Free Web NovelAfter a brief moment of confusion, the A&R team staff quickly regained their composure.
“Ugh, this coffee is bitter...?”
“That sudden outburst made me spit mine out too.”
“How could you suddenly start talking about Dooly in the middle of drinking? Uju, you made me laugh so hard I spat my coffee.”
At times like this, feigning ignorance was best.
Their impromptu acting—born of years in the workforce—was so convincing that even they marveled, “Am I that good an actor?”
The junior member, who had been scanning the room, whispered to NewBlack’s leader with the expression of a schemer.
Uju nodded.
“Jiho says you’re all acting right now.”
“......”
“He said your eye movements and vocal tones are awkward.”
“......”
Their colleagues’ wholehearted performance was immediately seen through by the rookie actor.
They exchanged glances.
‘What do we do now, Director Jo?’
‘Why are you looking at me? Look somewhere else.’
Director Jo Gyu-hwan feigned ignorance, sipping his coffee in the face of the younger composers’ stares.
Meanwhile, Uju narrowed his eyes even further.
The staff rolled their eyes at the look of someone who had already grasped the entire situation.
‘How much do they already know? Is this how a criminal feels under police interrogation?’
‘Who leaked the Dooly rumor? Come out.’
‘But I never said anything in front of the guys...’
It was a mystery.
They had only mentioned the “Uju-Dooly rumor” in jest.
As they cast suspicious glances at one another, wondering who had made their star so obsessive, Uju spoke up.
“Junghyun said he overheard it before.”
Uju said seriously, “In the day, Ri-hyuk listens well; at night, Junghyun hears everything.”
“That’s right.”
Junghyun answered with a proud smile, and Ri-hyuk covered his face with both hands in embarrassment.
That explanation satisfied the staff.
Of course Junghyun could do that—it would be natural if he’d been eavesdropping on the third floor by pressing his ear to the wall in the basement.
Relieved, they all laughed awkwardly.
What had started as a teasing joke—“Our composer nerd~”—now felt like they’d said something hinting at a hidden truth.
Someone struggled to find an excuse and forced a laugh.
“T-that nickname stuck because you’re cute, Uju.”
“......”
Only Viju nodded in understanding; the rest wore sullen expressions.
As Junghyun fiddled with his ear, Uju smiled and said,
“You don’t need to explain. I wasn’t trying to verify the rumor—I asked because there’s something I wanted to say.”
“Something you wanted to say?”
“Yes. I learned a lot while on the special forces....”
Then Uju recounted the sad episode on Men on the Go: how Tactical Team 1 had trailed him as if to the end of hell, and how he saw the faces of the A&R team and Director Jo in the mirror when he washed up.
“Puhahaha!”
Uju was serious, but hearing it, the others burst out laughing.
Jiho asked Ri-hyuk something, then pointed at Uju, giggling, “Karma! Karma!”
When Uju sent them a chilling look, Junghyun took care of them.
“In any case, I realized I hadn’t appreciated all the hard work you guys have been doing.”
“No kidding. Usually you’d rush back to check the songs, but I was wondering why you hadn’t come.”
“Yeah. I felt a bit awkward....”
Uju smiled sheepishly and said,
“If I’ve been neglectful in any way, I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
They waved their hands.
“Hey, think of how much late-night food we’ve gotten from you....”
“With all we’ve eaten so far, of course we have to work hard. No need to apologize.”
“Every time we prepare an album, I gain ten kilos.”
They joked, “Here comes Uju! Run away!”—but it was always in jest.
They were grateful for his thoughtfulness.
‘Hungry? What should we have for late-night food today—chicken feet?’
‘I brought gifts from Taiwan! Tell Y-eun it’s from Uncle Uju for her entering elementary school.’
‘Team leader, this floral shirt is all the rage right now.’
Whenever something happened, Uju took care of them one by one.
At first, the staff had been skeptical—“It’s not like he has a salary coming...”—but gradually their view changed to, “So this is the kind of person he is.”
Moreover, thanks to the album’s success, the staff who took part in arranging or composing earned extra income from royalties.
“We don’t mind helping; we’re not doing it under duress. Don’t think that way, Uju.”
“Yeah. No need to apologize.”
“......Thank you.”
At the staff’s comforting words, Uju smiled sheepishly and scratched his cheek.
“I felt so sorry that after receiving my share of the profits, I brought gifts for everyone.”
“What? Gifts? You didn’t have to....”
When Uju produced the gifts, their words changed.
“Uju~~~!”
“I picked them out, but we all chipped in to buy them in celebration of the settlement.”
“Guys~~~!”
They were moved by the gifts Uju had prepared.
“The letters are courtesy of Ri-hyuk.”
“Ri-hyuk~~~!”
“......Just pretend I’m not here.”
Ri-hyuk mumbled with his face hidden in his hands.
While NewBlack’s members and the A&R team staff shouted “You’re the best, hyung!” and posed like harmonious brothers,
“......”
Director Jo Gyu-hwan, seated at the head table, blinked.
‘Something feels off....’
Everyone was exchanging warm words of thanks, but there was an unsettling sense that something was missing.
