Free Web NovelThe first to react were the entertainment reporters.
It was fresh fodder for the reporters who had been refreshing NewBlack TV all day looking for an angle.
‘This is crazy...!’
NewBlack + a world-famous pianist—that was a surefire formula.
Just as the reporters predicted, view counts shot up as soon as the articles went live.
┕ Zoo-escaped elephant captured by NewBlack... Jung-hyun: “We had enough pre-communication to make it possible”
┕ It works..?
┕ What do you mean “works” lolol insane lol
While surprised comments flooded the comment section...
‘Who is Pol Lorang?’
Those unfamiliar with classical music began searching, and “Pol Lorang” shot up into the real-time search terms.
An image of the handsome pianist appeared on screen.
People admired his string of competition wins, and one noted his past visit to Korea.
Reading these articles, people naturally pieced together the backstory of how he’d been invited.
‘He must know Seon Woo-ju.’
They’d grown numb to the names foreign artists always mention when visiting Korea, but now it made sense how he was connected to Sun Woo-ju.
When people saw the warm SNS snapshots of Pol Lorang with the NewBlack members, they switched over to MiTube.
“Heh-hah-hat!”
Just like the first viewers, they burst out laughing at the same points.
[It’s been a while since I’ve performed a piece written by someone who’s still alive.]
They chuckled at his wistful smile—
—and felt proud watching him play “Nakhwa” on piano.
[It’s a beautifully written piece!]
Pol Lorang was offering a classical expert’s perspective on the song.
It was gratifying to see a master of his field praising NewBlack’s music and its composer.
His sincerity shone through.
It felt proud that a popular domestic artist could earn respect abroad.
They wanted to reply in the comments, “They’re NewBlack,” to the “Who are they?” comments in English—
—but within three seconds, fans had already posted “NewBlack” as the reply, their passion undeniable.
‘I’ll just watch from afar.’
As the general public felt this warmth and watched happily...
‘What is this?’
The video was spreading among overseas viewers too.
With both his artistry and good looks, Pol Lorang was even more famous in Europe and North America.
Western netizens watched the English interview video in awe.
‘Is this a talk show?’
At first glance at the hosts’ looks, it didn’t feel like a talk show—but the content quality was that good.
Especially the handsome main MC, who conversed with the pianist like a veteran musician.
After watching, foreign viewers checked the comment section.
‘Who the heck is NewBlack?’
There was no need to search.
Comments detailed profiles, abbreviations like NBLK, fan promotions—it was clear they had an enormous, solid fanbase.
Laughing at the enthusiastic “just take a bite” pitches, someone said—
“Uh...?”
Among the suggested videos, a familiar face began to stand out in “Handsome Man Who Cries Like a Cow.”
It was the same face from the Pol Lorang interview!
“Ah...!”
The person moo-ing in that video and the solemn young man applauding in the interview were one and the same.
I unconsciously clapped my hands at that realization.
‘They’re the same person!’
Two unrelated pieces of information clicked together.
It felt like neurons firing in my brain.
The keyword NewBlack, once fleeting, now took root firmly in my mind.
Thanks to the clip of “My Hometown Now,” which had surpassed 100 million views.
“Ohho.”
Intrigued, I started clicking through other videos on the NewBlack World account.
Fascinating content.
The World account—nicknamed NewRi-rang TV by Korean fans—was working its magic.
Meanwhile, some people were watching Pol Lorang’s appearance closely.
“Boss, look at this.”
In a Korean PR agency office—
“What is it?”
“It’s an overseas artist interview posted on NewBlack’s MiTube account. Look at the guest.”
“...Pol Lorang? Why is he on here?”
An employee pointed at the screen while the team leader watched with wide eyes.
“It seems there was some connection, but that’s not the point—look at the view count.”
“Huh...”
“People overseas must have clicked a lot. The interview’s level just went up since Pol Lorang appeared.”
Only then did the PR team leader understand the significance.
‘An influential MiTube interview in Korea, and Pol Lorang appeared on it.’
It was a perfect condition for whatever they were promoting or would promote.
Above all, the interviewer was impressive.
“They really speak English well.”
“They must’ve prepared thoroughly. It’s rare to see anyone prepare this much regardless of the guest.”
“That’s what matters. No weird questions.”
“Should we contact Lemon Ent.?”
As several top Korean PR firms began contacting Lemon Ent.’s publicity team, celebrities overseas received new schedule briefs from their agents.
「NewBlack Café?」
They were mostly stars planning to visit Korea for film or performance promotion.
To the curious, the agent explained:
「It’s an interview schedule in Korea, formatted like a talk show.」
“Talk show. Sounds good.”
They nodded at the familiar format—
“But what?”
Their eyes narrowed at the next line.
「It’s an interview with MiTubers.」
It wasn’t that they’d never been on a MiTube interview before.
They doubted whether MiTube could generate enough buzz for promotion.
“To be precise, it’s an interview hosted by Korea’s top boy band. One of the country’s most influential influencers.”
“Oh.”
Hearing that it was conducted by that nation’s most famous celebrity piqued their interest.
