Free Web NovelThe comment feed trembled like a volcano about to erupt.
“Wow, this is insane.”
“The harmonies are crazy, just crazy.”
“I got chills.”
Comments scrolled up faster than I could read.
“Are they even rookies?” “This is nuts.” “I’ve never seen an idol perform this well.”
Communities reacted similarly.
“Anyone else watching PBS right now? This is wild.”
“[Master Song Team] It’s been ages since a competition show gave me chills like this.”
“It’s definitely going to trend afterward, omg.”
“I’m curious about New Black – any idol experts here?”
Each time I refreshed, the page changed. I realized again: we’d done amazingly well. I’d secretly hoped, but I hadn’t expected such a response. My members were erupting with messages.
Ji-ho: “Aaaahhhhh!”
Ji-ho: “My dad is crying!”
Bi-joo: “This is so great.”
Bi-joo: “I feel all our hard work paid off.”
Bi-joo: “Thank you for your efforts ^ㅇ^”
Bi-joo: “Especially you, Ri-hyuk—our families said your part was the best.”
Ri-hyuk: “What?”
Ri-hyuk: “Well, naturally... please pass on my thanks.”
Me: “Ri-hyuk, you did great.”
Me: “Our precious main treasure...☆”
I spared mention of families out of consideration for Ri-hyuk, but I could guess each household’s mood. The performers would look proud, and their families would watch avidly. I could picture them cheering with each gasp onscreen.
Jung-hyun: “Video.”
Jung-hyun: “It’s like a festival here.”
He sent a clip of villagers in the community center roaring “Woooaaah!” I laughed, then turned back to my own family. I studied Grandma Kim Deok-soon, who stared at the TV as if peering through it. I wondered what she was thinking. How did she feel seeing me singing up there?
‘An idol?’
A memory surfaced from long ago:
“An idol? Why would you do that?”
“No matter what I do, I’ll cheer for you. But won’t it be hard? For your body. The idol world is supposedly brutal.”
“If you’re going to do it, don’t feel burdened. If it fails, just eat a bowl of curse words and come home.”
When I first said I wanted to be an idol trainee, Grandma had worried but supported me. I’d smiled and promised, “Grandma, just wait. I’ll come back after I succeed.”
But I never achieved anything worth telling: trainee life in another city was tough. Dance trainers sighed at me; management treated me as a leftover whenever debut group discussions came up. Development staff told me I wasn’t idol material and should pursue acting. It was bleak. Every time I called home, I’d tell Grandma I was fine—I’d eaten, practiced, and the other trainees were nice—but I never said “I’m debuting.” Yet Grandma never stopped encouraging me, always asking how it was going and telling me to follow my heart. I was so grateful and sorry. No one but family would support an uncertain trainee life for ten years. Until my debut as New Black, Grandma was my lighthouse, my refuge—the person I valued most and needed to repay. So I’d regretted that, despite my successful activities, I’d had few chances to truly show her my craft. This was the first time she’d see my pure singing ability without any gloss. ...That’s why I’m nervous. That performance on TV is the proof of what her grandson—whom she’s cheered and supported—has accomplished. What will she think as she watches?
As I gazed at Grandma’s profile, Nabi leapt onto my forearm and nuzzled me. Meowww. I gently scratched under her chin.
At first, when my grandson said he’d be on a show, I thought, “Well, he’ll do fine on his own.” He’d made silly basketball shots in variety shows, massaged arthritic old ladies in the countryside, and even wrote a video letter to a cat on cable. I assumed it was just another odd stunt. But then...
“Chairman, Woo-joo was really on TV last night! I was shocked watching.”
“I loved Master Song Team, President. That must be your grandson?”
“Sis, look at this—Woo-joo’s comments went crazy!”
Friends and acquaintances reacted differently than ever before—warmer than when he went viral in Taiwan. It was the strongest response since Ju-se-han. “Are a lot of people my age watching?” Aunt Sook-ja said ratings were high but not huge. Judging by the shop regulars and neighbors’ ages, it seemed popular among adults. I re-watched episode 1 on the tablet Grandma bought me. “My grandson...” I smiled every time his face filled the screen, taking notes to understand the show. I jotted down silly memos like, “Jo Woo-ri—the glare is creepy.” I realized it was a competition show, not just a showcase. I hadn’t expected much. Other singers belted dramatic notes, but New Black looked as gentle as our cat at home. “It’s the taking part that counts,” I thought—after all, these were top singers. Then...
As the song began, Grandma’s expression mirrored ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ the audience’s. “What is this?” She was watching the best performance I’d ever given. Whenever New Black appeared on TV, she clicked Bi-joo’s mom’s shared links and remarked, “At least their faces deliver.” She’d smiled warmly then—never knowing how good we truly were. “That’s not just Woo-joo’s usual level, is it?” He’d improved far beyond last year’s evaluations or any TV performances. As I watched my grown-up grandson and band mates, even details only family could notice jumped out: the subtle fatigue in his eyes when he was tired, the microtremor in his mic hand. Every clue embedded itself sharply in my heart. “You worked so hard.” I couldn’t imagine how many nights—or years—he’d spent honing his craft to that level. “For a TV show...” Though this was his passion, as a grandmother I felt my heart swell with pride. At last, my grandson was being recognized as a singer. I sighed, choking back tears. I’d cry during the rerun tomorrow instead. Onscreen, New Black panted with emotion amid rapturous applause. Seeing my grandson’s moist eyes, I couldn’t hold back.
