Free Web Novel@thenewblack.official
(Against the airport backdrop, special unit officers and idol guests stand together. Han-jo and Woo-ju wear distant smiles, Jung-hyun beams like a content dol hareubang.)
We love you!!
#Recording_Done #LoveTheSpecialUnit #SadFarewell #SomedayWe’llMeetAgain #NextTime #Goodbye_Airport
I had a dream.
I was standing at a country bus stop when I spotted someone whose back looked terribly familiar. It was Mrs. Deok-soon in her floral dress.
“Grandma!”
I ran up, slapping her shoulder in excitement—only for her to spin around. It wasn’t my grandma at all but Sergeant Go Gwang-soon of Tactical Team 1.
‘I’m Gwang-soon, not Deok-soon.’
‘Aaah!’
‘This is special-unit disguise training, Trainee No. 8.’
Then she gave chase to teach me the fine points. Like all bad dreams, it was terrifying at the time—but in hindsight, just absurd. Yet my terror was someone else’s delight.
“Ha ha ha!”
At breakfast, I told my siblings about the dream and they burst out laughing. Leaning over the table, they wept with laughter as I put on a serious face.
“Don’t laugh. I’m serious.”
“Ha ha ha!”
“Look at these little devils—if they knew how persistent and scary special-unit people are...”
“Hee hee hee!”
Uggh, they’re so wicked. As I watched them cackling, I remembered last night.
“Contact him! Woo-ju!”
“Where are you going? Take pics with us!”
“Got free time this weekend? Let’s do something fun!”
After our group photo at the airport, it took ages to disentangle ourselves from the eager Team 1 members, who shyly asked, “Will you be our friends?” They had starry eyes like fitness-club recruiters. /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ We vaguely deflected with, “I only sleep three hours a day...” We said we’d meet in our off days—though I seriously doubt they’ll remember then.
“Judging by their faces last night, they’ll never let you go.”
“...”
I jammed my fingers in my ears to mute it, but the crane across from me chattered excitedly on. Viju gently smiled and interjected,
“I think we made some great connections this time, hyung.”
“Shall I introduce you?”
“Uh... where’s the ketchup?”
I laughed at him spacing out. He wasn’t wrong—we had mentioned to the special-unit folks that idols are busiest when they’re rising, and once things settle, they have more free time. Since last night, they’d been messaging:
– “Got my nephew on board!”
– “Dad recruited!” ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom
– “Two successes so far. Let’s work harder, everyone.”
They messaged like mission updates: “Operation outreach... failed—said they’re TNT fans.” I laughed. Indeed, this whole project opened doors to wonderful people...
“Jung-hyun hyung, do that thing. The one where Woo-ju threw a boomerang in training.”
“Wait.”
Jung-hyun picked up a dish, made a “choop” sound with his lips, pretending to catch a frisbee, then rolled his eyes to mimic me glancing around. My siblings burst out laughing.
“Ha ha ha ha!”
“Hey, Kim Jung-hyun—”
Viju’s face turned solemn. Of course. Still, Viju’s the best at—
“I didn’t see it. Do it again.”
“Just a sec... choop!”
“Ha ha ha ha! Seals clap!”
Watching him clap like a seal, I couldn’t help but smile warmly. It’s great meeting amazing people—but what use, when the people around me are like this? I clicked my tongue at the ones obsessed with teasing me.
“I thought being apart would make them realize my value, but ungrateful wretches...”
“No, I realized how precious you are!”
“Really?”
“There’s no one else to tease, so it’s... ack!”
Our youngest wailed as he flicked my forehead. Ri-hyuk, tapping away on his phone, said,
“Still, this is mild compared to what we could get.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Street Boys sent us something last night.”
He sent a 2:45-long video file. Hitting play, we saw sleepy Han-jo at center while the Street Boys performed a round of Ganggangsullae around him.
“Ji-gu! Jeong-bok! Kiyah-hooo!”
“Hey! Stop that!”
“Kiyah-hooo!”
Maybe after hearing our handler story, they pounced on their leader like pigeons. I alternated between the video chaos and my siblings’ refined breakfast-table teasing, then nodded.
“This is tame.”
“Right?”
As we lolled together, the video ended with Han-jo shouting, “Sun Woo-ju, I won’t let you off!”
