Free Web Novel“Theeeere we goooo!”
A roar of cheers poured out as we entered the fan-meeting area. We waved to the Soufflé fans bouncing up and down.
“Hyung, look over there.”
When I turned at Bi-ju’s words, several placards caught my eye:
[Welcome to the Soufflé homeland]
[This is the original Soufflé]
I couldn’t help laughing. After all, soufflé is a French dessert. The other members burst out laughing at the French fans’ claims to be the original, and the fan holding the first sign danced a little shoulder shimmy in excitement.
Amid the joyful atmosphere, the fan-meeting began.
“One, two, three!”
“Bonjour! Nous sommes ‘the New Black!’”
We greeted in French and launched into a talk with the MC. Since the MC was a French national active in Korean broadcasting, communication flowed smoothly. Questions we’d expected—how we felt before tonight’s show, our impressions of Paris, what we knew of French music—were in ample supply. Best of all, the vibe was great. Every time we spoke, the fans widened their eyes as if not to miss a single word, then erupted into cheers whenever the interpreter finished. The cheers were so loud that staff running Korean-culture booths nearby stepped out to watch; I even saw volunteer Korean students flinch each time the crowd yelled.
“Wave time~!”
When the maknae swept his hand side to side, the fans waved like a stadium “wave,” standing and sitting in unison.
“Jiho.”
“Yessir, I’ll stay put.”
Jiho flinched, and Jung-hyun, about to try the wave himself, awkwardly pretended to wave before stopping. We all stifled laughs.
“All right, now we’re onto the Q&A segment!”
A stageboard plastered with Post-its—so many it looked like a dandelion puff—was raised.
“This is a special event with our fans—NewBlack members, please each pick one question!”
“So the ones who get picked win?”
“Yes, exactly!”
This was an event we held often: fans pick a Post-it question, and the chosen ones get a selfie with us afterward. We were so used to it we barely blinked—until the MC raised the mic again.
“But there’s one big difference today.”
“A difference?”
“These Post-its all have questions about the members, but the person choosing the question won’t be the one answering.”
“...!”
We all straightened up as the MC explained,
“Each member will have another member pick a question for them.”
“Oooooh...!”
“Seriously can’t wait.”
“This is epic.”
Just as we exchanged excited glances—“This is gonna be so fun!”—our words suddenly died in our throats. The lineup was dazzling... but we had no idea what questions they’d pick. Even Bi-ju, who always looked at me with trust, now stared with suspicion.
“Ohhh.”
Ri-hyuk’s sigh set the fans roaring with laughter. I waved to them,
“Thank you so much to everyone who’s loved NewBlack so far.”
“I don’t know about that, but our friendship definitely ends today.”
“We ever had friendship to begin with?”
Our joke, interpreted on stage, sent everyone into giggles. Then it was Bi-ju’s turn. Jung-hyun swept his hand over the Post-its, his serious expression making the crowd cheer louder each time he hovered over a Post-it he’d placed himself.
“What are you doing, Jung-hyun?”
“I’m trying to pick the fan who screamed the loudest.”
“They all seem about the same.”
“There’s a subtle decibel difference.”
I wanted to stick a Post-it on the board reading, “How do you measure that?”
“Hmmm.” I wondered what question he’d pick—every one was so good. At first I’d thought foreign fans wouldn’t know much about us, but...
“You underestimated the power of MiTube.”
“Exactly.”
These fans knew us extremely well. The questions were so specific it was uncanny:
[Does Bi-ju’s Kill-chi move work onstage?]
[Uju was seen removing cucumbers from his kimbap—why can’t he eat cucumbers? So cute and curious!]
[Who is NewBlack’s “lackey #2”?]
[In the reality show you said you saw a ghost—what happened afterwards? Any more ghost stories?]
Even as Bi-ju inspected the board, he kept jerking in surprise. Whoever wrote these Post-its must have PhDs in NewBlack studies.
“Wow.”
I exclaimed and picked one of Bi-ju’s. I peeled it off, covering a few nearby ones so they wouldn’t be noticed—handy magicians’ sleight-of-hand from watching MiTube.
“Ahem, I’ve chosen.”
I read Bi-ju’s selected question aloud:
“In France, the word ‘bijou’ exists. Bi-ju, do you know this?”
“Yes!” Bi-ju beamed.
“I love it—it’s such a nice word that’s similar to my name.”
“What does ‘bijou’ mean?”
“It means jewel.”
Ri-hyuk explained, and Jiho laughed, “In Korean that’d be Kim Jewel—Kim Bo-seok!”
“Second question.”
Jung-hyun read another:
“Bi-ju, do you get lost onstage?”
“Lost?!” Bi-ju’s eyes went wide.
“I’m not someone who loses their way that often—maybe once a day sometimes.”
