Free Web Novel“Wow...”
It’s huge.
“Even bigger than I thought.”
“Right? I saw a lot online saying it was smaller, but I don’t really know.”
“Woaaah...”
We stood on the stage, gazing out over the empty handball arena. Unlike the sweltering heat outside, it felt cool in here. I felt the breeze of the air-conditioning and looked back.
“The VCR will play from here.”
One giant LED screen hung center stage, with one on each side. A protruding catwalk jutted out toward us.
“So from here all the way up to there is standing room.”
“Right.”
There were fences installed below the stage.
“...And that up there is the second floor.”
Somewhere up there our Lady Kim Deok-soon and our families would be seated. The five of # Nоvеlight # us huddled as one, swiveling left and right in awe.
“So it’ll be packed from down here to way up there?”
“They said it’s sold out.”
Ri-hyuk replied.
“Though it’s empty now, by tomorrow five thousand people will be filling these seats.”
“Wow...”
“I still can’t believe it, either.”
We huddled again and swept our eyes across the arena with “Wooaaah.” It was vast and majestic—seemingly larger even than the gymnastics stadium we’d visited at last year’s awards.
“Are they really going to fill this whole place?”
“I know.”
“Hard to believe, huh?”
“Yes...”
Our first concert would draw fifteen thousand over three days. We’d heard it sold out in light-speed the moment tickets went on sale, but seeing it with our own eyes made it real. We’d performed before a thousand at a fan meeting, two thousand at a showcase—but five thousand... that was on another level. We scanned the seats together, imagining each spot filled, hearing the roar in our minds. Goosebumps prickled our arms. It was like toes soaking in a rising tide, awash in realization.
“We’re really doing a concert.”
“Honestly, compared to other debut-mates, it’s pretty soon—even so, it feels like we’ve waited forever.”
Viju nodded at that. Of course—we’d waited for this since before debut. Appearing on music shows and playing big stages was amazing, but the thing we’d always anticipated most was our own concert.
“It’s like a package stuck in the Bermuda Triangle finally arrives at home.”
“The Bermuda HUB, huh.”
“So tomorrow we’ll open the box?”
We joked that today’s rehearsal was practice for unboxing, easing our nerves. Then we stretched our throats and limbs as Seok-hwan hyung and the concert staff entered. Staff with intercoms checked points, and lights and lasers began to whirl for testing. Standing center stage with mics in hand, we greeted them.
“One, two, three—”
“Hello! We’re NewBlack!”
We bowed to the staff and smiled.
“Please take care of us during our first-ever concert rehearsal!”
Concert day.
“—This station is Olympic Park. Please exit to the right. This stop is—”
The doors opened, and footsteps echoed through the station as people filed off Line 5. The excitement of “we’re going to a concert” hung in the long stream of people from B2 to the meeting plaza. The air felt transparent pink, as if scented with anticipation that buoyed your chest with every breath. Cafés and restaurants buzzed with people. Friends and rendezvousing groups chatted joyfully.
“Hey, take my photo here!”
“Wait, again—my Junghyun poster looks like it’s picking its nose in the wind.”
“Oops...”
On every pillar en route to the arena, concert flags flew: “The New Black : In Wonderland” with each member’s pose. Photo spots formed everywhere. Braving the sweat-dripping heat, we reached the handball stadium. A huge concert poster hung at the entrance, and crowds queued for photos. Like a festival, tents lined the grounds. Lemon Ent. promo staff ran booths for merch and games; fans in line and fans resting in the shade filled the air with chatter.
One friend, scrolling real-time online reactions, said, “Wow—this time they seem to have plenty of stock.”
“Really?”
“They took online pre-orders, so the merch must be ample.”
“...!”
Lemon Ent., famous for limiting goods like ant hairs, had actually produced abundant quantities this time. Eco-bags, T-shirts, postcard sets, key rings, light-stick pouches—fans emptied their bank accounts. Those clutching merch blinked at the game booths.
“Why’s this line so long?”
“Excuse me—what are they doing in there?”
Fans emerging answered, “It’s a mini-game.”
“Oh.”
“It’s called ‘Beat Junghyun’... it’s insanely hard. A staffer called the difficulty: Woo-ju level.”
They all laughed. It sounded like rock-climbing inside that tent. When they heard the prize was a limited-edition photo card, they dashed to join the line.
“My back....”
“Ugh, I’m getting old...”
“I wish I could take the moving walkway in.”
Most soon ran out of stamina, guffawing in the shade. Luckily, entry began soon.
“Oh...”
First, Standing A and B filled with bracelet-wristed fans. Seats packed in like cups filling with water. As the human heat began to overwhelm the air-conditioning breeze—
“Wow!”
“That way! That way!”
“It’s really her.”
