Free Web NovelThe meal we finally decided on was spicy fish stew.
Bubble, bubble.
I ladled the stew’s broth from the portable stove and drizzled it over the vegetables.
“Ohhhhh...”
At the sight of the steaming stew, my brothers’ faces broke into huge smiles.
“As expected of the Sup-fle–recommended spot.”
“Thank you, Your Royal Highness Sill-rik Sill-rik.”
They’d said the portions were generous and delicious—and they weren’t lying. Plenty of raw fish and a hearty stew. We’d missed the famed Baekam Sundae of Yongin, but this was just fine.
“I was really sweating thinking we might go hungry, but this solves it.”
“Thank goodness.”
“That was a brilliant idea after a long time, Sun Woo-ju. Accept my praise.”
“Hyung, don’t just say it—show me.”
Ri-hyuk made a show of writing something in the air, crumpling it up, and tossing it into my mouth. I returned his gesture with a bright smile.
“Ptooey.”
“.......”
“Puhahahaha!”
My brothers clapped and laughed. Our ruckus drew glances from customers at the fish restaurant; we bowed apologetically to their curious looks.
“Sorry—”
As people chuckled, Manager Min-gi also laughed and teased:
“Hey. When you apologize, don’t harmonize. It makes it sound insincere.”
“They say ghosts look good when they eat well, so a pleasant apology is better.”
The youngest piped up, singing a little tune as he did so. The smell of spicy stew made my shoulders bob automatically; I said to my brothers:
“Comrades, today we have realized something.”
“That’s right.”
“What if we can’t eat meat?”
“Then we can eat fish~!”
“What if you don’t know what saryo means?”
“You get a sixty-nine~!”
While the hyungs and managers clapped like seals and laughed, Ji-ho set down her spoon and shot us a glare.
“Ugh, seriously!”
“If you’re unfairly treated, go get a seventy.”
“...Just you wait. I’m going to break my own record this time. I’m a Korean-history master now, you know?”
As Jung-hyun went “Ohh, nice,” Ri-hyuk burst out laughing and asked:
“Explain the Great Famine of 1932. Three points.”
“What’s that?”
“It means there’s no way you’ll get seventy. Wang Ji-ho.”
Ri-hyuk laughed triumphantly, and we teased him with high-pitched “Ebe-be-be” sounds.
“Six-ty~”
“Nine nine nine~”
The youngest bounced about, then sprang to his feet and clung to Ri-hyuk’s leg.
“Ahhh! Don’t go! Where are you going? Are you pouting?”
“To the restroom! I’m going!”
“You should go.”
We let him go. Viju pointed him the right way, and Ji-ho marched off in the opposite direction. We smiled apologetically at the customers watching us.
“Sorry~”
“Don’t harmonize when you apologize, guys....”
Even the customers, and Manager Min-gi—who’d been massaging his temples—couldn’t help laughing.
That evening.
At the famous fish restaurant “Yongin Fish Market,” dinner guests were arriving. As people chatted, a college-student patron suddenly said:
“Oh, right. I heard NewBlack was in Yongin today.”
“Really? Why?”
“I think they’re on a national tour. My friends saw some MiTube thing in Jungang Market earlier—there was a huge crowd.”
“So that’s what I saw on Facebook.”
Meanwhile, customers entering the restaurant noticed something on the wall by the entrance.
“...Hm?”
A gigantic new photo had been posted there:
‘NewBlack...?’
In it, the restaurant-owner couple stood at the sides while NewBlack posed in the center.
“Wow. So dynamic.”
Woo-ju pretended to reel in a giant fish with an invisible rod, Jung-hyun flapped like a red seabream, and the other three mimicked caught fish.
“Puhaha!”
Under the photo was a message: “Wishing you prosperity,” signed by NewBlack. Next to it, another photo showed them taking song requests from customers—and they looked like they were singing trot, judging by the patrons in hiking gear clapping “ha-hat-hat.”
“......”
The college students blinked:
‘What on earth happened here?’
They wondered if a broadcast shoot had taken place, and then, as posts went up on social media, the restaurant got busier than usual.
7 PM.
A group of people who’d gotten off at Jukjeon Station on the Bundang Line hurried along. Some were from nearby cities; others were locals. Among them was the fan with the nickname “Don’tGoToGradSchool,” her cheeks still flushed as she walked.
‘Wow. They came to my neighborhood....’
It still felt unreal: NewBlack visiting various small venues on tour instead of music shows, and winning tickets despite stiff competition.
[NewBlack 1st Intimate Theaters Tour: “Encounter”]
A project where they split the country into regions and held a lottery for Sup-fle in each zone. The performance—including talk—would run about an hour to an hour and a half.
‘Great.’