“Once a day counts as often, bro.”
“...Anyway, I don’t get lost too much—just sometimes the directions confuse me, so I end up somewhere else.”
The MC interjected:
“Did the rehearsal go smoothly today?”
“I got turned around twice...”
Bi-ju’s admission had everyone laughing. Blushing, he cleared his throat and added,
“I actually get most nervous when first appearing. I’m thinking, ‘Left, left, left!’ in my head.”
“And then you’re fine?”
“Yes. Luckily, I’ve never messed up onstage.”
The crowd loved his candor. More warm-hearted questions followed—this was a safe cushion, not a dare. We couldn’t embarrass ourselves in a foreign country!
When it came time for me—the last slot—I smiled at my brothers onstage.
“Ri-hyuk.”
“Yeah?”
“I trust you.”
“...Now you tell me?”
“I’ve always trusted you.”
My words fell flat. I watched anxiously, hoping since I’d chosen such good questions for them, they’d have some conscience. But the maknae mouthed, “Uju hyung’s last pick, right?”
“Oh?”
“It is, so we can pick whatever we want!”
Of course—they had no shame. Just then, Bi-ju leaned over and whispered, “But Uju hyung picked good ones...” Jung-hyun’s eyes flashed as he flicked his hand and produced the four Post-its I’d secretly set aside. He showed them to Bi-ju, whose face lit up with delight.
“...They fell for it.”
I smiled at the triumphant faces of my brothers holding the Post-its.
“All right—question!”
“Jiho.”
“Yessir?”
“Hold on—let me see those.”
Without suspicion, Jiho handed me the Post-its. I flicked my wrist, and they transformed—what had been embarrassing “black history” questions became compliments about my looks.
“What—the Hyung I gave these to are now handsome Uju questions?”
“Why does it say ‘Sun Woo-ju is handsome’?”
My brothers stared.
“How did this happen?”
“I just did a little magic.”
I drew the original Post-its from my sleeves like cards, and the fans went wild.
“Heh-ha-hat!”
Jung-hyun clapped, and my brothers gaped as I grinned.
“I never trusted you guys in the first place.”
“Stop using magic tricks so seriously...!” freeweɓnøvel.com
“Don’t waste your talent on this!”
Their bewildered faces set the crowd roaring with laughter.
In the end, I answered eight Post-its. At the winner selfie event, I posed in a magician’s concept—pretending to pull Post-its from ears or hand them over. Everyone loved it:
“Today is the best day of my life!”
I waved as the ecstatic fans left, shouting,
“Please look forward to tonight’s stage!”
That was our final pre-show schedule. While our makeup was touched up after the mini fan-meeting, concert entry began in earnest.
“Woooooooo!”
As the opening lineup was revealed one by one, deafening cheers rang through the arena. The loudest came from two groups:
—Street Boys!
“Woooooo!”
Nearby, Street Boys, loosening up, whooped and laughed among themselves.
—The New Black!
“Woooooo!”
Arm-in-arm, we danced in place. Other groups around us blinked in amazement, as if seeing two solo concerts happening simultaneously—no wonder the cheers were so thunderous.
“Fighting!”
We waved good luck to Street Boys as they took the stage like lucky raccoons.
“Woooooooo!”
When Street Boys, in suits, took the stage, screams erupted. The eight of them clasped their hands, then began shoulder-shrug waves to the beat.
Then Hanjo, blocking the front, shoved his way through and appeared—cheers exploded. It was a reinterpretation of an early-’90s idol senior’s song, a K-pop medley. As Street Boys’ hip-hop-beast style took over classic tracks, the crowd roared.
“Wow, they’re good.”
“Seriously, they’re amazing.”
The stage quality, like teeth-gritted effort, earned ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) thunderous applause. LB’s head-shake and tie-loosen as captured on the big screen sent the cheers through the roof.
We, warming up backstage, watched the intercom signal and the staff beckoned us: “Go on up.” We nodded and entered the stage. We’d join in singing TNT’s hit “Boom” chorus as the final medley number.
“Woooooooo!”
When Jiho, winking and smiling, appeared on the screen, the crowd went wild. Street Boys, standing center, made space for us. As the singers scattered to the protruding stages to sing, we danced alongside them.
“Woooooo!”
Though our moves were separate, we looked in perfect sync. Bi-ju, in a blue jacket, rolled his chest in a wave; LB shook his shoulders right beside him. Then, at the “Boom boom” chorus, Hanjo and I backed into each other, turned sharply toward the audience—that was the finale of the opening performance.
“Woooooooo!”
Amid the cheers, Hanjo reached out and I clasped his hand; we pulled each other close. A gentle shoulder-bump ended the act. I waved and smiled at the wave-wand-waving crowd. The opening reaction was truly epic.