A grandmother in a summer floral dress under her cap drew the Soufflés’ attention in the second-floor section. Her refined face contrasted with a stern expression.
“That must be the one and only Kim Deok-soon...”
“Celebrity vibes.”
“Feels like seeing a star in person—so cool.”
Beside her, a lady resembling Viju chattered nonstop, and Kim Deok-soon smiled and replied each time. It seemed our families were all seated together. Hesitant to approach, the Soufflés waited—but when Lady Kim rose to find the restroom, they called after her:
“Um, excuse me...!”
“...?”
“We’re your fans, Grandma!”
They blurted anything they could think of; she blinked.
“Tha-thanks... but how do you know me?”
“Oh! Well...”
They answered earnestly, but as they spoke Lady Kim’s cheek trembled. ‘Oops, maybe I shouldn’t have said that?’ they cleared their throats. They resolved: if later Woo-ju asked on live broadcast “Who was that at the concert?” they’d feign ignorance.
“I’m the lucky one—thank you for loving my grandson.”
With a murmur of “I’ll get you for that rascal...” she drifted off, and the Soufflés laughed.
Once seating finished, fans passed the time eagerly.
“Sun Woo-ju! Kim Viju! Kim Junghyun!”
“Woaaah!”
They waved Dalbongis along to the MV on the giant screens. Some spotted foreign-looking fans holding pamphlets.
“Look—foreigners too.”
“Really?”
“Aren’t they exchange students?”
Meanwhile, the sound system transitioned to full concert mode. Lights strewed rays all around for the final pre-show test, pounding the fans’ hearts. The scent unique to concert halls lingered.
One minute, ten, countdown style, we gripped our light sticks tight.
Thwack.
At the stroke of showtime, every light went dark.
“Waaaah...!”
All that built-up excitement exploded at once. In the darkness, screams soared, lifting us off our feet, hearts ready to burst. In that searing heat, the screens played the VCR.
“All together now!”
I reached out, and my brothers were the first to place their hands—then dozens more joined.
“For a month, our session brothers have worked so hard.”
“You too.”
The band members nodded; the drummer swung his sticks with a smile.
“To our dancers, thank you for matching our picky main dancer.”
“I admit, you were picky.”
“They practiced like it was a second military service—hellish rehearsals.”
The dancers who’d practiced choreography with us cheered, and Viju nudged them, smiling.
“And our staff...”
I smiled at Seok-hwan hyung by my side, the managers, the stylists, the PR team.
They grinned back.
“Thank you all for your hard work preparing for today’s show. When we say ‘concert,’ everyone shout ‘fighting’ with us!”
One, two, three—
“Concert!”
“Fighting!”
We all cheered and clapped for each other.
“We’re moving out!”
“Yes!”
Having checked our costumes, we strode off. Security guides led the way to the steel structure looming ahead.
“Don’t be nervous! Relax!”
Seok-hwan hyung followed us, his face more anxious than anyone’s, telling us not to be nervous.
“NewBlack! You’ve got this! Fighting!”
Staff pounded encouragement and handed us water bottles as managers made fists of solidarity.
“Don’t shake—fighting!”
“Fighting!”
“Watch your head! Head!”
We slipped beneath the steel as radio chatter crackled and the VCR audio and five thousand Soufflés’ screams vibrated through our in-ears. Ri-hyuk swallowed hard; we laughed and looked at each other.
“Fighting!”
Huddled, the five of us squatted on the lift. Anxiety gnawed—how to calm our pounding hearts? The amp waves felt like they’d swirl our insides. I reached out, and one by one we gripped each other’s arms. Breathing in the cool air, we swallowed.
Waaaah!
The VCR ended, and our faces flickered on screen. Each time, the Soufflés’ cheers crashed like thunder. When the countdown hit zero—
Waaaah!
The lift rose, the curtain pulled back.
And in that instant—
Waaaah!
A roar and tens of thousands of glimmering stars poured toward us from the darkness. Amid the electrifying rush, a sea of light sticks dazzled our eyes. The sight nearly made us miss our cue by a beat on our first song from Mini 1, “Baraboda.”
Open your eyes—
As Ri-hyuk’s clear voice stretched, the crowd’s cheers cascaded. Holding mics, we stood dazed, drinking in the view. It was breathtaking. Some say the stars in the sky are most beautiful—but the stars on earth shone just as bright.
From the vocal piece “Baraboda” through the dance number “Flower Dance,” I don’t even know how I completed the opening set. Like an amnesiac hero in a movie, every ten seconds felt like a reset. All I recall is the deafening cheers and glaring lights. I think I sang the lyrics, but I’m not certain I did so properly.
“Hah... hah...”
