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As people snapped photos with their phone cameras, Eun-seong flashed a V sign with his fingers.
“Hello, everyone! I’m Kevin from rookie boy group APLB! Nice to meet you!”
People burst out laughing at the sight of him dangling like that, “working” the crowd.
The bodyguard, clearly unprepared for such a wild character, glanced between Eun-seong and me with a bewildered expression.
“...Do you know him?”
“He’s a junior singer.”
“Oh.”
Once freed, Eun-seong bowed apologetically to the bodyguard, then turned and beamed at me.
“We—wooah, camera!”
“Hey, Eun-seong. If you’re a sergeant, you have to finish your sentence: Sergeant!”
“Hello, seniors!”
Spotting the camera filming us, he bowed, calling us “seniors.”
“Who is this?”
A voice came from behind me. It was Rupert Dean, who’d been terrified by that psychotic grin from someone dangling behind us.
“He’s a K-pop singer. He served under me in the military.”
“The military...?”
“It’s a long story.”
I soothed with a vague “long story...” and a wistful look; Rupert nodded.
Meanwhile, Eun-seong’s eyes darted around, quickly piecing together the situation, and he giggled.
“I saw you passing by and got so excited I ran over!”
“Ah, I see.”
“So you’re giving them a Korean tour. Sorry to bother you! I’ll be off, then—”
As Eun-seong tried to slip away, Viju stopped him.
“Where are you going?”
“We were thinking of staying around here...”
At that moment, a voice yelled, “Hey!” from beyond the crowd.
Four idol members pushed through, faces wild with excitement.
“Hey! Eun-Kevin!”
“This Ga-vin, where is he off to now—”
They spotted us and their faces drained of color.
“Oh, hello!”
“Hello.”
Haru, the youngest and leader, wore an expression of complicated concern, as if fearing Eun-seong had said something foolish that might ruin their future—a nervous rookie group greeting a huge senior fandom.
“Come on over.”
Ji-ho smiled widely and beckoned; the APLB members hesitated, then approached.
“Oh? These people—”
Some of them saw Bella Page and Rupert Dean and their eyes went wide as lanterns, panic replacing their nerves. They looked terrified of being accused of ‘promotion.’
But there was a reason I’d called them here. Once they connected stage costumes and Hongdae, they understood.
I asked director John Edwards and the others, “Would you like to see a street performance?”
“A performance?”
“In Hongdae, people sing or dance in the streets.”
Today’s content was to introduce them to Korean food, nightlife, and street snacks. They readily agreed.
“Excuse me.”
As we moved along, Haru asked, “Senior, how many subscribers does your channel have...?”
“Oh, around 2.3 million right now.”
“....”
I watched his face shift from bright white to a worried brownish hue. It looked like ‘2.3 million curses...’ so I nudged him and whispered, “Don’t worry. Since it’s our own content, our company editors will handle any issues. I’ll let them know in advance.”
“Thank you.”
“By the way, why is Eun-seong like that?”
Eun-seong had become fast friends with the foreigners in two minutes, teaching them a new heart gesture.
Haru asked, “What about him?”
“His color seems off.” fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
“That’s because he just came back from the Coast Guard shoot for Men on the Go...”
“So he finished his service. How’s he doing?”
“He’s still on a high—hasn’t come down yet.”
“Of course.”
Eun-seong’s skin was dark and burnt, like a charcoal bun. It would take a while to return to normal. I felt sorry for him.
“Heh heh heh...”
“Pardon?”
“No—it’s just sad, heh.”
At my muffled laugh, Haru gave an awkward smile and stepped aside.
Soon we reached an open space with amps set up. APLB’s members danced the choreography to their song “A/B,” and the crowd jumped along, hyped.
“Wow.”
Bella Page clasped her hands at her mouth, “Oooo,” cheering. Rupert Dean nodded appreciatively, and John Edwards even did the karaoke shoulder shimmy we taught him. Nearby passersby joined in the cheers.
Rupert asked, “Does NewBlack have songs like that?”
“We do. We have a few—”
At that moment, the intro to “Nine” began, as if they’d prepared a cover. I stopped mid-sentence and, tilting my head at him, said with a smile, “This is our song.”
“Oh...”
I thought “Nine” was really well made.
“Waaaa!”
Though APLB danced, the vibe felt like a street club because of the song. Our members laughed and applauded.
I felt a twinge of discomfort at Eun-seong’s sultry dance during my part, beckoning me, “Sergeant, come on!” The crowd roared in encouragement.
I hesitated, then gave up—interrupting their five-person formation to join on short notice would be a calculation beyond my skill. Thankfully, someone with that talent was cheering beside me.
“Viju.”
“Yes?”
“Eun-seong wants to dance with you.”
“Me? Not with—”
“Go on, dance with him! It’s dancing, Viju—dance.”
At the word “dance,” our main dancer sprinted over like a puppy hearing “snack.”
