Free Web NovelI had a dream for the first time in a while.
I dreamed I was attending school, and the CEO was in the same class as me.
Because of his peculiar habit of saying “Kyu-hoon kkyu,” the CEO was being ostracized by the kids his own age.
When homeroom teacher Viju told me, “You’re the class president, so look out for him,” I took care of him diligently.
Especially against Ri-hyeok’s gang, who teased the other kids by chanting, “Tae-jeong-taese mun-dan-seh, give it a try!”
“Kkyu, kkyu...!”
Just as the CEO was pinned by Ji-ho grabbing his collar, I appeared.
“That’s enough.”
The CEO cried “Kkyu!” and tears welled in his eyes at my arrival.
But unlike the easy fight with Ji-ho, I struggled against the midboss, Joong-hyun.
While the two of us tumbled about...
“Hyung.”
A pair of lips formed on the classroom floor and began to speak.
“Hyung, wake up.”
“Ugh...!”
I jolted awake at the sight of the youngest’s large face looming in front of me.
“Ah!”
When I finally came to my senses, the youngest was pinning me down with a jiu-jitsu hold on the bed.
Ji-ho panted and thumped the mattress in surrender.
“L-let me go!”
“Oh—sorry! Sorry!”
When I released his limbs, he pouted his lips at me.
I kept apologizing to the one who scolded me for treating me so roughly, even though I’m supposed to be cute.
Phew. That gave me quite a shock.
Maybe I should take a break, like Ri-hyeok said. It felt like a stress dream.
I regained reality with the cool air from the air conditioner and the chill of the sheets.
Viju, coming out after brushing his teeth, asked,
“What happened?”
“Well...”
I explained the dream in full, and the two of them laughed like crazy.
Worried, I told them to keep it secret from the CEO, but with Ji-ho’s lighthearted mouth, I doubt he can keep it to himself.
Once we return to Korea, probably half the company will know my dream.
As I thought that, I turned my gaze to the youngest lazing on my bed.
“By the way, why did you get up so early? You’re usually our lazy youngest.”
“I was bored, so I got up early. They say the early bird sings better. And I thought I’d shoot some footage.”
“Footage?”
“Deputy Manager Hong handed me a camera and said to film a lot of daily life in Japan—for our MyTube content.”
“Aha.”
Ji-ho held a small handheld camera in his hand.
“I planned a concept where the diligent youngest wakes up the lazy hyungs. But it looks like I’ve already failed—Viju hyung’s already up, and hyung...”
“...”
“...came out looking really weird.”
When we checked the footage, I’d been sleeping soundly, then opened my eyes wide and started shaking the camera wildly—as if attacked by a beast.
“...”
“Let’s reshoot, Ji-ho.”
Viju and I lay down and posed as if sleeping, and the youngest approached to wake us. We tried to smile as we woke, but it looked so unnatural we all burst out laughing and gave up.
In the end, we changed plans and got dressed before leaving the room.
“All right, shall we go wake Joong-hyun and Ri-hyeok?”
“Go, go, go!”
Stepping on the plush hotel carpet, we headed to the nearby rooms.
Laughing, we stood in front of the door—then realized something important.
“Hey, how do we get in?”
“Oh... such an oversight.”
“Ji-ho, how did you get into our room?”
“Viju hyung opened it for me.”
“...”
Blinking, we looked at each other and nodded solemnly.
Then,
Knock knock.
“Korean history?”
“Sixty-nine.”
As Ji-ho shivered, the door opened and the bear brushing his teeth greeted us.
“Oh, you’re here.”
“You were already up, huh?”
“Yes. Ri-hyeok’s still sleeping...”
“Is that so?”
As we tiptoed into the hotel room, we pulled back the covers on the bed—but nothing was there.
It had been there, but now it wasn’t. Something like that.
While Viju carefully checked the empty bed to confirm Ri-hyeok’s absence, Joong-hyun raised a finger.
