Free Web Novel“I’m back.”
After the men’s qualifiers finished, Junghyun returned and we all rushed out to greet him barefoot.
“Ha, here comes our first-place runner.”
“Kim Junghyun. Great job.”
“Hyung Junghyun, you did amazing. Want me to rub your legs? We even laid out blankets on the floor.”
Junghyun beamed at our praise, then looked puzzled.
“But why are you praising me while looking at Rihyuk?”
“There’s a reason.”
Rihyuk still shook like a leaf. He covered his mouth so the fans couldn’t see and muttered,
“Seriously, how did I end up on a team with these people....”
“Want to switch to Hanjo’s side?”
“I’d rather do that....”
Rihyuk turned away just as—
“Arrgh!”
LB tumbled on the floor, shouting, “I got third! Third place!” as his teammates rolled him like a log.
“Let’s burn this thing down! Burn it!”
Even Hanjo’s eyes flashed with manic energy. Seeing the other team’s intense affection for their member, Rihyuk was speechless for a moment.
“It’s better here, right?”
“......”
“Yeah. At least we harass him with words.”
“Bragging everywhere. Wangji... oh, Viju hyung! Stop whispering ‘you’ll be fine’ in my ear! I said I’m fine!”
Viju, crouching beside Rihyuk, had been tenderly whispering into his ear, then gently patted him.
“It’s okay even if you can’t run. Rihyuk—find something else you can do.”
“Aww, I hate you the most right now......”
“Hmm? Why?”
Rihyuk collapsed, moaning, and Viju cupped his hands at his mouth and whispered again, “It’s okay~~.” A muffled grunt was his reply, as if he had no energy to respond.
“I will always remember today’s humiliation.”
The fallen crane flapped its legs.
“Someday in a snowy winter, I’ll come back and say, ‘Rihyuk, sorry for teasing you then,’ and you’ll just slam the door in my face.”
“In that case, poor Jiho will die on the street.......”
“That makes me the garbage!”
As Rihyuk growled “Ugh,” we chuckled, then set about cheering him up.
The topic quickly shifted.
“Ooh......”
We examined the slogan boards Mingi hyung had handed us. The Soufflés had prepared them: on a black background, bold white calligraphy read “You did great” on one side and “It’s okay” on the other.
“Wow. Nice idea.”
“It’s versatile. We could use it anywhere.”
“Try it now, hyung.”
At Viju’s cue, we turned our bodies. Waving “You did great” toward the stands, the Soufflés squealed and waved “You did great” back.
Meanwhile, as we telepathically connected with the Soufflés, the men’s 60 m qualifiers continued.
“Look—Eun-seong’s running too.”
“......Eun-seong?”
We turned and saw Eun-seong in lane three stretching his legs like a crane, then immediately grimacing in pain.
“Unexpected.”
“Why? Is he bad at sports?”
“No—he’s talented, he just hates using his body.”
“......”
“I still find it amazing he became an idol.”
He’s the guy who’s perceptive yet oblivious, skilled yet hates physical effort.
On screen, someone wearing a “Kevin” name tag winked—then the camera cut to me. Aware of our “military buds” gag from ShinTokki Part Two, I instantly changed my expression. From frowning at a junior’s cuteness, I beamed and shouted “Fighting!” The crowd chuckled. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
Watching from afar, Jiho whispered to me,
“He’s a good-looking guy, too.”
“Right?”
Even if the core’s odd, the shell’s decent.
“You know, if he’s handsome, they’d cast him on auditions even if he didn’t practice singing hard.”
“......”
“I guess we’ll never know.”
“No, we won’t.”
Jiho nodded at my wish to keep him blissfully unaware and demanded I tribute him a hundred ice creams. Tossing that idea at Junghyun, we watched the qualifiers.
“Waaa......!”
At the start, the boy-group members all sprinted forward. But first place wasn’t Eun-seong. A new star—about 170 cm tall and unbelievably fast—from SNH Ent.’s rookie boy group “EnoT” took it.
“That must be EnoT.”
“I know them too, hyung?”
I nodded at Viju’s question.
“Yeah. They came from that audition show. Their song ‘V’ charted.”
“Ohhh......”
“Their concept and song are really good.”
On screen, the purple-haired member labeled “Dodo” high-fived his teammate and bounced with excitement. Meanwhile, Eun-seong sighed “Dae-het, second place,” strolled over to his members, flashed a V-sign, and they patted him warmly on the back.
Watching triumph and disappointment swirling around the stadium, I murmured,
“There are lots of new faces.”
“True.”
Last Lunar New Year, only a few 2014 debut groups joined, but this time, a wave ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) of rookies participated. Seeing uniforms on yet-to-debut groups felt strange—like being a second-year student looking at incoming freshmen.