Street Boys and I exchanged looks and smiled:
“Well done.”
“Good work.”
Performing together after so long felt great—and a healthy dose of competitive motivation. Whenever we do joint stages with teams that rock the stage, it spurs me on. Street Boys seemed to feel the same, huddling together with renewed unity.
“Wooo—!”
As the MC stepped onstage, we took deep breaths and nodded at each other. No special resolution needed—the opening was a success. What remained was our main concert stage at the end.
Akor Hotel Arena. Some 14,000 fans cheered the exiting singers.
“Woooooooo!”
“I love you!”
They waved light-sticks at Street Boys after their rapid-fire rap performance—K-pop fans whooping like happy beasts.
“They’re so good.”
I felt my eyes flit around, taking in their fierce choreography and expressions up close. K-pop fans at the concert screamed in delight,
“This is insane. Seriously.”
“This is amazing! Did you see just now? They...”
I felt like all my wishes came true today. Seeing performances I’d only watched online or on MiTube in person packed a different energy. And now...
“NewBlack is up next...!”
The most anticipated act was about to appear. The atmosphere sizzled with excitement. Fans clutching Sun-Woo-ju dolls and placards everywhere swallowed hard. The lights dimmed.
“Woooooooo!”
As the show’s glowing dolls appeared on camera, the VCR began. It showed a bright moonlit night, the chirping of insects, and a Korean palace bathed in twilight.
“Woooooooah.”
It was my first time seeing a Korean palace up close, and it was breathtaking. Then—
“Woooooooooo!”
Someone’s footsteps echoed as they walked from bottom to top of the frame. Their face stayed hidden, but their dignified gait looked fit for royalty. The wine-red sleeves of their hanbok fluttered. As the camera angle shifted, ready to reveal the figure’s identity—
Shiiiinng!
A folding fan unfurled, shielding the view.
“Wow...”
But before the audience could shriek, the stage lights snapped to center stage.
Ta-at!
There stood NewBlack’s main dancer, fan in hand.
“Woooooooooooo!”
His crimson attire billowed gracefully. The outfit—a modernized hanbok—paired with his princely looks formed a living portrait. Bi-ju tapped his shoulder with the fan, smiling enigmatically.
“Woooaaah...!”
The Soufflé fans watched in stunned silence. The solo fan dance was so dazzling it was hard to tell if the fan was dancing or the dancer was. He traced circles in the air with the fan, and each time the screen tried to catch his face, the fan hid it—only his eyes visible, teasing the audience with each glance.
By this point, the crowd had worked it out:
“This is the Nakhwa stage.”
NewBlack’s recently released Korean-style track. Though the intro’s vibe felt unlike expectations, it hardly seemed anything else. But...
“Nakhwa? No.”
Some sharp fans suspected something else. The song’s arrangement, likely by Uju, felt reminiscent of another track. The color clues pointed that way too. Just as excitement built over possibly seeing that other stage—
Shiiiinng!
Bi-ju stood center, covering his eyes with the fan, and the music switched. It was “Masquerade.”
“Woooooooooooo!”
Four members rose on lifts, drawing a tidal wave of cheers. It was the album’s concept, transformed into a Korean-style “Masquerade” intro—replacing masks with fans.
“Woooaaah!”
The crowd’s eyes widened at the novel staging. As one of the overseas favorites after “Nine,” anticipation had been high, but no one expected this.
I’m lost in darkness,
Weary in repetition,
Empty cycles again—
Bi-ju swept the fan across his cheek, struck a precarious expression, then snapped it open to hide his face. His eyes on the big screen etched themselves into everyone’s minds.
Next, Ri-hyuk hit the high notes, and fans behind him snapped fans open like phantoms. Amid the roaring cheers, the chorus “Masque-rade” broke into a riotous singalong.
“Masque-rade!”
“Masque-rade!”
Bi-ju flaunted the fan-unfold in the chorus, showcasing an overwhelming dance line—eliciting screams. Then came the bridge of verse three:
In the stalled music,
Remove the mask,
And show me your smile—
As members placed hands on each other’s shoulders, their expressions flickered, and cries erupted each time they passed under a fan. It truly felt like masks were being lifted, revealing every emotion—joy, sorrow, anger—through the choreography. Meanwhile, the airy falsetto soared through the arena. The French Soufflé fans, mesmerized by the facial storytelling, were treated to a spectacular ensemble.
“Woooooooo!”
It was an overpowering performance. Fans hopped in excitement, and the security guards at the barricade swallowed nervously.
As the fervor carried through “Flower Dance” and “Nakhwa,” halfway through the six-song set list...
“Hm?”
In the darkened arena, the French audience, who’d been buzzing among themselves, turned heads at a new sound. The big screen started rolling a VCR, and a scream-like cheer erupted at the footage...