“Oh dear, you were amazing!”
I clapped and beamed, unaware until I felt two pairs of eyes watching. I turned to see my grandson and Nabi staring at me, wide-eyed. Then Woo-joo scampered like a caterpillar over and nuzzled me.
“Grandma, how did I do?”
His eyes were bright. “You... you were wonderful. The TV audience said so, and I had to say it too.”
“That’s not true. I was moved. My eyes are misty.”
“Well, maybe your eyes are crooked.”
“Am I?” ƒгeewebnovёl.com
Yet as he teased, I saw tears glistening in his own eyes. I shot back,
“You’re the one who looks like you’re watering a pretzel.”
“Ah, no... I’m not crying. My tear ducts are bone-dry.”
“You’re lying. You take after Ri-hyuk.”
“Me? If anyone, you take after me.”
Nabi slipped between us as if urging us not to fight. We stopped and laughed—an exchange of a few words in that pause. Then Grandma said,
“You actually won. Is that the song they give as a prize?”
“Yes, yes. At the finals, I’ll sing ‘Deok-soon-ah.’”
“My heart’s already echoing.”
“Why? Don’t you secretly like it? I’ve already arranged it in my head.”
He broke into a folksy trot “Deok-soon-ah~~” and I laughed. He nestled against me, thrilled, promising kibble for Nabi. I smoothed his hair and said,
“You’ve worked hard.”
“....”
“You gave it your all to show Grandma.”
“Oh....”
He squirmed shyly, and Grandma just smiled in silence as we both looked proudly at him onscreen. Meowww. Nabi glared at us, feeling left out: “What about me?” I beckoned,
“Nabi, come here, too.”
“Come on. Let’s stay here together.”
She curled up between Grandma and me.
Meanwhile...
At Bi-joo’s house, her parents wept with joy as they hugged her, showing internet reactions, family chatting.
“Who’s the pride of our village?”
“Kim Jung-hyun! Kim Jung-hyun!”
Drunken villagers roared “First place!” as Jung-hyun beamed among his parents. In a Gangwon family villa, Ji-ho’s parents sent long messages to business contacts praising their youngest son, petting him as his sisters giggled. In a hotel café, Ri-hyuk sipped his drink and tried to suppress a smile at a video call from home.
“Have you seen the internet?”
“Hyung! Look at the internet! There are so many articles about us!”
“Guys!”
After Master Song Team, the internet was ablaze. New Black’s “Life” was lauded as a legendary stage: the intro performance hinting at the song; the addictive sound and arrangement; flawless vocals; and even original composer Noh Jae-hyun’s emotional reaction.
—“‘Master Team’ Noh Jae-hyun moved to tears by New Black’s ‘Life’ performance ... ‘They did so well’”
—“[Master Team] New Black’s ‘Life’ performance elicits unanimous praise from judges”
—“[Entertainment Report] Who says they’re rookies? Reasoned ‘twist’ of next-gen phenomenon New Black”
Headlines of that tone poured out nonstop. When the live chat ended, viewers moved to portal news and clips:
“Amazing... I came back to watch again.”
“I thought they’d finish last because they’re idols, but I’m ashamed... They’re so good.”
“You guys are the best.”
“Modern idols have no weakness lol—killed it.”
“Each one is main-vocal level ^^7”
“A rookie winning among this lineup is legendary lol.”
“Why did I watch HBS instead...”
Comments praising today’s stage kept rolling:
“I hardly ever comment online; this was stunning. The magic of a song—it brought back memories. What a great stage.”
“My heart ached—in a good way. Please give us more performances like this.”
“‘Life’ was perfect. They’re all around twenty years old—how did they capture this emotion? Cheering for you.”
The response dwarfed episode 1. Clip views spiked silently, and soon “New Black,” “Noh Jae-hyun,” and “Life” trended in real time. At number one on the streaming chart was “Noh Jae-hyun’s Life.”
“It happened...!”
Watching at home, Director Yoon Seok-hwan clenched his fist. ‘Our kids did it.’ New Black had taken their first successful step toward mainstream idol status. Event agencies messaged, friendly reporters called, and Yoon Seok-hwan smiled broadly.
“Lisa-joa, didn’t you say they’re under you?”
“They’re so good.”
“Hey, can I get one autograph later? I want to keep it before they get too big.”
Mingi, slumped by Lisa-joa duties, perked up. Road manager Wonseok quietly sipped his beer with a grin. At that moment, another extremely happy person existed.
“...What did you say?”
Six months ago, when Main PD Baek Seong-hyun planned and cast “Challenge Master Song Team,” he gripped his phone with trembling hands. In the control room, the assistant director called from the broadcast center.
“Tell me again. What were the ratings?”
He swallowed. Then the numbers came through—exact details to confirm tomorrow, but the immediate figure made his voice tremble with excitement:
“...16.8%.”
CP across from him dropped his tongs in shock, too stunned to notice the precious food falling. “Sixteen-point-eight?” he echoed.
“Yes.”
“Seong-hyun, did we make it big?”
“I think so, sunbaenim.”
The two men, heedless of onlookers, shouted “Waaah!” and embraced. Meanwhile...
“When will the audio drop?”
“I can’t wait—will it be studio version or just the clip?”
“Mango, get to work.”
“Oh! It’s up! It’s up!”
Viewers who’d watched the broadcast moved to streaming platforms. The competition track they’d anticipated was uploaded: New Black’s “Life.”
