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In the basement practice room, three idols sat clustered together.
“When do you think they’ll call?”
“Yeah. It’s about time.”
Viju stared at his phone. They were due a video call from Uju and Junghyun—apparently the crew would give them a slot.
“They’ll come, right? They have to...”
Five minutes. Ten minutes.
With each passing moment, worry etched their faces. Ri-hyeok, who’d been nonchalant, swallowed nervously.
“Did something happen? It’s ten minutes past the time—no call?”
“I wonder...?”
“I should check for any airport incidents.”
He tapped away on his tablet, but all the news was about summer vacationers.
“Nothing’s happened during filming, I hope?”
“I’m worried.”
“Uju hyung...”
Suddenly, wild imaginings flashed through their minds:
Uju shivering at the Antarctic research station.
Uju collapsing from malaria-fighting fatigue.
Uju defeated by superpowered foreign elementary students...
But those dark scenarios were shattered by Junghyun’s voice bursting in:
“Mu-ha-ha!”
No matter the nightmare, Junghyun would stride in and obliterate it with a grin. Viju, realizing who Uju was with, suddenly brightened.
“I don’t feel worried anymore.”
“Me neither.”
“Same here. I’m instantly relieved. Speaking of which, shall we have a comfort-steak dinner tonight?”
They laughed, assuming the delay was filming-related. Then...
Vrrriiing—
Viju’s phone buzzed with an incoming call labeled “Uju hyung☆.”
“Wooooah!”
“He’s calling! Answer it!”
“Wait, wait—I need our placard.”
They hastily fetched their “Find Jinmin” placard, propped the phone on its stand, and hit the video-call button.
“Tada!”
They shook the placard, cheering “Waaaah!”—but the other side was silent. They even busted out some dance moves to no reaction, and then stared at the screen.
“H-hello...?”
Jiho covered his mouth in confusion.
“Uju hyung? Is that you?”
“H-elllooo...”
A slightly hoarse voice. On the screen, a man who looked suddenly decades older stared back. His face seemed aged overnight.
Viju lunged the phone closer.
“Hyung! What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I wanna see too! Are you okay? Who is that?”
“Listen, guys...”
Uju rubbed his temple and laughed.
“Your voices echo too much...”
They hushed each other.
“Are you done?”
“Just talk normally.”
“Where’s Junghyun, hyung?”
“Junghyun’s here.”
The screen flipped to show me massaging Uju’s legs as he sprawled on a barracks bed. Junghyun waved warmly.
“Hi.”
He looked in excellent health. No wonder—Viju thought—seeing Uju there made sense. They turned back to Uju’s face filling the screen.
“What happened? Where are you, hyung?”
“Police Special Task Force.”
“.......”
“Not the army, though, in many ways.”
Uju then recapped roughly everything that’d happened since they transferred into the unit. The siblings sighed relief.
“Told you not to stand out, hyung. If Junghyun had drawn attention, it’d be worse for him.”
“Stop nagging. Hyung, can’t you see the lines on my forehead? You aged overnight!”
“Oh, are you defending me or roasting me, Jiho?”
“I’m always on your side.”
“Well... you’re more like a terrible little brother.”
“Hyung!”
Uju chuckled at their worry—his tired face lighting up. The siblings chatted joyfully.
“Yeah, Han-jo came down the rope in a flash. Tell the Street Boys to roast him later.”
“Trust me.”
“And Junghyun, tell them about your muscles.”
They all cracked up again at the “get a physical exam” joke from the rope lesson.
“Well, you scored a lot of airtime.”
Just as expected, they’d scored major segments on day one. Then the maknae’s eyes widened.
“Wait—what? You mean the special forces uniforms too?”
“Yes, they’ll hand them out later. Jealous?”
“Woooah!”
“Jealous?”
“Of course! If you wear that, you’ll look so cool... You mean the black suit, right?” ƒгeewёbnovel.com
They begged Uju to let them wear it back at the dorm. Uju urged them to listen to the guys there.
“I’ll listen well.”
“Even though you won’t—but still, it’s nice to hear.”
Uju and Junghyun smiled at the maknae. Junghyun gave Uju a quick massage from behind when Uju spoke up:
“Hey, guys—I realized something important today.”
“Something important?”
“I’m sorry...”
“Sorry?”
“For what? Which part?”
“Junghyun—should we drag... oh, can’t drag him. He’s assigned here.”
Uju spoke earnestly.
“I realized today that I haven’t appreciated how hard you’ve all worked. A&R team, composer Na Sang-yun, Director Jo... I owe them all an apology.”
Director Jo? Who was that?
“But the big lesson I learned is that it shouldn’t just be fun for me—it should be fun for everyone.”
They caught the gist but didn’t understand why he was apologizing. Then:
Ding.
The call ended.
“An apology?”
“Apology?”
“Thank... what?”
They tried calling again, but the phone said “offline.” Must’ve been outside their allotted call window.
They stared at the phone, disappointed.
“I wonder what really goes on in there.”
“It’s odd—he’s apologizing when he never does.”
“Uju’s always had empty apologies.”
