Free Web NovelThe fans seated throughout the arena couldn’t help but sway.
“Woo-ju’s rapping...?”
This was the same Woo-ju who, whenever other members teased “Rap for us, rap,” would shyly shake his head:
“Everyone, I’m a vocalist—how could I rap?”
Even on live streams, when fans begged “Show us your rap,” he’d refuse, leading everyone to assume, “Oh, he can’t do it.” But now before our eyes, Woo-ju was rapping. His lips moved with such vivid life under his silvery hair that for a moment it felt as if Junghyun were doing the part. It was entirely unexpected and thrilling.
“Waaaah—!”
Hands brandishing light sticks flailed with excitement. Like any rap line member from another group, Woo-ju punctuated his bars with matching gestures. His eye contact and movements were so natural you’d forget he was alone on that vast stage. All attention gravitated to him.
“He’s really good.”
“I feel tricked—but in the best way.”
“Long live Woo-ju’s rap career.”
Even stripping away the “my idol can do no wrong” filter, his performance was impressive. And the contrast with Junghyun’s style was clear: if Junghyun’s low voice tapped rhythms steadily, Woo-ju’s lower bass hit each line like a single punch. His rap voice was so distinct from his singing that it was startling—but undeniably excellent. The Soufflés smiled as they watched him dominate the spotlight, recalling how on reality shows members warned each other “He’s gonna steal Grandpa’s part again.” The screen showed Woo-ju winking:
Out of time, out of luck
May never come undone
Climbing the loops of time
It must’ve grown heavy by now, ay—
Murmuring that soft “ay,” Woo-ju passed the baton to the maknae returning to center stage. As they spun back-to-back, a sub-vocalist emerged like a revolver’s fresh clip. A blonde boy in a vintage jumper ran his hand down his jacket in a wave, prompting ecstatic cheers:
It’s time to let go now
Drop what’s in your hand, set you free
Until we cut across it all
For a moment—
Our sub-vocalist delivered those lines, his mesmerising smile carrying him effortlessly between notes.
“Nine” felt unlike any NewBlack title track before—rather than cool, seductive, or warm, it was pure, joyful energy. The futuristic synths evoked a club vibe. The standing crowd shook their sticks in time, as if cathartically dancing away stress. The wave of light sticks undulating around the standing area drew delight from the members at the sides.
“This title’s a smash.”
“It’s so good.”
Even on first listen, the melody etched itself instantly into the ear—one more spin and fans would invent their own chants. Best of all, it carried NewBlack’s signature warmth. If “Barmakkot” had been a comforting “Feeling down? I’m watching over you,” “Nine” was a gleeful “Had a rough day? Let’s go out and play!” anthem. It urged listeners to shake off bad luck and celebrate life noisily. The Soufflés, clearing their minds, cheered it in kind:
“Waaaah—!”
On stage, Jiho and Woo-ju parted, while the main dancer swept in gracefully, giving the choreography fresh lines. Viju’s wine-red hair fluttered as he shot a sly smile. He half-took off his shimmering jacket, then snapped it back on, each motion flexing like rubber, and the crowd surged with approval.
Meanwhile, the main dancer led the two vocalists forward, reshaping the formation. Ri-hyuk and Junghyun joined the triangle, then hooded dancers filled in, counting out 3, 5, 7—until all nine of us stood ready. At that moment, our main vocalist’s high note exploded into the chorus:
“Waaaah—!”
Stage pyrotechnics flared as the blue lights bathed our group choreography. Centered around the rapper, members and dancers slashed the air like waves crashing. Junghyun rode the strong recoil to belt the chorus into his mic. With the repeated “Nine, Nine, Nine,” the Soufflés unleashed their stress in shouted sing-along.
With verse one done and verse two rolling out, the fans caught their breath.
“This song’s insane.”
“The choreography’s tight. Who made it? Feels different from Clay’s style.”
“Everything pops.”
It turned out the main dancer had crafted the steps, then a famed Latin choreographer added finishing flair. Like single-origin coffee drops filtered to perfection, the dance convinced the audience of its artistry. Some fans sensed something unique:
“Something’s different...”
“The vibe’s slightly changed—but in a good way.”
“Hmm?”
Watching the performance felt unlike any usual NewBlack show. The shapes were familiar, yet the execution felt like moving from early to late works by the same artist. Then they realized why:
“Ah...!”
