Free Web NovelThe first stage was denial.
“No way.”
“This can’t be... this doesn’t make sense.”
“There’s no way it climbed this fast.”
It couldn’t be helped. The results were far better than for “Windflower,” our previous comeback track.
And then...
“Last year, during Marker, it was all over the news for hitting half a million views in 24 hours, right?”
“I think so.”
A quick search turned up articles gushing, “To hit one million views in just 48 hours—what an incredible rookie!” We were four times faster than that.
“...”
Earlier this year, TNT’s “Kingdom” MV also set records—1.5 million views in seven hours. Taehyun’s crew had sent us the link in chat, urging us to go see it.
“We got a million views in eleven hours...”
We stared at each other, dazed. We had no idea how it happened, but it felt amazing. Rihyeok looked especially proud and lovely. Even our maknae, wiggles and all, seemed adorable. We were just happy that our MV had racked up a million views so quickly.
“Wow, there are so many comments.”
“Lots of English, too.”
“Hyung, can you translate this?”
“Tap ‘See translation,’ Junghyeon.”
Junghyeon clicked and read aloud, “Woojoo is an arsonist—he set fire to my heart.”
“Pfft!”
We all burst out laughing. Then he read another: “Look at Blu Guy’s legs—they’re longer than my life.”
“Ha-ha!”
“And his face is brighter than my future,” he finished.
While Rihyeok blushed, we read on—so many hilarious foreign comments. There was “I slept here (1987–2015),” and “Pigeons, step aside; from now on the symbol of peace is NewBlack.” One even said, “Woojoo’s dancing is more stable than our country’s economy.” We laughed for ages.
“...”
That was before we saw these:
“I’m getting confused. I watched a recommended video of NewBlack—what’s their main job? Korean comedians? Singers? Actors? I can’t figure it out.”
“Of course they’re singers. What are you on about?”
“Look at the weird stuff in recommended videos.”
“I did. Sorry, I was short-sighted. I totally agree now.”
Urgently, we scrolled to “Recommended” and saw:
– “Deoksun-ah” National Singing Contest remix. 3 hours
– How to store apples long-term (it’s not hard~)
– Day 10 of growing cacti
– Three unknown facts about King Sejong the Great
– [Soufflé TV] Why Wang Jiho is a lovable maknae
We all smiled warmly at each other’s hidden tastes in the shared tablet. Then, looking at the bottom of the recommendations, we realized what that comment meant.
“Why are History Adventurers here...?”
“Wow, look at that dynamic thumbnail—Junghyeon and Daegil are fighting so intensely.”
“Whoa. It really is.”
“...Whoa? This is a big problem.”
Rihyeok said seriously, “People all over the world are seeing... this kind of thing of ours.”
At the moment “Nine” hit 1.1 million views, we were shrieking in the dorm.
By around 5 PM, the views had climbed even more.
– NewBlack’s “Nine” MV is on fire... 2 million views in 17 hours
– “Nine” hits 2 million views—NewBlack’s popularity is sizzling
– NewBlack posts proof on official SNS: “We never expected this... thank you”
The growth was dizzying.
“At this rate, we might hit 10 million views before the week’s out.”
“Whoa...”
“Congratulate yourselves, guys—your MV is a smash.”
홍 대리 and the rest of the promo team came by to say congrats. I swallowed hard.
“Did we really become that big of a hit?”
“More than that.”
홍 대리 glanced over an Excel sheet. “At this pace, you’ll definitely be in the year’s top 10 most-viewed K-pop MVs.”
“Whoa...”
“My guess is you’ll land around fourth place.”
“We will?”
He nodded. “It could climb higher. Word of mouth is spreading fast... so many overseas fans are tuning in.”
“Like with Maskerade?”
“More than that. If that was a spoonful or two, this is like a whole sack of rice pouring out.”
I pictured Rihyeok and Junghyeon’s breakfast scene. If Maskerade was spooning out cereal bit by bit, Nine was that big box tipping all at once. The trend was no joke. It wasn’t overnight global superstardom, but it was hugely encouraging—our biggest overseas response ever.
“Wow...”
Even back in the practice room, I felt that buzz. It was hard to believe—success coming from completely unexpected direction.
“Hmm...”
I pulled up a world map on my laptop.
“So people here are watching, and people there are too.”
“Right.”
“It feels like our Soufflés are spreading across the globe.”
Like the red graphics covering the world in an apocalypse movie intro, I imagined cartoon buns popping up everywhere, waving “Hi!”
I grabbed my phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Sending a thank-you to the MV director.”
As I drafted a long message, the maknae joined in.
“I want to send one too.”
“Let’s stagger them a bit—not all at once.”