“But that one felt sincere.”
“Oh... you’re right. Hey, Ri-hyeok’s sharp~”
As the siblings bickered, Viju wore a worried look.
What was that about? All they remembered was Uju’s sad, rambling apology—and something about Dooly?
Unable to figure it out, they returned to their usual routine.
“Guys—let’s practice.”
“Ugh...”
They wheezed but got to their feet. Viju smiled to himself:
“They’re suffering with Uju and Junghyun...I can’t just rest easy here.”
Thinking that hardship should be shared, he beamed. If Uju heard, he’d call it a true military mindset.
They ended the call with regret but no choice—the shoot was running late.
After rappelling, they returned to the barracks where the task-force constables lived and unpacked.
“Ugh...”
A hot shower never felt so sweet—the post-workout exhilaration. As they dried off, everyone’s relief was visible.
“I feel alive after that shower.”
“Moments ago we were sand monsters—now we look human.”
“I want some sweet rice punch from the bathhouse.”
They sat on split bunks, chatting comfortably. With today’s training done, the mood was warm. Apart from a couple main cameras, most were unobtrusive, making it easy.
In T-shirts and cargo pants branded with the police insignia, they rested when...
“Good evening.”
Two men in black tactical gear strode in, deep voices echoing. They were young-looking constables from the special task force.
“Ooooh...!”
“Ah, these are the constable seniors. Good evening, sirs.”
Like in any military show, everyone sprang up to salute—but the constables winced.
“Relax. No need for stiff salutes here. This isn’t that kind of place.”
“Oh? Really?”
Pil-seung, the eldest at 49 this year, smiled.
“But apart from you two—where is everyone else?”
“Oh, it’s just us.”
“...?”
“In the task force, constables don’t have many duties here. Only the two of us use this barracks.”
Oh. Interesting.
As we listened, the others chipped in.
“So, what do you do here?”
“We’re bomb-dog handlers.”
“Handlers?”
“We manage the explosive-detection dogs in the kennels.”
“A special assignment!”
They leaned in. Though shy at first, the constables soon opened up under the cast’s friendly banter. Both had dog-related qualifications—and their uniforms were flecked with fur.
“Handlers are so cool.”
“I was at military dog training—same job there.”
“Wait—don’t we have handler training coming up the day after tomorrow?”
They nodded.
“Yes, you’ll join us.”
“Ooooh...!”
“Please look after us.”
Under eager gazes, the handlers tensed with smiles. Then Ho-beom spoke up.
“Any of you know any celebrities?”
“Well, we don’t watch ‘Men on the Go’ much...”
The senior constable glanced at me. Everyone followed his gaze to me and Junghyun.
“Do you know our Uju?”
“My sister’s a fan of NewBlack.”
“A sibling fan—nice!”
At that, I chimed in.
“Thanks. I’ll—maybe do a video call for your sister...”
“You’ll have to ask her after she watches us.”
He joked “we’re a sibling business,” and everyone laughed.
Min-tae-won asked,
“Then our sergeant...”
“Sergeant, sir.”
“Do you like NewBlack, Sergeant?”
“I like girl groups.”
He answered firmly, as if obvious—making us clap and laugh. When asked which group, he just blushed shyly.
As they bonded with the constables, the barracks door clicked open. Tactical Team 1 strode in, and everyone stood.
“Ah, thanks for waiting.”
Sergeant Go carried a huge box. At his nod, we peered inside and gasped.
“Black suits...!”
“Black suits!”
Two sets each, camisole and pants, in plastic labeled with our names. Under “Sunwoo-ju,” it even said “Sun.”
All excited, Sergeant Go announced,
“From the moment you put these on, you become members of the task force.”
“Yes!”
“They’re lovely, right?”
“Yes!”
They tore open the plastic. But as they examined the fabric, everyone tilted their heads.
They were black, but subtly different. The constables’ faded black seemed just a shade darker—of course it’d fade further with wash, but these felt off.
Han-jo raised his hand.
“Hyung, I think the color is slightly different.”
“Right?”
Sergeant Go smiled.
“Don’t worry. After a few rolls, they’ll fade to look just like ours.”
“....”
“Just as a swan’s beauty comes from paddling beneath the water, a black suit’s beauty comes from rolling in the dirt.”
A true proverb—speechless, we nodded. With tears in our eyes, we donned the suits. Sergeant Go approached me.
“Oh, No. 8. You’ll only get to wear that on the last day.”
“The last day?”
“We rotate—Team 1 today, Team 2 tomorrow, Team 3 after. Only on the last day will you be with us again.”
Relief washed over us at Team 1’s end—then the operators murmured.
“This is bad.”
“Team 2 is ruthless. They have someone nicknamed ‘Viper.’”
“‘Viper’?”
We all flinched.
“He got bitten by a viper on a company outing.”
“Ever since, he’s been... different.”
They delivered the punchlines deadpan, testing our resolve to not laugh.
“Well, Team 2 trains tomorrow. Don’t worry—I’ve told them to go easy.”
“Let’s meet again on the last day.”
