Free Web NovelA response came back to my voice.
“Oh. Who is this~?”
“It’s the director, our director! We missed you!”
The modulated voices all squealed, and laughter rippled through the studio.
To those curious about the title “director,” Han Jo briefly explained the history of the Mincho-dan.
The Street Boys members listening erupted into a clamorous uproar.
“Oh. But he’s not the director anymore!”
“Right!”
“I thought he was our director, but he dumped us and ran off~!”
“Yeah! That was so hurtful!”
“He went and won a bunch of gold medals at the idol sports day and then abandoned us! Happiness isn’t about rankings!”
With eight people making such a racket, there was no calm to be found.
Just as the MCs were barely getting them under control, I spoke calmly.
“Next up are Yoo Geon, Gi-won, Rex, and LB.”
Silence fell immediately.
And then...
“Oh my?”
At LB’s modulated exclamation, everyone burst into laughter.
“What is this?”
“What’s going on. Your filters aren’t working? Is that it? Was this a real-name verification broadcast until now?”
“Oh no. Oh no. I think we’ve been scammed!”
MC Yoo Chang-hyun explained the situation.
“It’s not that the Street Boys aren’t using filters right now. Mr. Woo-joo heard the voices and guessed correctly.”
“Wow!”
“As expected of our director.”
“Even Han Jo hyung gets us mixed up sometimes, but our director is on another level!”
Han Jo wore an incredulous expression.
“When have I ever mixed you guys up...”
“See? All he ever does is lie when he opens his mouth!”
“Don’t you remember leaving us at that rest stop last time? You miscounted how many of us there were!”
As past grievances were aired, someone asked, curious.
“But how did you know? Even if you’re close, you haven’t met us that often to get it that exact.”
“That’s right.”
Han Jo nodded in agreement.
“I see them every day and I still can’t tell.”
“Oh, well.”
I explained.
“We once did a joint stage at the TBC Year-End Music Festival.”
“Okay. ...But why did you stop talking there?”
“It felt like the right moment for the footage to roll.”
The MCs laughed and told me to just keep talking; they’d edit it as needed.
“We had to rearrange Senior Trend’s song, so I needed to understand the Street Boys’ voice colors. I must have worked hard on that task, so it stuck in my memory.”
“Oh, that’s fascinating. You have a good memory.”
“That, and each of you has such distinct, great voices.”
The Street Boys made gleeful squeals.
“They say we have character!”
“Rex, pipe down.”
Swallowing their laughter, we discussed each member’s voice color.
“Mr. Gi-won’s voice flows as if he’s singing. Even in speech, his ‘r’s roll out very smoothly. In contrast, Mr. LB’s voice taps along as if he’s rapping.”
“Ooh.”
“I don’t understand a word of that, but it’s riveting.”
“I think it’s more amazing that he can pinpoint it like that. Does he really analyze and know all this?”
Suddenly it turned into a guessing game.
The Street Boys tried again, asking me to repeat, and anyone who remembered my explanation gave it a shot.
“None of us got any right. We have no clue.”
“When this airs, Street Boys fans are going to be shocked.”
“Everyone, don’t misunderstand. It’s not that I’m bad at guessing—it’s that Mr. Woo-joo’s ability is really something special.”
They all looked at me with puzzled expressions: “...?”
Only Yoo Chang-hyun, who’d recorded with me on Partico, smiled knowingly.
It was natural that the others found it hard—they were just hearing and recognizing. Like how sounds have color, each person’s voice has a unique hue and image. For example, hearing Han Jo’s voice paints a soft pastel green forest swaying in the breeze. But saying that out loud would make me seem crazy, so I kept it to myself.
The Street Boys responded excitedly.
“It should be amazing, but it’s not really amazing.”
“Right, right.”
“He really does have a lot of unique talents! We didn’t nominate him as our director for nothing!”
“Wait, wait. Hearing this makes me think of lots of things—can I ask one?”
The MCs encouraged them to go ahead, and the members asked.
“After Han Jo hyung dissed us, can we talk about our director now?”
My face flushed as Han Jo beamed with delight. The MCs grinned approvingly.
“Of course.”
“Always welcome.”
...Damn.
