“December 28.

Finally, the long-awaited year-end evaluation day dawned.

We, huddled together inside the Starex, swallowed our spit repeatedly.

Even though we were bundled up in padding, scarves, and hats, our bodies trembled.

We each dealt with our nerves differently: shaking hand warmers silently, licking dry lips, or biting our nails.

I sat in the passenger seat, warming my cold hands on a hand warmer.

The interior of the car was cold.

They didn’t turn on the heater even though it was midwinter, for fear that our vocal cords might dry out.

I spoke to Seok-hwan hyung, who was gripping the wheel.

“The atmosphere reminds me of when I was going to take the CSAT, hyung.”

“Were you that nervous?”

“It means I have a good feeling.”

“Wait a moment.”

Yoon Seok-hwan narrowed his eyes.

“You weren’t going to take the exam?”

“Oh, right.”

We stared at each other blankly, then burst into laughter.

Meanwhile, unlike the pleasant atmosphere in the front seat, the back seat was silent.

If the maknae, who usually chatted excitedly, was silent, you could imagine how tense it was.

“Hey, Kim Bi-ju. What am I going to do? I really need to do well this time.”

“Why?”

“My father said he will bring my grandfather too. He’s even renting a bus for the villagers.”

Kim Jung-hyun, who was usually easygoing, sighed heavily.

Well.

Even I wouldn’t sleep at night if the villagers were renting a bus to come.

“Cheer up.”

Kim Bi-ju said.

“I was tense because my nuna is coming, but that’s nothing.”

“My younger sister is the only one coming.”

“My whole family might come. My father is busy so he might not be able to, but please don’t let him come.”

As I listened to the maknae’s stream-of-consciousness ramblings, I realized something else.

Come to think of it, we had practiced excitedly for a month, but we didn’t really know much about each other.

Actually, to be precise, unlike these guys who knew each other’s circumstances, I alone didn’t know.

Hyung Seok-hwan glanced at me.

“What did your grandmother say?”

“Huh?”

“She said she’s coming up?”

“It looks like she’ll arrive at the terminal soon. I need to tell her the directions later.”

While I checked the message from my grandmother on my smartphone, Kim Bi-ju stuck his head into the front seat.

“Director nim.”

Bi-ju asked.

“Who are our judges?”

“Well, I’m not sure exactly. From our side, I think Yoon Chan-hyeok will appear. And... I heard Jang So-won from Why Entertainment will be there?”

“Senior Jang So-won?”

“Why?”

“Big trouble.”

As if foretelling doom, the worried faces of the kids made Seok-hwan hyung look at me.

Sensing a request for explanation, I answered.

“One of the songs we chose for this year-end evaluation is Senior Jang So-won’s song.”

“Oh dear, you’ll have a hard time.”

Those who watched audition programs know that singing a judge’s song in front of that judge is make-or-break.

Singers are professionals paid to sing.

Singing in front of an expert who knows every detail of that song is not easy.

Simply put, singing Senior Jang So-won’s song in front of Jang So-won is like an undergrad giving a PPT on that professor’s specialty in front of a Nobel Prize-winning economics professor.

Ugh.

Thinking like that makes me nervous too.

I straightened my hunched shoulders and shook my head.

By the way, Jang So-won.

Come to think of it, I sang her song during the audition too.

Even though I was nervous, I was a bit excited at the thought of seeing the protagonist of Red Moon, which I sang at the audition.

Jang So-won.

A member of the girl group Sugar Fish, which debuted when I was in high school.

Now disbanded, Jang So-won is active as a singer-songwriter.

I like her because I like °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° the melody lines.

The fact that I chose her song for our performance also reflects that preference.

Performing to a song by a favorite singer in front of that singer.

It was thrilling despite the nerves.

“By the way, there’s something I wanted to tell you guys.”

Yoon Seok-hwan spoke as if he’d remembered something.

“It’s nothing serious. I saw an official letter from K-Net asking for cooperation for reality shooting today.”

“Shooting?”

Seo Ri-hyeok, in the back seat, knitted his eyebrows.

“What kind of shooting?”

“You know them, Street Boys. The boy group debuting with DNS. They’re filming reality, so they’ll take a few scenes. It’s just one camera, so don’t worry. Haha.”

The expressions of the kids turning into living plaster statues in real time were a sight.

It was like Agrippa from the art room.

Hyung Seok-hwan looked flustered as if saying “This isn’t what I meant?” and cleared his throat.

“Shall I turn on the radio?”

His hand flipped the FM frequency up and down.

“...This is a story sent by listener 5289. Hello. I’ve been listening to TBC Beautiful Morning for three years now. As the cold wind blows in winter, I find myself thinking of my eldest daughter abroad.”

The calm voice read the story.

The tension inside the Starex, taut as a tightrope, eased slightly.

“That big child is taking an important exam today. She can’t hear my words right now, but I want to borrow the radio to say what’s in my heart. Seong Eun, Mom knows how hard you’ve worked. Doing well isn’t everything; as long as you do your best until the end, it’s fine. Don’t feel burdened. I believe in you.”

In a situation where each of us was already tense because of our families.

For a moment, we resented Seong Eun abroad.

The MC’s burden-filled tone made the kids stiffen.

“Here’s the requested song from listener 5289, Family Photo...”

