Free Web Novel“Incheon Police Agency publicity ambassadors?”
“Yeah.”
Seok-hwan hyung told us about the event we’d been invited to.
“They say we’ll perform counterterrorism drills with the Special Forces at Incheon Airport to elevate the external prestige of the Incheon Police.”
Junghyun and I exchanged glances.
“Elevate their prestige?”
“I’m not sure we elevated it that much.”
It wasn’t like any heroic scene had appeared—we’d just been running around “Kkiyaek!” like goblins.
Seok-hwan hyung laughed and chided us.
“You have to think about publicity value, man. They got so much promo from this broadcast.”
“So we did well, then...?”
“Oh, boy.”
While our manager chuckled helplessly, our hearts fluttered with excitement.
“Nice. I’ve always wanted to be a publicity ambassador.”
“Me too. At school, I was so jealous whenever girls like Gil Chaekyung said ‘I’m Busan publicity ambassador~.’”
“We’re finally publicity ambassadors.”
We’d done ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) plenty of commercials, but never a real public-service ambassadorship for the police or city governments. Many requests came in, but our company principles said the organization had to fit our image and have a clear reason to appoint us. We’d been disappointed. Now we had that “friendly neighborhood boy” vibe, but at debut we’d gone for “mysterious handsome guys”...
“If we’d had this image back then, we could’ve been ambassadors for the produce market.”
“Too bad the image solidified late.”
“Don’t you feel like we changed that image?”
Anyway, the thought of being ambassadors made our hearts swell.
“If it’s the Police Agency, will we wear uniforms like honorary officers? That kind of thing, right?”
“Calm down, number eight.”
At first the younger members teased my excitement, but quickly they Googled police dress uniforms and looked more thrilled than I was.
Just then Rihyuk, who’d been reading emails, burst our bubble.
“But we’re the only ones they asked to be ambassadors.”
“No Street Boys?”
“No.”
The email read “Appointment of famous popular idol NewBlack – Sun Woo-ju and four others.”
Seok-hwan hyung smiled.
“I was going to ask you about that.”
“Why just us?”
“Obviously because you’re more popular. Mostly it’s the lack of sense of their publicity officer.”
“This is awkward if we want to accept.”
We guessed why they’d chosen us: I’d carried most of the airtime in the special, and NewBlack had skyrocketed after Baramkkot. As publicity officers, we were the best pick. But our profession—idol—was the issue. Another idol had appeared on the special: Hanjo of the Street Boys.
Hanjo got a lot of attention too—his “Kkiyat-ho! Kkiyaat!” during the handler drill went viral, even trended in real-time search, and earned him that nickname. Street Boys were a rookie group who’d already snagged a music-show win within a year of debut. They were doing great—but so were we far more. Other 2014 rookie nominees were doing well, but when they were riding horses, we’d vanished like a sports car.
It made sense for publicity to pick us. Still...
“I think people’ll talk if we do this wrong.”
“I agree.”
Viju nodded sympathetically.
“Hanjo hyung got airtime too. If the three of us—him, me, and Junghyun—were ambassadors, fine. But if they leave him out and pick only us....”
“People’ll complain.”
Jiho’s eyes blinked at Junghyun’s words.
“Will we get hate for this?”
“They loved the special so much it’ll quiet down for now, but we’re in a position where we get flak for breathing.”
“There were rumors about stockpiling albums in the article comments yesterday.”
As a backlash to success, folks try to turn a speck into a mountain. It wouldn’t be a major scandal that only we were named, but it looked bad. As Viju said, if it were me, Hanjo, and Junghyun, no problem. Better to avoid any gossip.
“Let’s ask the Police Agency to include Street Boys too—honored to be asked, but it’d be right to have them join.”
“I’ll talk to the officer in charge.”
“Thanks, hyung.”
We exchanged disappointed looks. With Street Boys’ nine and us five, that’d be fourteen—it was unusual to appoint fourteen at once. If so, maybe we shouldn’t do this minor thing.
“But then it actually happened.”
“Tada!”
“Our grand entrance.”
The Street Boys piled out of the van, removed their sunglasses, and flashed peace signs. LB, the mischievous one, jogged over to me.
“Director.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve decided to be on your side from today.”
“What side?”
LB grinned seriously.
“I’ll be your loyal retainer from today to repay this favor.”
“Sorry, I only accept loyal subjects.”
“I can’t let that stand. My aptitude test said I can’t speak the truth well...”
When I asked what job suited his aptitude, he answered “politician.” We all burst out laughing at LB’s cheeky honesty.
In Namdong-gu, Incheon City. The Incheon Police Agency parking lot saw us and the Street Boys walking together. Rex, with neat red hair like a salon poodle, said to me,
“They said they weren’t going to include us, but you insisted, right?”