I’d never been to a music-show recording, but having NewBlack come to my own town and seeing them live was thrilling. As she approached the venue, “Don’tGoToGradSchool” blinked in disbelief.
‘This is supposed to be a small theater...?’
The Art Hall, run by the Yongin Cultural Foundation, looked nothing like a small theater. Those usually hold under 300 seats, but this place—even the banner reading “Intimate Theaters Tour”—felt absurd.
‘...?’
Other fans around her also stared blankly. As they queued to enter, the chatter was nonstop: some hadn’t even won tickets yet still waited, hoping seats might open up; others peeked around to see if they could buy last-minute ones.
“Ugh...”
She saw people already scouting spots to film NewBlack’s exit, carrying ladders and camera bags, looking professional. The entire block seemed abuzz as she passed the standees of the members and went inside.
“...This is a small theater?”
Inside was the grand space of an opera house with extremely high ceilings. She searched on her phone and found it seated about 1,200 including the balcony—and all she could do was laugh.
‘Lemon Ent must be making bank.’
The rental fee alone must be huge; I admired their resources at offering such a venue for free. She thumbed through the program she’d been given—complete with a set list—and felt her heart flutter.
‘Ahh... so excited.’
She rubbed her palms, flipped through the booklet, her chest pounding. She couldn’t wait for the curtain to rise.
As the Sup-fle found their seats—on the first and second floors and side sections—the venue filled to about 1,200 seats.
“Waaaaah!”
Lights dimmed and a roar of a thousand voices echoed. The glowsticks sparkled like a little galaxy in the dark. The curtain slowly parted, and the Sup-fle’s cheering filled the hall.
Ssshhhh—
White fog rolled over the stage from the fog machines, and blue lights bathed the space in a dreamlike hue. A VCR backdrop showed snow falling as snowflake lights danced.
“Waaaaah!”
Intro : Nine-teen.
A live band played the instrumental as the seated members closed their eyes. Gentle piano notes made the glowsticks sway. Then, as if their lips were whiter than usual, they parted:
Like five o’clock’s fading sunlight
Our summer has passed
Their voices were low yet resonant—no high shrieks, but powerful enough to command the hall.
“Waaah...!”
A scream of delight broke out. “I’m mad,” thought the graduate-student fan who’d never heard NewBlack live. She knew they were good, but not to this extent—the difference between the live sound and the video mixes was astonishing. It felt like their bodies vibrated with the lead vocals. The blue lights that painted the stage seemed to color the audience as well.
Then, as the intro’s chorus played, the members opened their eyes and picked up their mics.
“Waaaaah!”
Harmonies layered over the lead vocalist’s tone, like flavoring a soup. It felt like the audience’s ears were being gently moistened. When the intro ended and they launched into “Hibernation,” the track that’d held the daily chart’s top spot all week, the glowsticks shook wildly in welcome.
The members grinned mischievously, a stark contrast to before.
“One, two, three!
Roasted sweet potatoes! Roasted chestnuts! And—?”
“NewBlaaaaack!”
“Hello, Sup-fle! We’re here!”
As the main dancer waved enthusiastically, a smile spread across the hall. The maknae grabbed the mic:
“Hello! Gyeonggi!”
The audience laughed remembering how he’d shouted “Yo! Hong-Kong!” at the KMA.
Ri-hyuk shook his head and took the mic:
“I honestly don’t know what to say.”
“Right?”
“Hyungs, I prepared regional greetings. For Seoul, it’s ‘Hi! I Seoul U!’ Woo!”
Everyone laughed. Then the leader held the mic:
“Before we chat with you all, let us properly introduce ourselves.”
His shining eyes scanned the audience:
“Welcome—welcome—to our Intimate Theaters Tour ‘Encounter’!”
“This show is unique: we’re coming to you, the Sup-fle, ourselves. Do you like it?”
“Yes!”
“Glad to hear it.”
He gestured at the live band behind them:
“These musicians have been with us since our first concert. You don’t have to stand up to wave.”
“We are here!”
The band members awkwardly waved as NewBlack rose from their chairs and approached the drummer.
“Director, please give him a close-up.”
The camera zoomed on the drummer’s face on the backdrop. With a shy grin, he curled his stick-holding hand.
“Don’t be nervous, Yoon-tak hyung.”
“Over a thousand Sup-fle are all looking at you. No need to worry.”
Like nieces and nephews teasing their uncle, NewBlack made impromptu introductions, while the bassist and guitarist provided playful background riffs:
“Let me introduce—
Dudung-tak! Dudung-tak!
Drum scene has arrived
Drummer : Heo Yun-tak
Specialty : Can’t watch horror movies”
When Jung-hyun added a final rap line, the Sup-fle laughed while the drummer—looking fierce—hid his face behind his hand. The keyboardist played the gentle melody from a human-interest doc as Viju asked:
“What do you think? Do you like our introductions?”