They, who were debating whether to accept, were struck by this definitive line.
“Do you think I would’ve gotten it if it weren’t good? Pol Lorang appeared on it recently too.”
“...!”
That sealed the deal.
If it was the same platform where the world-renowned pianist who has performed at Carnegie Hall appeared, they had to join.
The interview’s level matched.
“I’d better prepare well.”
And so foreign celebrities began to perceive ‘NewBlack Café’ as a must-stop program before visiting Korea.
A butterfly effect triggered by one pianist’s appearance.
On the day of the K-pop concert, we arrived at the venue and studied the floor material and stage structure during rehearsal.
“It’s huge.”
“It’s bigger than I thought.”
We looked up to the third tier of seating, raising our chins.
“Akor Hotel Arena.”
Located by the Seine River, this venue reportedly holds around 20,000.
Bi-ju gestured, exchanging OK signals with the managers up in the audience.
“Just tweak the choreography slightly for the sightlines from above; otherwise, it looks fine.”
Following the main dancer’s assessment, we quickly adjusted a few minor moves.
While rehearsing seriously, we high-fived /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ and laughed with the younger members.
“This is going to be fun today, for real.”
“I’m so excited. Thinking about performing here in a bit...”
“I think today’s stage will be pretty great.”
Since our concert at the Gymnastics Arena, our confidence had grown.
Nerves and pre-show regrets remained, but the conviction that we’d perform well had settled in our hearts.
We’d practiced more than anyone, performed in various venues, and gained know-how for unexpected situations.
I turned to Ri-hyuk.
“Sound?”
“No problem. It’s clear.”
“Floor?”
Jung-hyun stomped his foot.
“Solid.”
“Condition?”
“Excellent.”
We all high-fived and laughed.
Even during rehearsal the vibe was so good the on-site director gave us a thumbs-up.
All that remained were the main performance and a few pre-show events.
We’d visit a booth introducing Korean food, try it out, and do a brief fan meet-and-greet.
-Wooaaaah.
While waiting our turn in the dressing room, cheers rose and subsided outside.
Fans who’d waited from afar were incredibly passionate.
And then—
“Hi!”
We reunited with friends we hadn’t seen recently.
Street Boys.
The nine-member hip-hop-concept idol group bounded over energetically.
Thud-thud-thud—
Their muscles made faint vibrations as they bounced.
“How’ve you been?”
“Oh, hey.”
“Huh? You look worn out. Why are your arms so weak?”
“...”
Hanjo, shaking my hand, laughed loudly and patted my shoulder, jostling me.
“Ha-ha-hat!”
Did all their laughs echo like a band of mountain bandits?
They’d slimmed down from their previous bulk-up, but their strength remained.
They looked like muscular models, stylish as ever.
“Oh! Foreign air feels good!”
“Eating only chicken breast at the gym and pumping iron all day, but breathing fresh air makes life worth living.”
“Ha-ha-hat!”
...Why did it feel like a gym members’ gathering? You guys.
Watching me stare, Hanjo asked—
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. Just... you all look so cool.”
“Really?”
His words made his teammates beam.
“Did you hear? Our leader said we look cool.”
“We did bulk up a bit.”
“Wanna see my abs? I got a six-pack for the first time.”
LB, the prankster, volunteered, pointing at Jung-hyun, who was chewing French jelly.
“Jung-hyun hyung, I saw you arm-wrestle on MiP recently. Wanna go again now?”
“Me?”
Cheers of “Oooooh!” and admiration rang out.
“Trying not to die gracefully, huh?”
“My dear Namu’s tomfoolery has been missed.”
LB rolled up his sleeve as if puzzled.
“If anyone’s stronger than me, come on up.”
“Ugh.”
“Now I’ve gotten too strong to burn out. Heh-heh.”
Hanjo whispered to me—
“That’s why he does one-on-one because he can’t handle ganging up.”
“Such a wise solution...”
I envied them.
Even with four on one, we couldn’t beat Jung-hyun.
Jung-hyun waved them off with a Buddha-like expression.
“Can’t waste energy on pointless things before the show.”
“Hyung! You’re saying that because you’re afraid you’ll lose to me~?”
Kamnamu provoked him...!
“Oh, this is delicious.”
But the effect was minimal.
As everyone burst into laughter, LB tried to stir Jung-hyun’s competitive spirit—
—but when Bi-ju handed Jung-hyun an apple—
“Hey, Namu. Instead of arm-wrestling, take a bite of the apple... oh.”
Snap.
The apple in his hand was crushed to a pulp, juice flowing out.
At least 80 on a light grip test—our friend’s monstrous strength left LB wide-eyed.
He disappeared quickly so Jung-hyun wouldn’t notice.
“Heh-hah-hat!”
While someone who’d drawn everyone’s mockery was lamenting, “I was a frog in a well...!”—
“Bench press tips? Just pick it up.”
“Ooooh.”
“Squats? Just do them.”
Members of Street Boys gathered in front of Jung-hyun, opened their memo apps, and began jotting down his words of wisdom.
On one side, a gym study session unfolded.
“Have you tried that?”
“Not yet.”
