Free Web NovelEveryone has something they’re sensitive about.
Some people have keen noses and react to the faintest scent, while others have sharp hearing and wake at the slightest sound. In that way, everyone has one sensitive area.
For me, it was my grandmother’s mood.
“I know our Kim Deok-soon best of all! This is exactly it.”
“You brought up that grandiose opening just to talk about this, you witch?”
“Ahem, anyway, her responses have been weird lately. Ever since the Music Awards, they’ve been lukewarm...”
She’s been like that ever since I won Rookie Award. Whether texting or calling, her usual playfulness was dialed up by about 1.3 times.
Asking “What’s wrong?” felt too much, but ignoring it outright felt off.
Bijoo, who’d been listening intently in the car, asked, “Hyung, what exactly is different from your grandma’s usual tone?”
“Right, I’m curious too.”
“Wait a sec. I’ll show you.”
I pulled out my phone and showed our recent chat.
“Look. I said ‘I love you,’ and she replied ‘Sure.’ with one dot. But she normally uses two dots.”
“...”
“One dot means she’s a bit irritated. ‘Sure..’ and ‘Sure.’ are totally different.”
“Ah...”
No one else seemed to care. I considered explaining more but decided I’d look weird alone, so I dropped it. It wasn’t like my juniors would know the answer.
Whatever upset her, I’d call tonight and be extra cutesy to lift her spirits. Maybe get her a nice Christmas gift, write a heartfelt letter—she’d be touched, right?
Laughing at the thought, a bright melody wafted into my ear. “Let It Snow” was playing on the car radio.
“Oh, the weather outside is frightful...”
Jiho waved his arms and hummed the carol; the rest of us joined in.
December 24th. Christmas Eve.
Snow was falling outside. Flurries swirled, coating the hoods of parked cars. The road was a slushy black mess, but the sidewalks were piled high with white.
Watching each flake accumulate through the window, we sang the carol joyfully. When our main vocal’s clear, lovely voice carried the lyrics, the maknae and Junghyeon snapped their fingers to the beat. Bijoo danced like a snow-giving fairy, waving his hands cutely.
It was just a simple game, but given our jobs, it felt like a mini stage performance in the car. It must’ve looked pretty good—Manager Wonseok’s eyes curved in the rearview mirror.
As the next song played and my juniors sang along, I asked the driver, “Manager, when will we arrive?”
“Almost there. Oh, there it is.”
He pointed through the falling snow at a gray, gloomy five-story building—DNS Media’s headquarters.
A snowy Christmas Eve. Today’s schedule: joint rehearsal with Street Boys.
At DNS Media, Street Boys’ road manager met us and led the way.
“Ooh, cool.” freёwebnovel.com
“There’s even a cafeteria on the first floor. With sinks and cooking stations—looks like they cook and eat here.”
“Honestly, it’s kind of like our building.”
He filmed us exploring like we were touring a model home. I flashed a V sign.
“We’re here at DNS Media for our joint rehearsal~”
“We’ve arrived~!”
“Now, let’s go meet our Street Boys friends~”
“Shall we~?”
Our timing was flawless. I made a finger-gun “go-go!” and they beamed back “go-go-go!”
The road manager glanced over and asked, “Is this the reality footage the directors mentioned?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
Our manager explained the handheld footage would be our rehearsal video for MiTube, maybe titled “Mint Choco-dan Practice Behind the Scenes?!”
Since the companies coordinated in advance, Street Boys would be waiting in the studio fresh and ready. Upstairs on the second floor, a spacious practice room awaited.
Click.
As we opened the door, Street Boys turned their heads awkwardly. The mock acting began immediately.
“Whoa! What’s this?”
“Where’s that Rookie Award energy wafting like pain relief patch scent?”
“Wow! New. Black. Is. Here.”
“Tree, don’t overact or you’ll get burned.”
“...Ugh, so annoying. They say we’ll burn every time.”
We clapped and laughed at LB’s grumbling. We’d agreed they’d pretend not to know us—but they performed miserably.
Then genuine welcome cheers erupted.
“Waaaah!”
“The No-Fun Family has assembled!”