“He’s there.”
“There?”
Following his finger, I saw Ri-hyeok—only his position was odd.
“Why is he sleeping over there?”
“I saw this at school: the earthquake evacuation drill. You know, that sort of thing.”
Under the table in the corner, Ri-hyeok was curled up in his blanket, asleep.
Like a drama character ruined by lottery debts, he sat there with soot on his face, looking pitiful.
He must have been snoring loudly, because he’d fashioned his blanket into an Eskimo-like hood.
“He’s alive, right?”
“He’s just low on stamina. He’s a tough guy, so he’ll be fine.”
Viju bent over and lightly tapped Ri-hyeok.
“Ri-hyeok.”
“...”
“Ri-hyeok, it’s me.”
“...Hm?”
Ri-hyeok stirred like a hibernating fish and opened his eyes, looking haggard.
Viju asked,
“Why are you doing this here?”
“I tried to sleep, but the snoring was too loud... This was the quietest spot.”
“I see...”
“I shouldn’t have slept here. It’s so cold...”
As Viju patted him consolingly, Ri-hyeok’s gaze shifted to me.
Now fully awake, his expression met mine.
“You...!”
“Good morning.”
“You... I’ll get revenge on you...!”
“Want some red ginseng?”
When I pulled a ginseng pouch from my pocket and offered it, Ri-hyeok reached out with trembling hands.
“Give it to me.”
“Revenge?”
“I’ll take revenge after I eat, so be quiet.”
Laughing at him sipping ginseng to survive, his eyes narrowed in return.
After Ri-hyeok finished the ginseng, he began to complain tearfully to Viju, who listened with a gentle smile.
Silly Ri-hyeok.
He was the one who suggested swapping rooms in the first place.
We’d originally planned to have breakfast at the hotel buffet.
But the hotel apologized and asked if they could provide breakfast via room service instead, so we couldn’t go.
They said they were sorry, but with fans camped out, our entering would disturb other guests.
It was the first time this had happened, and although it was a bit embarrassing, it turned out better in many ways.
The room-service breakfast they provided was excellent.
“Wow...!”
Omelette rice, bread, grilled fish, rice—so many mixed dishes, we feasted from morning.
With tasty food and the longest sleep I’d had in months, we headed to the concert venue in top condition.
Our destination was north Tokyo—the Saitama Super Arena in Saitama Prefecture.
Ri-hyeok told us what he’d found on his tablet.
“It can hold up to 40,000 people, but for this K-Pop concert, it’s between 15,000 and 20,000.”
“Wow...”
“So it’s about the same size as the gymnasium we performed at last year.”
It was similar in scale to the venue where we won the Newcomer Award at the Mango Chart Awards.
My heart pounded at the ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) figure of fifteen thousand.
Half excitement, half nervousness about performing flawlessly.
Thanks to experience, we’d become more relaxed with fan service and interactions, but the pre-stage nerves were as strong as at debut.
Each time felt fresh.
The dry mouth and dizziness had turned into a racing heart, but the tension before going on stage remained constant.
“With fifteen thousand, our concert is three times bigger.”
“That’s right.”
“Aah, I’m so nervous. How did we perform at the gym back then? I’m even more nervous now.”
We all agreed at the youngest’s words.
Even after performing in large venues a few times, the nerves reset.
We shuffled our feet, murmuring, “We have to do well today...”
Although the concert wouldn’t start until afternoon, we were nervous and excited from the morning.
While Ri-hyeok read from the special MC script, we each used different methods to calm our nerves.
Joong-hyun and Ji-ho snacked. Viju and I shared earphones and listened to MyTube’s “Soothing Music Mix.”
“Nervous? You look really nervous.”
As I closed my eyes, an all-too-familiar teasing voice made me open them.
It was a MyTube ad in the middle of the mix: Han-mo from TNT grinning slyly.