Hyung Seok-hwan switched the channel to AFN, and a strong rap flowed, but the atmosphere had already grown heavy.

At that moment, the distant view of the high school began to appear.

“....”

What can you do about the mood? Seriously.

Taehwa High School Auditorium.

A chill swept through the empty auditorium.

Seeing that no one else had arrived, we figured we were first.

“Phew.”

With a heavy breath, the trainees began loosening up their bodies.

Stretching, I began to warm up when Kim Bi-ju approached.

“Woo-joo hyung.”

“Yes?”

“I’m worried. Will our stage really go well?”

Even after practicing countless times for a month, it’s inevitable to feel anxious.

Well.

I had arranged the performance but did the arrangement entirely by myself.

It was natural to have no confidence in that.

“It’ll go well. Don’t worry.”

Actually, I wasn’t completely confident either.

Because on stage there are so many variables, it’s impossible to predict what will happen.

We’ll just have to do what we can.

But I couldn’t say that to those who were anxious.

I forced a confident smile contrary to my true feelings.

“All right! Let’s match our positions in advance.”

The reason we arrived early was to coordinate our positions on the stage.

As we danced and hummed the song, our stiff bodies gradually loosened.

At first, the unfamiliar space hindered our performance, but the more we repeated, the more naturally the practiced moves flowed out.

I wish we could pull this off in the real performance.

Thinking that, I sipped warm water from my thermos.

Clatter.

The auditorium door opened, letting in bright light.

A group of young men entered with loud laughter.

Their oversized clothes and gold chains gave off a hip-hop vibe.

No need to ask who they were.

Street Boys.

The boy group from DNS Media, our rivals in this year-end evaluation.

They had been giggling among themselves, but now they seemed to notice us.

“....”

The eyes of the two companies’ trainees met in the air.

The air turned as cold as winter; I could feel it on my skin.

In half a second, sharp glances were exchanged.

“Hello.”

“Yes, hello.”

We greeted politely and passed by.

If anyone expected a showdown, they must have been disappointed—it’s reality, not a scripted survival show.

It’s hard to feel hostility toward people you barely know. It’s more like feeling we need to beat them because our companies compete.

While we practiced in one corner of the auditorium, they settled nearby.

Being nine members, their atmosphere was quite different from ours.

Energetic, perhaps.

Since they had more members, the sound didn’t fall flat, and there was an air of ease about them.

Maybe a bit over the top.

Probably because the K-Net production crew was with them.

ENG camera operators, PDs, writers.

While they practiced, those staff teased the camera or winked at it.

And our kids looked on with eyes full of envy.

“Hello, fans.”

The pink-haired member stood in front of the camera.

“Street Boys are here at Taehwa High School Auditorium for the year-end evaluation performance.”

“Wow—!”

While the members filled the audio with their own applause, a writer holding a notepad asked.

“What is the year-end evaluation?”

“Oh, the year-end evaluation is a month-end evaluation conducted by five companies including ours. We invite company officials and families to a performance event. We’ll do our best to show you a great performance today. Please look forward to it!”

At the leader’s words, the other eight flashed the V sign or shouted slogans like “Peace!” to the camera.

When they shouted “Go Street!” in unison, I could feel our NewBlack members’ morale dropping below zero.

Maybe due to trauma from the canceled debut or feelings of inadequacy.

To snap them out of it, I clapped my hands.

“Guys, focus.”

“Huh?”

“Shouldn’t we practice? Are we going to play?”

“Ah, yes.”

We resumed practice, but spirits were low.

The more that side chattered and laughed, the more our kids were conscious of it.

A vicious cycle.

What can we do?

As I wondered what solution I could propose.

I was slowly checking the choreography positions when I felt a sudden change.

Even though I hadn’t said anything, their skills suddenly changed.

They’re doing well.

Until just now, only I had been practicing passionately, but now the other members started doing well too.

Kim Bi-ju performed the choreography wonderfully.

Kim Jung-hyun’s hand gestures became flashy in the rap part.

Seo Ri-hyeok suddenly hit a triple high note.

And the maknae executed the aegyo-filled choreography at 120 percent.

Our team is good after all.

Yeah, I knew it.

While I was smiling proudly, I blinked at what was happening nearby.

What the... over there too?

On the Street Boys’ side.

They also wiped the smiles off their faces and practiced choreography twice as hard as before.

What on earth?

Why are they like that?

Spontaneous triple high note ad-libs and fancy dance breaks unfolded here and there.

Had they all taken steam packs?

The mystery was solved shortly.

“Director. Please capture the trainees over there too. We need a full shot of the entire auditorium.”

“Got it.”

“Wow. The trainees’ level is high.”

So it was because of the camera.

Every time the Street Boys’ reality camera faced our way, Seo Ri-hyeok’s high notes exploded.

Kim Jung-hyun’s rap poured out like a machine gun.

I looked at Kim Bi-ju dancing like a doll and Wang Ji-ho full of sparks and aegyo.

I heard the K-Net staff murmuring in admiration.

“Wow. Their passion is amazing.”

“Youth is great.”

“Aren’t they already sweating?”

Maybe after hearing that, both groups began pretending to wipe sweat as if they’d practiced under a scorching sun.

“....”

I smiled in satisfaction watching trainees who were serious about the broadcast.

As expected.

Broadcasting is the best.