“Wait, wait. Let’s do that thing we practiced last time.”
A Street Boys member pointed at our juniors and seriously asked,
“Are you No-Fun?”
“Yes! We’re No-Fun!” freёwebnoѵel.com
“Waaaah! Comrades! Comrades!”
They nailed it. While the high-energy juniors danced like little monkeys, the two “alpha monkeys” nodded solemnly.
No words needed. Among the chaos, our eyes gleamed with camaraderie. As Hanjo and I exchanged heated looks, a Street Boys member pointed at the snack bag in my hand.
“Hey, danjang! What’s that?”
“Oh, I thought we shouldn’t show up empty-handed. We brought snacks.”
“Aww, you didn’t have to...”
Their greedy eyes gleamed at the bag, which even contained our teddy bear. Look at that—drool.
I’d avoided entrusting this heavy bag to anyone else.
“Snacks! Snacks!”
“Quiet and sit down, please. No snacks if you keep shouting.”
“Yes, sir!”
They obeyed better than kindergarteners. Watching them line up in front of me, I briefly considered using treats as a training method—then Bijoo shook his head, so I let it go.
Amid the eager faces, I unveiled the snacks one by one.
“First, I bought Neapolitan—I mean, 31-flavor ice cream. Flavors are random; you two share one cup....”
“Ahem.”
“That’ll work. And these are cookies.”
“Ahem.”
“Jiho, anything to add?”
“No. Ahem.”
“...”
Our maknae kept projecting smugly, so I sighed.
“These snacks are courtesy of our very own Jiho. Please give him a round of applause for sponsoring.”
“Waaaah!”
Our maknae grinned in satisfaction, enjoying his bow. We distributed the snacks for everyone to share.
Groups formed everywhere—like friends hanging out on Christmas Eve. They cheered, shared cookies, laughed over silly talk. Watching this warm fellowship brought a smile to my face.
That’s right. Eat well, guys. You’ll need the energy for rehearsal later.
As I watched fondly, Junghyeon across from me paused mid-lick and said, “Uh.”
“What’s up, Junghyeon?”
“Hyung, your expression just now—it was exactly like that thing.”
“What thing?”
“That.”
He held the spoon in his mouth and hummed, searching for the right word. Then, “Ah! Got it.” He pointed at me as if it were obvious.
“The villain from Hansel and Gretel.”
“Hey.”
Bijoo, listening nearby, burst into laughter.
Perhaps thanks to the hearty snacks, that day’s rehearsal was hugely successful. I recall a very warm, cozy atmosphere.
“This devil...!”
“Um, sir, not everyone can dance as well as Bijoo-hyung and you. Please act human... What was that? Lack of flexibility? Don’t make me do the splits! Hey! Sun Woo-ju! Don’t push me! Nyaaah!”
“If I see Bijoo-hyung or Woo-ju-hyung in my nightmares, I’ll think it’s a bad dream.”
Street Boys responded in kind.
“Do New Black always rehearse like this...?”
“Wow. We thought we worked hard, but you guys work twice as hard.”
“Tree! Gam-namu, where’d that kid go? ...Oh, to puke up the ice cream? Okay, I get it.”
“...Nyaaah!”
True to Christmas Eve, the room was blazing hot. Complaints echoed—they’d pushed harder than usual. We couldn’t help it. This was our first and last rehearsal with Street Boys; schedules meant it had to count. And honestly, was it that tough? Well, maybe a little.
“A little?”
Rihyuk scowled. “You call that ‘a little’? Want some salt thrown on you?”
“Was it that hard? Bijoo, was it tough?”
“No.”
Bijoo shook his head, smiling gently. “It was doable.”
Turning back, I said, “Bijoo says it was doable.”
“No, I mean, by your standards... Ugh! I can’t complain to anyone about this. You two were no joke that day.”
“That’s right. Street Boys would even °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° stick Woo-ju-hyung’s picture on their dartboard.”
“Maybe they already have.”
Ignoring their whispered chatter, I said, “Anyway, thanks to our ‘today-only’ mindset, our joint performance is now perfect.”
“Right. Thanks to you and me stepping up, Mint Choco-dan’s joint performance is complete.”