Like an eerie internet creepypasta titled “The Scary Picture Behind the Smiles,” this cheerful scene seemed incomplete.
As Director Jo pondered, a messenger notification appeared at the bottom of his laptop screen.
Na Sang-yun [Hello.. Director..]
Na Sang-yun [The work is don:e]
Na Sang-yun [I’ve s:ent the track]
“...sent?”
The director blinked.
The person who used to speak as if he’d burned through all his words had gone silent for over thirty minutes.
It seemed he’d drifted off while typing.
‘Come to think of it....’
The A&R team staff’s complexions were remarkably good.
Since external songwriters had been brought in, their previously dull, grimy faces were now smooth and radiant.
Only then did he realize what had been missing.
Right now, out there, the external composers were probably going “Uuuuh...” as their souls drained from their bodies.
‘Well, at least they’ll get royalties.’
Knowing how well Uju takes care of everyone, he was sure the outsiders would be looked after too.
Though it might be a bit taxing, once the album succeeded, they’d receive their due reward.
‘Still, I feel a bit sorry for them....’
As he gazed at the smiling faces around him, Director Jo offered them a moment of sympathy.
After three seconds of genuine pity,
“Wow....”
His eyes softened at the sight of the pretty tea-cup set inside the gift box.
‘Oh, this is exactly my taste....’
Director Jo Gyu-hwan caressed the tea-cup set with a contented smile.
Album production progressed smoothly.
After reviewing key points in the producing meeting, they moved on to check the recorded tracks.
Most of the songs were already completed.
Each time the A&R staff listened to the joint compositions by the producers and composers, they gave an “OK” sign.
“Well done, huh?”
The team leader, stroking his beard as he reviewed each track, said,
“When Uju and Junghyun said they wanted to add a hip-hop vibe, I was worried. If you touch it clumsily, it ends up in no-man’s-land—like little kids going ‘yo! yo!’ all over the place.”
He praised the tracks.
“But this really turned out well. It has hip-hop elements, but it’s not pure hip-hop, and that’s good.”
“We paid special attention to that. Could’ve stirred up unnecessary criticism.”
“True. Rappers can be picky.”
Unlike other genres, hip-hop fans have a strong sense of “this is real hip-hop or it isn’t,” so instead of making a full-blown hip-hop song, they borrowed hip-hop elements for their style.
Personally, I’m familiar with many genres, but lacking detailed knowledge, so where I was unsure, I relied on Junghyun and industry seniors like Hae-shun.
Other staff also praised the tracks.
“I really like the electronic sound in the middle—whose idea was that?”
“This one’s great. The guide gives me chills. Are the lyrics done? If the lyrics are strong, I feel like the fans will love it.”
“It’s ahead of trends, but it doesn’t feel alien—nice.”
Every time someone said “good,” smiles naturally appeared.
The composers who stayed up all night worrying about the sound sighed in relief and smiled.
“If just counting the recorded tracks, I’d give it ninety out of a hundred. Fans will love it when the album drops.”
“We’ve said that a lot ourselves.”
“It feels like a completely different concept from before.”
We nodded.
Since this album’s concept is different, I think we’ll change our hair color too, unlike before.
Even if not as street-style as Street Boys, we’ll go for a street-fashion vibe.
We’re attempting an image transformation in many ways, so the 고민 (concern) is big.
Whether it’s the refreshing feel of deep house like Fireworks, the sensual vibe like Masquerade, or a warm pop feel like Windflower—this album’s texture is different.
We worried daily whether Souffles and the public would like it.
Meanwhile, separate from those concerns, another problem surfaced during the meeting.
“The problem is the title track....”
The A&R team, composers, and we gathered around the laptop, making uneasy faces.
“Honestly, none of the recorded tracks stand out enough for a title....”
“We feel the same. It’s unfortunate, but it seems there isn’t one.”
The staff trailed off, and the composers confirmed their words.
The issue was the title track.
There was supposed to be one among the recorded songs shining on its own, but none had that spark.
A title track should shine brightly among the B-sides—like a Jiho in a village full of Ri-hyuks.
But now it felt like a dozen Ri-hyuks all cheering together.
It was harmonious, but there was no knockout punch.
Scratching his head at the unexpected hurdle, the A&R team leader asked,
“What vibe did you say you wanted for the title track?”
“An explosive, feel-good vibe.”
Junghyun answered.
“Masquerade was catchy, but it didn’t make you move your body just by listening. I believe songs must be fun—songs that make you move just by hearing them.”
“Surprising preference, Junghyun.”
“Junghyun is always full of surprises.”
Everyone laughed at the youngest member’s comment.
But perhaps because of the title-track issue, # Nоvеlight # they quickly fell into serious thought.
Various alternatives were proposed, but nothing suitable appeared, so they made a quick decision.
“We’ll try composing a new one ourselves.”
“Can you finish in time?”
“Yes. Once the idea comes, I write fast.”
Although tweaking details always took time, writing a title track itself was always quick.
Thus, the meeting continued with three routes: the A&R team would sift through external songs, composers would attempt a title track, and we would work on our own.
“Let’s each prepare a feel-good song for now.”
