Free Web NovelAll together, we took a step back. freёweɓnovel.com
A broad, shabby brick building the size of a neighborhood mart.
Above it hung the sign for Clay Tyler’s studio.
“It’s the right place.”
It looked like we’d come to the right address.
“Could it be closed today?”
“No. We exchanged messages with Clay before coming. He said to drop by any weekday.”
We’d texted him from Korea to say we’d be coming. His reply had been full of laughter and, “Can’t wait to see you!”
“But the door’s locked.”
Junghyun gingerly tugged at the doorknob.
Click-click.
After trying a few times, he looked up with an expression of revelation.
“It’s locked.”
“You’re quick to realize that, Junghyun.”
A hollow breeze brushed past us in this foreign place. We exchanged glances. We’d even told him we were coming, so a locked door could only mean one thing.
“He ran off!”
“He really did.”
“He’s good at making an exit.”
He must hate to meet us that much. His dodge was on par with Ri-hyeok’s level.
I turned to Wonsuk hyung beside me, who was holding his phone, and asked,
“Hyung, is this the right address?”
“Yeah.”
“So it should be here...”
“I’m calling him now, but it doesn’t look like he’s picking up.”
Had he really fled because we were coming? We felt unjustly slighted that we’d become such unwelcome guests.
“We didn’t do anything....”
“So you s....”
As he spoke, a montage of memories flickered through my mind.
The exhausted choreographer, his daughter’s disappointed face, and us laughing and enjoying ourselves in front of them.
“Maybe we went too far.”
“I guess we did, huh.”
While we murmured that, we noticed someone among us who hadn’t said a word until now.
“....”
Our main dancer.
He was smiling as always, but the corners of his eyes—his eye-smile—sagged. The hand holding the gift envelope was slack. He looked so upset, yet forced a smile so the others wouldn’t worry.
“Looks like something’s come up today. Let’s go back another time.”
Viju forced a smile and tried to usher us away—and we felt more restless.
“He’s really hurt.”
“Look at his face when he’s alone....”
It reminded me of a parent arriving at a toy store with their child, only to find it closed. Viju had been so excited, showing Clay dance moves on his phone the whole trip over.
“Let’s go, hyung.”
“All right.”
What else could we do? I threw my arm around Viju’s shoulders and said firmly,
“There’s still plenty of time. Let’s go somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else?”
“Here’s a hint: starts with D.”
Viju looked puzzled, but Junghyun answered,
“Digimon World?”
“Disneyland. Junghyun, can we even go there?”
We all burst out laughing at that absurd answer.
We turned to Viju, who’d been so happy.
“We were planning to go anyway. Let’s check it out.”
“That’s right. Let’s go to the land of our dreams and hopes, hyung.”
Viju’s eyes lit up.
“All together?”
“Yes. Let’s go....”
Under our encouraging stares, Ri-hyeok nodded.
At the suggestion to cheer ourselves up at an amusement park, Viju’s smile returned instantly.
As we headed back to the car,
“...huh?”
We rounded the corner and nearly collided with an American wearing earbuds, walking to the beat. A woman in a hoodie and stylish pants stared at us, eyes wide. We were the first to speak.
“Joy?”
“....”
“Joy Tyler?”
She bowed her head deeply.
Her motion said, “No, it’s not Joy,” which made me laugh.
“Joy!”
“Uh... long time no see!”
Her cheeks trembled as she greeted us. When we moved in with, “Wow!” she swallowed and asked,
“What brings you around here?”
“We came for a surprise visit.”
“Well, it really is a surprise....”
“I told Clay we’d come when we arrived in LA. Didn’t he tell you?”
I could read in her eyes that she [N O V E L I G H T] hadn’t heard.
“That’d explain it.”
She looked relieved.
“My dad told all the studio dancers there’d be a surprise guest, so he asked everyone to gather.”
“Oh.”
“Turns out it’s you guys.”
That single sentence carried so much meaning, and we laughed. At the same time, Viju’s face brightened further.
“So does that mean we can’t go to Disneyland? I already messaged the sisters, asking what souvenirs they want.”
“We can’t go?”
“We’ll go later. Later.”
Only our maknae and the rapper wore downcast expressions.
Joy Tyler led the way.
“This one closed recently.”
“Ah.”
“We came to the old address. The new building is about a block over.”
Soon, the new building came into view. Like the old studio, it was a single story, but far cleaner and more expensive-looking.
“After working with you on ‘Windflower,’ we got tons of requests from K-pop companies.”
We laughed at how our success had earned them a nicer space.
Click-click.
She opened the door to the new studio, revealing an immense practice room.
“Wow....”
While the dancers stretching inside shot us curious glances, a hearty voice called out,
“Hey!”
“Clay!”
A tall, slender man in a stylish suit opened his arms and approached. We bumped fists and shoulders lightly. When he exclaimed “B!” while greeting Viju in particular, Viju beamed.
Clay gently tapped Junghyun’s fist with his hand and patted him on the shoulder.
“I brought gifts for Clay.”
“Gifts?”
We handed him a set related to traditional Korean culture—something he’d shown interest in—and his grin stretched ear to ear.
