Free Web Novel“By the way, is it really okay for me to go on that show?
Well, there’s not much in my past worth exposing...
There’s kindergarten and elementary school. From middle school on, TJ Entertainment was everything, so there’s trainee days and military service.
I counted on my fingers every possible scandal, and my heart started pounding.
...This is a gold mine.
Even just from TJ Entertainment days there’s an endless supply. I probably know dozens of juicy stories about people right in front of me.
“...Hyung.”
Ignoring my brothers still chanting “Congratulations on Your Dark History Day, Woo-joo~,” I called over the manager.
He looked up.
“Why?”
“You’ve already told them we’re doing it, right?”
“Of course. What are the ratings for Sintokki? There’s no show with this much buzz or impact.”
He was right.
The format of New Concept Talk Show: Find My Memory is simple. An anonymous voice reveals the guest’s dark past, and the guest’s reaction and talk create the entertainment. Actors who always seem aloof stand up red-faced; cool-concept celebrities get adorably broken.
It’s an irresistible format. Every time someone appears, it trends in real time. Ratings are solid, and it generates massive buzz—benefitting the guests. A mid-career actor once infamous for scandals rebranded with warm, humanized editing. Troublemaking celebrities most want to be on Sintokki.
And it being a terrestrial variety show mattered—a chance to promote album three.
“I’ll go.”
Resigned, I nodded, and my brothers cheered, launching into a new song. I smiled warmly.
“Anyone who says a word from now on will be writing our title track for album four.”
Silence so deep you could hear a pin drop. I glanced at the proposal and asked,
“So who else is on it?”
“Oh, that.”
Seok-hwan immediately showed me the guest list via chat: the Boy Group Leader special.
“All people we know.”
Street Boys, Wild, TNT, TeenSpirit—leaders of each popped to mind. I could guess roughly how the show would flow. Though some are still awkward acquaintances, at least a familiar face would be there.
Time flew by.
On the comeback week’s weekend, we held an open fan signing at a Yeouido mall.
“Waaa—!”
The crowd was bigger than expected. Not just our fans; passersby lingered, covering their mouths to whisper in surprise, college students filming overhead, families with kids around their necks peering in.
From the upper-floor railing, people watched our faces for the entire signing.
“NewBlack......”
“...NewBlack......”
“...No-Black, more like. Heh heh.”
Like Voldemort’s voice, I heard them over the loud music. Clearly Baramkkot had caught the public’s ear.
After the signing, we heard our song in a passing beauty shop, at a café where Reporter Oh from EntertainmentIN interviewed us, even in convenience stores.
Searching “Baramkkot stage” on MyTube already yielded dozens of solo cover videos.
“Baramkkot~ Oh, money flower~ dongdongdong~”
I even caught our CEO humming a parody of Baramkkot. Since album release, he’d eyed us like treasure goblins.
Company staff too: every time they popped in with coffee boxes, their phones lit up.
“Oh, NewBlack? One sec, I need to check schedules... we’re booked solid through June.”
“Yes, yes, got it. I’ll pass it to the director.”
“Sponsorship....”
“Ah, you’re here?”
All departments greeted us. Maybe because we’d treated everyone to meals after the album drop. When I asked if we’d increased their workload, Assistant Manager Hong waved his hand happily:
“It’s fine to have lots of work. Handling scandals is the hard part—this is fun.”
“True. Ugh... scandal management is killer.”
He recalled when a former child actor posted on SNS, “Now that I’m an adult I can download R-rated films via torrent! Teehee”—that had been hair-raising, he said this was paradise by comparison. The A&R team cheered at the fat bonuses coming their way. A warm breeze blew through the company building thanks to Baramkkot’s success.
Baramkkot refused to budge from chart number one. Occasionally other hit releases dropped us to real-time spots two or three, but we held daily number one. The influx of general listeners gave us upward momentum.
Sales responded too.
“Hey, did you know you’re on overseas album charts?”
“Us?”
“From Taiwan and Singapore on the main charts.”
We’d entered the top ten in Hong Kong, Taiwan, Vietnam, Indonesia. Overseas reaction was strong. After all, MV views climbed from three to four million. Even our families, normally distant from K-pop, talked of this success on group chat:
갓덕순 [Hey]
갓덕순 [When will that album arrive? I can’t get it anywhere]
갓덕순 [Biju’s mom went to five places looking]
갓덕순 [Here’s today’s butterfly photo]
At Grandma’s reminders, I texted:
Me [I’ll send it soon]
Me [Our butterfly is so pretty >ㅂ<]
Me [Wait, what do you mean you can’t get the album?]