“Waaaa!”
Viju bounded into the formation, and the crowd screamed again. His jean jacket whipped around as he moved lightning-fast. Initially, Eun-seong cheered, “Welcome, seniors!” but soon his face dulled to cocoa-powder brown.
“It always feels like when I dance with Viju, it’s the hardest,” I told Ri-hyuk.
“I know, right,” he said, and the others nodded. It wasn’t technical—the speed or flexibility—it was simply exhausting to stand next to Viju. Like carving stone tools while someone else wielded bronze and bragged how fun it was. Without extreme practice, you’d always look inferior beside his unique lines. Street Boys once even did rock-paper-scissors over who stood next to Viju on joint stages.
“Heh...”
Watching Viju patiently teach Eun-seong the dance warmed my heart. Their contrasting expressions—Eun-seong ecstatic, Viju focused—made me smile.
When the “Nine” chorus ended, Eun-seong collapsed on the ground, gasping. We burst out laughing.
“Awesome!”
I clapped him on the back as he stood, and the Nostalgia team filming with us laughed, too.
“You’ve got energy.”
“No wonder he ate all that meat...”
“Can I post this on SNS?”
Bella Page said she’d filmed it on her phone; we nodded.
“See you later!”
“Thank you! Goodbye!”
Pressed for time, we quickly said our goodbyes to APLB. I mimed making a phone call, and Eun-seong sniffed and bowed with an emphatic “OK.” His bow looked like a buddha statue’s.
“Fun. Can we see another performance?”
Director Edwards grinned; I replied, “Yes. There are a few dance teams around here...”
“Oh? They’re packing up?”
“At this hour?”
Before parting, I’d asked our manager about street performers. I’d heard a couple more teams covering “Nine.”
“They’re leaving,” I said as groups hurried off.
“....”
“....”
Then we realized why: like fish scattering when a predator approaches, everyone ran as soon as our hyper-active main dancer—still shining—moved toward them. Some even switched songs abruptly.
“Not our day, I guess.”
I told the musical film team with a smile, “Shall we head to Yeonnam-dong? There are lots of street foods there.”
After watching street performances and sampling snacks, we finished our quick Seoul night tour and arrived at our pre-booked spot.
“Ahh.”
I took the mic and laughed, “This is, as you know, the karaoke room.”
“Waaa!”
“Welcome!”
We each grabbed tambourines and shook them, “Yo-yo-yo,” and Bella Page giggled, then picked one up and shook it herself.
Our maknae stepped to the center to sing the first song; everyone leaned forward, curious at his gentle expression.
Bam-bam-bam!
With a fierce intro, the maknae launched into wild dancing, and everyone went nuts. He arched back and let out a feline roar of “Myaaaargh!”
“Pahaha!”
After a dramatic expression, Ji-ho pointed at Ri-hyuk.
–Burdened by the calamity I summoned myself~~
“What? Why me again?”
We laughed, and I gave a quick explanation of the lyrics to those curious.
“Woo-woo!”
“Waaa!”
When the maknae finished and bowed like on stage, applause followed.
Next, Ri-hyuk took the mic and began a famous foreign ballad. Ji-ho clicked his tongue and whispered,
“Seriously, every time I hype things up, he sings a ballad.”
“But he sings them so well.”
He waved both hands languidly in the air. A ballad could sag, but with Ri-hyuk singing, the quality was exceptional.
Rupert Dean, smiling in satisfaction, told me, “It reminds me of a movie I saw as a kid.”
“What movie?”
“It was sci-fi, with an alien diva who had six tentacles on her head—and she could really sing.”
“....”
“That’s moving.”
I hesitated at his wistful gaze into the air.
“Ah.”
When I asked the maknae if that film really existed, he whispered that it did.
“An alien diva. That’s plausible.”
“Is it?”
Director Edwards, overhearing, laughed then sneezed.
“Bless you!”
Rupert and I said in unison—using the rule-of-thumb phrase our English teacher taught us. Rupert beamed, proud of his vocabulary.
“Jinx.”
“...What’s that?”
“Don’t you know? I assumed since you’re so good at English...”
He explained that Americans say “jinx” when two people speak simultaneously. I understood and told him,
“In Korean, we say ‘jjijjippong.’”
“Jjijjippong.”
“Well done. Shall we try again?”
“Jjijjippong.”
Then he asked what “reverse” would be; I told him “rainbow reverse.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The conversation paused. Though hours had passed, there was still an awkward air when talking one-on-one—perhaps because he’d said before coming, “I want to meet the composer!”
I watched him sweep his brown hair back. He looked like a character out of a childhood Greek myth animation—if you asked him what he’d drink, he’d say “a glass of nectar, as usual.” Our tastes seemed completely different.
While Junghyun rapped in English, “I wore handcuffs, I did my time,” with a hearty laugh, I asked Rupert,
“Would you like to sing a song together?”
“A song?”
“I hear you sing well.”