Their gaze landed on our main vocalist executing choreography with an icy expression. Ri-hyuk was the catalyst. His inclusion in the lines now felt organically seamless. Previously, we’d given him special positioning—having him walk slowly through the choreography to accommodate his relatively less practiced dance skill. Now, he blended naturally into every formation, confidently holding one corner of the choreography like sculpted clay in motion.
His stylish shoulder tilt held us mesmerized.
“He’s improved.”
“More than during ‘Barmakkot’.”
Fans followed Ri-hyuk as he drifted to the side, hoodie zipped over his deep-blue hair, leading applause with overhead claps. I felt a lump in my throat imagining the countless hours he’d poured into reaching this level.
“All together now—”
Woo-ju’s voice rang out at the verse-two pre-chorus. And it wasn’t just Ri-hyuk who’d changed: every member’s sweat-drenched, energetic movements showed growth. Each shone in expressions, rap, or dance. Woo-ju’s precise choreography gained decorative flourishes; Junghyun, who seldom sang, added vocal runs; our maknae’s improved physique lent power to his lines. But most striking alongside Ri-hyuk was the main dancer’s evolution.
Burn hotter
Shine brighter today—
Our main dancer’s vocal prowess had soared to challenge our lead singer. Even amid frantic movement, he hit high notes effortlessly. Then, in the verse-three introduction, he arched his back and delivered a soaring note from stage center. As the music climactically burst—
Kah-fah-ah-ang—!
Gold leaf rose in a shower from the stage devices. Screams erupted as dozens of dancers and members jumped, pounding the floor. The wave-like motion of the dancers and members flowed powerfully.
“Waaaah—!”
The Soufflés screamed as if there were no tomorrow. The premiere of “Nine” was nothing short of a triumph.
My eardrums felt like they might burst. Even plugged in, the fans’ roar pierced my in-ears. We panted through it all.
“Hah... hah...”
“Ugh...”
“Haah... hoo, hoo.”
Our breathing was so loud my mic-hand drooped, yet it still caught every gasp. As the dancers filed off like receding tide, we exchanged looks.
“We did it.”
“Well done.”
As the first reveal of a new song, we’d poured everything into that performance. We weren’t scheduled for on-stage talk, but the grueling routine forced us to ad-lib. The problem was, we were too breathless to speak properly. Sweat streamed even at rest, drenching our mic-hands. I chugged water and nodded at my panting brothers, urging:
“Guh—Haah—Say something.”
The maknae wiped his brow and shook his head.
“Hah—Hah—Heh heh... (Hyung, you do it.)”
“Hah... Heh—Heh (I can’t—I can’t.)”
Ri-hyuk looked ready to die. Luckily, the Soufflés filled the silence with their cheers.
“Waaaah—!”
At last, Junghyun, with the most stamina left, gripped the mic.
“How was it, everyone? Did you like it?”
“Yesss—!”
“How much?”
A roar that sounded like “So much!” answered. Our rapper beamed.
“We all pulled all-nighters making this. Woo-ju and I spent days on that wooong-wooong sound, trying to make it perfect.”
He laughed.
“I’m so glad you like it.”
“Yeah, really glad.”
I took the mic and faced the sparkling crowd.
“I was so nervous. I had no idea if you’d like it or not.”
“You like it, right?”
At Jiho’s prompt, the stadium shook with cheers. As we traded banter, the lighting director had the sense to brighten the house lights, revealing fans’ faces. All looked flushed with excitement—still riding the wave of “Nine.” I smiled, certain we’d succeeded. A brand-new song, unreleased on any platform, had generated this reaction. I exchanged relieved grins with my brothers.
“You guys really did great.”
“Hyung, you were amazing.”
As we wrapped up those comments, we stepped off after performing a few pre-released tracks. Only the encore remained.
“Makeup! Makeup!”
“Here we go!”
Chaos reigned beneath the stage while the audience watched like swans gliding on a lake. During the encore VCR, fans laughed at various clips. Meanwhile, we scrambled to change—no time for dignity. Staff mopped our sweat and touched up our makeup. Finally, we slipped into loose black tees with good airflow.
“We’re going up!”
“Yes!”
We high-fived Seok-hwan hyung and our managers, nodding at their cheers of “Fighting!” The VCR ended, and darkness swallowed the stage. Only the waving light sticks cut through as we prepared to sing “Kkotbul” from Mini 1 as our encore opener.
“...?”
As the lights rose, Jiho steadied his emotions and sang the first verse. The crowd rose as one wave from standing to second floor. Thousands of fluttering slogans flooded my vision:
“—Begin the spring, end the winter together.”