It was a phone ad, showcasing image stabilization. Startled, I hit skip immediately.
“TNT seniors are in every ad.”
“Seriously. They pop up without warning.”
As Viju and I talked, another ad played—this time starring us.
“...?”
Footage of NewBlack’s Flower Dance alongside other boy and girl groups, with narration:
“Have you heard of K-Pop’s global reach? Do you know its market value?”
It was a public service announcement from the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism explaining Hallyu’s economic impact: “These kids bring in the dollars! Hot!” After skipping it, the calming piano returned.
But after an ad asking, “Are you nervous? LOL, nervous?” and another shouting, “You are K-Pop’s national representatives!” nothing felt soothing.
“If ad-blocking existed, I’d seriously pay for it.”
“Me too.”
While soothing music played again, a couple of large buildings appeared, then the arena materialized. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com
“Wow...”
We stared in awe at its unexpectedly massive size.
The massive “2015 K-Pop Concert in Japan” banner across the façade caught my eye.
It was the largest overseas show we’d done.
I told the members, who swallowed hard,
“...Let’s really nail it today.”
Joong-hyun nodded.
“Of course.”
“If we perform so well that 90% of fans say ‘NewBlack is great because of the stage,’ we’ll have done it.”
“They’ll only talk about us after the concert.”
At Ri-hyeok’s words, we laughed.
We joked that we’d make our name with Japanese K-Pop fans once and for all.
After we arrived at the waiting room, other artists trickled in.
Most had met us at yesterday’s convention, but many arrived fresh today.
“Hello! We’re NewBlack!”
“Hi there.”
We saw solo artist Joanna, who’d been a music show #1 contender with us at the fireworks event and at Ju Se-han.
“Ah, NewBlack! Nice to see you after the Olympic relay.”
“How have you been?”
We also greeted ACE, a popular second-generation group in Japan.
Rehearsals ran in performance order; we were right before ACE and Joanna, the final acts.
Since our slot was nearly last, we spent hours waiting.
Wait, wait, and more waiting.
In the waiting room, we synced queues or circulated between rooms, greeting performers, but time crawled.
“So boring.”
“Telling you. I wish Street Boys were here too.”
Many idols were tied up with music show schedules and couldn’t appear.
I heard Street Boys were supposed to come, but DNS Media postponed their comeback to avoid music shows, and the schedules clashed.
They said their album activities are going well, and they’ll probably get #1 soon. I’m looking forward to their update.
Gotta give Producer Han my KakaoTalk ID.
“NewBlack, rehearsal in progress!”
“Yes!”
We rehearsed on the empty stage, checking two crucial things: the floor material and our paths.
“Luckily the floor’s like music shows... but guys, it’s a bit uneven. Watch your step.”
“Yes.”
Our main dancer walked the protruding stage, adjusting spacing.
“We’ll tighten it up.”
“Nep.”
“Move in a bit more than usual so you don’t catch the lights.”
After a few runs, it clicked.
While I visually memorized key points, sound check was Ri-hyeok’s and my task.
“Mic volume... It might get buried.”
“Probably.”
“Let’s ask them to adjust later.”
Just like floor and size, each venue’s acoustics vary.
Through managers, we made requests, and the site director gladly complied.
Meanwhile, something thrilling happened.
“A lift!”
“A lift...!”
“What do I do? I’m so nervous. We’re finally getting a lift...!”
The lift we’d use for our entrance was something we’d never tried before.
It was amazing.
Like a playground slide—you’d want to ride it over and over.
“Awesome.”
“Going up. Going up.”
As we rose slowly, we practiced our stage expressions on the lift platform.
I’d always wanted to appear on stage, sliding down from above like senior idols do on TV.
Today, our wish came true.
“I want to ride it too...”
Viju, who had no lift role in the stage design, simply looked on enviously.
Joong-hyun grabbed Viju, hoisted him up, and finished with a back-ending pose.