We applauded each other for surviving. As chatter resumed, Sergeant Go approached.
“Oh, I still need to teach you more, No. 8...”
“No, I’ve learned so much already.”
“You’re one of the best recruits I’ve seen.”
Recruit? When?
“You remind me of my nephew every time I see you. Want a hug?”
“Yes...”
I thought: Who hammers their nephew like this? But his hug was warm—he must’ve grown fond of me.
Suddenly, something rustled in my pocket. Felt like a chocolate bar in plastic.
“For you, eat this alone~”
Sergeant Go winked with a smirk. I saluted.
Thank you, uncle.
Planning to share it later with Junghyun and Han-jo, the operators began to leave.
“All right—go change into your new suits!”
“Woooah!”
We gleefully changed. We did a fashion-show runway, posed for the cameras, and made fun segments until lights-out. Han-jo grinned:
“Thank goodness.”
“For what?”
“After Team 1, at least tomorrow will be better, right?”
“I guess so.”
I laughed—true freedom at last.
Next morning.
Unlike the cheerful Team 1, a harsh, austere air greeted us at the drill ground. The “Viper” instructor glared at the assembled cast.
“Who’s breathing so loudly...?!”
bleep.
“...ahem.”
“Don’t show your teeth...?!”
Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.
“Team 1 may have amused you— I will not. I am the Viper! Who’s laughing? You’ll climb that rope now...!”
Though he tried to intimidate us, we all struggled not to laugh—especially since we knew about his “viper” origin. I, however, could suppress my grin quickly.
“Let’s go.”
He squinted, scanning us.
“Which one is No. 8 among you?”
“.......”
“I hear No. 8 is the PT master—team 1 spoke highly of him. Which recruit is that?”
“...Recruit No. 8, Sun Woo-ju!”
My hand, raised in midair, trembled.
“I’ll have you demonstrate later.”
“....”
I sighed, staring at the sky. I thought I was free—but damn.
On the second morning, we opened again with a run and PT.
“Sing the military hymn! Hymn is comrade!”
“Comrade!”
“Only the first verse!”
“‘The proud spirit of our race...’ gasp gasp”
A grueling run with breakfast threatening to come back up. But the overall training intensity was far lower than Team 1’s. Today was truly manageable. As with most training, day one is the worst—by day two, you can handle it. The content was interesting, too.
“All right, everyone. Now let’s talk about possible terror threats in Korea.”
We listened to explosive-ordnance defenders lecture engagedly. After lunch, we observed real special-forces EOD training.
“Woooah...”
Perhaps because a major network was filming, it felt like a showcase. Even the task-force commander joined. EOD specialists in bomb-suits carefully dismantled a device, then used a large crane-like machine to place it into a sealed detonation container.
Kschhh—BOOM!
Sparks flew, smoke billowed, and the gunpowder scent stung our noses. We were spellbound, applauding wildly.
“Woooah...”
The Viper called to us.
“Did you hear that sound?”
“Yes!”
“And what did you think? Recruit No. 9?”
He seemed to ask about threat awareness, but Junghyun stood out.
“I thought I heard ratings going up.”
Pfft!
“Who’s laughing now?! You’ll climb the rope right now...!”
Even as we panted through a run, we couldn’t stop laughing—because he was right. Ratings would soar. And indeed, by day two, the footage and teased storylines were heavy. Though # Nоvеlight # unspoken, everyone sensed “This is gold.” The producers’ beaming faces, our own enduring yet joyful responses—proof enough. For entertainers, nothing beats rising ratings.
“All right, this training is CQB—close-quarters combat.”
In the gym used by the special task force, the Viper, veins bulging, introduced the class.
“When you encounter terrorists or hostage-takers and can’t use your weapon...”
“Right!”
“You must subdue them in hand-to-hand combat.”
“Ooooh...!”
He demonstrated strikes in the air. Then:
“They say seeing is believing—so before you practice, I’ll demo with recruit No. 8. Step up!”
“Yes!”
“Come out and partner with me.”
I stood there, tense, while the Viper grinned.
“No need to be scared. Recruit, I will never let you get hurt.”
“Yes!”
“Don’t be afraid!”
“Yes.”
“From now on, imagine you are the criminal. If you see a police officer like me in front of you, what do you do?”
“I run as fast as I can and hope for the best later!”
“Yes—run... no!”
He bellowed, and we stifled laughter. In the gym, there was nowhere to send me—no rope, only pull-up bars. I half-expected him to tell me to climb bars, but instead, he bent his knees, slapped his thigh, and announced:
“All right, recruit—you will subdue me! With that criminal’s determination, charge!”
“...Is that okay?”
“I promise you won’t get hurt.”
“...Yes.”
Eyeing him warily, I wondered if I’d end up subduing him. But no—he was a veteran special-forces operator. He’d handle me easily, surely.
“Are you scared?! You look scared!”
“No!”
“Charge at me—run at me...!”
Before he finished, I burst forward at him, adrenaline surging. He beamed that thrilled grin: “Yes—that’s it!” And that, as far as I remember, was the Viper instructor’s final laugh.