“If not for Street Boys, we wouldn’t do it either!”
LB, role-playing an imaginary character, clapped and went “Kuh” in mock admiration.
I waved him off and answered,
“It’s not like that. We just felt it wasn’t right to do it alone...”
No sooner had we said that than they hurriedly added Street Boys at lightning speed. We hadn’t expected it—our special’s popularity must be that strong. We’d asked them to keep it secret to avoid hurting their feelings, but word had already leaked.
They tossed us a playful tease as we blushed.
“Of course, you couldn’t forget us, right? Director, we were on your mind, weren’t we?”
“But actually, this was our plan all along.”
“You think we only eat triangle kimbap? While NewBlack eats chicken breast, we eat frozen pizza.”
“Man, frozen pizza makes us look so pathetic.”
We laughed at their nonsensical banter. Our younger members, happy to see friends after a while, began chatting casually.
As we headed to the police building, a suffocating silence fell between Hanjo and me. His eyes flicked to mine. I smiled brightly.
“The broadcast response was great, right?”
“......”
“We even trended. Wow, you’re hot, Hanjo-ssi.”
“I didn’t expect it to blow up like this.”
Hanjo brushed back his hair as our members and Street Boys chanted “Kkiyat-ho!” together. Then he complained,
“After Part Two aired, it was chaos. My family sent me screenshots laughing, my friends’ group chats were on fire. On the internet I’m called ‘that Kkiyat-ho guy.’”
“I know how you feel.”
He was in the denial stage of dark history acceptance—“That’s not me, it’s Hyunjo, not Hanjo.” I understood as an expert. Suddenly his eyes gleamed.
“If you hadn’t dragged me into it, none of this would’ve happened. Or at least said something when I yelled Kkiyat-ho...”
“I couldn’t stop my friend. If your friend on the show gets airtime, you can’t hold them back.”
“Don’t try to smooth it over with that friend sentiment.”
He’d caught me. I cleared my throat and looked away. Pretending to be hurt, Hanjo laughed.
“I decided to think positively. People got to know Street Boys more thanks to this.”
“That’s right. That’s the mindset—infamy is fame.”
When I avoided his gaze like a criminal, he continued,
“It’s not bad. We’re even getting personal ads with animals.”
“Really?”
“Though most ads hate our lines.”
He seemed to be moving from denial to rationalization—good. Each time our two leaders did “Huaaak!” or “Kkiyat-ho!” our younger members shook with laughter.
Watching the noisy fourteen of us, Hanjo suddenly said,
“Isn’t it about time we spoke casually?”
“You’re right.”
“Then...”
We looked at each other and decided immediately.
“Next time.”
“Next time we meet, we’ll drop honorifics.”
We’d meet soon at music shows and such, so that made sense. We both smiled warmly.
“Welcome, please come in!”
A tanned middle-aged man in uniform greeted us at the police building entrance—it was the Incheon Police Agency’s publicity officer. After a brief tour past lobby paintings, we headed to the locker room carrying issued uniforms.
“Wow!”
“Ooh...”
In our hands were the dress uniforms for the ambassadorship: white shirts with ties, black jackets with gold buttons and shoulder epaulets—just like promotions scenes in movies and dramas. We all changed with excited faces.
“Uh...”
A small mishap occurred.
“These pants are too loose.”
“Weren’t these the smallest size? On Rihyuk they look like bell-bottoms.”
“...Wow, you’re so skinny. What’s your secret?”
Rihyuk shouted like the Snake Instructor, “Don’t stare!” Pants provided by the agency were far too large—not just for him but all of us. We’d all gotten too thin.
“Can we get smaller sizes...?”
“Yes.”
The officer looked at us and the Street Boys in astonishment, especially at Rihyuk needing a size smaller than ours. After swapping down, we gazed at each other.
“Wow, NewBlack looks so slick in uniform...”
“If we ever pick concert costumes again, let’s choose uniforms. Director, this fit is unreal.”
“Right? I agree.”
Street Boys’ compliments made our shoulders shrug proudly. Indeed, the fit was perfect.
In the restroom mirror, I thought proudly of myself in uniform: Rihyuk looked like an elite forensic officer, Junghyun like a detective who’d nabbed a criminal and gotten promoted, Viju and Jiho like friendly community officers.
“But we look like con artists in these fits.”
“No matter how I look at it, we seem like undercover agents.”
“It’s nighttime. Street Boys, please lift your heads.”
The Street Boys, joking that our tough looks didn’t suit uniforms, still looked great too—their shoulders wide from training.
“All right, everyone gather!”
With help from the selfie-savvy maknae, we shot SNS selfies and keepsake photos. Fourteen faces layered together.
“Hello. We’re NewBlack!”
“We’re Street Boys!”