“Express it with your drums!”
The drummer tapped the hi-hat with a bright “tang!” to show his approval. Woo-ju asked the other members:
“And you hyungs?”
The bassist and guitarist gave jaunty riffs. Then the drummer handed the mic to Jung-hyun and said:
“Next is you guys.”
The band played a slower, sadder riff as NewBlack introduced each musician:
“These are the precious people who will perform with us for the next three weeks—please give them a round of applause!”
“Waaaaah!”
The band bowed, playing a brief thank-you melody. Woo-ju sat again:
“Before we begin tonight’s main stage, a few announcements:
As you know, this show is partnered with the Y App and will be broadcast daily!”
“For those who couldn’t come, we hope you can watch like this!”
“And one more thing...”
Ri-hyuk beamed in anticipation: ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com
“We’ve prepared a surprise event!”
“Oooooh!”
Everyone’s eyes lit up. They whispered “Mascots? Cosplay? Bread?”—and Ri-hyuk panicked:
“Not like wearing masks or anything, so don’t get your hopes up too big.”
“Aaah~”
Their laughter rang out. After that opening, Woo-ju said:
“Now, shall we start the main performance?”
The band kicked off “Winter Trip” and the mood soared. They explained “Behind this song?” like a music café, answered Post-it questions pinned by today’s Sup-fle mid-song.
“Waaaaah!”
Around thirty minutes in, it was time for the surprise event they’d promised:
“We asked you all to submit winter stories, right?
Tonight we’ll choose some on-site and give you prizes along with a song request!”
A list of prizes scrolled across the screen—“Why is there a kimchi refrigerator?” everyone laughed at seeing appliances instead of merch.
“We read all the year-end submissions and selected favorites.
Now, our first story!”
A staff member handed the leader a sheet of paper under the spotlight; a thousand pairs of eyes zeroed in. The leader laughed awkwardly and passed it to the maknae:
“I’ll read the story.”
Ji-ho, staring into space to collect herself, began as a gentle BGM played, like the start of a video letter.
“Meeting NewBlack changed my winter.
I’ve gained weight from eating Sup-fle bread.”
The fans all burst out laughing. Ji-ho continued in a calm voice:
“Thanks to my new abdominal fat friends, I think I’ll stay warm this winter.”
Amid uproarious laughter, the story’s author—“Don’tGoToGradSchool”—sat mortified, hiding her face.
“We’ve been told the story author is here. You don’t have to raise your hand if you’re shy.”
Viju smiled kindly:
“You can just come pick up your prize after the show if you’d like. But if you don’t mind being announced, please raise your hand.”
She did. Woo-ju bowed politely:
“We’re so sorry— we never meant for the bread to do this...
When we read the story, we agreed we had to apologize in person.”
As the Sup-fle laughed, Woo-ju asked:
“If you’re okay with the mic... Oh, thank you. Hello.”
“Hello...”
“To protect privacy, we’ll change your nickname live: our Graduate-Student Sup-fle!”
That adorable name prompted laughter all around. ‘Phew,’ thought the fan—thank goodness they didn’t call out “Don’tGoToGradSchool.” Although her face would be off-camera, you never know.
After members sent apology hearts, attention returned to her:
“Before you choose your prize, we want to sincerely apologize with a song.
Hmm, what should we sing?”
They whispered, nodded, and handed back the mics. The pre-recorded track surely awaited them, but their acting convinced the audience otherwise.
“Graduate school is tough, right? We talked to people who know how hard it is...
Studying’s no joke. We really felt for you.”
Woo-ju smiled:
“This is for the Sup-fle in a doctorate program.
‘I Will Be a Doctor!’ by Baek Sang-gyo.”
Everyone laughed at the unexpected choice. To lively intro music, the lyrics went:
“I want to become a love expert soon~”
The prize-winner coughed once, then clapped as NewBlack sang. ‘It’s embarrassing... but...’ she thought happily—and relieved it [N O V E L I G H T] wasn’t her.
When the song ended, Woo-ju held up images of the prizes:
“Since you won first, you can choose first!
What would you like?”
She pointed:
“That one. The newest refrigerator.”
“Congratulations!”
Envy rippled through the audience at a prize worth millions. Her heart pounded; a rush of joy lit her face:
‘A brand-new fridge!’
Embarrassment was fleeting, but money lasts forever.
After the show.
As the Sup-fle left, still buzzing from the live music, a couple watching drama at home got a surprise call from their daughter.
“Mom, I won a refrigerator!”
“What...?”
“At the NewBlack concert I attended! I looked it up—it’s three million won!”
“What...?”
“My eating all those breads finally paid off...!”
Their daughter’s strange news left them bewildered—and while families processed the unexpected prizes, stories about the night’s concert began popping up online.