“Sunbaenim, how is New Rabbit?”
After being cast, I’d messaged Senior Jang Won to ask. When we promoted as Something, he’d also appeared on New Rabbit. I was curious about the atmosphere.
“Most shows with participants having fun on camera are rare, but this one is surprisingly entertaining.”
I was intrigued. Watching Joo Se-han on broadcasts is fun, but filming isn’t always that exciting. This, however, was genuinely entertaining.
“He’s full-blown middle school syndrome!”
Everyone burst into laughter at Hwi-yeon’s trembling on screen. The Teen Spirit members, like fish in water, kept spilling stories.
“When he eats pork belly, grease splatters on his forehead—at the spot of his Buddha’s dot. You’d think a tiny bandage would suffice, but he used a giant strip bandage in a straight line across his forehead.”
“Fans keep commenting, ‘Oh my! Hwi-yeon must’ve got hurt on his forehead ㅠㅠ’ and he loves seeing that!”
“When he had an eye infection and wore an eyepatch, even after the doctor said it healed, he kept wearing it for a while.”
As the true fragile bishōnen concept behind Hwi-yeon was revealed, the set turned upside down. Internally, Hwi-yeon probably thought, “These bastards...” but he asked me:
“Can you do that—analyze voices?”
“It seems difficult. I’m not sure...”
“Why? Why not mine?”
He grabbed my collar and wailed, while next to him Gu Sun-woong applauded with a smug expression. After the Street Boys and Han Jo were roasted, the other guests fell one by one.
At first, the members took calls, but over time third parties joined in.
“Hello. I’m a thirty-something office worker in Seoul. I have a story about Wild Woo-san.”
Civilians identified themselves by name. Woo-san looked anxious. Idol members might know what’s coming, but ordinary people were unpredictable.
Wild’s Woo-san asked:
“You said you saw me somewhere?”
“At a public bath. A bath.”
“A bath?”
“I was in the tub at dawn, thinking no one was around, and then suddenly bubbles started and someone’s hair rose up like foam!”
Everyone collapsed in laughter.
“I gasped ‘Hheu!’ from surprise, and you took that as a cue to say, in a slightly embarrassed tone, ‘Yes. I’m Woo-san of Wild.’ From then on, I couldn’t forget the team name Wild.”
“I don’t recall that...”
“That day I even took a commemorative photo.”
The crew immediately flashed the photo on the screen. Idol and office worker posed together making peace signs at the bathhouse counter. Hilarious.
No wonder my soufflés cheer with squeaks whenever I’m embarrassed. It’s so fun seeing it as an outsider.
Finally, after Gu Sun-woong’s “cat dark history” was exposed by his same-age actor best friend, the round ended. The MCs laughed.
“Tonight’s water is good. I like it.”
“At this pace, we could aim for part two?”
“Oh, are we getting a second slot? Shall we go for it? PD Kim?”
Everyone was pumped, then turned to me.
“But only Mr. Woo-joo is a bit weak.”
“Exactly. He was a hot prospect. What is this? The members hung up as soon as they called.”
I smiled.
“Honestly, maybe I just don’t have much to share.”
At my words, everyone chimed “Ehei!” as if saying no way. Especially Yoo Chang-hyun, who shook his head. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com
The main MC said:
“Speaking of which, the crew says they’ve got Mr. Woo-joo on the line now.”
“Is that what happened when the members hung up earlier?”
Just then—
“Hello~”
An unfamiliar voice. I tried to place it, but couldn’t.
“Please introduce yourself.”
“Hello. I’m someone who spent our early elementary school years with Sun Woo-joo.”
“Whoa...!”
I leapt up and made an X with my arms.
“This can’t happen. Please hang up!”
Everyone in the studio felt a thrilling curiosity. What on earth happened in elementary school to elicit that reaction? As Sun Woo-joo cried “No!” the modulated voice laughed.
“I was so happy when I saw NewBlack Woo-joo in the broadcast preview. I’ve been waiting all day for Sun Woo-joo! To be! On New Rabbit! Finally! I’m so happy!”
“Please calm down for a moment.”
“Oh, yes. I got carried away...”
The MC turned to Woo-joo.
“Do you know who that is?”