After a blissful rest morning at the dorm, I went to work refreshed. At the management office, Seok-hwan hyung looked bewildered.
“Did you even rest?”
“I slept soundly—no need to worry.”
“You’ll rust your bones. Let yourself rest—it’s not like you’re a machine.”
Though he scolded me, I could tell he was secretly glad I showed up—our schedules were insane. It was now early July, and every department buzzed preparing our fourth album and solo concert.
“We’ve got mountains of tasks.”
Our manager swept papers into neat piles.
“Your solo concert’s on a massive scale—sound, lighting... it’s our biggest production yet.”
Our company’s past biggest was balladeer Yoon Chan-hyuk’s encore at Jangchung Gymnasium; Scarlett’s solo was in the smaller Olympic Hall. Ours would be in a larger handball arena.
“...I still can’t believe it.”
“Me neither. Feels like a hidden-camera prank.”
“So the venue’s confirmed?”
Seok-hwan showed us the rental confirmation for the handball arena. We snapped photos in disbelief.
“It’s crazy, right? Even I’m like, is this real?”
“Really?”
“Scarlett took two years to get a solo; you guys did it in under one.”
It’s unusual—though boy groups often debut bigger than girl groups, even among big agencies this is rare. He rattled off progress:
“Concert theme, sound, lighting are all on schedule per our plan. VCR and photo shoots next week. Merchandise by promo team.”
“How about the band session?”
“We booked the band you wanted.”
“Awesome.” I clapped. They’re top-notch pros. Manager then asked,
“Want to see the concert poster draft?”
“Wow...”
Each update made us grin.
“We really are doing a concert.”
“Hyung, I’m so excited.”
“Me too—I’ve always wanted this.”
Even Jung-hyun, usually reserved, beamed. We swayed in excitement until Seok-hwan cautioned,
“Don’t get too relaxed—this is when you need to tighten up.”
“Don’t worry.”
“We’re professionals.”
His last remark from our youngest made us laugh. Seok-hwan just shook his head, as “I knew it.”
“By the way, Men on the Go producers called.”
“They did?”
“Calm down, Jeminy. They thanked us for doing an excellent job and asked to send their appreciation.”
“Oh...”
I remembered PD Do Jun-gi gleefully yelling “Ratings!” during filming. Manager, sensing my grin, peered anxiously.
“You didn’t do anything weird this time, right?”
“What do you mean by weird?”
“Something that’ll make me clutch my neck.”
“I do have a few things that could...”
“Wait.”
I asked Jung-hyun,
“Do you think forehead-massaging qualifies?”
“Hm, about one and a half temples.”
“One and a half?”
“...”
At our precise answer, Seok-hwan laughed and massaged his own temples. Then he got to the point:
“They want to bring Jung-hyun in for a medical check. It’ll be like a bonus scene—so we’ve penciled it in.”
“Oh, that.”
Because his muscles are extraordinary, they want him examined. He explained:
“They said something’s wrong with my body.”
“...?”
“That I need to go to a hospital.”
“...?”
Perfect clarity. Everyone’s eyes widened. Now it was my turn for a temple massage.
“No—actually...”
Once I’d explained correctly, they all relaxed with “Ahh.” Seok-hwan admired,
“I wanna see that. When’s it scheduled? If I’m free, I’ll come watch.”
I laughed at the manager checking his calendar. If I were him, I wouldn’t miss it either. Even Jung-hyun, fretting “I’m scared of hospitals,” chuckled.
“Alright—goods team for merch, communications done.”
“Roger.”
I thought the meeting ended and rose—when Seok-hwan said,
“Where are you going? One more crucial thing left.”
“Crucial?”
“Manager. What’s more important than concerts?”
“True.”
We stood, nodding, when he said:
“It’s payday.”
Suddenly, everyone’s chairs and bodies jolted back together, eyes wide.
It was NewBlack’s settlement day—rewarding the members for six months of frenetic work: five weeks of #1 music show wins, seven weeks at chart top, hit OSTs and competition songs, TV commercials... aside from publishing royalties, the total was huge. Unlike Woo-ju, whose income came mainly from songwriting, this was the first significant payout for the members.
“Wow...”
“Now I get why Woo-ju kept talking about healing the bank account.”
“What do I do? I’m so proud, I don’t know what to do.”
