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The A&R team staff, who’d been shuttling between the office and the studios, stretched to ease their stiff limbs.
“Ugh... I’m so sore.”
“Ouch, I need to eat that red ginseng Woo-ju gave us. I’m dying here.”
“I might not be able to get up tomorrow...”
Dark circles under their eyes, the A&R staff each pulled out a red-ginseng stick and sucked it down. Watching one another desperately inhale ginseng to survive, they gave each other wry smiles.
The A&R team handles album production. Scarlet is wrapping up music-show promotions, and NewBlack now only has the album’s release ahead—so there really shouldn’t be much to do... yet moans filled the office.
“This is really tough.”
“It’s like when Ri-hyuk cleans. He tidies everything up, then Jiho and Junghyun turn it into chaos in three seconds.”
“Exactly. Just when you think it’s all perfectly organized, you notice these tiny dissonances.”
They were talking about Woo-ju’s new song—written for John Edwards’s film Nostalgia, opening at the end of September. It was only going to appear in part, and it wasn’t even an album track, so they’d begun work with light hearts. But the song was too good.
“So beautiful...” one A&R member sighed, eyes closed under headphones. A vivid rhythm twinkling like starlight. A melody that made you hum as if fairies were dancing in a midnight forest.
“Filgeun’s humming,” someone noted.
“He must be listening.”
“Whenever I hear this, I feel like a cartoon princess. I want to talk with the skylark that’s flying by.”
The deeper they dug, the more marvels they found. Woo-ju said he’d come up with it on the spot—how, they wondered.
“This is the problem...” another muttered. It was like discovering the legendary sauce reborn as fireworks: a perfect sketch that almost scared them from finishing the final version. Yet they couldn’t just send a rough draft, yelling “Take it, Hollywood!” So the A&R team did their best in the situation, fitting and removing puzzle pieces over and over by hand—until their bodies ached.
“Ughh...”
“I don’t even have the strength to leave work. I’ll have to nap in the overnight office later.”
“We should at least eat dinner.”
As the zombie-like staff flopped in their chairs debating “Jjajangmyeon?” a rattling sound came.
“What’s that? A cart?”
“Maybe a delivery?”
NewBlack pushed a cart in.
“We’re here!”
“We’ve arrived—fresh NewBlack!”
“You didn’t expect us at this hour, did you?”
To the A&R team, the cart sounded like demons rolling war chariots through hell.
“Ugh!” they leapt up and formed a blockade to keep them out.
“W-What’s going on, all of a sudden?”
“Um?”
“Wasn’t it time to record the Idol Sports Festival tape? All of a sudden...”
At the center, Woo-ju answered.
“Actually, we...”
“...?”
The five went suddenly glum.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“We were eliminated in round one of archery.”
“Eliminated...?”
Impossible to imagine. Woo-ju was the one who never fell behind if it required physical skill. They remembered CEO Park Gyu-ho’s tears when NewBlack won the archery gold last Lunar New Year’s special.
“Woo-ju got eliminated...?”
“Did he bite the other team’s ear?”
“Unless he whipped the judge with his bow, there’s no way to lose.”
Soon they heard the tale of the lucky arrow and what followed—and burst out laughing.
“So that’s why you lost.”
“No! We didn’t lose!”
At the youngest’s fierce denial, the others nodded.
“It’s a three-step retreat for one-step advance.”
“A strategic withdrawal for a great leap at the next special.”
“And since we got to leave early, we’re the real winners—others win gold while we go home.”
As Woo-ju pleaded with clenched fists, the office workers nodded in sympathy. The members echoed “Right! Right!”
After a moment, the A&R staff asked:
“But what’s in the cart? It smells like food.”
“This? Lunch boxes.”
“Lunch boxes?”
“From Olive House, where we’re models—they prepared these.”
Ri-hyuk opened a paper box, revealing a stack of lunch-box cartons. Junghyun fanned the air, spreading the scent of meat.
“Wow, that smell...”
“Nice, right?”
These were dinner boxes originally meant for fans. But with the unexpected early finish, the evening’s supply was up in the air.
“So we’re personally delivering them to the company.”
“Oh...”
Woo-ju grinned, “Of course we came to A&R first~” and the staff laughed.
“Thanks. We’ll eat well.”
They accepted the boxes with smiles, then gasps of joy when they saw steak and lobster inside.
“Wow, steak after so long.”
“Looks delicious.”
“The fans must feel sorry they missed these.”
“True—what did you do for your fans?”
The members looked sheepish.
“Before leaving, we met them briefly and gave out only Post-its.”