“I was friends with them in elementary school... I have no idea from the voice. What should I do?”
The camera zoomed in on Woo-joo stamping his foot anxiously.
“Seriously, what happened in elementary school to make you react like that?”
“Well...”
He looked embarrassed, and the modulated voice laughed.
“I’ll tell you. Back in lower elementary, Woo-joo was insanely proud of his looks.”
“That may be a bit much...”
“They admit it, right?”
“Yes...”
As Sun Woo-joo sighed heavily, former classmates’ testimonies continued with bright curiosity.
“Even as a kid, he was so handsome—prettier than the girls. Every morning on the way to school, older girls from middle and high school would pass by shouting ‘Woo-joo! Woo-joo!’ fawning over him.”
Everyone silently nodded in agreement. Looking at him now, it made sense. His face, sculpted from forehead to chin, made people marvel at those lines. As he scrunched his face shyly, his lashes fluttered, and the watching artists’ hearts fluttered too.
If you could rewind fifteen years... sticking by Woo-joo in elementary school meant free tteokbokki and snacks from adoring seniors.
After various anecdotes, a classmate drew a conclusion.
“So I think this kid got a bit weird for a while.”
“Puhaha!”
At the sudden diss, guests and MCs laughed. Woo-joo cleared his throat and asked.
“I don’t remember well. Was I really that weird?”
“Well...”
A thin modulated voice gleefully continued.
“This kid had insane face pride. In elementary school he’d go around saying ‘Why don’t people see my inner self~?’ completely absorbed in his own looks!”
“Um, excuse me.”
“One time during vacation, a friend who’d dieted came back really handsome and popular. From then on, he kept his guard up. Even when exchanging chocolates on holidays, as soon as that friend got one too, he’d go up and say...”
“...”
“‘So you’re my rival from today onward?’ squealing! It was epic!”
Everyone collapsed on the table laughing. Gu Sun-woong almost tipped his chair. Staff with serious faces couldn’t help but laugh.
Woo-joo explained.
“That was second grade. That age, it’s understandable.”
“No way.”
The classmate immediately objected.
“Woo-joo really went that far with it! It wasn’t a joke!”
“This is too funny.”
“Tell us more! More!”
Egged on by the MCs, the testimony continued.
“In Secret Santa, you’re not supposed to know who your giver is, right? But when Woo-joo did it, everyone knew. They’d chant from the back ‘The most handsome person is~’ So who couldn’t guess?”
“Puhaha!”
“But his popularity was so huge, even that cringey stuff everyone loved it! We couldn’t believe it!”
Stories kept coming of how no matter what he did, his popularity was off the charts. After school, everyone would flock to Woo-joo to play.
“At the class bazaar, you bring items from home to trade, right?”
“Right.”
“But he brought paper. Curious, I looked and they were his autographs. He sat at a table displaying version after version of his signature.”
We all pictured a toddler boy arranging his autographs and laughed at the image.
“And he played the Titanic OST on a recorder while we chose signatures, like background music.”
Crash. The scene in my head shattered as everyone laughed in waves.
Woo-joo bore an amused, resigned smile. He even chuckled at his own story.
“The funny part is that the kids actually bought them. I don’t know why I still have one at home. It’s the Taegeuk edition.”
Footage appeared of a sketchbook with “Sun Woo-joo” written in bold Gulim font, the “O” as the Taegeuk emblem. Laughter didn’t stop as they talked about how everyone customized their own “O.”
When the stories ended, the MC asked:
“May we have your introduction?”
“Yes. I’m Lee Jung-hoon, a 23-year-old living an ordinary college life.”
“Oh, you!”
Sun Woo-joo’s eyes went wide as the modulation dropped and the voice laughed.
“I’m the friend who slimmed down and got popular earlier.”
“Ahh.”
Everyone wore astonished expressions as the caller continued.
“I was friends with Woo-joo even before that. I used to eat at his grandmother’s diner every day. I got fat eating tteokbokki next to him.”
“That’s not fair—you were telling me to eat more!”
“Words are one thing, but really...”
After a brief childish exchange, the friend said:
“But he’s a good friend.”
“Suddenly?”