“O-okay.”
Not long after we hit send, the director replied, “Congratulations, everyone. I’m so happy for you.” Other messages piled in too. Until we hit one million views it had been quiet, but after two million, everyone was reaching out—friends, colleagues.
Senior So-won called to congratulate us, and Taehyun sent a gifticon with his message.
Do-joongi [Uju]
Do-joongi [Shall we go overseas for deployment, really hot and real...?]
I decided to reply later to the “Men on the Go” PD.
Eun-seong [Global Superstar hyung, congrats]
Eun-seong [Are you heading abroad now?]
Me [Yes]
Me [You do your own solo missions]
He joked that I’d better work on my individual combat training in the military.
Han-jo [haha congrats]
I replied to Han-jo’s awkward casual tone with a shy emoji. The others were busy answering contacts too.
“Everyone done replying?”
“Yes.”
I smiled at my brothers.
“Let’s squeeze in more practice before the digital release.”
With our comeback stage on Thursday, the mood turned serious as we drilled Nine’s choreography. The MV views were one thing, music shows another—and with our concert fatigue and overseas schedule, we only had two weeks on broadcast. Fewer stages meant we needed to perfect every detail.
“I tweaked the hand moves from the concert, and fans reacted better.”
Under the main dancer’s guidance, we refined small gestures and footwork. An outsider might not spot much change, but to us it was huge.
“Huff... huff!”
After dozens of intense repeats, exhausted Rihyeok collapsed on the floor, tearful eyes looking up at me.
“I have one wish.”
“What is it?”
He crouched, wearing a pitiful expression.
“Now that Junghyeon is done, next album is mine, right? The blue one.”
“That’s right.”
“...Please let the next album concept be the direction I want.”
I tilted my head.
“Well, if we’d always gone your way, our third album title would’ve been ‘Dark Matter,’ not ‘Windflower.’”
“I’ll give up naming rights.”
“Because dancing’s hard?”
“....”
“I understand. I know that feeling.”
My attempt at comfort was met with, “You don’t even know,” so I had to calm him down. Biju, practicing dance breaks in the corner, came over and squatted.
“Huh? Hyung, what’s up with Rihyeok?”
“He says dancing’s hard.”
“Rihyeok, is dancing hard?”
Biju patted Rihyeok, who was face-down on the floor.
“It’s okay if you’re not perfect. You just have to practice.”
“....”
“Nine was tough at first, but look—now you’re amazing. Practice solves everything.”
“Arrgh!”
Rihyeok rolled on the floor as if traumatized. Biju blinked, and I forced a wry smile.
“Come on, final stretch. Rihyeok, cheer up.”
“Ugh...”
“After this promotion, we’ll do a vocal track, just like you want.”
“Really?”
I nodded, and Jiho piped up,
“Hyung, you said you’d buy me tonkatsu, but you had that face when you went to the dentist.”
“....”
“Mine was spicy pork though.”
At their clueless testimony, Rihyeok narrowed his eyes and I cleared my throat, turning away. Then we plunged back into practice. Though he complained, Rihyeok threw himself into every move with fiery determination. Watching him, shivering with exhaustion yet pushing on, was inspiring.
Among us, Rihyeok showed one of the most dramatic improvements on Nine. He must’ve been practicing alone a ton—where once he simply tried to dance well, now he leveraged his own style. Between my solid, traditional moves and Biju’s flashy, fluid style, he found his niche. He transformed rigid choreography into pop dance angles and filled gaps with the facial acting he learned from the maknae.
“...Ugh.”
Though his endurance was a weak spot, I smiled watching the others warming up their bodies and necks. Everyone’s skills had grown. Coupled with the real-world experience of our concert, each movement exuded confidence. Their unique traits, once hidden, now shone in performance. Seeing my brothers carve out their own realms made me proud—and relieved my old worries.
When Jiho faced the mirror, riding a soft wave in his body with serious expression, my heart swelled. Then the maknae turned, grinned, and showed me his “pirarucu dance,” like a fish.
“Hyung, how is it? Pirate fish dance, right?”
“....”
“Hahaha! Junghyeon, don’t stand aside—do it with us!”
Surrounded by the maknae’s Amazonian fish dance, I couldn’t help but smile warmly. Perhaps... perhaps it’s still too soon...
Before 6 PM, people began gathering in Lemon Ent.’s lounge.
“Hello!”
“Hi.”
NewBlack’s warm greetings met the composers who’d worked on Neon Black.
“Come eat.”
“Oh?”
The lounge was spread with all kinds of food. A&R staff, chopsticks in hand, beckoned the composers closer.
“Our boys ordered this for you.”