“By the way......”
Those rookies kept glancing at us. Feeling their eyes, we huddled and whispered,
“Don’t you think they’re staring at us?”
“I thought so too—they’ve been sneaking looks since earlier.”
“It feels kind of intimidating.”
Every time we moved, those looks followed—like explorers discovering Galápagos tortoises. “Those people are NewBlack...!” We straightened our shoulders at those admiring gazes. We had to live up to expectations.
“......”
I was the first to stand up tall. As we straightened from our slouched, giggling posture, Street Boys scoffed. We locked arms.
“Hahaha.”
When we smiled warmly, Iris—also in purple—looked awkward. Waving “It’s okay” to the Soufflés, we noticed some stares.
Girls, laughing in the stands, looked over; TeenSpirit caught our eye and mouthed:
‘I get it.’
Their leader Hwiyeon lifted a water bottle in a “cheers” gesture. We raised Rihyuk’s hand in reply.
“Why did you raise my hand?”
“Because it’s burgundy.”
“......”
If Rihyuk were a cat, we’d all have been clawed. Instead, we just got whipped by tracksuit sleeves.
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Dust kicked up around us as the women’s 60 m final ended. The broadcasters picked up the arena mic:
“The video review is in! Blink’s Darum has overtaken La Vie en Rose’s Juhyun to take first place.”
“Waaa......!”
Our debut mate Blink snagged gold. The crew gestured as the women’s finalists stood, and Eun-seong dusted himself off and got up.
“I’ll be back.”
We all cheered him on and waved the slogan board covering “-ttyasŏ” to show “Well done.”
“Next up: the men’s 60 m final.”
“In lane 1: Ace’s Fail; lane 2: Daydream’s Jun.”
As each idol member appeared on the big screen, the commentators named them. Idols in colorful uniforms flashed V-signs or winked mischievously. The crowd’s cheers rose and fell until, at lane 6, the announcer said:
“In lane 6: NewBlack’s Junghyun.”
A handsome athlete–like figure appeared, holding up his index finger. The fans, startled, then waved their “Well done” boards, and the bear-like face cracked a warm smile. The commentators, startled at first, bantered:
“...Whoa, surprised me. I thought he was flipping me off.”
“That was his index finger, not his middle. A sign of intent to win?”
“Feels like he’s saying, ‘Even if I don’t win, I’ll take someone down with me.’”
As the booth tossed jibes on air, lead MC announcer Baek Sang-joong asked the analyst beside him:
“What do you think of this men’s final?”
“Well......”
The mid-career analyst replied,
“I predict with high probability that NewBlack’s Junghyun will take first place.”
“And why do you say that?”
“In most sports, if weight class is equal, technique and experience decide the winner. In simple terms, the one who’s run more often performs better. The one who knows how to sprint wins.”
“Does Junghyun fit those criteria?”
“Not at all.”
The analyst shook his head.
“Junghyun’s form suits middle distances more. While others run like sprinters, he’s running a marathon alone. It’s a bit inefficient.”
“Then why......”
“Junghyun has an advantage beyond technique and experience.”
“......?”
The analyst raised a fist:
“He’s ridiculously strong.”
“Analyst, maybe avoid nonstandard language on air......”
“There’s no better way to say it.”
He glanced at Junghyun warming up below and his eyes sparkled with excitement.
“He’s insanely strong. While others take their one-meter strides, look—he’s taking three-meter strides. See? Even warming up in place, he bounds like Inspector Gadget.”
“I–I see.”
“In the last Men on the Go, I was so disappointed he didn’t get a chance. Oh, if I’d met him twenty years ago, I’d have trained him as a wrestling star. With that face and that body...!”
The ex-wrestler analyst’s heartfelt zeal had the MCs bursting into laughter. Soon the runners took deep breaths for the start.
“Hoo....”
The idols swallowed hard. Palms slick with sweat, they felt their fans’ stares:
‘I have to do well.’
‘Even second place would be something....’
But nobody dared dream of first—because of that one presence in lane 6:
‘How can we beat him?’
While others inhaled tensely, one idol nonchalantly scratched his ear—our marathon-runner-in-sprinter’s-body. All nodded at that calm monk-like face.
“My goal is second place.”
Their fans shared the thought:
‘Just don’t get hurt.’
‘As long as he doesn’t collide with Junghyun.’
‘Please, let him be safe.’
In size there were bigger idols, but because of the special’s image, Junghyun looked like a truck wedged between motorbikes.
At last the gun fired.
Everyone bit down and ran, but one person—calm and collected—pounded forward with incredible speed. Fans gasped.
“Wow......”
He shot past like an F1 car’s breeze. One fan exclaimed,
‘So fast......”
‘No wonder the Special Forces sent him to the hospital.’