At the bookstore’s music section, Manager Kim Biju’s family asked the clerk:
“NewBlack album? We’re out of stock... we should get more tomorrow.”
“...Really?”
Their faces lit up. Biju’s mom asked,
“Does it really sell that fast?”
“Yes. Stock moves strangely quickly. Supply’s low but demand’s high... I guess the company didn’t expect this.”
Hearing demand outpace supply made them smile happily. They already had the mini second album—sent by their son on release day. What began as a support buy turned into a hobby. They left the store gleefully.
“Our son must be doing really well.”
“Honey, our child’s farming is successful.”
“Not just successful.”
“Then?”
“This is a huge success...!”
“A huge success...!”
They hugged, and Biju’s older sister and younger brother shook their heads. Sister Min-jun, eating ice cream, said,
“But people at school talk nonstop about NewBlack.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, kids who used to chat about other idols now talk about us like... well...”
“Did someone say something rude?”
Biju’s sister, about to scold, spit out her coffee in surprise:
“They say they’ll marry my brother.”
“Pfft—!”
“Someone keeps saying they’ll date us Monday through Friday, and Weekend Husband for Saturday and Sunday.”
“I’m going crazy.”
Playing album lead gave Biju extra popularity. Watching his sibling chatter about NewBlack episodes at school, Biju’s sister smiled. I thought,
‘This is good.’
I loved their innocent, youthful smiles; these healthy family moments; this weekend outing. And behind it all stood the NewBlack members.
‘I owe them so much.’
What would our family be like without him? I shook my head. Biju’s sister spoke again.
“Mom, Dad.”
“Hmm?” freewebnøvel.com
“Shall we buy them gifts? Woo-joo first, then the other members—they all worked hard.”
“Yes! Let’s!”
They began earnestly choosing gifts for each member. Finally, the most important one:
“What should we get Woo-joo...?”
“What did he say he liked, Grandma?”
“Pork belly? He said he often dreams of pigs.”
“...Um, I have that already. Biju sent it before.”
She checked her messages, scrolling through Biju’s long daily letters. Her eyes lit up.
“I found it...!”
“What is it?”
The family crowded the phone. For Biju on tiptoe, they lowered it. Everyone exclaimed,
“...!”
Their eyes turned toward a nearby men’s clothing store.
“Hahaha! Hahaha!”
My laughter rang out at dawn, making my brothers scowl.
“What should I wear? What should I wear?”
In the living room I held various hangers against myself—Hawaiian shirts from Biju’s family.
“This is the lovely Hawaiian shirt from Biju’s family! Look: a blue base with multicolored flowers embroidered on it! Haha!”
I loved it. Having all my flower-pattern shirts confiscated before, now I had clothes they couldn’t take.
“...”
All eyes turned to Biju. He looked repentant, as if thinking, “My crime is great...” In the end we chose the blue floral shirt my brothers liked best.
“How is it?”
On the way to the salon I asked Ji-ho.
“Um, you look like a young master who inherited an organization early. Like in movies where the scar-faced right-hand man betrays him and exits the story quickly.”
“...”
“Or a handsome sashimi restaurant owner from a weekend drama...?”
I didn’t ask further. Of all the florals I’d worn, this got the best reactions. Salon stylists finally marveled at a decent floral, and I felt proud. They kept confirming, “You’re not taking this to the stage too, right?” I told them not to worry—today was too important.
“Phew...”
Watching my brothers rub their hands and swallow nervously in the vehicle to the station, I smiled.
“Nervous?”
“I thought I cried all my tears at the showcase... but I’m still nervous.” Biju said.
“Do you think we’ll get number one today?”
One week since the comeback’s first broadcast. This was the historic day we were first nominated for number one with Baramkkot.
“I think we’ll get it.”
We’d been posting record-breaking numbers like with Something. Number one was certain. I just couldn’t get used to going to collect the trophy so matter-of-factly.
“Is this really not a dream?” Jung-hyun said, watching cars pass outside.
“I know. I wake up in the middle of the night to check the charts, then go back to sleep. If it’s a dream, I wish I wouldn’t wake up.”
“Same here.”
