Free Web NovelI checked the number again to make sure I had read it correctly.
One, ten, hundred, thousand...
After confirming that it really said four million dollars, I raised my head.
Jiho widened his eyes and asked.
“A violin costs four million dollars?”
“Yes.”
The auction employee and Paul Laurent answered with expressions that suggested the question itself was strange.
“It’s a Stradivarius.”
“...Right.”
As I nodded in agreement, Jiho turned his head sharply toward me.
“Hyung, this... Stradivarius? Or whatever it’s called, what is it?”
“It’s basically a kind of violin brand.”
I gave a short explanation.
“Long ago in Italy there was a master instrument maker named Antonio Stradivari. The string instruments he made are generally called Stradivarius.”
“But this thing is three hundred years old. How can it cost that much? Does it even make proper sound?”
“It’s famous for having incredible sound.” ƒгeewebnovёl.com
Experts still argue about whether that reputation is justified, but when people talk about famous violins, the Stradivarius is always the first one mentioned.
There are said to be only about eight hundred of them left in the world.
The price varies greatly depending on the condition, but some have sold for nearly fifteen billion won.
So an estimated price of four point four billion won was not shocking.
What was shocking was something else.
“You put a Stradivarius into today’s charity auction?”
“Yes.”
As I swallowed nervously, Paul Laurent smiled slightly.
“It was Laila’s wish. The moment we mentioned the charity auction, she was the one who brought it up first.”
Paul and I both looked toward the Middle Eastern American woman wearing an elegant black dress some distance away.
Our eyes met.
She raised her cocktail glass with a beautiful smile.
Junhyun whispered.
“At this point, shouldn’t we go over there and bow or something?”
“Let’s do it in our hearts.”
After offering a respectful bow in my mind, I turned my attention back to the list.
Starting from the Stradivarius, I scanned through the auction items the employee had given me.
A saxophone submitted by Winston Ross, a legend in jazz.
A guitar Glenn Davis had used for a special performance.
The blue dress Hailey Blue had worn during her Grammy performance.
After passing those personal items, there were things even more shocking than the Stradivarius.
“Qing dynasty porcelain?”
“Yes. That’s correct. Is there a problem?”
“....”
Porcelain that Emperor Kangxi of the Qing dynasty had once gifted to a Western music teacher.
“Wait... this Rubens here... is it that Rubens? The Baroque painter?”
“...Yes? Of course it is.”
Even a painting by the representative Baroque painter of the seventeenth century.
Help was pouring in from all directions.
The three-hundred-year-old violin almost looked modest by comparison.
When I flipped to the final page of the list, the auction employee cleared his throat.
“These are items that were omitted beforehand. We need you to check them.”
While reviewing the rejected submissions, I suddenly laughed.
One of them had been submitted by a famous American reality show star known for attention-seeking behavior.
Leslie Thompson.
The photo showed something inside a bottle.
[(Declined) Leslie Thompson’s Fart]
While Biju stared blankly in culture shock, I asked with a bewildered expression.
“Is this real?”
“It is.”
“Someone would actually buy this?”
“It apparently sold for ten thousand dollars the last time it appeared at an auction.”
The reason for the rejection was even funnier.
The Weatherby employee stared into the distance as he explained.
“There is no way to confirm whether the fart actually belongs to Leslie Thompson. Our company specializes in art and similar items, so verifying something like this is... impossible.”
“I... see.”
“Yes. Miss Thompson was quite disappointed. She said she deliberately ate a lot of boiled eggs and similar foods to produce it...”
While Ri Hyuk rinsed his mouth and pushed away the plate of oysters he had been eating, we turned to look at Leslie Thompson.
From across the room, the blonde beauty smiling like a party girl waved at us and blew a kiss.
It seemed to mean thank you for the invitation.
We awkwardly smiled and gave a thumbs-up.
“So she submitted another item instead.”
Apparently she had offered a piece of contemporary art from her collection.
That fart was probably just publicity.
A way to create headlines like “She’s doing something bizarre again!”
After confirming the other unusual items, we handed the list back.
“....”
But our expressions were not bright.