Then he laughed at the T-shirts printed with “Clay Tyler” and “Joy Tyler” in Korean.
“Come on in. You said you were curious about my studio, right? I’ll introduce you to my people.”
He clapped his hands, gathering the dancers. We could feel them whispering, “Who are these guys?” They seemed curious about who deserved this warm welcome.
Clay smiled and said,
“These friends are some of the most talented dancers I’ve ever seen.”
He praised our skills, and they seemed genuinely impressed.
“They’re also insanely passionate. I bet you came here to experience various dance styles, right?”
That was partly true, so we nodded. Then someone asked,
“You all look familiar. Who are you?”
Clay flashed a broad smile.
“This is NewBlack.”
“....“
“You recognize the faces from the music videos, huh?”
He clapped his hands again.
“All right, let’s have a great time together.”
He then introduced each dancer—“This is Jorge...” and so on. I have no idea how word of us spread, but the dancers looked at us with a mix of curiosity and awe.
After the introductions,
“Then I’ll just watch.”
We turned back, and Clay looked so happy he nearly glowed.
“At lunch, I’ll take you to a great restaurant—I’m even wearing a suit for it. I guess I won’t be dancing.”
At that moment, I realized why his face felt familiar: it was the same smile he’d given after receiving his medal, when Teacher No Jae-hyun introduced him to other famous singers.
“Ha ha! Ha ha ha!”
Clay looked truly happy that day.
The dancers trembled with excitement.
“NewBlack, of all people.”
These were the ones who had made Clay Tyler look like a rag soaked in water.
“No wonder he asked everyone to come!”
We resented the studio head who’d lured them here—but it was too late to regret it now.
Still, the dancers were nervous.
Clay Tyler’s foreign boy band, feared like monsters in a closet.
“Nice to meet you!”
The five of us approached, laughing gleefully. The dancers returned awkward smiles.
Under Clay’s direction, it felt like a workshop. NewBlack took center stage.
“They don’t look like incredible dancers.”
They were all pretty faces and slender bodies—I wondered if they had the strength.
“Ooh....”
One of the studio dancers performed part of the choreography for “Nine,” and their eyes went wide. They’d been crouching, but now looked up in amazement.
They danced flawlessly to that super-fast beat, each movement precise and organic.
“Wow.”
It was my first time seeing such perfectly synchronized, sharp group choreography. The sheer volume of practice required for that quality was intimidating.
When the “Nine” routine ended, the dancers gave an astonished round of applause.
Someone joked,
“Do you dance all day?”
“No.”
A dancer with a serious impression answered,
“About fourteen hours a day.”
“....“
“Sometimes fifteen?”
Their leader tapped him on the shoulder.
“Relax, Junghyun. Just kidding.”
The sudden hearty laugh from the rapper broke the tension, and the dancers laughed too. Somehow it felt familiar.
After praising each other’s dance skills, some of the dancers demonstrated routines.
“Ooh....”
Each time they moved, NewBlack clapped. But the dancers’ expressions didn’t brighten.
“What’s wrong?”
“Is it just me?”
They were performing the same choreography, but something felt unsatisfying.
Then I realized why.
At the exact center of NewBlack, someone was performing a stunning solo.
“Was his name B?”
The member Clay had mentioned. His red-dipped hair fluttered, his hands reached gracefully into the air, and every onlooker gasped. He looked far older than his just-over-twenty years, his dance betraying years of training.
Among these professional dancers, few could match that level.
“I’ve seldom seen singers dance this well....”
His ability to command attention was unparalleled. With every flick of fingertips and toes, it left a lingering afterimage.
“How did you do that? The hand-flower shape you made.”
They asked.
“Can you show the third part again?”
“It’s strange. I don’t know what it is, but it sticks in my mind.”
The dancers now treated us like old friends, curious about our secrets. Viju replied,
“We’re a boy group, so we sing and dance. Since we have to do more than just dance or sing professionally, we study various techniques.”
“Techniques?”
“For example, if I turn my gaze over there and lift my fingertips near my chest....”
Our main dancer’s white neck moved softly, drawing everyone’s eyes to his chin, where a gentle smile formed.
The dancers nodded. When it came to standing out under cameras or eyes, NewBlack were the real experts.
“Can you teach us more?”
Soon, other members joined in, sharing tips on expressions and other tricks.
“I heard there’s a dance trending in the US. Can we see it?”
“This part, where you bring your toes together.”
“That’s it. When you do the wave there, which muscles are you focusing on?”
NewBlack members posed questions to the dancers. They asked each other and exchanged valuable tips.
At the same time, the dancers were amazed.
“They’ve changed again.”
They learned so quickly—teach them once or twice, and they improved instantly.
Among them, the stand-out alongside B was...
“Can you breakdance?”
The studio dancers had only seen foreign dancers on MiTube videos, so they kept asking for a demonstration.
“Hmm, I couldn’t see that clearly in the video. Like this....”
“Be careful, you could get hurt....”
“It works.”
Even the dancers who’d tried to dissuade him blinked in surprise each time he showed a new move. He perfectly copied every motion—a crazy talent.
Though it felt like our own secrets were being laid bare, the dancers were ecstatic.
