Free Web Novel“An award?”
We looked at one another.
“What award? There’s no awards season now.”
“Yeah, the nearest is the Mango Chart Awards in November.”
Only one came to mind...
“Jung-hyun, did you do something?”
“No. Did you do something, hyung?”
We looked at each other, then at Ri-hyuk. He shook his head and asked Manager Seok-hwan,
“What award is this, sir?”
“Just a sec.”
He carefully showed us the text on his phone, away from other passengers’ ears. The phone passed silently through all five of our hands. Each time, we blinked.
[Korea Popular Culture and Arts Awards...]
At first we searched, then realized—it was a national commendation.
The Popular Culture and Arts Awards are held annually by the government to honor those who contributed to culture. Veterans receive medals, and sometimes idol singers like us are selected for commendations.
“Seriously?”
In the car to the company, we stared wide-eyed.
“A commendation from the Minister of Culture, Sports and Tourism?”
“Yeah. That’s what it says.”
We pressed Seok-hwan again. freēwēbnovel.com
“Are you sure this is from the government? Check the name—it could be something else.”
“I’m telling you it’s real.” He laughed.
“Don’t doubt it. Who would impersonate a nation?”
“It came out of the blue.”
“We thought it would be a variety award.”
“A rookie variety entertainer award...?”
“I thought maybe ‘Funniest Idol’ first place.”
He massaged his temples.
“Don’t jump to conclusions. Think of your work as singers too.”
“Right.”
“Selection reasons say, ‘Contributed to spreading Korean history through new media like MeTube...’”
Like an exploration team. We remembered lighting fires in the Paleolithic. Our MeTube videos were huge hits this year, introducing our name to the public and college events where students shouted, “It’s the explorers!”
“But... is that singer activity?”
Our manager, clearing his throat, added,
“And ‘Contributed to promoting K-pop through MeTube and SNS.’”
That made sense too—we’d read articles about our videos being entry points for foreigners into K-pop. I smiled.
“We sure rode some unicycles...”
“I remember tossing rice cakes twenty meters to catch them. Rainbow rice cakes were the hardest.”
“Viju hyung danced great on the trampoline.”
As Driver Won-seok grinned, our manager continued,
“And, ‘Contributed to public culture development through varied broadcasts and hit songs this year,’ mentioning the Nostalgia OST.”
“So our singer activity is just a spoonful.”
“Like a pinch of salt in soup.”
“Well, in a broad sense, it’s all singing activity. Now, who do we contact...?”
Ignoring us, Seok-hwan scrolled his contacts. We admired his veteran manager deftness. Then we all searched on our phones.
“Lots of acts got it—Girls On Top, TNT too.”
“When’s the ceremony?”
“End of this month. Oh, there’s an article.”
Ri-hyuk read news headlines:
– “NewBlack Confirmed for Korea Popular Culture and Arts Awards”
– “Rising idols NewBlack to Attend... Minister’s Commendation Likely”
– “TNT, NewBlack to Attend 2015 Popular Culture and Arts Awards”
TNT would be there too. We hadn’t seen them since the Olympics, so it was a thrill. We were happy to be receiving an award. As we wondered about the congratulatory stage, I idly searched “NewBlack.”
“....”
Related searches popped up:
[Funny Idol, Black Goat, Embarrassing History, Who’s Wu Zen-Min?, Route 8, Spec-ops, Music Show, “Viju Face”]
We laughed at the bizarre list. Viju, who’d been saving airport arrival memes on his phone, peeked over and laughed.
“Why am I the only one in quotes?”
“That’s an exact match search—fans wanted to see your face. If they search ‘Viju face,’ it matches the exact phrase.”
Our maknae tapped his phone and showed us “oyster”—the portal had thought “visual guhl” meant “fresh oysters.” Photos of shellfish filled the image search. Searching in quotes yielded dozens of Viju selfies.
“Wow—finding my face is tough.”
“You never search yourself?”
“No. I see myself in the mirror if I’m curious.”
“...Genius.”
The rest of us paused, then admired his logic. Viju declared solemnly,
“I have to succeed more so that typing ‘visual’ alone shows my face.”
“You can do it!”
“Are you not joining?”
“If you work hard, we’ll ride on your coattails.”
We teased him, then returned to business.
“But these related searches are... weird, right?”
“Definitely not typical idol terms.”
“So that’s why the manager kept talking about image change—otherwise we’d have switched to variety talents.”
“But if it’s by individual member, the searches might differ.”
At our main dancer’s suggestion, we each froze our phones over our chests and tapped the screens—each searching our own name. We saw in surprise the slight flinch on everyone’s faces except one very satisfied member. Three seconds of silence passed. We exchanged warm smiles, nodded, and put our phones down.
Ri-hyuk spoke urgently,
“We don’t know yet. We’ll see how it goes after the broadcast.”
“Right.”
“Let’s wash our image clean then.”
We pinned our hopes on tonight’s Music Cafe broadcast.
“Didn’t you come back covered in button fragments?”
“....”
We pretended not to hear.
Friday night. As the live broadcast of “Ha Seung-ju’s Music Cafe” approached, soufflé members began gathering in fan cafes and communities:
– “I’m so excited, it’s been so long since a music show!”
– “I fell for NewBlack last year on a Music Cafe clip—feels weird.”
– “They say they did something amazing again haha.”
– “Heard the audience went wild.”
– “Music ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) Cafe is usually serious—if they went wild it must’ve been a legendary stage...”
– “Those two dots feel suspicious lol.”
Spoiler-free reviews mentioned buttons popping:
– “I heard buttons pop!”
– “Panic at the buttons!”
