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Inside the van, we saw faces, still hollow with sleep, changing clothes. Each of us repeatedly started and stopped dressing with half-awake expressions. Jiho, hand on his shirt’s zipper button, lay face-down on the seat.
“Ugh......”
“My back hurts.”
I patted my lower back too.
“I’m exhausted. Let’s rest before changing pants.”
“O...okay......”
My younger brothers gave me warm smiles at my suggestion. They’d changed only their tops into their Olympic tracksuits and were curled forward like bean beetles, careful not to mess up their hair and makeup. Then they promptly passed out again.
“Hey, you guys.”
“Ugh... pork belly......”
“Hey—wake up.”
“Mmph. I’m—not—sleeping... Hyung.”
Wiping drool from the corner of his mouth, I made Wonseok hyung laugh. Ten seconds later, our manager, pitying us, handed out chocolate bars as he shook us awake. We all nibbled the bars with weary faces, then lit up with bliss at the sweetness.
“What time did you go to bed last night? We told you to sleep early yesterday.”
“We went to bed at 1:30....”
“Early, huh?”
“Guess that’s why we feel worse.”
On the day before the Olympics, we’d tried to get good rest by sleeping early—our fatal mistake. Fatigue is insidious: if you’re chronically tired, you can push through, but interrupting that built-up fatigue makes you feel even worse. It’s like uncorking a 1.5-liter water bottle—once it opens, it gushes out. Our bodies felt unbearably heavy.
“Wonseok hyung, I’ve learned an important lesson this time.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“I’ll never prepare a concert and an album at the same time again.”
He gave me a wry smile, then said he’d go buy snacks and hopped out of the van. Meanwhile, we stood there holding our pants with anxious frowns.
“Ugh, too much bother to change pants again.”
“Same here......”
“Let’s just go in as we are—nobody would notice.”
“......”
The maknae, still in red shorts, suggested this. Finally we all staggered into our lilac tracksuit pants. Our legs, stiff from recent concert choreography practice, screamed in protest.
“Ugh......”
“Ugh......”
“Woohoo.”
A sudden unexpected jolt of laughter erupted among us. Unlike our squealing muscles, the one whose body had been officially certified in the top 0.1% by the hospital stood unperturbed. After laughing it out, our bodies felt a bit looser.
Once we’d finished dressing and tidying ourselves, we picked up the selfie cam. On the screen were our five fresh faces—mine framed by silvery hair and a headband, the others’ eyes sparkling.
“We’re at the Olympics.”
“That’s right.”
Junghyun spoke grandly.
“We’re about to get out of the car.”
“We’ll shoot arrows and run.”
“Rihyuk hyung won’t do anything.”
“He’ll quietly take 69 points.”
Each of us chimed in, then it was my turn again. I spoke seriously:
“Today I’ll win archery gold.”
“Sounds good.” freēwēbnovel.com
“Then we’ll ride your coattails.”
Their expressions in the cam already seemed determined to coast on my victory. I narrowed my eyes at my brothers, whose heads seemed full of mischief. Rihyuk, combing his ends crisply with a fine-toothed comb, asked:
“By the way, why are we speaking like this? Seriously?”
“True enough.”
I waved at the cam:
“Okay, we’ve arrived at the indoor arena parking lot in Goyang City. We’re about to enter the shooting range.”
“We’ll go do our best without getting hurt.”
“Shall we all say Fighting together?”
We shouted “Fighting!” with gusto, handed the cam to our manager, and climbed out of the van. The morning air was cool. We practiced smiling at each other a few times, then gave each other an OK thumbs-up.
“One, two, three!”
“Hello, we’re NewBlack!”
We called out our name to the ENG cameraman outside the arena. On the way to our assigned locker room, we greeted passing idols.
“They said that special was a hit—so fun to watch.”
“Saw it too. Good luck, No. 8!”
“Do you still keep in touch with Team 1 members?”
Hearing everyone mention the special, we murmured “Ooh” in amazement. We’d been confined to the practice room and office, so now we felt its ripple effect firsthand.
“Ooh!”
Baek Kyung of Wild, tall and striking, spotted us and strode over.
“I really enjoyed the special. I watched it during Lunar New Year, and it’s still so fresh now.”
“Ooh! NewBlack!”
Wild members Woo-san and Jung-gun joined, staring at us with wonder. Even Woo-san, who’d recorded ShinTokki with me, eyed me as if I were some rare specimen. I’d heard they nearly debuted as “Big Dog” because of their looks; surrounded by Doberman-like Woo-san and the others, it felt apt.
“How’d you do that frisbee-boomerang trick?”
“I didn’t plan it. It’s all in the snap—a quick flick rather than a full swing.”
“Ooh, snap snap...”
They all imitated my pose at once, and we laughed. The special really had taken off—other idols knew every detail. As we chatted with Wild, Woo-san suddenly held out his hand.
“Can we... shake hands?”
