Free Web Novel“Ha ha, ha ha ha!”
MC Ha Seung-ju fanned himself with his cue card, clearly needing to speak but unable to stop laughing. Everyone around was laughing—audience members wiping tears from their eyes, the managers down below, even the Music Cafe production staff were covering their mouths.
...
Ri-hyuk’s face had turned bright red, as if steam might blow from his ears. We fanned his face frantically until Ha Seung-ju, finally composed, tried to speak. But Viju crouched down and began gathering the scattered buttons.
“Huh? Viju, why are you picking up the buttons?”
“They’re sponsored.”
He smiled sheepishly—“Not ours...”—and the audience burst into laughter once more. The MC chuckled and said,
“That’s funny. I thought you were so cool just a moment ago, but right now you feel so friendly.”
“Uh, that’s not what we wanted,” I grabbed the mic.
“We came to look cool today...”
“You’re struggling already?”
“No, this isn’t over yet. Everyone—”
“That’s right! We’re cool!”
The youngest’s totally un-cool tone got an even bigger laugh. Meanwhile, Ri-hyuk removed his vest, drawing all eyes. The MC asked,
“Is the shirt okay underneath? It didn’t pop, right?”
“Yeah,” Ri-hyuk swept back his hair.
“Only the outside burst. I’m fine underneath.”
“Good thing. If the shirt had ripped too, the show’s rating might have changed right here.”
An FD came up and took the vest. Shirt-clad Ri-hyuk flapped the loose cloth and said,
“Maybe the vest was too tight.”
“It looked like it,” the MC replied.
“But how strong is your breathing to do that? I’ve seen belts pop on stage, but not buttons.”
I answered,
“He has amazing lung capacity.”
“That’s right. Ri-hyuk hyung can inhale so you can make your belly stick out like a bucket.”
“Please edit that out,” he smiled at the PD in the control room.
Ha Seung-ju said,
“Why? It’s funny.”
“Yes, but if we go further, we can’t recover our image...”
“Well, if you go further, you’ll have to pay dues to the comedians’ guild.”
“That’s right. We—”
All of us held out our palms and shouted,
“We’re singers!”
“Ha ha!”
As laughter erupted, Ha Seung-ju chided us in a matter-of-fact tone,
“Stop doing that. Every time you come on and shout ‘We’re singers!’ people laugh at you.”
“Sorry. It’s become a habit.”
“You really can’t be stopped. I’ve heard you called variety-idol idols—now I see why.”
The audience murmured agreement. He glanced at his cue cards, smiling,
“I almost forgot what I had to say from laughing so much. Let’s get back on track.”
Ha Seung-ju looked at the audience:
“Our writers research each guest before they come on. They look °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° into what people want to know about the artist’s music... For NewBlack, the most common question is, ‘Do you really produce your own songs?’”
“Yeah, a lot of people ask that.”
“They’re very curious whether Woo-ju composes and the other members participate in songwriting.”
He turned to me.
“How does it feel hearing that?”
“Hmm.” I paused only briefly.
“I think, ‘I can see why you’d ask.’ Songwriting is hard to see from the outside, and these days compositions are often collaborative.”
“That’s true.”
“And we’ve rarely had the chance to explain our music.”
My brothers nodded seriously, and Ha Seung-ju smiled in agreement. Then, playfully:
“So that’s why you came on Music Cafe—to say ‘We’re the musicians around here.’”
“Yes. We wanted to showcase our musicality.”
The brief seriousness dissolved into laughter as he segued to the next scripted segment:
“Shall we introduce some NewBlack songs right now?”
“Yes!”
“Look, a keyboard is set up here. Perfect timing, huh?”
We sat at the keyboard, the brothers and Ha Seung-ju standing beside us.
“We’d like to give you a quick medley of our title tracks. Is that okay?”
“Yes!”
“Hey, I asked the audience, not you guys.”
The audience laughed and answered “Yes!”
I grinned,
“We’ve prepared a title-song medley. If we just play it—”
“It’d be boring!”
“So we’ve prepared some lyrics too.”
Because it was a medley, we extracted portions of each song and linked them smoothly. I placed my hands on the keys, and the brothers picked up their mics.
“Ah-ah, sse-sse-sse—”
They tested levels, and the crowd laughed. Looking back, the brothers gave a nod, and we dove into the medley.
“Fireworks—
Fireworks—”
We repeated “Fireworks” almost like a mantra before transitioning to “Masquerade.” The audience sat still, mouths closed but bodies wriggling.