They scanned their statements and then spent time celebrating with family.
“My son...?”
“Hyung?”
“Kiddo?”
At the department store, Viju’s family gaped at all the high-end shops. When Viju held up his wallet,
“I’m rich! I can buy anything... oh!”
Clink-clink-clink—coins spilled out: 100-won, 50-won pieces. They laughed as Viju knelt to scoop them up.
“Really, buy whatever you wanted.”
It was pure joy.
“I wanted to try this—Grandma Deok-soon did it for me. From this end to that end, buy me everything.”
But Viju suddenly vanished from one side of the rack to the other.
“Son, where’d you go?”
“Viju!”
“How did he get lost here?”
That moment, online posts sprang up: “NewBlack’s Viju: Not Lost, Just Concept.”
Meanwhile, other families shared happy moments.
At the upscale Korean BBQ, Jung-hyun, apron tied, wielded tongs as his father asked,
“Son, what’s meat I buy you?”
“Love?”
“Of course meat, Dad!”
“Hey!”
The owner nodded politely as the family devoured kilos of meat.
“Ji-ho, you sulking?”
“...”
“My maknae~”
“No, not really—just a bit let down. I got all these gifts, but only letters move you. Well, if letters are that great, I’ll only write letters from now on.”
While the rich kid lamented, someone slipped in the Jacuzzi bathtub at the hotel, creating a waterpark in the bathroom.
And:
【 Child-rearing = Great Success 】
Viju’s mom: “My son bought me presents!”
Viju’s mom: “So happy~~~”
Jung-hyun’s dad: (photo)
Jung-hyun’s dad: “Best meal ever, so good.”
Jung-hyun’s dad: “Couldn’t breathe afterward—gave it my all.”
Ji-ho’s dad: “It’s the thought that counts.”
Ji-ho’s dad: (photo)
Ji-ho’s dad: “But he wrote only two lines in the letter—kimbap has more than two lines!”
All across the group chat: “So happy~” messages. Among them, Mrs. Kim Deok-soon sported a knowing smile.
Gunsan City. A couple touring for famous eateries swept the streets.
“It should be around here...”
“This place is that good?”
“Whenever you search ‘best home-style meal,’ this place pops up. A senior friend went and raved about their marinated crab.”
They turned into the narrow alley. Alas, by the time they arrived, the shutter was down.
“Shuni’s Home-style Meals,” read the humble sign. Disappointed, they turned to leave—when the door suddenly slid open.
“Oh... someone’s coming out.”
“Looks like the owner. Let’s ask—”
They froze at her attire: clearly done for the day, heading home. As they resigned themselves, a beep! beep! from a parked luxury car caught their attention. The grandmother from the restaurant, scarf tied elegantly, tossed back her wind-blown hair.
“No way... is she the owner of that car?”
They blinked. The car swept by, and they thought they heard a familiar song—“Deok-soon-Ah,” by some idol. They blinked again as it sped off.
“Wow. I’ve heard that famous eateries’ bosses leave in a Benz—didn’t think it was real.”
“She must be wildly successful.”
They exchanged glances.
“Shall we come back tomorrow?”
“Let’s.”
A new, strange rumor formed among Gunsan travelers.
Lemon Entertainment. A&R staff, arms full of documents, yawned into the conference room.
“Hello!”
“Hi~”
The freshly vibrant NewBlack members entered. After chatting about the masked-figure airport craze,
“You all got your statements? Congrats.”
“Thank you.”
“What did you do with it?”
“Gifts for family, personal stuff.”
Someone warned,
“Be careful—plenty of scammers’ll try to latch on.”
“Manager already warned us—watch out for scam artists.”
“Right. CEO is thorough.”
Just then, Director Jo Gyu-hwan, our executive producer, strode in with coffee.
“Good morning, everyone~”
He took the head seat; Woo-ju sat center; the meeting began.
“Uh...”
But Woo-ju seemed uneasy—hesitant, embarrassed. Curious, everyone watched as he spoke softly:
“I have something I want to say to the staff.”
“Something?” asked Director Jo.
“Yeah. But first, a question.”
“Oh?”
The team sipped iced americanos; Woo-ju asked,
“Was the rumor going around the company that the ‘Dooly’ character was me?”
Pfft!
Coffee fountains erupted across the room.
