Free Web NovelTwo hours later.
The managers, having wrapped their other appointments, headed for the practice room.
“How weird,” said Manager Kim, Chu Gi-seok’s manager.
“Practice’s so long today—these guys aren’t the type to train this hard.”
“It’s odd. Their stamina shouldn’t hold up.”
“Well, Seok dreamed of being an idol, so I get him, but everyone else? They all seem so motivated.”
The managers exchanged puzzled looks. Of course, the Mister Producer cast always worked hard, but still...
– “I’m dying. I’m dead.”
– “Patch! Bring me patches~!”
– “I didn’t know in my twenties, but after thirty my body just breaks down.”
With their schedules so packed, the cast often complained of aches and pains. Manager Kim continued,
“But you know what’s really strange? Around this time, they’d be firing off group chats: ‘Bring us late-night snacks!’”
“Yesterday at this hour Jae-hee hyung texted for five mozzarella dogs.”
“Yet here we are—no one’s ordering anything?”
That made sense—the spoiled celebrities were oddly silent. But then...
– “Aaaah!”
A scream of agony echoing from the practice room jolted the managers to the doorway.
...and then they saw it.
“...Huh?”
Their mouths dropped at the bizarre sight beyond the glass.
– “Aaaah!”
A rolling TV was in hot pursuit of the cast.
“...The TV’s chasing people?”
“What on earth am I watching?”
Cornered, the cast stared at the screen in terror as the TV wheeled closer—emitting a harsh mechanical whine:
– “I’m sorry.”
– “No, it’s just so hard... Yes, I know it’s an excuse, but you need rest to practice. Yes. Sorry.”
– “Viju, not all of us have a body like yours.”
As the chastisements rattled out of the TV, the cast nodded miserably. Then, with a graceful reverse spin, the TV retracted—putting polite distance between itself and the group. And there, on screen, sat NewBlack’s Viju beaming like a sunflower. Soon, “Funky Town” played over the speakers, and the managers watched in stupefaction as the cast swayed sad-eyed to the tune.
“Wha... what is going on?”
They’d returned from their schedules to find NewBlack’s own Viju mercilessly drilling their celebrities via television.
“Can anyone make sense of this...?”
While the Mister Producer cast threw themselves into the basic-routine drills, we pressed on with our own frantic practice—perfecting the choreography for “Falling Petals.” Despite diet restrictions and sleep deprivation, there was no time to feel faint. Every now and then, they’d tag-team for a remote-session comedy bit, too.
“Hyung! Hyung!”
“Hm?”
“I’ve got something to report!”
The maknae, eyes wide, dashed over.
“They’re hiding!”
“Hiding?”
“Behind the camera—going, ‘You can’t see us! We’re resting!’”
We heard voices from the TV: “We’re resting! We will rest!” I nodded to the maknae’s insistence to fix it and phoned Chu Gi-seok. The ringtone—“Nine”—blared from the screen.
– “Oh! NewBlack TV’s Wooju!”
– “Hyung! Don’t even sound the ‘New’ in NewBlack while you rest!”
I knew roughly where they were. With the remote control, I aimed the TV camera at their hiding spot.
– “Wha—ahh!”
As we burst in, the Mister Producer cast ran back into frame. We grinned.
“Hello, hyungs!”
– “...”
“Our maknae has something to say. I’ll leave you to it!”
We watched him chattering, “I just wanted to let you know!” and laughed. Hard as it was for them now, this would surely help.
Viju, watching their recorded practice video in the corner, said,
“This is so much fun, hyung.”
“See?”
“Yeah. Now I get why Jiho’s like leveling up a game character—feels like my avatar growing from level zero.”
“Right—like making an idol your way.”
Viju and I exchanged smiles as he logged each member’s stats. Then Rihyeok, who’d been quietly waving his hand in the corner, walked over.
“But isn’t this totally off our original goal? We came here to look cool.”
“That was the plan, but you know it would never work.”
“...True.”
He looked genuinely concerned.
“It just seems too brutal. I had choreography coaching from Viju back in my trainee days—it really was torture.”
“Was it that rough?”
“You think my dance got this good by magic?”
I admired his gentle wave, then turned to Viju.
“Viju! He says it was rough because of you!”
“Ah! Why are you doing this to me!”
Viju’s eyes went wide as Rihyeok frantically defended him, and I laughed.
They called it “too harsh,” but once the vocal lessons start, that same Rihyeok will be the toughest of all. I still shudder recalling how he jabbed my ribs with that yellow rubber /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ pointer during winter-recording sessions.
Just then, the maknae slammed the laptop shut and bounced up.
“Ha-ha, so funny!”
“Did they get the message?”
“Yup—face muscles can still be exercised! So I showed them stage expressions.”
“Well done.”
I praised him.
“All right—back to practice!”