Ri Hyuk pursed his lips with a worried face.
“It’s not too late. We should withdraw our item and submit something else.”
“Maybe we should.”
The reason all of us were sitting together making shriveled expressions was simple.
The item we had submitted to the charity auction.
[Dinner with NewBlack]
“Who would buy this?”
“Seriously.”
“And it’s the last item too. Isn’t that even more embarrassing? This is really humiliating...”
We had expected celebrity memorabilia or valuable collectibles.
But we never imagined the scale would be this huge.
If we had known something like a Stradivarius would appear, we should have submitted the nineteenth century gold coin Glenn Davis gave us.
“No...”
If nobody buys this, it will be so embarrassing I might die.
Right after something like “That’s an Andy Warhol painting!”
Our dinner ticket appears.
“Aaaaaah...!”
After the auction employee left, Paul Laurent raised an eyebrow at us.
“What’s wrong?”
When we explained our concerns, he burst out laughing so hard his Adam’s apple showed.
“Why are you laughing, Paul? You’re the one who told us to put the dinner ticket in the auction!”
“That’s true.”
We glared at the pianist resentfully.
—Paul, we don’t really understand charity auction culture. What should we submit?
—How about a dinner ticket? Dinner with all of you.
—That works?
—Of course.
Paul Laurent cleared his throat.
“My original plan was to buy the dinner ticket myself and donate the money. But things turned out a bit differently than expected.”
He looked around the room and spoke mysteriously.
“With the atmosphere right now, I might lose the auction myself.”
“Huh?”
“You’ll understand soon enough.”
We all tilted our heads in confusion.
As the auction began, we found good seats together.
The seats were good.
But I was not sure about the neighbors.
“Hmmm.”
The white-haired old man beside me leaned on his cane and frowned deeply.
He resembled the KFC grandfather, but if I asked him to fry chicken he looked like he would fry me instead.
“The room is full of showoffs.”
The old man looked displeased as he stared at the Hollywood celebrities around him.
Then he leaned toward me.
“I was one of your father’s patrons.”
“Oh, I see.”
“My name is Erikson.”
Chairman Erikson, a famous Las Vegas casino tycoon, began speaking about his connection with my father.
“He was a good friend. Those were good days.”
“Haha.”
“But nowadays worthless fellows lurk all over the show business industry...”
The eighty-year-old man began scolding modern society before shifting to other topics.
Then he asked casually.
“Are you Republican or Democrat?”
“I’m Korean.”
When I replied “I’m Korean,” the man burst into hearty laughter.
I had no idea what was so funny, but he slapped my shoulder happily.
It seemed he did not even realize I was Korean.
Well.
That happens.
As I smiled brightly and managed the client, Raul Gonzalez, one of the party organizers, whispered.
“That gentleman’s known wealth alone exceeds one trillion won. You’re doing well.”
My smile became even brighter.
Starting with Chairman Erikson, I chatted with the wealthy people gathered around us.
The conversation was not difficult.
Our youngest member was especially good at talking with entrepreneurs.
“Wow, our youngest is good.”
When I praised him, Jiho puffed out his chest proudly.
“It’s not hard. These people are all like my dad. They just talk about themselves. If you listen well, that’s enough.”
“So that’s the secret!”
“Just don’t argue. If you argue, they start staring at you like you’re someone they’re about to fire.”
As we nodded at that experienced advice—
“Alright!”
The room quieted.
A man holding a folder under his arm stepped onto the stage.
A handsome man in his forties with neatly combed silver hair stood at the podium.
“We will now begin the charity auction. My name is Nick Crawford, and I will be your auctioneer today.”
Someone nearby whispered that he was the best auctioneer in New York.
The auction began.
“Item number one, the Stradivarius violin. You saw the description in the booklet when you entered.”
With a brief introduction, bidding started.
And we watched in amazement.
“Wow. Professionals really are different.”
“That’s incredible. How does he speak English that fast?”
Every time someone raised a bid, he increased the pace.
He drew out reactions.
He controlled the flow of the auction effortlessly.
It was the skill of a true professional.