“Post-its?”
“Notes with their names and short messages. We planned to stick them on the dinner boxes.”
“You only gave out Post-its?”
“Yes—and they said ‘Enjoy your dinner’...”
Woo-ju’s gaze into the distance made them burst out laughing. They pictured fans receiving a “Enjoy your dinner” Post-it without dinner.
“But the fans liked it.”
“Right—hedgehogs think their babies are pretty too.”
“It was like serving school meals but giving only tonkatsu sauce without the tonkatsu.”
At Viju’s trailing comment, they laughed. As they opened and ate lunch boxes, the A&R team lead called Woo-ju aside.
“By the way, Woo-ju.”
“Yes?”
“I think the song you gave us will be finished soon. We’re making good progress.”
“Thank you!”
Their faces brightened. It seemed they’d wanted to ask but didn’t find the right moment. As Woo-ju bowed, the staff suddenly rose.
“Oh, wait.”
“...?”
“Before you go... could we have that lucky early-leave arrow?”
Woo-ju looked puzzled but handed over the fused arrows. The team lead received them reverently, eyes serious.
In the solemn moment, NewBlack blinked in surprise.
“Please let us leave early too.”
“Here’s to leaving on time.”
The sight of office workers fondling the arrow, wishing for early leave, sent NewBlack into laughter.
The “lucky arrow” from the special was placed in our studio. We smiled at the two fused arrows on the stand Ri-hyuk had ordered.
“Why display it here?”
When the main vocalist asked, I answered simply:
“There’s nowhere to put it at the dorm?”
“Just throw it away—it’s just taking up space.”
“It’s a souvenir. Why discard it?”
I shook my head.
“When the NewBlack Museum exists someday, this will be on display.”
“Do you really think that’ll happen?”
“Ri-hyuk—you never know. Someday under a black-and-white photo of Woo-ju shooting, this arrow might hang.”
“Right, Ri-hyuk... hey, wait. Jiho, why a black-and-white photo?”
We chased down the youngest who tried to run, and punished him. Thus our Chuseok special, marked by the fastest-ever elimination, ended.
Later, we heard from Sbo members that Scarlet’s red team won, especially dominating the final women’s relay. Other groups suffered injuries in basketball and relays, making the audience atmosphere tense. We agreed # Nоvеlight # that leaving early was a masterstroke.
Meanwhile, after the special, concert and comeback promotions ramped up:
I skimmed titles and summaries without reading comments. Most articles focused on how our new title track might perform, even predicting a fierce battle for No. 1 with Teenspirit on shows in September—and most gave us the edge. Though Teenspirit’s fandom was larger, could they really beat NewBlack, the streaming powerhouse...?
“Ugh, this is embarrassing.”
“They call us the music-chart powerhouse most enjoyed by 20- to 30-somethings—ugh, look, hands can’t even straighten.”
“Ooh, praise at last. Very satisfied.”
It felt awkward, like hearing “most admired elementary-school figure.” But regardless of our embarrassment, our image seemed cemented as an idol-category “streaming giant” whose comebacks shake the industry like a ballad star or indie band.
“Our album pre-orders are trending very well too.”
Whenever I dropped by the management team’s office, Seok-hwan hyung tried to tell me about the album.
“Aaaah! I can’t hear! I’m an elementary-schooler!”
“Ah! I won’t listen!”
Each time he tried, we plugged our ears and refused. We only caught that pre-order numbers were good—no specifics. Usually distributors project sales based on previous volumes and fan pre-orders; these projections were very strong. But we chose not to hear details.
“Don’t want to get our hopes up.”
“You should get your hopes up. You’ve blown up yet still think like trainees.”
“We’ll see first-week sales later. Now we need practice.”
With the big concert ahead, we didn’t want to fret over every metric. The real singing happens on stage; until then, we’d prepare with cold focus. We wanted to—and had to—be at our best.
“What’s first-strike?”
“A dog’s first-strike!”
We recalled Lady Kim Deok-soon’s adage that first impressions matter most as we prepared the concert, crossing off days on the calendar until D-day, Friday, August 28.
We also kept in daily touch with our families. Whenever our heads ached from prep, we’d call home.
“Grandson.”
“Haha!”
Ah—so good. Hearing homey insults calmed me like a warm bath—sometimes scalding hot, but always welcome. When you’re exhausted, a word from family surpasses any medicine.
“I’m fine~ perfectly fine.”
My grandmother’s worried scolding—“eat this, take that”—followed, and I nodded at her care.
“So you’re preparing well? Dress nice when you come to my grandson’s concert.”