We resolved to sweat through three shirt changes today. Time flew as we drilled choreography. We even took time out to buy cake for the maknae’s birthday on the ninth, hosted a small birthday party on Y-App with fans, and watched the highlight clip from K-Net reality “NewBlack’s Travel Diary” Episode 1:
– [“NewBlack’s Travel Diary” Ep.1] NewBlack’s First Seagull Hunt ♡
It showed us chasing seagulls by hand on a Jeju beach—and, to our relief, the audience loved it.
– “They say it’s healing reality—what a teaser scam!”
– “The producers did their best... Healing BGM while we catch seagulls.”
– “Title says seagull hunt—didn’t feel off until they actually grabbed seagulls!”
– “Seagull Hunt hearts, LOL—healing, my foot.”
– “PD interview: ‘Not everything went as planned. NewBlack was an unpredictable variable.’ Ha!”
The response was fantastic online, even though the late-Thursday cable slot capped ratings. Already they’ve asked about Season 2 next year—and, on the same PD and crew terms, we gave our blessing.
After a hectic second week of April,
“Ahn-nyoung...” frёeweɓηovel.coɱ
We cracked up at the Mister Producer cast trudging in, looking utterly drained.
Second recording day. Barely a week later, their haggard faces made us worry.
“You all okay?”
“Aaah!”
Mo-beom-ju, mid–touch-up, jumped.
“Surprised?”
“Well, hearing your voices next to me all of a sudden...”
The crew’s laughter filled the studio. Mister Producer’s cast glared.
“Who’s laughing? Who’s making that noise?”
“They aren’t getting it themselves. Once they do, they won’t laugh like that...”
Dark circles and reproachful faces made us laugh.
“You’ve worked hard this week, right?”
“Yes!”
We smiled.
“Having overcome this, you’ll conquer any challenges ahead.”
“...You’re the ones giving us those trials!”
We feigned innocence, and they clucked.
Having bonded over daily video calls, we’d grown friendly.
“All right, let’s roll. Today’s slate: NewBlack’s Jiho, please!”
“Copy that~”
Jiho winked at the camera, clapped, and the second recording began.
And at that moment... the six who’d been complaining they’d die broke into triumphant smiles and cheers.
“Yes! Our cast has finished a week of practice and returned to Lemon Entertainment!”
“Waaaah!”
“By the time this airs, you’ll have seen—of all the producers on Mister Producer, you’ve been the most ruthless!”
They ground their teeth in comedic rage, and we doubled over laughing. Then they turned to Viju.
“Especially you, Viju-sensei—you’ve been the devil. A demon hides behind that smile.”
“Me?”
“Yes! You!”
Accused of being more devilish than anyone, Viju just laughed. After chatting about their seagull prowess from online comments, it was time to report their week’s progress. And...
“Wow—amazing!”
They ran through choreography—and their growth over one week was nothing short of miraculous. Viju beamed as if it were his own success.
“You really excelled! Before, your spacing in the basic routine was all over the place; now it’s so consistent.”
“Wow...”
“See? You can tell you’ve improved.”
“Yes!”
“Basics are everything.”
Our main dancer stood and demonstrated.
“Dance is a kind of sleight of hand.”
“Sleight of hand?”
“If you break it down, it’s all basic moves. Remember the first move in the routine we sent?”
He showed the arm shrug up-and-down; the cast nodded. Viju deepened the move.
“If you modify it like this, it becomes the choreography from TNT’s “Question” stage. It looks complex, but it’s the same move at heart.”
“Oh...”
The cast laughed and yelled, “We understand absolutely nothing!”
“Sensei, sorry, but this makes no sense.”
“How can this and that be the same?”
While they ranted, Viju gave a bittersweet smile—and we chimed in.
“We had the same trouble! Jiho, imagine you have wings—dance like you’re flying!”
“They scold me: ‘Graceful yet threatening is different from threatening yet graceful!’”
“See? It can’t be taught!”
Teased from all sides, Viju slumped, leaning his head against the wall with moist eyes—and we all burst out laughing. When the cast insisted it was a joke and thanked him, Viju finally cracked a smile.
Then I stepped up.
“All right, time to check your homework.”
“Yes!”
“Have you settled on a group name?”
“We’ve narrowed down some candidates!”
Eldest Kim Eui-ji said,
“I thought of Team Hong—’Hong Team’—for our maknae Hong Seok’s dream.”
“When was this bandwagon era?”
“Not 2002 again. Typical soccer-player.”
“Look how relieved you teachers look—that’s exactly what we couldn’t say.”
We cringed. Team Hong? Definitely not. Suggestions flew:
“Red Team?”
“Like the Red Devils?”
“Next was MRP—as in Mister Producer.”
Names befitting the CEO’s affection rolled out—until quiet, athlete-looking Nam Do-hun proposed “10 o’clock.”
“Ten o’clock?”
“When you average our ages—33.5—and map that onto a 24-hour clock, it’s about 10 AM.”
We all went, “Ooh,” at the clever concept. Yet “Ten o’clock” felt a bit off. Then Mo-beom-ju asked,
“How did you choose NewBlack’s name?”