“Joong-hyun, you can’t do that to Viju...”
“Oh. Want me to do it to you too?”
“Hey! Hey...! Waaah!”
As photographer Won-seok laughed, I became the second “lift sacrifice.”
I’ll definitely ask them to edit that out.
Dangling in the air, flailing my legs, it’s something I can’t ever show the Supples.
After rehearsal, more waiting ensued.
At 5 p.m., before the red carpet, we touched up makeup and put on our outfits.
“Uju—look here! Here!”
“Ji-ho—over here!”
“Ri-hyeok, Ri-hyeok!”
At the photo wall, we posed with arms around each other in front of reporters.
“One, two, three—hello! We’re NewBlack!”
At the red carpet hosted by two MCs, we gave brief interviews on our excitement for today’s show.
Waving to the fans, we teased them.
“We’ve prepared a special stage today. Please look forward to it. Now then...”
“We’re NewBlack!”
After waving at live cameras and Supples, we returned to the waiting room, faces tight with nerves.
What remained was the main stage.
The once-empty seats filled with over fifteen thousand spectators, and as the air conditioners churned to cool the heat they generated,
“Waaaah!”
The opening VCR ended, and all performers appeared to greet the audience.
There were more people than expected, and my heart pounded.
Watching Ri-hyeok smoothly host as special MC backstage, time flew by.
After nearly ten idol acts, our turn finally came.
Backstage, I turned on my in-ear monitor and widened my eyes.
The cheers rang loudly through the venue.
“Waaaaaah!”
With mics on, we exchanged silent nods—and the lift started moving.
It was time to rise.
Saitama Super Arena.
Nearly 18,000 fans roared from their seats.
The heat left by “La Vie en Rose” moments ago still electrified the arena.
“This is so much fun...!”
A fan who’d come with a friend loyal to ACE waved a light stick.
“All the songs they play are great.”
Though she only knew a few artists, the show got more enjoyable as it went on.
She’d started out watching blankly, then slowly lifted her hips out of the seat, and soon was jumping up and down singing the chorus.
Not being a regular concert-goer, everything felt like a revelation: lights, music, cheers.
Plus, as the lineup progressed, familiar Korean songs appeared.
She asked her friend,
“Who’s next?”
“What?”
The screams were too loud to hear.
“Who’s next!”
“It’s NewBlack!”
She didn’t recognize the name, but just then the arena lights dimmed again.
Complete darkness.
Then golden lights spun counterclockwise, and strong drum beats began.
Fog rolled across the floor, soaking in the light.
A door at the back opened, and someone appeared.
“A solo? Is his name NewBlack?”
Behind the headset mic, a handsome boy with silky brown hair and delicate features emerged.
When his face filled the giant screen, the roar grew louder.
He bowed slightly and walked down the steps, drawing all eyes.
Each gesture felt graceful, like you'd want to rewind ten seconds in a video.
“Wow...”
Even before he did anything, I couldn’t look away.
Maybe it was the fog and backlighting, but his hair, face, and outfit seemed outlined in gold.
When he reached center stage, the music changed, and he lifted his head to stare straight ahead.
“Waaaaaah!”
His dance was both smooth and powerful—leaning as if to fall but rising fluidly.
Each wave of his hand or headshake sent his hair and clothing swirling with the movement.
After a brief solo, he reached toward the sky.
As the BGM naturally swelled, lights blinked and flashed without pause.
Then, the dancer who’d been dancing turned, flicked his coat, and walked off.
Behind him, four figures on lifts rose slowly.
With each face captured on the screen, the crowd’s cheers rose ever louder.
The pace of his walk and the lift’s ascent matched perfectly like a puzzle.
When the vertical lift and horizontal approach aligned, NewBlack’s dancers struck an elegant pose.
“Wow...”
In front of her wide eyes, NewBlack’s members began moving their hands.
It was the start of the Flower Dance stage.