“Yes. Even with all those stories, the good memories remain. When I was being ostracized in lower grades, Woo-joo was the only one who reached out. He wrote my Secret Santa letter when no one else would.”
A heartwarming anecdote followed.
“When I lost weight and got popular, he was the happiest for me. Looking back, without him, that time would’ve been really hard.”
“Hey, Jung-hoon.”
“Yes?”
“Thanks, but after all that trash talk, these sweet stories aren’t helping me.”
“Anyone else curious about Woo-joo’s anecdotes?”
Everyone raised their hands, and classmates good-naturedly bickered like in elementary school. It was still warmhearted. After ten years of no contact, they talked about meeting for a meal soon and wrapped up.
“I wish I could say so much more, but this is all for now.”
The friend gave his closing line.
“It was just as I entered fifth grade that he revealed his dream of being an idol. Seeing you doing so well now makes me so happy. I hope NewBlack does great and that everyone keeps ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ loving you. Uh... what flower is it again?”
“Windflower.”
“Windflower! Please love him!”
With the guests’ applause, the call ended. The MCs, still smiling, folded their arms.
“Well, it was heartwarming, but I’m not used to it.”
“It suddenly felt like a romance drama.”
“I guess we prefer scandalous shows. Mr. Woo-joo, come here. Tell us about your elementary school days.”
As they gleefully teased the suffering Woo-joo, the crew behind the camera smiled in satisfaction.
“We got plenty of footage.”
The PD beamed. It wasn’t just the amount—they saw the upcoming list.
“There’s so much more to mine.”
They still had calls from TNT members pending. Sun Woo-joo was the biggest draw. At this rate, they could definitely aim for part two. The idol special proved to be far more story-rich than they feared.
Just then someone in the corner caught my eye.
A familiar face, arms folded, watching Sun Woo-joo intently. The PD called the assistant director over.
“What’s he doing here?”
“He’s waiting for break time over there.”
“Why? ...Ah.”
Understanding the purpose, the PD only laughed and told the assistant director:
“Don’t stop filming during the break. Keep a camera or two rolling.”
A smile played on his lips.
“I think we’ll get a really interesting scene.”
“We’ll take a short break!”
The first half of recording ended. Only halfway through, but why did my whole body ache so much?
“Ugh...”
I stretched out, loosening my stiff limbs. Han Jo said to me:
“Ugh, this is surprisingly tiring.”
“Told you. Just sitting here makes you stiff.”
One of the MCs, grabbing his cigarette pack as he left, tapped my shoulder.
“Hey, you were great earlier.”
“Thank you!”
“Do that again later.”
I smiled and nodded when—
“Huh?”
I felt someone’s gaze. A man standing in the corner of the studio. At first I thought he was a manager, but he had a network ID badge around his neck—he was a station staff member.
“...?”
When our eyes met, he smiled and waved. Han Jo asked:
“Do you know him? Like a PD?”
“No. I’ve never seen him before.”
No sooner had I finished than the man strode over. Gu Sun-woong, who’d been checking his phone nearby, quietly stood up and left for the restroom.
The man approached with a broad smile and held out his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Woo-joo.”
“Yes. Hello.”
“I happened to drop by and saw you on the broadcast—you were fantastic!”
He praised me as if he genuinely meant it.
“You’re well-spoken, likable even with a mask on. Just standing there, viewers would like you.”
“Thank you.”
I appreciated the compliment, but he waved it off and looked at me seriously.
“I want to invite you onto our program too.”
“Thank you. I’d be honored if you had me.”
“Hello, PD.”
Han Jo bowed his head in greeting, and the man smiled approvingly and nodded.
“We have talent here too.”
“Oh, thank you.”
Han Jo lit up at “The PD likes me...!” Meanwhile, the two idol seniors nearby swallowed nervously. Their reaction felt off, and my instincts flared.
“...”
Surely not.
Just as I swallowed to ask his identity—
“I realize I haven’t introduced myself. I’m the PD of the Entertainment Department.”
“PD.”
“Yes?”
“Are you currently in charge of the show called....”
“Oh. Our show.”
Until then, Han Jo and I had been smiling brightly, but the words that followed painted our faces with shock and dread.
“‘Sanai-ga Ganda,’ the weekend program.”