It was meant for Junghyun. Junghyun clasped his hand with a warm smile. Woo-san tested his grip and grinned, “Oh—impressive.” After promising to talk more during the broadcast, we parted.
“People are amazed by me, hyung.”
“They have reason to be.”
I agreed. “Even we, who live with you, find you amazing.”
“Alongside Uju’s klutz myths, you’re one of NewBlack’s top five mysteries.”
At our reaction, Junghyun beamed. Perhaps thanks to Men on the Go Part Three, even the staff stared at us in wonder. Junghyun especially drew attention after his hospital exam cameo. TeenSpirit’s Yeonhu came to the waiting room, felt our hyung’s arm, and left the immortal line, “Wow, that’s insane.”
“Our hyung is such a wonder.”
“Yes, hyung.”
I said to the bear mascot, stretching in the waiting room before the 60 m dash:
“It’s most important not to get hurt. Don’t run like it’s your last breath.”
“I will.”
Rihyuk, meticulously tying his laces to perfect symmetry, looked up and said:
“Hey, don’t feel pressured just because I got silver in the dash last time. Hyung, just run comfortably.”
“Okay, got it.”
Though our bear might collapse a mountainside if he tumbled, we couldn’t help worrying. As Viju and Rihyuk hovered and nagged him, we tidied our outfits before entry.
Knock, knock.
We, our manager, and stylists turned at the knock. A middle-aged man in a sharp casual suit entered with our manager and the five-member boy group. I recognized him immediately.
“Director?”
“Long time no see, Wooju.”
It was President Jo Dong-wan, now CEO of Sum Entertainment, who’d been a director when I joined TJ. He greeted our staff gracefully and handed out business cards. Then:
“Hello, we’re APLB!”
The five APLB members greeted us energetically. Among their joyful faces, one looked melancholic—our junior, obviously moved. I suppressed a laugh.
“I felt it proper to come thank you in person.”
President Jo smiled at me. “Our Eun-seong has been invited to Men on the Go.”
“Really?”
“Kkiyat-ho.”
“He said Producer Do-joon-gi told him you campaigned hard for Eun-seong. Even for a close junior, that’s rare.”
“No—Eun-seong simply has great variety sense, so I recommended him with confidence.”
“That’s right. Even if he’s a troublemaker, he’s hilarious on variety. Haha!”
We laughed heartily together. My juniors, watching, exchanged glances as if to say, “He’s mistaken—Hyung just wanted him to go to the military.” I asked eagerly:
“So does Eun-seong really join the military? Which branch?”
“I heard Marine Corps or the Coast Guard.”
“Wow—oh boy, that’ll be tough.”
I almost pumped my fist in excitement. At “tough,” President Jo waved it off:
“Tough? Getting a rookie idol on variety is so hard—I’m just grateful. Right, Eun-seong?”
Eun-seong, zoned out like a kid dragged by his mother, turned to me, took a deep breath, and choked out:
“Thank you... President....”
“Huh? I can’t hear you.”
“Ah—really, thank you so, so much!”
His fervent gratitude made us all laugh, and President Jo couldn’t help but grin.
“The special’s so hot right now—everyone’s scrambling to get on. Glad you got in.”
“It’s a ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) relief.”
I meant it sincerely. After all, I knew from debut how precious a variety gig could be. Eun-seong’s changing gaze—every second—said:
“Thank you.”
“No, don’t thank me!”
“Thank you, hyung....”
“No!”
I returned those varied looks with a warm smile. Farewell, Marine Corps.
As he trembled and thanked us in turn, President Jo checked his watch.
“Oh dear, I’ve taken too much of your time.”
“No, not at all.”
“Anyway, I wanted to thank you and show my appreciation, so I came by.”
APLB’s manager handed out boxes to our members and staff. Inside were snacks, drinks, and blankets for waiting. We all thanked them, and President Jo approached me alone:
“Really, thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
“If you ever need anything, let me know.” frёewebnoѵēl.com
He smiled like a genie granting a wish, offered me an imaginary token of goodwill, bowed politely, and left. From his TJ days onward, I’d thought him a consummate businessman.
“Well, we should get going too, senior.”
APLB’s members greeted us shyly and followed him out. At the door, Eun-seong chirped:
“See you later, seniors!”
“Yes, see you!”
“I’ll tell you lots of fun stories later—promise~?”
“Promise!”
Eun-seong winked at our guys, then turned to me with a businesslike expression:
“......See you later.”
The abrupt shift in tone made me laugh. I teased him:
“Eun-seong.”
“Yes?”
“Even in a neon uniform, saying that is not scary at all.”
“Argh!”
Our staff burst out laughing at how he gently closed the door.
This Chuseok Olympics had eight teams, each in a different rainbow color. We were the eighth team in purple: “Look at Us.” Our teammates included La Vie en Rose from DNS Media and rookie boy group Iris.
“So we’re on different teams this time.”