“Good question—I wondered too.”
“Any secret we can borrow?”
My siblings broke into a sweat. Junghyun fanned himself loudly, drawing narrowed eyes from the cast, when I smiled and began:
“It took us quite a while to decide on ‘NewBlack.’”
About thirty minutes, actually. Someone’s ears perked up. I gazed into space, recalling long-ago memories.
“In early December 2013...”
Thinking it a nostalgic tale, the cast smiled.
“We had our year-end evaluations—agency-wide—and while preparing, we seriously debated team names.”
All manner of wild jokes flew. “Lemon Boys,” “Devils,” “Yellow Green,” even “Five Star”... When the maknae saw my black sweatshirt and cried, “That’s it!” we knew we’d found our name.
“The black sweatshirt I happened to be wearing inspired ‘NewBlack.’”
“A brand-new ‘black’ never seen before...”
“Yes.”
“I thought HQ picked it, but it turned out the name grew from practice sessions.”
I looked at my siblings.
‘Why are you staring?’
‘....’
‘You tell us.’
I could never admit it came from a K-Mart sweatshirt slogan—maybe in my autobiography at age ninety-five. Yet the cast, inspired, examined their own outfits.
“Beom-ju, what’s that pink you’re wearing?”
“Hot pink.”
Even the uncles laughed at the idea of debuting in hot pink. Rihyeok suggested,
“How about ‘10 AM’ or ‘AT TEN’? Same hour, but heraldic.”
“Ooh—that sounds classier!”
“AT TEN is great. We could shorten to ATEN—trendier.”
“Oooh...”
A vote was held: ATEN won. As they practiced their greeting, we refilled our water.
“Hello! We are ATEN!”
“Ooh fits perfectly—just idol material.”
“Naming genius—you weren’t called NewBlack for nothing.”
“If we’d done it ourselves, it’d be a chicken joint name...”
“Cough! Cough!”
They all choked from laughing.
With naming complete, we pressed on.
“One, two, three... No—since we’re rookies, let’s start with one.”
“One, two, three! It’s 10 o’clock! Hello! We are ATEN!”
“Waaaah!”
The Mister Producer cast buzzed with excitement.
“I really love the name.”
With a real group name, they felt like actual idols. We gave them thumbs-up; they returned warm smiles.
“By the way,” Wooju asked,
“Did you finish the other homework?”
“Yes!”
Each handed in their meticulous lists on paper—and USB drives. As Wooju skimmed the lists, Mo-beom-ju asked,
“Hyung, what’s this for?”
“I’ll explain in the studio later.”
“Oh—Wooju’s studio...!”
The cast clamored at the prospect of visiting the legendary composer’s studio; we laughed. Then their leader clapped a hand.
“Before that, let’s talk vocals.”
“Vocals?”
“Yes—since you’re a group, we need to adjust vocal tones.”
“Ah...”
They’d tweak tone for harmony while preserving individual character. Main vocalist Rihyeok rose, smiling.
“Today, with me.”
“Waaaah! Rihyeok-sensei!”
“We’re saved!”
Unlike the surprise cameos of other members, Rihyeok had been sending encouraging, long texts—his stern face belied an angel’s heart. The cast cheered at his presence. Rihyeok wrote neatly on the whiteboard:
“First, regarding vocal theory...”
...Within ten minutes, the older gentlemen’s eyes drooped. They jolted awake at intervals, but theory class is inevitably dull. As production, NewBlack, and the cast fought to stay awake...
“All right, theory’s done. Now we move to practice.”
“Wow... impressive lecture.”
“Great job... wow.”
They clapped half-awake. Then came the earnest idol vocal drills—stabbing at their abs to project sound.
“Aaaah—”
When Chu Gi-seok paused, Rihyeok asked,
“Having trouble?”
“My voice... feels stuck...”
“Hmm.”
After listening carefully, Rihyeok diagnosed,
“Hyung, please step outside for a moment.”
“Huh?”
“Come with me—Junghyun too.”
“...?”
While the cast still dozed, the three stepped out.
Moments later,
– “Aaaah!”
A chilling scream sent every yawn vanishing.
“What now?”
“What’s that?”
Then—
– “Ack! Aaaah! Ack!”
As screams of agony rang out, NewBlack’s cast on the other side broke into gentle smiles. The Mister Producer members froze in terror—when the door swung open, Chu Gi-seok and the two others appeared, faces flushed.
“What did you do out there?”
“...I can’t say.”
“Come on—what is it, hyungs? What did you do to our senseis?”
Rihyeok smiled and nodded at Chu Gi-seok.
“Aaaah—”
At the instantly improved sound, everyone’s eyes went wide—and NewBlack’s main vocalist curved his lips in a cool smile.
“We found your voices, senseis.”
“....”
“It seems you had trouble remembering the theory. Anyone still can’t recall the lesson?”
As the cast turned pale, Mister Producer broadcast its defining moment: “Finding Our Voices.”