I felt the same. I thought it’d take years for such a day—but in our second year it came. No one still calling us rookies. Whoever you ask for the trending group, people say NewBlack. Our song plays on TV, on radio just now. The maknae asked worriedly,
“But won’t it become normal to get number one? Then it’d be a problem.”
The day flew by. We filmed the VCR for the music show’s special segment—introducing today’s artists as number one nominees. Every person we met congratulated us; we thanked them. Souffle soaked in the electric energy during pre-recording. Managers fretted over “What cake should we prepare?” Even our director, who usually skips music shows, attended. Everyone was thrilled—except us.
“Why are we so calm?”
“Same here. I should be shaking, but I’m so composed.”
During rehearsals and live stage our heart rates never spiked. We were calm. Instead, Boy Group Fantanis, also a nominee, seemed more nervous. Like us last year when we sneaked into the nominee list after Autumn Girl bowed out, they rose to nomination as last week’s winners stepped down. They reminded me of us.
“We’re going up!”
As the final stage’s pre-record rolled, artists charged onto the stage. We and Fantanis stood beside the MCs. From the front row I saw Souffle waving disposable lightsticks. I waved back and smiled.
“Now, only the announcement of number one remains.”
“Shall we check the scores?”
With the MCs’ lines, scores scrolled up on the big screen.
“The K-Net chart number one is...!”
“Congratulations, NewBlack!”
A burst of gold foil fell from above. At that moment—
“Wow!”
“Whoa!”
We did it! We did it! Not just Souffle but we screamed, pumping our fists until our eyes met and we gasped. The MCs handed us bouquets and the trophy.
“Thank you.”
“Congrats on number one.”
I passed the trophy to my brothers; they touched it in turn with odd expressions. I handed the mic to Jung-hyun briefly.
“Thanks to CEO Park Gyu-ho, Director Jo Gyu-hwan, Director Yoon Seok-hwan...”
I rattled off thanks like a fast rap, then reclaimed the mic. Oh, why am I suddenly shaking again? Before the announcement I was fine, but now my whole body trembled.
“Um, we...”
Why is my voice shaking?
“We got number one. Yes, number one. Really number one.”
What am I saying? I’d thought up hundreds of acceptance speeches but none came to mind. I considered passing the mic to my brothers to escape the crisis, but...
We were crying.
Holding the trophy silently, my brothers wept their hearts out. Laughter bubbled around us at their sobs. Ji-ho had even started sniffling. I was at a loss. What could I say? I’d forgotten everything. I blurted the feelings I had.
“There are times when even if it’s a dream I don’t want to wake up—and right now is one of those times.”
I smiled at the audience and camera.
“Thank you, Souffle, for gifting us this dreamlike moment. From now on, we’ll work to make NewBlack’s time for you feel like a dream. We love you!”
“Waaa!”
I handed the mic to my brothers. In a flood of tears they stammered their thanks.
“Th-thank... sob!”
I wrapped an arm around Biju’s shoulders as he choked out “Thank... sob... ssshh,” smiling. The others did the same. Jung-hyun spoke with damp eyes, Ji-ho began to cry mid-sentence then laugh—a surreal mix. The boys who’d insisted they were calm earlier were now a sight.
As the MCs and other artists left the stage, Ri-hyuk took the mic.
“Th-thank you. Really thank you. I never expected a moment like this preparing album three...”
He wiped tears with his sleeve, his tear-streaked face breaking into a happy smile.
“Thank you so much. Thank you, Souffle. And my members...”
We stared at him with wide eyes as he continued,
“I’m always grateful and I love you all.”
Jung-hyun dropped the trophy. My reflexes kicked in—like a soccer kick I bent and caught it before it fell. My body stayed calm, but my mouth hung open.
“......”
At that moment we all looked at each other in stunned silence.
‘Did he just...?’
‘What did he just say?’
In the next second, we all dashed to Ri-hyuk.
“Ri-hyukaaaa!”
“See! I knew that was how you felt!”
“I love you too, hyung!”
As the prelude to Baramkkot played again in encore, we hugged our squirming brother tightly.
At the same time, someone watching NewBlack’s number-one announcement on TV smiled contentedly.
“Hohoho!”
A middle-aged man practicing putts with a golf club burst into laughter.
“Hohoho!”
His hands trembled as they had when buying composition gear—trembling now for a different reason. His hair and eyes sparkled with excitement.
‘I put money in, and money came out...!’
Park Gyu-ho, CEO of Lemon Entertainment, sensed the coming windfall and felt happiness course through him.