In the dim hallway, Scarlet’s leader Ara, in deep crimson uniform, said regretfully:
“We wanted to be on the same team.”
“We need to win and get meat from our CEO......”
“But we’re only doing two events anyway.”
I smiled:
“We won’t be much help.”
“Oh right—concert prep. Congrats!”
“Congrats!”
As Scarlet—our senior group—danced to congratulate our concert, we bopped along. Bystanders laughed: “Lemon artists sure know how to party...” Then Scarlet’s Rina, snapping her neck lazily, said:
“We almost ended up with you as Team L again.”
“Why not?”
“They said the balance was off.”
“......”
No wonder it felt odd—most agencies clustered their own groups together, but we’d been split off. Scarlet’s members exchanged determined glances before entry:
“In that case, we’ll win ourselves.”
“Let’s go, hyung.”
Burning with desire for meat, Scarlet led the procession. We cheered, “Eat lots of meat!”
Meanwhile, the boy group in Scarlet’s “Red Supreme” team brushed past us: Street Boys. As our juniors giggled, Hanjo and I avoided each other’s eyes, clearing our throats:
“Ah... hello.”
“Hi.”
Street Boys shrieked “Kyah!” like pterosaurs, our juniors flinched from goosebumps, smoothing their arms:
“Ugh, so awkward!”
“Then why’d we agree to drop formal speech when we meet next time?”
“......”
We had forgotten.
“I didn’t expect to meet at the Olympics......”
“You’re kind of slow, hyung.”
“Don’t call me slow, Jiho.”
Still, it felt awkward. With Scarlet, and with younger Daisy and Rina—who were our age—the speech flowed naturally, but with Hanjo, casual speech felt strange.
“Hi, it’s you, Wooju.”
“H...Hanjo.”
“Uh... want to switch to casual?”
Our juniors mimicked us, giggling. Then TeenSpirit passed by with a rude swagger—they were in the “Let’s Raise the Blues” team with APLB.
“......”
We parted for them, as if thinking, “Don’t block my path, you guys.” They’d just returned from their overseas tour yesterday—in all likelihood exhausted. Then, three seconds later, their jaded strut smoothed out, their stooped posture straightened, as if in some twist ending, the lame duck walked upright, innocent-faced.
“......”
It was mesmerizing every time. After the indigo team’s entrance, it was our turn. Senior groups led with flags, and we followed into the stadium.
“Waaa!”
Our faces splashed across the giant center screen. The MCs’ voices boomed:
“-And here comes the eighth team, ‘Look at Us’—La Vie en Rose, followed by NewBlack.”
“-A powerful dark horse lineup.”
“-Wooju, wave at the commentators!”
I waved toward the commentary booth, then at our Soufflés. Compared to Lunar New Year, the crowd had doubled; Soufflés waved Dal-bongs joyfully. Proud, I waved back energetically. When we beamed at them, they switched their glow sticks to sparkling red, as if echoing our hearts. The camera caught the scene and splashed it onto the screen. Watching the wave of cheering fans, we laughed.
After the procession, the 60 m dash—our pre-opening event—began immediately.
“I’ll be back.”
Junghyun stood as the men’s qualifiers were about to start. We gave our “Fighting!” cheers. As he took his spot on the starting line, Rihyuk said worriedly:
“I feel like I should’ve run instead.”
“Huh?”
“I’m faster at sprints. Junghyun hyung isn’t a short-distance runner....”
True enough. Rihyuk was known for sharp bursts; Junghyun fit more for endurance. As others tensed and stretched, Junghyun waved calmly at us. Beside him, LB paced and breathed deeply; Street Boys whispered:
“They’re so confident now that Rihyuk isn’t running.”
“Right—they said this win is theirs.”
Watching LB’s determined stance, I nodded. He was quick, but next to him stood Caleb of SoulSix, last year’s gold medalist. As LB and Caleb sized each other up at the line, composed Junghyun lightly assumed his pose. Then—
“Pwooo—!”
The dash began.
“Waaa......!”
Fans in the stands waved props and screamed as we stared in amazement.
“......”
“......”
We rubbed our eyes.
“He’s fast.”
“Fastest of all.”
While everyone else ran breathlessly, one person sprinted with tranquil composure. His leg strength was like springs on his calves—each dash looked like a multi-meter leap. When others panted, Junghyun, calm as ever, whipped past and tapped the finish line first, then nonchalantly scratched his nose. Viju stared blankly at the scoreboard and said:
“He set an Olympic record.”
“Uh......”
As we blinked at the screen, Junghyun waved and smiled warmly at us. We burst into incredulous laughter. Rihyuk stared at the time with a “No way” expression—identical to how LB and Caleb looked.
“No, how...?”
Rihyuk’s quaking face had us in stitches. Jiho peered at him and chirped:
“Hyung, you lost both Japanese and running too, huh.”
“......”
We roared with laughter as Rihyuk trembled on the track.
