk. Meanwhile, our Kim Jung-hyun lay sprawled on the floor mat, snoring. As usual, he’d taken off his shoes too.
“Here, chips of comfort.”
“Thanks.”
While eating a chip, I asked,
“I wonder—Jung-hyun only sleeps without shoes, right? If I put shoes on him, would he wake up?”
“He’d wake up.”
“You’ve tried?”
“Putting on shoes works faster than poking him. Immediate effect.”
“You really tested that?”
I didn’t know whether to admire his strange sleep habit or our seventeen-year-old’s boundless curiosity.
“Aah, my shoulders are stiff.”
“Want me to massage you?”
“You’re full of energy, little one.”
“Little one?”
“Aigo, slip of the tongue. I’m not in my right mind. Now, grant me your massage without refusal.”
Biju’s nimble fingers patted my shoulders, loosening the knots, and massaged my neck. I closed my eyes and enjoyed it. I’m so exhausted. How many hours have I slept this week? Less than ten hours in total, I think. About two hours a day. Smiling through daytime schedules, practicing choreography with the others at dawn—two weeks of this and I’m amazed I’m still alive.
I only nap like this because of tonight’s live performance. My throat’s not in great shape, and I worry I’ll lose my voice if I sleep deeply.
I cracked open my eyes at the maknae’s whirring breaths and gently patted his hand.
“Thanks. You’ve worked hard.”
“Heh... wow, this is tough. How did you manage grannies and grandpas on “Jusehan,” hyung?”
“You just bear it, I guess.”
I laughed and stretched. Getting slack now would be trouble. Soon we’d rehearse and meet Soufflé too; I needed to wake up fully.
“Aigo...”
I saw the maknae twisting himself like a rubber band while checking his reflection in a hand mirror.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m checking my face.”
“Ours little maknae...”
I teased him with a warm smile.
“Finally got a case of celebrity syndrome?”
“No, not celebrity syndrome.”
He shook his head and smiled. While the other members groaned and collapsed, he alone was wide awake—because while browsing the internet on the way back to the dorm, his cheeks kept twitching with every reaction to “Who’s the red-haired guy?” He was thrilled to be the center of attention for the first time.
Like a puppy on its first walk in ages. He denied it, but from the minute he got on PBS MusicOn this morning, he marched in like a conquering hero.
“Hello! I. Am. Ji-ho!”
...waving grown-up style, announcing his name. We couldn’t stop laughing behind the scenes. I hoped someone filmed a fancam—this needed to be teased later and again.
As I stifled my giggles, the maknae shot me a death stare, so I cleared my throat. Ji-ho offered an explanation.
“I feel like we might win first place today. So I’m checking my looks in advance.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I asked Jung-hyun this morning, about our chances.”
“He said he didn’t know? You said all week you’d rank first.”
But since early this week, we’d been second. That’s why we teased him, calling him the Pele of idols. Ji-ho shook his head.
“No, he said ‘I don’t know today.’”
“Maybe he’s just tired? When Jung-hyun’s tired, you say hi and he goes ‘I don’t know...’”
“Heh, that was exactly it. No, that’s not it—just sleep.”
The maknae tapped Jung-hyun with his selfie stick and asked,
“Oh magical conch shell, will we win first place today?”
Roused from winter slumber like a bear, Jung-hyun murmured,
“...I don’t know.”
“See?”
“I know.”
I laughed.
“I hope you’re right, so we can give a first-place speech today.”
December 12.
Second week of December and our fourth week on music shows. Normally we’d go into week five, but the third week is usually year-end specials with no first place. Then the following week, the year-end music festival preempts broadcasts. So this week marks the end of our music show run.
“Hello!”
At the PBS Open Hall, rehearsal underway, I smiled and waved to Soufflé in the audience. During the preceding artist’s stage, we chatted and laughed with Soufflé, thanked other idol fans who complimented our looks. Perhaps because of yesterday’s stage, more eyes watched us than usual. Both rehearsal and live, I felt more focus on our performance.
This was our last first-place contender stage here, so we gave it extra energy. At the moment they announced the nominees and we all piled on stage, as in the past three weeks, “New Black” and “TNT” appeared on the screen. We stood smiling with the younger members.
–PBS Live MusicOn, second week of December 2014! Only the first-place announcement remains. Will it be TNT or New Black?
–Reveal the scores. Yes, digital music scores...
My head felt foggy with fatigue. If Grandma were here, she’d ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) scold, “Pull yourself together!” As I listened to the announcer’s voice drifting by—The screen suddenly flashed “NEW BLACK.”
–New Black! Congratulations!
Ah. They called it. As I, as usual, glanced at TNT to salute them, their members smiled and mouthed,
“Congratulations.”
Congratulations? I was stunned by the mic and trophy thrust at me.
–Please share your thoughts!
...Why me? My mind blank, Biju and Jung-hyun shook my shoulders behind me.
“Hyung! We’re number one!”
“...Oh, it’s real.”
Suddenly I was wide awake. My god.
A humble restaurant in Gunsan.
“Aigo! You did it! You did it!”
When the news of New Black’s first place broke, someone applauded like a seal and shed tears. On the TV screen, someone handsome wore a dazed expression.
“...Oh, it’s real.”
Seeing our grandson’s belated realization, Kim Deok-soon tutted.
“Good grief. The moment I expect him to impress me, he does this.”
She sighed. But then she twitched her lips at the sight of him giving his speech.
“But he is a good boy, though.”