“Isn’t that so?”
“Yes. Great work, hyung.”
“No, Bijoo, you worked hardest.”
“No, hyung, you did.”
We giggled “thanks to you” together, and the other three backed away as if not wanting in. Rihyuk clicked his tongue.
“You guys seem more hyped than usual.”
“It’s the uniforms.”
Not wrong. One reason I was smiling was the outfit I wore: a blue jacket and striped tie from Everdream, our sponsored uniform brand. Even though it was stage wear, I felt happy in uniform. My heart raced—I wanted to grab the juniors and go to a movie with a student discount, have fun somewhere. I grinned uncontrollably.
I pulled out my phone to take selfies; the maknae dashed over to join me. Staff in the waiting room smiled at our cuteness.
“Hyung, let’s select photos.”
“Sure.”
Going through our shot gallery, the date caught my eye: December 30th. Tomorrow was the TBC Year-End Music Festival. Today was the prerecord for our joint stage with Street Boys. Live shows need time for set changes, so some acts prerecord—ours was one.
Later, we’d film in a public hall with soufflés and concrete cheering with glow sticks. Prerecord was hours away, but we had to costume up for a VCR shoot first. TBC wanted a short intro VCR before our live stage.
Knock knock. The door opened and the writer summoned us.
“We’re filming the VCR.”
“Yes!”
Out in the hallway with our managers, Street Boys waited. After a quick nod, we gathered before the writer with her notebook.
“The stage concept is a clash then fusion of the choir club and the hip-hop club, right?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll capture that in 10–15 seconds. We’ll walk toward each other from opposite hallway ends.”
Our gazes flicked down the corridor.
“Then we’ll meet in the center and do a quick line—something a bit rough or delinquent, anything goes. We’ll overlay background music anyway.”
In the serious atmosphere, each group walked to the center a few times for the camera.
Only one scene left: the confrontation. The two club leaders face-off and exchange lines in the hallway.
Jiho whispered, “Hyung, can you do it?”
“Why?”
“I’m worried. We have to look like delinquents face-to-face. Can a greenhouse flower like you pull it off?”
“Don’t worry. I’m a tough flower.”
Our actor-in-the-making was anxious. Street Boys could scowl on stage; we’d never done such an intense concept. The maknae specialized in acting and doubted I’d deliver the tough line. I whispered back, “I’ve got this.” I’d mastered the perfect expression needed.
The two groups stood at a slight distance.
“We’re rolling!”
At the cue, we strode toward each other. Nine-member Street Boys shuffled with necks snapping. Though outnumbered, New Black members stiffened with fierce glares.
As they approached, Street Boys froze at the member in New Black’s center.
“Whoa...”
Unlike the others who looked like angry pandas, our leader’s aura was different. He’d been smiling gently moments ago, but now his eyes were cold and his lips curved in a relaxed smirk. One expression change, and he was a new person.
“Not just good at composing...?”
I clicked my tongue at his perfect “movie mafia” expression. Street Boys felt a chill—not because his face was scary, but because it reminded them of someone: the harsh teacher Hye-shun who scolds them like a tiger. New Black members, watching their leader, thought of someone else: Teen Spirit. Though their expressions combined elements of both, neither group knew that. They shivered and patted anxious chests.
For a moment, Hanjo and Woo-ju locked eyes in a serious stare, as if their groups’ fates hung in the balance, and silence fell in the hallway.
“Now the rough-kid line.”
The writer’s cue came, and Woo-ju parted his lips with a cold smile. Everyone tensed, waiting for the words.
“Do you have a lot of money?”
Those behind both leaders flinched, lips quivering.
As laughter threatened, Hanjo’s reply was a sight.
“How much did you find out?”
“About five thousand won.”
“I have ten thousand.”
“Perfect. Want my Math’s Essentials?”
“Sorry. I’m in the humanities.”
Both groups trembled with laughter. When the crew called “cut,” members from both sides collapsed to the floor, roaring with laughter. The hallway echoed with near-death giggles.
“...?”
But the two leaders just stared at their juniors, baffled at what had been so funny.