Starting with the Stradivarius selling for seven million dollars to a steel company CEO, the auction continued with breathtaking intensity.
Finally, after the last main item ended—
The atmosphere shifted to a bonus segment.
Our item appeared.
“The next item.”
Nick Crawford cheerfully announced it like he was introducing dessert.
“This may very well be the main dish of today’s event. If I were not the auctioneer, I would want to participate myself. Let’s take a look.”
Employees rolled out a whiteboard.
Our photo was hanging on it.
The audience burst into laughter.
“A dinner with today’s stars, NewBlack!”
He gestured toward us.
“Would you greet everyone?”
We waved and bowed lightly to the audience watching us with warm smiles.
“They are rising stars. A rare opportunity to discuss the future of art with these talented young men. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to share a meal with future legends before the rest of the world discovers them?”
He reminded the audience that the funds would support Seon Myeongju’s concert and help underprivileged children who wanted to pursue music.
“We will begin at ten thousand dollars.”
Almost everyone raised their hands.
Murmurs spread through the room.
The explosive reaction at the start made the members and I look at each other in surprise.
“Too many competitors. Let’s raise it to one hundred thousand dollars. Bidding will increase in ten thousand increments. One hundred thousand. Yes, the lady there. One hundred ten thousand...”
At one hundred thousand, many bidders dropped out.
But many still remained.
Then—
“Two hundred thousand. Miss Thompson!”
Gasps echoed as Leslie Thompson raised her hand.
My father’s acquaintances hurriedly raised their bids.
When Leslie Thompson withdrew with a pout—
“Four hundred twenty thousand. Miss Blue!”
Hailey Blue raised the bid.
The room reacted even more strongly.
My father’s acquaintances looked ready to faint.
They raised their hands desperately, as if thinking, We must protect them!
When competitors began dropping out—
“Seven hundred twenty thousand. Mister Erikson.”
Chairman Erikson raised his hand with a crooked smile.
Our expressions darkened slightly.
—Do you know about the Cold War? What do you think about the Soviet Union?
I watched the auction nervously.
Eighty-three thousand became fierce competition.
Then someone slowly raised a hand.
“One million dollars.”
The room fell silent.
People murmured and looked around.
The person who had called out one million appeared with dazzling confidence.
Someone we had met before.
“I’ll buy that dinner ticket for one million dollars.”
The man we met at the Paris Fashion Week show.
Standing proudly beside Jimmy Robbins who was clapping enthusiastically.
“Long time no see.”
Chairman Georges Wenger of the luxury brand Leblanc smiled at us with a capitalist smile.
After the party ended.
We escorted the guests out and returned to the hotel with trembling legs.
“Junhyun.”
“Yes, hyung.”
“Carry me for a sec—”
“Jiho’s already being carried.”
The youngest shoved me aside.
“Move, hyung. This is my seat.”
“....”
I had only joked about being carried.
I was just that tired.
With my tuxedo jacket hanging from my arm and my shirt loosened, I entered the hotel room.
“Ugh...”
I collapsed face-first onto the sofa.
The scent of recently cleaned furniture filled my nose as I lay there blankly.
“You did well.”
Seokhwan hyung said while drinking sparkling water at the conference table.
“You really worked hard.”
“Phew.”
The TF team members sat around the table in the hotel suite looking exhausted.
The younger members slowly crawled toward me.
“Go away.”
“We don’t even have the strength to move, hyung...”
Biju slid beside me.
In the reflection of the glass showing the New York night view, five exhausted faces appeared.
Even Junhyun looked tired.
“How do Americans host parties like this?”
“I know, right.”
Of course the party had been large, and we were the hosts and performers.
But even considering that, the physical exhaustion was intense.
After rubbing my aching back, I tapped the members.
“Get up. We still have a closing meeting.”
“Ugh...”
Ri Hyuk spoke while lying face down.
“I seriously don’t have the strength to stand.”
“Really?”
The moment I extended my foot near his shirt—
He sprang up immediately.
“So you do have strength.”
“Hey, what are you doing with that smelly—”
“Come on.”
I patted their shoulders and we gathered around the table.
It was time to review the party.