The members smiled, “Enjoy~,” and waved them over.
Sang-yun asked, “You guys not eating?”
“We’re on diets until after the comeback... but you go ahead.”
“Thanks.”
Even though diet-first usually means hangry, their fresh smiles as they offered food made me grateful.
“Come on over!”
The A&R team, beaming, handed out chopsticks. NewBlack and staff exchanged happy glances.
“Is it because the digital release is coming?”
Thoughts of the upcoming title track and B-sides of Neon Black filled some minds—then halted.
“Oh, right. The MV is a smash, right?”
Composer Yoo Chang-seok, a.k.a. Saltman, murmured with food in his mouth,
“Congrats, guys.” ƒreewebηoveℓ.com
“Thank you!”
“I saw an article saying you might exceed ten million views just this week. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
Everyone said “ooh” at the grinning members. While we didn’t know how the song would chart, the MV alone was a major hit. Though we’d had overseas response before, never this intense. And it was deserved.
“They really made it look so cool.”
The neon signs, the cityscape, the choreography—it felt straight out of an SF film. Those who’d worked on Nine beamed with pride as they ate, chatting,
“So tasty.”
“Where’s this bossam spot? Gotta note it.”
“I was going to grab cup ramen.”
Then Deputy Director Seo Pil-geun said,
“Don’t overeat—the boys are treating you to beef at the place down the street later.”
“Ah...”
Eyes glazed at the prospect of beef, the young composers moved their chopsticks slowly as staff nodded and smiled.
Soon, just before 6 PM, members gathered around their laptops with composers and staff.
“Here it comes! Here it comes!”
“It’s up!”
Staff patted their shoulders, easing nervousness as Rihyeok clicked to close one window. Uju, hands steady but trembling with excitement, opened the new window.
“Waaa!”
Everyone applauded the album release—the cover showed a green neon “N,” tracklist below.
“...It’s up.”
Amid our self-congratulations, the composers felt a bit stunned. Many had never been fully involved like this—before, they rarely got proper assignments, often dropped last minute, or had seniors take their work. {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} Working with NewBlack meant so much: a good environment, deserved credit, and a rewarding process...
“Hard, right? I put a mattress in the studio for you.”
“Are you enjoying it? After SWAT training I learned it’s not enough for me to have fun alone—how about this melody, isn’t it exciting?”
“I love working—best thing in the world.”
Despite the challenges, we’d pushed through and finally released the album. Seeing their names on each song’s credits, the composers smiled proudly. Members approached them,
“You really worked hard.”
“Oh, it’s nothing... not even on any charts yet.”
“The process matters more than the results. Thank you so much for working with us.”
Their heartfelt thanks made for a strange but warm feeling. Then...
“We hit number one on the real-time chart!”
“Wow!”
“Guys!”
Hugs all around. NewBlack’s “Nine” sat above second-place Cha Woo-hyun’s “Storm Warning” and third-place Teenspirit’s “Feel So Good.” The composers cheered too.
“Yes...”
Everyone buzzed with excitement at our projected run at number one through the 7 PM chart. As we got ready to head to the barbecue restaurant, Uju turned to the composers.
“Um, can I ask something?”
“Hm?”
“After this album, do you have any new projects lined up?”
The composers exchanged glances—none. Their toes wriggled uncomfortably. Young but talented, few had offers. Before they could answer...
“Would you like to keep working with us?”
“Here?”
“Yes. I spoke with Director Lee—he said you all work so well together that he wants to form a permanent producing team.”
That was enticing.
“As A&R are on board, too. But I couldn’t present this without asking your willingness.”
“As producing-team staff...?”
“Yes, details with the team lead later.”
The composers looked at each other and quickly decided. Uju nodded brightly at their assent. As he slipped away, they revealed their excitement.
“So we’ll keep working here? Really?”
“With these terms alone, I’m in. And Uju said even better things.”
“I’m so glad I applied.”
What they didn’t know was that behind them, A&R staff and members were giving each other high-fives—“We got them!” “Well done!”—as Lemon Ent. officially formed its producing team under the A&R department.
At the same time, down a bustling alley in Gangnam, laughter filled the air. On a rooftop nearby, a balding middle-aged man wept tears of joy. Soufflés everywhere cried out, “We did it!”
But one group couldn’t smile.
“Shit...”
Tightly packed, the boys of Teenspirit stared at their phones.
“What do we do? We’ve totally flopped.”
“These guys are insanely strong.”
“How do they keep topping us every time?”
“I know... it’s tearing me up.”
“...How do we beat them? Whenever these guys drop something, the public picks them.”
Facing off against NewBlack for number one, Teenspirit’s members wore worried expressions.