‘The talent who left Taereung behind....’
As second and third battled neck-and-neck, Junghyun pulled away effortlessly. He was so fast the camera filming the rails couldn’t keep up. At the moment the camera director blinked, Junghyun had already crossed the finish line first.
He celebrated like a footballer scoring a goal, waving his index finger. NewBlack and our Soufflés roared.
The idols who came second and third huffed, hands on their thighs, then raised thumbs in respect when Junghyun approached. He patted them on the shoulder in solidarity.
Then came the interviews:
-How does it feel to win first place?
-“First, I dedicate this honor to my teammate Rihyuk.”
-To Rihyuk?
-“Yes.”
Rihyuk looked moved, while NewBlack behind him waved “You did great!” energetically. Nine Street Boys backed us with dance moves.
-Did Rihyuk help you a lot?
-“No. He didn’t do anything for me, but......”
The odd answer cracked the crowd up.
-“Somehow I felt I had to give him the glory. He got silver in the dash last Lunar New Year.”
-Ah. You achieved the goal on his behalf.
-“Oh—it is like that.”
Junghyun, as if realizing it, smiled warmly and held up his gold medal. Then to the camera:
-“Rihyuk, I’m the gold medal.”
That teasing tone sent the idol fans into peals of laughter.
The big screen switched to show Rihyuk sitting on the floor, hand to his brow, surrounded by NewBlack waving “It’s okay.” Street Boys danced joyfully behind him.
After the 60 m dash, the opening ceremony began.
-Repeat after me.
Second-generation idol seniors stood on the podium reciting the pledge. Each group’s representative vowed, “We will not get injured today and will create a super fun broadcast.”
-This concludes the pledge.
The seniors abruptly left the podium—just as I wished the pledge would never end. The production staff beckoned me forward.
“......”
I glanced back at my juniors:
“Fighting.”
“Hurry up and go.”
Rihyuk grinned thrillingly, nodding “Go on,” and Hanjo pressed his hands together with a happy smile. While Street Boys chuckled, the ostrich-like Eun-seong towered over us and mocked me with a grin.
-Next up is the warm-up session. To avoid injury, perform each exercise precisely. Demonstrating with us today is NewBlack’s Wooju!
“Waaa!”
Fans around us cheered and clapped, thrilled for a change. Denying reality for a moment, I smiled and strode onto the podium. The station’s promise “We’ll give you lots of screen time—wa!” wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t exactly what I’d wanted.
“Ahem ahem.”
On the podium, I scanned the crowd. It seemed they wanted to milk the special’s popularity, so I was to lead the warm-up. Gaining airtime was great, but it felt vaguely embarrassing. Beneath me, idols in eight rainbow uniforms looked up with sparkling eyes, while the Soufflés waved “It’s okay” boards. Two dancers stepped behind me as I gripped the mic and smiled.
“All right, let’s begin our warm-up!”
Since it was destined, I’d do my best. Feeling the stadium’s gaze and the cameras, I cued the national exercise medley. Each time I demonstrated a move, the dancers followed along.
“Neck exercises~”
With each motion change, the idols below groaned as they stretched. It felt like my muscles were loosening with every stretch. I almost let slip a quiet “Ouch...” into the mic.
“Thank you for your hard work!”
“You did great.”
I bowed deeply to the dancers who joined me for five minutes, then hurried off the podium. Other idols offered polite applause and laughter. Returning to my spot, my juniors greeted me.
“You did great, hyung.”
“Hyung, your expression was the best. Every stretch you looked so relieved......”
“Did I?”
“You were like a glowing grandpa.”
I smiled warmly, thinking that it no longer embarrassed me. If people who knew me teased me later, I’d worry only in private.
At that thought—
-Next is the celebratory performance.
On the cue sheet, it simply read “celebratory performance.” Who could it be? Curious, everyone looked around. The MC’s voice boomed:
“-Although they couldn’t attend today’s Idol Sports Festival, they’ve come all the way for their juniors. Please give them a big round of applause!”
As fans and idols clapped, the stadium lights dimmed slightly and the intro music began. It was “Hands Joined Together,” the 1988 Olympic theme. A man in sunglasses emerged from the entrance.
“Oh—that’s....”
It was ballad singer The Moon. As he sang the first line in his distinctive style, the entertainers slated to follow appeared—mostly familiar faces from TV. Even first-generation idol seniors, now retired, were there; it was amazing to see them in person. Seven singers gathered for the performance; the Soufflés roared in approval.
At that moment, through the west entrance, two figures appeared.
“Ah.”
TNT, who’d missed the Olympics due to schedule conflicts: Han Tae-hyeon and Jang Han-byeol, walking out to duet.
“......”
They both winked at me at the same time.