“First.”
Seokhwan hyung drank sparkling water and spoke.
“The party ended successfully.”
“Woooo...”
“We raised a record amount of donations. Thanks to the charity fund, we won’t need to worry about the concert budget.”
We clapped and nodded.
I said,
“It’s not finalized yet, but with this amount we could even launch a world tour. Even if we expand it ten times beyond the original plan, there would still be plenty left.”
“Let’s talk about that tomorrow.”
“Right. Tomorrow...”
I agreed.
My brain was not working well right now anyway.
Tomorrow we were scheduled to meet some of the guests who attended today.
One TF team member said,
“The dinner with Chairman Georges Wenger is scheduled for tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“They’ll send the location. A private restaurant.”
The man who had spent one million dollars for the dinner ticket. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓
Partly because I was Leblanc’s ambassador—
“He’s probably trying to recruit you.”
“Oh.”
The younger members smiled.
Tomorrow he would probably treat us to dinner and give gifts while suggesting a group contract once we were free agents.
We briefly discussed today’s results.
“Local media coverage has been very positive. Leslie Thompson’s short Instagram video went viral. The Hollywood people really helped.”
The celebrities who attended the party, especially those who had asked to be invited, had done their jobs perfectly.
They knew exactly how to promote things.
And the news that started in the center of the entertainment world would likely spread everywhere by tomorrow.
Just as my father had said.
A fundraising party was an excellent publicity strategy.
“What about Korea?”
When I asked Seokhwan hyung, Manager Hong Seoyeong answered instead.
“We’re monitoring it, but it’s still morning there. Not much reaction yet. It’s only short news articles.”
“That’s good.”
“Something like ‘NewBlack held a large charity party in the United States for Seon Myeongju’s concert.’”
Antis would remain antis.
But for the general public, news like this was better when it stayed low-profile.
“Alright. Everyone worked hard today.”
After encouraging the TF team and sending them off.
Only the members remained in the suite.
“....”
We stared at the glittering New York skyscrapers.
Maybe it was because we had spoken English all day.
Even seeing English signs made my stomach feel strange.
And the snacks from the cocktail party seemed to greet me from inside my stomach.
“....”
Suddenly something felt intensely appealing.
Maybe because I was hungry.
Something warm.
Soup.
Noodles.
Kimchi tearing apart with a crunch.
“I’m not the only one thinking it, right?”
“Definitely not.”
The younger members nodded with shining eyes.
“You brought kimchi, right?”
Nod.
“Let’s eat ramen.”
At the same time.
Six teenage boys waiting in a broadcast station dressing room for a music show appearance.
Bzzzz—
When Huiyeon saw the name Sun Wooju hyung from NewBlack on his vibrating phone, he jumped up.
“What? What is it?”
“The NewBlack hyungs are calling.”
“Didn’t they go to America?”
They had heard the group attended the AMA awards recently.
Why would they call from the United States?
“Hello?”
Soon the video call connected.
The five members were on screen.
Slurping noises suggested they were eating something at a table.
“Hi.”
“Hyung... did a vampire bite you?”
Sun Wooju and the others looked like their HP had dropped to zero.
They looked less like NewBlack and more like OldBlack.
But when they heard what the Teen Spirit members said, their faces suddenly brightened.
“Huiyeon.”
“Yes?”
“We’re eating ramen... but we thought there was kimchi. There isn’t.”
Wooju smiled weakly.
“Sorry, but can you keep talking to us in Korean? We’ve been hearing English all day and we really miss hearing Korean.”
“Any words are fine.”
The Teen Spirit members looked confused.
Yeonhu spoke cautiously.
“Damn?”
“Ahhh.”
The five members looked refreshed, like someone who had eaten hot soup after ten years of eating only bread.
The Teen Spirit members blinked.
Hahyun spoke.
“Jonna?”
“Drop the accent, Hahyun...”
“Yes, hyung...”
He cleared his throat and tried again.
“Jonna.”
“Ahhh...”
The Teen Spirit members looked at each other.
“...?”
They had no idea what was happening.
But their neighbors who went to America seemed to have become a little strange.