By the end of the meeting, the team leader said,
“As Junghyun said, something that makes anyone feel explosive excitement.”
“Got it.”
“Oh, Uju.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t show up with a trot song or something—like saxophones and that.”
“Team leader...”
Because of my lively performance of “Deoksun-ah,” he seemed to think I was a trot fan and smiled.
“I’m twenty-three.”
Ta-da-da-dan.
I paused drumming the keys on the piano app on my tablet and looked at my brothers.
“How is it?”
“Uh....”
Viju fiddled with both hands.
“Um, hyung, uh....”
“Just say it. I’m old-fashioned?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. Hyung, it feels like you’re from an older generation....”
“Like an old song grandpas riding bikes by the Han River would play—like something called Han River Ballad.”
“Wait a second. Then how about this?”
“Oh, oh, oh!”
At our maknae’s tri-octave protest, I swallowed a tear.
Ms. Deoksun had said she loved it, though.
“Think of something the general public would like, not just my taste.”
“Like this?”
I moved my fingers lightly.
“Awesome, hyung. That’s much better!”
“I kind of like this too.”
Their immediate change in reaction made me feel slightly deflated.
Maybe it really wasn’t my taste.
Though I’d sneak in my own preferences, these pros caught every nuance.
“Aha, where’d you hide your ace...!”
“Don’t lie or I’ll break your chicken neck. When you eat chicken, only the neck bones count.”
They’re not fooling me.
Resigned, I closed the piano app on my tablet and turned to gaze out the window.
Early July.
A hot summer day before the monsoon season.
Though the air conditioning was on, the sun’s rays felt scorching on bare skin.
Right now, we were on our way to the Olive House near Hapjeong Station.
We’d landed a terrestrial TV commercial thanks to Viju’s birthday party.
“Joy that grows as you share~!”
“Come to Olive House!”
We practiced the ad storyboard in between nonstop discussions about our fourth album’s title.
A song that explodes with excitement.
It sounded simple enough, but our kids weren’t simple—they were complicated.
When asked to each name something exciting,
“EDM, hyah.”
“Is it just me, or do ballads make you excited? When the high notes hit, it feels explosive.”
“Speed-flow rap when you hype up.”
“For me, explosive excitement comes from the choreography.”
It was like an expo showcasing every taste.
Ri-hyuk, taking meeting minutes, organized it in his notebook.
“So to satisfy us all, we need retro EDM, with a ballad chorus, speed-flow rap, and choreography that leaves you breathless?”
“......”
“Feels like sprinkling sugar on kimchi.”
In the end, the first meeting on explosive excitement broke down over differences.
We all shared a wry smile, thinking “We’re truly hopeless,” just as our manager announced our arrival and we stepped out of the car.
“Hello! We’re NewBlack!”
Entering the Olive House, we greeted each of the commercial staff one by one.
They smiled when they saw us in matching Olive House T-shirts.
The empty store was set up with high-end filming equipment and food.
“Wow....”
Steaks and soups were lined up on the table, each steaming as if just cooked, with several of each type prepared for the shoot.
While my brothers and I drooled, I asked a passing crew member with a serious expression,
“Are we supposed to eat all this?”
“Uh... yes.”
They looked cautious.
“Do you need bowls or something?”
“Bowls?”
“For spitting out food after chewing.”
“Do we have to spit it out...?”
“Sometimes idols or actors on diets chew and spit.”
“Oh, we’re on break right now, so we’re fine.”
I nodded with a “We eat a lot” look, and they laughed with relief.
They seemed worried we’d throw a tantrum, like “We’re on a diet, but we have to eat this?!” as in the last ad shoot.
The staff treated us more like princes each time.
I was glad we’d promised to keep each other grounded.
“Let’s go, rookies.”
“Yes, boss.”
We changed into our costumes and got makeup in the waiting room.
Today’s concept was a casual restaurant birthday party.
When we stepped out of the staff changing room, the director greeted us with a bright smile.
“Welcome.”
“Hello. Please take care of us today.”
“I’m the one who should be asking that. You’ve always come so prepared for commercials, it eases my mind.”
The director boosted our spirits with praise.
“Today’s concept is all about explosive excitement! We’ll play an upbeat song. Just party like it’s a real birthday—have fun.”
“Leave it to us. We’re great at that.”
“Ha-ha, really?”
“Yes. And we eat heartily.”
“Eat?”
I replied to the director’s question.
“Yes, the storyboard has a scene of us eating.”
“Oh. That part’s changed.”
“Huh?”
“We planned a scene of everyone eating, but rehearsal looked too messy.”
“......”
As everyone’s faces fell, Viju asked, fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
“Then who eats the food?”
“We changed it so only one person eats. We’ll shoot a solo shot of whoever eats it best.”
“......”
“Anyone confident in eating or facial expressions?”
“......”
At that moment, my, Junghyun’s, and Jiho’s eyes met in midair, and we all raised our hands at once.
‘Seniority doesn’t apply here, hyung.’
‘There’s no order to this, hyung.’
‘I’m the mukbang king.’
It was a fierce battle no one could concede.
And standing aside, Ri-hyuk clicked his tongue at us and, with Viju, primly raised his hand.