“Mas-que-rade—
Mas-que-rade—”
Singing sweet harmonies with eyes closed, our voices drove Ha Seung-ju to laughter, and laughter spread through the hall.
“Hey! You said you’d change your image!”
We nodded, leaning into the mic.
“Image change—
We will change our image—”
The hall echoed again with laughter.
The audience roared with laughter. Some even choked on their laughter. As they whispered, “This is insane,” Ha Seung-ju gave a wry smile under the lights.
“You said you came to manage your image, but you’re singing this.”
“We want to imprint our songs on you.”
Woo-ju began playing the piano staccato, and the four others sang “Fireworks—” in perfect harmony. Ha Seung-ju laughed heartily.
“This perfect harmony... I’ve never seen an idol use it like this.”
“But you’ll remember it, right?”
“Definitely. At first I thought, ‘What is this?’ but now I’ll never forget this version of ‘Fireworks.’”
The audience agreed:
“I’ll remember it later too.”
“Fireworks—”
“I need to clip this segment and save it for when I’m down.”
Although hilarious, it was undeniably memorable—every time they thought of the melody, they’d recall the sweet “Masquerade—” harmony.
“May we do it again?” Woo-ju smiled and played the keys. He softly wove together five title-songs, including the follow-up track “Flower Dance,” into a gentle medley, complete with harmonies that melted eardrums.
“Nine—
Remember—this is Nine—”
With the sweet “Nine, Nine, Nine” whisper, NewBlack laid down their mics. The audience applauded, and they shyly smiled.
Back in their seats, Ha Seung-ju said,
“That was nice. I thought, ‘Hmm—these are connected.’”
“We arranged it that way on purpose.”
“Is there a unifying thread?”
Woo-ju took the mic:
“We wanted to show the evolution of our message through the songs.” ƒreewebɳovel.com
“Message?”
“Yes. First, ‘Fireworks’...”
He gave the cue, and they sang the same “Fireworks” refrain together. It was a song that made you feel good and want to go out and play.
“‘Fireworks’ was our debut song—the first we presented to listeners.”
The members continued:
“It’s about meeting someone new, having fun together...”
“And then watching fireworks with strangers on the beach at night.”
Hearing that, Ha Seung-ju and the audience nodded in understanding. The leader explained:
“But simply playing together doesn’t close the gap between us and the listeners.”
“That’s right.”
“So ‘Masquerade’ is about looking at each other seriously—two unmasked individuals locking eyes in a masquerade ball.”
Then the youngest sang a serious line from that song, illustrating the idea of seeing each other’s true selves amid a disguise. They continued:
“With ‘Windflower,’ we approach more actively—‘I’m here,’ gazing at you...”
“A song of comfort.”
“Yes.”
Viju, who choreographed it, demonstrated a gentle move onstage, and people’s eyes followed the line of his dance.
“For ‘Nine,’ it’s different—a song of consolation: ‘Shake it off, let’s have fun today,’ for those who are struggling.”
Woo-ju’s excited explanation and bright eyes brought smiles to the audience, and even Ha Seung-ju’s expression warmed.
“There’s a flow—meeting, opening up, comforting.”
“Yes.”
“And each title track features a different member in reverse age order? And I heard you each have a symbolic color?”
After Ranger-style color intros—“I’m red!”—came the MC’s question:
“How did you choose your colors?”
“Oh, the company decided that.”
Their candid answer sent the audience into laughter, and made NewBlack’s story feel more genuine—each background detail made the songs instantly comprehensible. Ha Seung-ju noted,
“Maybe because you produce your own music, your explanations are so easy to follow.”
“Right, our songs are easy to listen to and understand.”
They beamed at the sincere praise. Ha Seung-ju, looking fondly at his juniors, added teasingly:
“You must have felt pent-up wanting to say all this.”
“My mouth was itching.”
Jung-hyun rubbed his finger against his lip to show it, and Ha Seung-ju laughed.
“And yet you haven’t run out of things to say about music... Woo-ju, any difficulties when composing?”
“Hm? In what sense?”
“Idol songs follow certain formulas—there’s a boundary between what you want to do and what you must do.”
Woo-ju thought, then answered:
“I don’t feel that. Maybe there’s some idol convention, but there’s so much we haven’t tried yet.”
“Ah, that’s a shame.”
Ha Seung-ju primed to recruit:
“If NewBlack wants a different-feeling song, I’d jump at it—invite me.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not gifted at idol music.”