“Oh, but...”
He answered shyly, “I like childish songs.”
“Childish songs?”
My interest piqued. “What kind?”
Five minutes later.
@John_Edwards
(Video of NewBlack belting out “Under the Sea” and Rupert Dean singing shyly, Junghyun miming a lobster with his claws.)
This is Korean fun. I take much inspiration!
One hour later.
@Rupert_Thomas_DEAN
(Everyone now wildly shouting “Kiyaaaa!” together, camera shaking, laughter and sobs in the background.)
[Translation] New friends. I’m so glad I came to Korea.
Our hour-and-a-half karaoke adventure ended in high spirits. When the last song ended:
“That was so fun!”
“Same here!”
I’d become closest to the one I’d been most awkward with. Rupert Dean, flushed and smiling, said to write when we visited America. He offered to buy me a meal—I only nodded happily.
“Wait for us, America.”
“We’re coming for dinner.”
“Don’t say it so dramatically...”
In any case, it was a joyful day for us. The unsettling tension from the fan-sign event seemed to vanish.
While the Nostalgia team returned to the hotel to prepare for tomorrow’s DMZ schedule, we headed back to our lodging, packed all the plush toys from the beds into boxes, and sent them back with our manager, then collapsed in sleep.
The next day, our managers returned with serious expressions.
“Guys.”
“What’s wrong? Did something happen to the plush toys?”
They explained that Deputy Manager Hong had left the room. If even she, unfazed by a dead mouse in a gift box from Scarlet, felt compelled to leave... we exchanged worried glances. Then Manager Mingi returned the now-fluffed plushies and said,
“Every time anyone touched them, dust exploded out. The air purifier went crazy.”
“....”
“Wash the plush toys, please.”
“Ah!”
We accepted them with wry smiles. They’d been stored together in one room before, so they’d gathered a ton of dust. When Ri-hyuk muttered, “I told you so...” we all plugged our ears.
Our special schedule with foreigners over, we returned to normal activities, practicing in the studio.
Eun-seong: [Because of that guy, we trended in real time.]
Eun-seong: [Video link]
Apparently someone had posted the Hongdae video, and we briefly hit the trending search terms—he was thrilled.
That evening, our fan-sign event resumed as before. The company decided to ban gifts starting with our next album, so as not to tip off Super-Lay about yesterday’s incident. Fortunately, no one noticed.
“Oppa, I loved that song! Your ‘Falling Stars’ cover.”
“Really?”
After “Nine,” people’s interest shifted to Nostalgia. Though the film hadn’t opened yet, word-of-mouth praise for the main OST “Falling Stars” was building. Rupert Dean’s version reportedly hit 20 million views.
Then there was...
“Ahem. Ahem.”
Our main vocalist’s arrogant throat-clear cover. Maybe because of the patriotic marketing in Korea, it’d already garnered millions of views. We’d been ignoring the haters cattily attacking the comments, but planned to sift through them once things cooled down.
“Hello.”
A fan sitting across from me smiled and said, “I watched the Nostalgia premiere.”
“Did you? And you heard our song too—how was it?”
“Hmm...”
“Show me with your body!”
He solemnly gave a thumbs-up, and I pretended to cry in gratitude. We shared a laugh.
As I drew a giant UFO in his autograph, I asked, “How did you like it?”
“I think it’ll be insane when it opens. It feels like a huge hit. ‘Falling Stars’ is already amazing, but I really loved ‘Thousand Dreams.’”
Our fans seemed biased, but most expressed high satisfaction with “Thousand Dreams.” I thanked them. I’d heard they’d been attacked by other idol fans online, so I just said I appreciated their support. Other than waiting for the film’s release to shift public opinion, there was # Nоvеlight # nothing to do.
As Chuseok approached and we awaited the film’s release...
“Hyung.”
“Hmm?”
“I heard our name came up on a US talk show.”
“Really?”
I clicked the link on our maknae’s messenger. On a talk-show set with a blue cityscape backdrop, Rupert Dean sat legs crossed. The host asked:
“So, Rupert, I hear you’re into K-pop lately.”
“Yes, I’ve been listening nonstop to NewBlack’s ‘Nine.’ It’s so addictive.”
“What are the lyrics like?”
“They mix Korean and English...”
We smiled warmly as he hummed “Nine” on camera.
“You must have enjoyed your visit to Korea.”
“Yes, I had a great time. Karaoke was a blast.”
“I heard you were bouncing around?”
“Not at all. I sat quite properly.”
As he denied it, a clip played of him bouncing on the karaoke couch, and the host quipped, “Very proper,” prompting audience laughter.
“Did you learn any Korean? Something you could teach us?”
“Most phrases are like ‘hello’ or ‘thank you,’ but... I learned something fun.”
Rupert tapped the armrest confidently.
“Chichi-pong.”
“Chichi-pong? What is that?”
Something surged over me, and I covered my face with both hands.