– “I hope it’s not an exposure accident.”
– “They said it’s not that.”
Everyone buzzed with anticipation. The broadcast finally began.
– “With Nostalgia’s hype, they’ll probably come last... but it’s a long wait.”
– “Around 50 minutes in, after an hour 20?”
– “Yeah, probably.”
They surfed. When the soundtrack airs:
– “Huh???”
– “Why so quick?”
– “Who else is behind them???”
The Moon and Jo Yuri Band had brief segments. No shortage, but NewBlack’s airtime was far more than expected. Everyone fixed their eyes on the TV. Soon NewBlack’s first stage appeared, with the jazz-arranged “Nine.”
“Nice.”
“They subtitled Woo-ju as arranger—screenshot later.”
“Best profession is real.”
Fans empathized deeply with the on-screen audience’s smiles. When they discussed releasing this version of “Nine” digitally:
– “When do the buttons pop?”
– “It’s a time bomb—no clue when.”
– “They all have buttons on their outfits lol.”
– “Now I can’t un-notice the buttons.”
– “Whose button is it?”
They tried to pay attention to the talk, but buttons kept drawing their eyes. When NewBlack bantered “NewBlack rules, Music Cafe rules” with Ha Seung-ju, the audience responded warmly.
“Wow, they’ve really grown.”
For those who remembered their first Music Cafe last spring, it was touching. Back then, they swallowed once every ten seconds from nerves. Even Woo-ju, who handled the talk, was obviously tense, juggling the audience’s blank stares as a rookie group.
But...
“They’ve improved their broadcasting too.”
During the talk, the audio flowed smoothly. Having appeared on so many variety shows, they delivered just-right quips nonstop without crossing lines. It felt like real, comfortable conversation—making the viewing experience relaxed.
Ri-hyuk bashfully took a microphone when asked, “Could you sing that part again?”—the jazz “Nine” refrain—dressed in a bartender-style vest. He began, and the Clip comments at home were:
– “Wait, Rei-hyuk’s vest popped on DMB!”
– “Ha ha ha! That close-up on the button kill me.”
– “Camera: must capture this.”
– “First time I’ve seen inanimate objects close-up on Music Cafe.”
At home, a soufflé member snorted juice through laughter at the sudden DMB button pop—rolling on the floor as the on-screen audience laughed.
– “Ah... so that was the button.”
– “Button lol.”
– “Camera followed the rolling button.”
– “The button smoked the whole show.”
– “They must’ve told the PDs to give them more time.”
Fans worried:
– “Will the music get buried under the button joke?”
Then they saw NewBlack’s sweet “Image change—change our image—” harmonies and relaxed.
After the broadcast, ratings inched up, but due to the late hour, there was no immediate splash beyond regular viewers. But by Saturday morning, phones lit up with NewBlack news:
– “[Yesterday’s TV] NewBlack’s ‘crazy presence’ on Music Cafe”
– “‘Thanks to the broadcast glitch, impromptu composition?’”
– “‘Wanna hear it?’ Title medley... ‘Image change.’”
Entertainment pages and photo articles brimmed with NewBlack. It trended in real time. Curious viewers clicked on Music Cafe clips, starting with the most-viewed:
The button explosion, the camera’s divine tracking of a tumbling button—all hilariously documented. Then the ringtone improv:
The hall’s silence, a couple fumbling to silence their phone, Woo-ju’s fingertips dancing on the keys—
‘Wow...’
The ringtone became theme, then song, built in seconds. Even as they realized “What—how did they do that?” they were hooked. They watched the “Nostalgia OST behind the scenes” and “title song medley”: every time Woo-ju moved his fingers, a lovely melody emerged.
‘Who is this kid?’
They’d heard “NewBlack composes,” but seeing it live was entirely different—fresh and new. People shared:
– “Did you see this? The guy from Spec-ops NewBlack really composed a Hollywood OST.”
– “Did you catch the etiquette song?”
On communities:
– “They really make songs on the spot.”
– “Genius. They’re real musicians.”
– “The button guy can really sing.”
– “That ringtone thing is brilliant.”
– “Nostalgia too—when the dreams rise, you really feel it.”
– “They must’ve composed everything themselves.”
– “They got their dad’s talent.”
And opinions of their image shifted:
– “They look different now.”
– “Funny guys who are also good musicians.”
– “What category are they—variety talents or musician-entertainers?”
Meanwhile at Lemon Entertainment’s PR office:
“....”
“....”
Deputy Hong Se-young clicked her mouse; Director Yoon Seok-hwan stared.
“What is this feeling—like we won but lost?”
“Right. Did we succeed or fail?”
Thanks to NewBlack’s rising star power, clips circulated rapidly. It cemented their reputation as skilled performers, but as image change—it felt like “NewBlack is still NewBlack.”
“....”
As they pondered, the phone rang. Hong Se-young answered and jotted a note, then looked up at the manager.
At a movie theater, audiences clutching popcorn and Coke found their seats.
“Oh, it’s NewBlack.”
“Did you see them on that show? Hilarious.”
“Seeing them look cool is weird.”
After ten minutes of ads featuring NewBlack as trendy twenty-somethings skateboarding and modeling, the screen cut to emergency exit instructions. A familiar tone played—then a new video began.
A child wandered the dark theater—clearly lost. Suddenly:
“Hello.”
Viju, dressed like an etiquette fairy, appeared beside the child.
“Are you lost?”
“Yes! Did you come to help me?”
“No.”
The etiquette fairy smiled gently:
“I’m lost too.”
At that moment, colas were snorted and audiences erupted in surprised laughter.