The audience laughed. NewBlack laughed, then sincerely said:
“It’d be an honor to work with you.”
“Please come.”
“Our production team admires you.”
“Definitely.”
“If you try new music, contact me.”
“It’s a promise?”
“Of course.”
“Kim PD, you’re filming this—air it. A promise between composers.”
They hooked pinkies and even thumb-printed in front of the camera, and laughter filled the hall. The audience’s view of NewBlack softened—once just a famous boy group, now friends sharing creative struggles.
“Ah, they’re all kind and earnest.”
“I think they’d be fun friends.”
“No, the button guy’s still red... cute.”
As thoughts and warm glances flew, the MC asked:
“We’re almost out of talk time. Soon we have the second stage, ‘Thousand Dreams.’”
Cheers met mention of the famous movie OST.
“Many are interested in how you joined a Hollywood film project. Can you share the behind-the-scenes?”
“Sure.”
They recounted how they got involved, how their full demo was selected, and how the film scenes shifted. The audience made impressed “ooh” faces.
“We signed NDAs.”
“You do that?”
They explained the strict secrecy of Hollywood projects. Then the burning question:
“How did you come up with ‘Thousand Dreams’?”
“Oh, that...”
Woo-ju looked sheepish.
“I mentioned it in the pre-interview...I just got the idea.”
“What?”
“I was listening to ‘Falling Stars’ for Ri-hyuk’s cover. Hearing the scene description—how the song would come in—I pictured how it should go.”
“Does that work?”
He sat at the keyboard and played the world-famous “Falling Stars” melody, repeating a motif.
“It’s like a falling mood—literally stars falling.”
“Hm.”
“The notes descend gently, right?”
Then he played the “Thousand Dreams” chorus.
“I thought it’d be nice to build up softly before the fall—so the impact feels greater.”
“More emotional at the drop?”
“Yes. That was the concept—dreams rising like balloons, then falling as stars.”
As the cascading melody of “Thousand Dreams” played, the audience instinctively gasped. Even Ha Seung-ju momentarily fell silent. Woo-ju, playing “Falling Stars,” said:
“The original composer is a genius. I get chills each time I hear it.”
Yet the audience only blinked.
“No, you’re more of a genius...”
They felt a subtle distance—he’d been so friendly moments ago, now he seemed awe-inspiring.
After sharing the backstory, we performed “Thousand Dreams” for the audience. I played guitar while the brothers exchanged movie lines in song with cheerful banter.
“Waaaah—”
After the song, we smiled at the applauding audience. Their eyes sparkled. Though they’d looked tired earlier, now they laughed joyfully. In this late slot, people usually drift out, but the seats were full. The brothers grinned.
“Success.”
“Well done, you minions.”
I put down the guitar with a proud smile. Ha Seung-ju said,
“‘Thousand Dreams’ was wonderful. The song releases tomorrow worldwide, right?”
“Yes.”
“I was sad only ‘Falling Stars’ was on MeTube—this is great. Aren’t you eager to hear it?”
“Yes!”
He continued:
“Sadly, it’s time to send NewBlack off.”
“Aaaah—”
“Usually the audience chants for you to stay, not you asking to stay.”
We pouted, and the audience applauded and laughed.
“Before you go, can we see something else?”
“Like what...?”
“You talked about composing, but you haven’t actually shown it—improvisation.”
He asked,
“Possible?”
“Sure.”
I sat at the keyboard, and the brothers moved to my side.
“You all want to do it together?”
“Yes.”
Our youngest replied,
“After being apprentices for two years, we all can compose somewhat. So we do it together these days.”
“Oh.”
I asked the intrigued MC,
“What shall we play?”
“Let’s pick a ringtone...”
As Ha Seung-ju pondered, a cellphone rang loudly through the hush. The audience murmured, and a young couple hurriedly silenced it. At that moment, inspiration struck me and I grinned.
“I’ll use that ringtone.”
“The iPhone default?”
“Yes.”
I played the ringtone on the keys and began to vary it while the brothers tapped a rhythm. After a few repeats, I formed a main theme. I smiled at the couple and put the mic to my lips.
“This is for you—”
The brothers added a “Woo-oo—” chorus. The couple bowed their heads, and Ha Seung-ju and the audience chuckled. Then Jung-hyun quietly recited:
“In the darkness echoes—
Your ringtone—
You forgot to silence it.”
Our chorus of “You forgot to silence it!” set the hall erupting in laughter.