We waved around like on TV hallways; the officers laughed. Then we followed the publicity officer to the commissioner’s office, sipped tea, and took photos. In the first-floor auditorium, we held a small ambassadorship ceremony.
It began with NewBlack and Street Boys each performing a representative song. NewBlack’s all-vocal “Baramkkot” earned applause, followed by Street Boys’ title track “Stronger.”
“Broken window
Beyond the shattered pane
Fleeing the siren
As the city catches fire”
Though meant to deliver a teenage social message, it sounded like defying authority.
Each performance left the police staff making “Hmm?” puzzled faces. As Hanjo’s rap “Break the shackles and bars that imprison you” passed, we clapped enthusiastically.
“Waaa!”
Encouraged, the officers joined our applause and said “Hooh, good song.”
Next we took photos: we on the first row, Street Boys on the second, group shots, and the commissioner and I each held half of the certificate. The photographer said,
“Let’s do a fun pose!”
“A fun pose?”
“It’s too static—something dynamic would be nice.”
Dynamic pose—opinions split, I offered an idea.
“How about raising your palm like this?”
“Palm?”
To the commissioner’s curiosity, I said,
“Like saying ‘Stop crime!’ motion.”
“Hahaha! Uju, that idea is top notch!”
He gave a thumbs-up and agreed; he and I would lead the pose.
“Stop crime!”
“Stop it!”
We all raised our palms as we shouted. I thought it was just for photos.
-Incheon Police Agency appoints NewBlack, Street Boys as crime prevention ambassadors
-NewBlack becomes Incheon Police crime prevention ambassadors
-“We’re ambassadors now! Kkiyat-ho!”...NewBlack shows off friendship with Street Boys on SNS
That afternoon, news articles went up, and idol communities posted about it. freeweɓnøvel.com
“Today’s police ambassador appointees NewBlack & Street Boys.jpg”
(Article photo and SNS selfies)
“Stop crime!”
“Don’t do it.”
“Stop crime~”
“Hey, who told you to call me Ms. Deoksun tone!”
When I glared, the maknae laughed and ran away. I fought the urge to shoot an arrow.
“Hyung. Your posture is shaky.”
“I’ll steady it.”
At Viju’s prompt, I nocked an arrow and loosed it at the target. It struck dead center in the ten-point bull’s-eye. I high-fived Viju with a big grin.
At the indoor archery range, we were practicing ahead of Tuesday’s Olympics. We’d initially planned to compete in only one event, but the network insisted on at least two. We chose archery and the 60-meter dash. Junghyun would run, and glass-bodied Semo would sit out the physical event—if he slipped, our month of concert staging would collapse.
“You see me as fragile glass? I can run without injury.”
“Jiho, fetch the evidence video.”
“Okay.”
They showed footage from this year’s Lunar New Year special where someone collapsed after running like a spent cicada.
“...If I can’t do anything while fans watch, I’d be embarrassed.”
“It’s okay. Fans don’t want to see you use your body.”
“But I feel like I need to do something. I want to pull my weight.”
The maknae, holding a bow, spoke up.
“Oh! Then you can do that—like the ball-boy picking up arrows. What do you call it? Arrow attendant? Arrow pickup?”
A chill ran through me as I aimed again. I struck another ten-point bull’s-eye. Pleased, I took a photo of the target to boast to my grandmother. My phone suddenly flashed with incoming calls.
“...?”
I tried to answer, but the call dropped. Seeing thirty missed calls from the same name, I blinked and realized something.
“Oh.”
I asked the younger members,
“Is the special still airing?”
“Yes, I think so?” the maknae said.
“But it should be almost over by now.”
“Ah, that’s why.”
We’d agreed to watch the rebroadcast later, and resumed archery practice. The younger ones asked,
“But why?”
“There’s someone who keeps calling me.”
We all laughed at the silent phone’s flashing name.
At Sum Entertainment’s practice room, Ha Eun-seong was so engrossed in choreography that he didn’t notice our CEO burst in and hugged him. The members were startled, and so was he.
“That troublemaker, what do you see in him?”
“What do you see in me...?”
Eun-seong, dazed, asked,
“CEO?”
“Eun-seong!”
Sum Entertainment’s CEO grabbed his shoulders excitedly.
“You did it. You got something I could never have secured with all my networking.”
“Huh?”
“You appeared on Men on the Go! Great job. Looks like you begged Uju to get on.”
“...Huh?”
Eun-seong and APLB’s members, clueless, soon learned the whole story: what had happened at the end of Part Three. With each explanation, Eun-seong’s breathing grew ragged.
“Congratulations, Eun-seong!”
“Ugh...”
“Don’t faint from joy, hyung!”
Amid the frantic voices, Eun-seong collapsed like a rotten bundle of straw.