“They’ll give them at the company on the first day, I think.”
My grandmother and the other members’ families were coming to opening night. I didn’t know where they’d sit, but they’d all gather somewhere. My grandmother worried:
“Don’t worry. Grandma, everyone will think you’re just one of us.”
“Probably the only seventy-year-old in the crowd...?”
“Okay—then the only 60- and 70-something in the venue... ah!”
I ducked from her rapid-fire insults until she laughed, saying grandpa and other grandparents were coming too. Finally the edge left her tone.
As we chatted concert details, Grandma Kim Deok-soon asked low:
“Why?”
“Ri-hyuk?”
Grandma scolded:
“Got it. I’ll look after him.”
That’s why our calls were short and from the rooftop. Caring for bodies matters, but caring for hearts is just as important.
The day before the concert.
The car to Olympic Park for rehearsal was noisy.
“Ri-hyuk hyung. D. O. Y. O. U. W. A. N. T. T. O. E. A. T. T. H. I. S.?”
“...”
“Ri-hyuk, you look pale. Your eyes are twitching. Are you low on magnesium? Should I get magnesium supplements?”
“...”
“Ri-hyuk, use this pillow.”
When Junghyun pop-fitted a neck pillow around Ri-hyuk’s neck, Ri-hyuk roared “Graaah!” like breathing fire.
“What are you doing all of a sudden?”
“...”
We glanced at each other.
“Huh... the aesthetics of caring?”
“Consideration?”
“Brotherly love?”
With every bump, Ri-hyuk’s ears blushed red then paled again. Our main vocalist gave us a look that said this was ridiculous.
“Did it feel that awkward?”
“If you want to care, do it steadily. Look at yourselves—like politicians in election season.”
“Hey, that’s a bit...”
Ri-hyuk held up his phone in selfie mode. Seeing our expressions, we understood instantly.
“...”
We looked embarrassed while Ri-hyuk slid out the neck pillow and nibbled on the yokan Jiho gave him.
“Well, I appreciate the thought, but it’s really unnecessary.”
“...”
“I think my family’s coming tomorrow.”
“They are?”
Each time I tried to ask, it seemed unconfirmed. Ri-hyuk nodded. freewēbnoveℓ.com
“My mom will come with Ye-in from the U.S. And dad might stop by too.”
“That’s great.”
“But they might not come.”
He replied evenly.
“They’re both busy. If they can’t, they won’t. If they can, they’ll come.”
“...”
“So Viju hyung, don’t tear up just yet. Save the tears for tomorrow’s concert.”
“...Okay.”
Viju’s eyes were moist, but he nodded. Silence filled the car, broken only by the air-con hum, until the youngest read a sign.
“Oh, we must be almost at Olympic Park.”
“Right.”
“Inside, on the way to the stadium, our concert flags will be up, right?”
We met each other’s excited eyes. Mingi hyung, who was driving, said we’d arrive in about five minutes. Then:
“Thank you.”
Simple words, but from the speaker, we all froze.
We turned left and right; Ri-hyuk stared into the air and said:
“I’m thanking you.”
“For what, someone up there?”
“Gah, really.”
He frowned at us, then said:
“Thanks for caring about me.”
“...”
“All through concert prep you’d secretly call me to check on me. When family talk came up, you’d avoid it for my sake.”
“...”
“I don’t know if my family will come tomorrow, but it’d be fine even if they didn’t.”
Ri-hyuk smiled.
“I think it’d be good just us.”
“...”
“Viju hyung, now’s not the time to hug. Control yourself.”
“...Okay.”
Viju’s arms fluttered like butterfly wings and folded. At Ri-hyuk’s words, we smiled: the thought of being happy just together felt warm and strange, from someone so mean. We were touched he thought of us as his own.
“A wave of emotion...”
“A sight to behold.”
“Ri-hyuk...!”
We smiled warmly too. Everything was perfect, but...
“Ri-hyuk.”
“Yes?”
“All this talk should wait until we get out. So we all scatter like cockroaches when the door opens.”
“...Ah.”
Embarrassing. In a movie, the scene would cut after a reveal—but we stayed in this moment, five of us staring at the car ceiling.
“...”
Then Mingi hyung glanced in the rearview mirror and quietly said:
“Guys.”
“...Yes?”
“It’s usually five more minutes to go.”
But?
“The traffic’s backed up.”
“...”
“My nav says about fifteen minutes now.”
At that, without prompt, we all waved our shriveled hands and cried out. Those fifteen minutes became the longest of our lives.