Even during the blackout between songs, we panted and stared at one another in stunned silence—though really, there was no time to stare. Our choreography routed us quickly offstage and to the next spot after each number. My empty stomach churned. I’d never felt such nerves, even before larger year-end stages or joint concerts. If someone pressed on my solar plexus, I’d have been sick.
“Waaaah...!”
Thankfully, after “Flower Dance”’s final group formation, some tension eased. We remained in our clasp-hands pose, looking at each other, then turned to the audience.
“Waaaah...!”
Our faces beamed on the big screens. We wiped sweat-soaked brows with handkerchiefs and took in the sea of twinkling lights. As the sweat poured, my nerves drained away like receding tide, replaced by exhilaration. Meeting the gazes of cheering Soufflés, my brothers and I exchanged smiles.
“Did you see that?”
“Did you?”
I tossed aside my sweat-drenched handkerchief, grabbed the mic, and called out joyfully:
“Everyone! Have you been well?”
A resounding “Yessss!” echoed. Our maknae held the mic and looked out at the crowd.
“Did you miss us?”
“We really missed you so much!”
Seeing my brothers grinning with sweat, I smiled. Before our individual lines, I organized the moment.
“Shall we say hello first? One, two, three.”
“Hello! We’re NewBlack!”
We bowed, and the roar returned.
“Thank you so much for coming to our first concert, ‘The New Black : In Wonderland’!”
“Welcome!”
“We’re so happy. Really, we’ve been waiting for this day with all our hearts.”
I wasn’t sure how well our joy would come across—but the thunderous cheer told me it came through loud and clear.
“I’m the leader and lead vocal, Woo-ju.”
“I’m main dancer Viju.”
“Rap, rap, rap—I’m Junghyun.”
“Vocalist Seo Ri-hyuk.”
“And I’m the cutest maknae and visual, Jiho!”
At my grand finale intro, we laughed. Jiho even removed one in-ear, closed his eyes, and posed like “Look at my popularity...!” which drew cheers. It seemed nothing we did today could dampen the fans’ excitement—but we didn’t plan to let it go to our heads.
“Did you know Jiho practiced that since rehearsal?”
“It was so awkward, right? He really wanted to do what senior artists do.”
“Actually, Woo-ju hyung does it better.”
When they asked for a demo, I–with one in-ear out, eyes closed—copying a senior-artist clip I’d seen on MiTube, the crowd went wild. Embarrassing, but I loved it. My maknae looked at me like a big corporation squashing small shops.
After briefly introducing our session players and giving a short opening comment, I addressed the semicircle of stars around us:
“Thank you so much for joining us at our first concert. I heard tickets were around ₩100,000. Right?”
“That’s right.”
“₩100,000 is a lot of money—so many things you can do with that. You could ride the village bus seven....”
“900 won now,” Ri-hyuk whispered.
“It’s over a hundred rides! You could watch a movie—so many things to enjoy for ₩100,000. But you crossed all that to come see us.”
It might sound practical, but ₩100,000 is a significant sum. I wanted fans to know how much their support meant and that we’d make every second worth it.
“And to do that, we have to have fun, right?” freewēbnoveℓ.com
“Absolutely!”
“Let’s have fun together!”
As cheers answered, I grinned at my brothers.
“Then shall we get to the next song!”
By now, we’d all settled into our first-concert rhythm.
The show progressed swiftly.
“Waaaah...!”
With each transition, fans screamed until their throats ached, waving light sticks. Those who’d traveled from afar must’ve felt glad—they were witnessing a high-quality concert. Above all, the songs were incredible.
“NewBlack has so many hits.”
There was “Bam Bada,” Woo-ju and Ri-hyuk’s radio duet. Precious tracks like “Insaeng” from the Myeong-mix show. “Eoje-e Gwanhan Si,” the OST that once stormed charts, and “Something” arranged for five voices. Though rookies, our setlist felt veteran. We even performed album tracks once only available as audio, in dazzling variety.
“It’s so good...”
Each time my brothers bounced with sparkling eyes, the crowd bounced too. And then, in the concert’s late-show finale, the moment both artists and fans had awaited arrived.
“Now, it’s time to reveal the title track from our next album—‘Nine’.”
“Are... are you nervous?”
“We’re the most nervous.”
We laughed at our jittering microphones. All members who participated in production briefly spoke about the album concept, then the VCR played. Lights cut out; when they returned in green hues, we reappeared in street-concept outfits.
“Oh, this is intense...”
The track hit hard with a hip-hop vibe from the first beat. Jackets, hoodies—a fresh concept NewBlack hadn’t tried. Just as we immersed in the song—
“Huh...?”
After the fierce opening bars, the members stepped aside. Spotlights focused on our leader in the black jacket, mic in hand. As his personal rap began, the Soufflés, who’d been staring in slack-jawed awe, erupted in cheers. The rap part had arrived.