“This feels so worthwhile.”
With every tip exchange, both sides gained something valuable. NewBlack took home lessons to refine their dance; the dancers learned how to guide audience attention onstage. The atmosphere was warm and lively.
Two hours flew by.
“Today was so much fun!”
“Same here.”
Both sides clasped hands with regretful smiles.
Then B said,
“Can I get your contact info? I don’t know if we’ll have a chance, but if we ever work together...”
“Of course!”
The dancers beamed.
“Clay really went overboard with the introductions.”
They were such warm, wonderful people—we’d clearly misunderstood them because of Clay. NewBlack returned their kind smiles.
“...?”
Startled, I thought I glimpsed a momentary wicked expression on B’s face, but the dancers laughed it off.
‘Must have been my imagination.’
As both sides expressed hope to meet again, Clay—leaning against the wall like a giant roach—grinned and murmured,
“Yeah. Quickly exchange contacts. Exchange....”
Behind him, his daughter Joy Tyler looked at her father with a half-exasperated, half-amused expression.
After the fun at the dance studio, we had a meal with the Tylers at a famous LA seafood restaurant. It was so delicious we decided we’d bring Mrs. Kim Deok-soon here if she ever came to America. The portions were huge—Junghyun had never smiled so brightly at a single portion before.
The next day,
“I might move to the US.”
Junghyun smiled happily as he eyed the snacks on the table, then handed me a bag.
“Look at this, hyung.”
“Whoa.”
“So much jelly. People here must love eating until they burst, like me.”
We laughed at Junghyun’s jelly-fueled joy. Then we warmed up our voices.
“Ah, five hundred won. Five hundred won....”
In the waiting room, our staff heard us muttering “five hundred won...” like a chant. Passing foreigners tilted their heads at the strange refrain.
Then a foreign crew member asked Seok-hwan hyung what religion we were reciting.
“Um...?”
“They said it sounds so peaceful—can they ask what scripture it is?”
Hearing us chant “five hundred won, five hundred won” with such serene faces must have piqued their curiosity. I smiled and said to my siblings,
“Let’s change it to avoid confusion.”
So we switched to “one dollar... one dollar...” Our staff burst into laughter.
We harmonized,
“One dollar... one thousand one hundred won...”
When we added a chorus of “Exchange rate high, high,” the makeup artists paused and laughed. We warmed up and rehearsed in that cheerful mood.
On our second day in LA, we performed at the “Nostalgia Live Concert” in a theater of about a thousand people. The film’s cast—Rupert Dean and Bella Page—were talking onstage in suits.
“Ahem.”
With a long wait, we kept humming to loosen up or sipping water to soothe our throats. Our slot was about five minutes: we’d surprise-guest “Thousand Dreams” before closing with “Falling Stars.”
“Everyone over there says it’s time to start waiting backstage.”
“Yes.”
My siblings and I left the waiting room and headed backstage. I felt a flutter of nerves—it’s always thrilling and nerve-wracking to perform in a foreign country.
While I took deep breaths and stretched backstage, an American crew member with a headset smiled and asked,
“You must be nervous, standing on such a big stage?”
“Pardon?”
We looked puzzled, and he chirped,
“It’s not a hundred people, it’s a thousand. This must be your first time on a stage this big. Don’t be too nervous.”
We thanked him, and he gave us a thumbs-up like a supportive newcomer crew member. Despite feeling grateful, I couldn’t help but smile.
“Thank you.”
He smiled back.
Meanwhile, onstage, Rupert Dean and Bella Page were holding a talk in suits.
“Now, the much-anticipated final act remains.”
“Falling Stars—are you all excited?”
As originators of the film’s soundtrack and one of Billboard’s hottest songs, the mention of “Falling Stars” drew cheers—and puzzled looks.
“Are they not doing ‘Thousand Dreams’?”
That song, also an original from the movie, had been everywhere on MiTube and radio. Bella Page paused, hand on her microphone.
“Wait.”
“Hm?”
“I think we forgot something.”
“What did we miss? Oh!”
Rupert said,
“Ever After? Or The Reason?”
“No.”
Bella swept her blonde hair back in exasperation.
“I mean ‘Thousand Dreams.’”
“Oh....”
Rupert nodded with mock solemnity.
“That’s the one we skipped. But we’re not the ones who sang it....”
“Let’s have a go.”
Behind them, the live band began to play. The duo staged a playful mess, deliberately hitting wrong notes, and the audience roared with laughter. Each attempt flopped, until Rupert said,
“I don’t think we can do this song justice.”
“Agreed.”
“Some songs need the original artist....”
The crowd caught on and erupted in cheers. The actors, having pumped up the crowd with their comedy, grinned and raised their mics at the production staff.
“What?”
Rupert stared wide-eyed.
“You mean the singer who did the original is here? Really?”
“Then hurry them up to the stage!”
Cheers and applause filled the theater. As the live band gently played, the five of us walked onstage from backstage into the spotlight. The audience paused, murmuring.
“What was their name again?”
“A foreign singer?”
And just like that, on a foreign stage, NewBlack were introduced to a new audience for the first time.