Elsewhere, Jiho and the younger Street Boys members started talking about games.
Among them, the leaders sipped green tea from paper cups and enjoyed refreshments.
“I heard “Nakhwa” hit #1 on the weekly chart. Congrats.”
“Thanks.”
“The song’s really good. I downloaded a few tracks myself.”
I smiled at their praise that even the B-sides were great.
Hanjo leaned in and whispered—
“Congrats on the first-week sales, too.”
I nodded with a smile.
A record first-week sales.
Our newly released mini-album “Byeol (別): Into the Black” sold over 360,000 copies in its first week, claiming the all-time #1 spot.
Nearly double the 220,000 of our last special album.
We’d pulled ahead of TNT’s second-place album by a wide margin.
“Thanks for celebrating.”
Even if I were in their shoes, could I have so easily congratulated the one standing opposite me?
I appreciated their generous spirit as fellow debut classmates.
Of course, I was also humble, knowing the record wouldn’t last—
—because Teen Spirit was about to make their comeback soon.
Our record was historic, but the attention on Teen Spirit’s upcoming full album was even more monumental.
Their domestic fandom had grown as large this year as Soufflé and TNT combined last year.
Because of that, I looked at them sympathetically.
“You must be really nervous.”
“Totally.”
Debuting around the same time as Teen Spirit in late June, their worries were understandable.
Hanjo laughed—
“When you overlapped with TNT, I got how you felt.”
“Seriously. I couldn’t sleep the night before ‘Masquerade’ dropped. Worried we’d get buried.”
“Well, at least we had situations a bit better than yours... Were you complete rookies then?”
I nodded.
It was a harrowing memory, even in retrospect.
“Well, it’ll be fine. We’re...”
Hanjo gave a knowing smile.
Though he spoke with mock bravado, Street Boys were doing very well now.
They weren’t at risk of getting buried by Teen Spirit’s comeback.
Their image shift to hip-hop beasts had been a masterstroke, and their growth was considered “rising” domestically.
Plus, their recent activities in Japan had heated things up, and overseas fandom...
-Woooaaaah!
As Street Boys’ name echoed outside, a massive cheer erupted.
“Ooooh.”
“You hear that? They heard it?”
We clapped in amazement.
Our youngest teammate and their younger members made arrow-shooting celebrations toward Hanjo with joyful smiles.
I asked Hanjo, who was trembling—
“Everything okay?”
“They always tease me like this.”
They’d been mimicking arrow-shooting since some “watch” game came out.
While chatting about that—
“Street Boys, please prepare to enter.”
“Yes!”
At the staff’s cue, Street Boys stood and straightened their suits, looking like handsome soccer players.
Noticing Park team manager’s changed態度, you could feel Street Boys had changed too. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom
More at ease.
“Let’s go.”
As Hanjo led his members to leave.
They suddenly murmured among themselves—
“Ah!”
They dashed over to send us off.
“What’s up?”
“Oh, I forgot! To make this album a hit, we need to catch some of your energy.”
“Energy...?”
LB held out his hand—
“Give me your hand quickly! Hand!”
“No way. We need it too.”
“Just a little. Please.”
Their strange logic: they needed to absorb our energy, who lived a level above Teen Spirit.
When we briefly clasped hands, Street Boys lit up with joy.
“See you later!”
“Later!”
Street Boys left the waiting room amid tremendous cheers.
-Woooaaaaah!
-Hanjo! Hanjooo!
-Kyaaahhh cough! cough!
What was that final vampiric squawk?
With the chant “Go Street!” they got an almost choral cheer.
A girl group finishing their event entered the waiting room, whispering in astonishment at the intensity of each shout.
“This is unreal.”
“Wow...”
We shared stunned looks with the younger members.
We’d heard of Street Boys’ overseas popularity, but we hadn’t expected this level of frenzy.
When the solo-concert-like roar wound down after thirty minutes—
“Whoa!”
Street Boys returned to the waiting room, faces flushed, fanning themselves as sweat streamed down.
We absentmindedly applauded—
“This is insane.”
“You saw that?”
We nodded to those chanting “This is Street Boys!”
Soon the staff called us in—this time, we reached out.
“We need energy too.”
“Right. We need to absorb some of it.”
“Oh, we don’t give it to just anyone...”
Street Boys tapped our hands as if granting us popularity.
Receiving that energy—
“NewBlack members.”
“Yes!”
We nodded at those cheering us on and entered.
Under bright lights,
In a convention-center-style space, we appeared—
“Woooaaaaah!”
“Cra-ra-ra-ra-rack!”
“Aaaah!”
The hall shook with the tremendous applause greeting us.
Spotting the original Soufflé fans holding placards, we paused in awe.
Then we felt gazes on the back of our heads.
“...”
Through a slightly open door we saw the nine-member group narrowing their eyes.
Their expressions spelled out:
‘Annoyed.’
‘Why’d you take their energy?’
‘Why are you always doing this to us?’
To the nine staring at us with faces that said they’d been energy-scammed, we waved our hands to show we meant no harm.
‘Hmph.’
With a haughty expression, Street Boys closed the door.