An event banner emblazoned that line. Seeing the sea of sky-blue flags sent a peculiar thrill through me. It was supposed to be a serious song—but I couldn’t help laughing at first. I quickly recovered, and the fans cheered in response to our shared mirth.
Throughout the encore, fans’ voices joined our singing amid the undulating light sticks. Each time I heard them sing our songs, it felt bittersweet: I wished for more time, more chances to perform them. With mixed pride and longing, I raised my mic with my brothers:
“Well... How was... today’s show? Did you enjoy it?”
“Yesss!”
“We had so much fun today too.”
My brothers nodded.
“It’s our first time performing in front of so many fans. I was so excited yesterday.”
“I share a room with him—he kept talking all night because he was too thrilled to sleep.”
“Jiho, you didn’t need to share that.”
“Fans have the right to know too.”
At Jiho’s line, the crowd burst into laughter. Viju took the mic next.
“....”
I smiled at his trembling hand. It’d been ages since I’d seen him so nervous. His gentle eyes glistened.
“I don’t know how to express my gratitude. Please, don’t make me cry—if you cheer too loud, I’ll actually cry.”
When Viju waved off the thought, the Soufflés laughed heartily.
“This being our first concert, I was so frozen—but your support made it feel comfortable. Whenever we get nervous, you always make us feel at ease. Thank you truly.”
We all nodded in agreement. Back when the lift rose, we’d been shaking with its vibrations. Now we’d calmed, thanks to the crowd’s support.
“I really wondered if a day would come when we’d hold a concert. Time... flies.”
At the old-guard vibe, Jiho quipped, “Time sure does...” and grinned.
“I had so much fun today. Did you enjoy it too?”
“Yesss!”
“I knew it.”
The maknae beamed at the audience, then spoke earnestly:
“And so many people worked hard for this: our managers, stylists, promo team, band sessions, dancers... Thank you all.”
As we watched him with pride, he bowed sincerely:
“Thank you. Truly.”
“Thank you!”
We bowed toward the scattered staff and supporters. Junghyun grabbed the mic:
“And today my parents came.”
“And my family too!”
We waved toward the darkness; the lighting director spotlighted the second-floor, revealing waving hands. There were Jiho’s parents and sister cheering “Jiho! We love you!” And across the way, Junghyun’s extended family: a textbook multigenerational clan. Viju’s mother and family waved, and there was Lady Kim Deok-soon offering a prim “All right... you did well.” We enthusiastically waved back.
“And our family’s here, and the Soufflés too.”
Ri-hyuk grinned and continued:
“I practiced with the thought that the people who need to see me best would be here. I want to be a singer—and a son, grandson, nephew, cousin—everyone can be proud of.”
Complex relationships drew applause and laughter. Then our main vocalist took the mic:
“I have so much to say, I came prepared—”
He produced notes from his pocket, prompting smiles.
“I’d jotted thank-yous for family, for you, but... we already said it all, right?”
“Yes, it’s all been said.”
Ri-hyuk, feigning disappointment, then offered an awkward smile to the audience:
“So... instead of a long speech, I’ll say one brief thing, then pass to Woo-ju: To our members, and to all of you...”
“...?”
“I cherish and... I... love you.”
That declaration drew the biggest cheer of the night—our own heartfelt encore from the stadium, and yet somehow embarrassingly moving. We averted our gazes sheepishly, then each shared our final thoughts:
“I’m so grateful you spent this time with us. You made us so happy.”
I said, smiling.
“It felt like a long journey to get here. Though it’s only been a couple of months of prep, we’ve dreamed of this since before debut.”
I looked to my brothers.
“How long were your trainee periods?”
“Three years.”
“Four years.”
As they answered, I added mine—six years—then gazed at the slowly swaying lights:
“Altogether, it took twenty years to reach this moment. I feel that every step led here.”
The lights fell silent, then burst into cheers, and I smiled along.
“And having walked so far, I want to keep going. I hope you’ll stay with us, as you did today, into the future.”
“Thank you!”
“You’ll stay with us as we grow bigger, right?”
I thought of how far we still have to go—and how wonderful it would be with them by our side. I caught the throng of voices in my ears and laughed with my brothers.
“Next is our favorite song.” freēwēbηovel.c૦m
No introduction needed—everyone knew it. Through the arena, an acoustic guitar intro began:
Our debut song, rearranged as an acoustic “Sing Along” version: “Fireworks.”
