Two weeks after the year-end evaluation, and a golden three-day break in Gunsan was over before I knew it—and I turned twenty-two as the New Year arrived.

It was 2014.

From the start of the year, the entertainment world was buzzing. News of a famous girl-group member dating a top actor dominated the headlines, and dramas set in the ’90s were trending on TV every night. And then there was the big event approaching—some kind of kingdom, I think. Ji-ho had been losing his mind ever since he saw the trailer on MyTube, shouting, “Hyung! You’ve got to watch this!” It was an anime opening soon. Maybe I should buy tickets.

I checked showtimes on my phone but closed the window at the “Please log in” prompt. Ah, what a bother—Bi-ju or Ri-hyuk can do it. Zipping my padding up to my chin, I hurried through the chilly wind swirling in the alleys of Sinsa-dong and entered the Lemon Entertainment building. I headed for the practice room heater, climbing the stairs, when I spotted a stranger at the elevator.

A woman in a black mask and padded jacket. She pressed the elevator button several times, then spotted a paper that read, “Out of order—please excuse us,” and let out a loud, “Ugh, this sucks!” Such a booming voice—that’s a singer. “Why’d it break today of all days?” She eyed her heavy-looking carry-on.

Just as I thought to offer help: “Let me—”

“Why today of all days?” she hollered again, and I quietly backed away. I was the weakest link at this company—a small-town nobody—so I slipped by like I wasn’t there. Then I tried again: “Excuse me—”

“Hey!” The mask shifted below her chin, revealing pale skin. Large, expressive eyes—her face looked familiar. One of Scarlet’s seniors.

“I’m sorry, could you help me with this?”

“Sure!” I beamed and nodded. Of course I’d help. It was just one carry-on after all. I grasped the handle.

“It’s super heavy, so—”

“Don’t worry...ugh!” I hoisted it and went down hard.

“I told you it was heavy.”

“I didn’t think it’d be this heavy.” Even though I’d been doing a hundred push-ups a day since my discharge, my arms quit on me. It felt like lifting a sack of rice.

After several tries, I finally heaved it up, and she climbed the stairs to take my hand.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“I asked you to help move it.”

“Right.”

“I meant for us to carry it together.” She held out her slim arm. I considered passing it off, but at barely 150 centimeters tall, she looked too slight. Better to just do it myself.

“I’ll carry it myself, sunbaenim—just show me the way.” As I climbed slowly, she advanced one step at a time like scissors paper rock, studying my face.

“Never seen you before. You’re a new trainee, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m one of the senior singers here.” She struck a stern pose to emphasize her seniority—I smiled.

“You must know who I am.”

“Of course.”

I even knew her name.

“Are you Daisy sunbaenim?”

“That’s right.” Scarlet’s Daisy beamed. “What a fine junior.”

“Please take care of me...ugh—”

“You okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine, sunbaenim.”

“You don’t look fine—like you’re about to collapse.”

Rain fell silently in my heart.

On the second floor of Lemon, I passed the recording studio where we took composition lessons from Director Jo and arrived at another workroom. When the carry-on was finally in place, sweat poured down my sides and back.

“Good job,” Daisy said, offering tissues. I watched as she opened the carry-on. Inside were boxes of red-ginseng extract—no wonder it was heavy. Then she added another item.

“Do you carry dumbbells around the studio?”

“It’s a footrest for the high chairs—like this.” The petite singer hoisted a dumbbell under a stool and tapped her foot on it. “Perfect height, right?” She looked proud, but I was speechless.

“Sunbaenim...”

“Yes?”

“Have you heard of a footrest? It’s one of the great inventions of the twenty-first century.” She wasn’t listening.

Humming to herself, Daisy filled the studio fridge with more ginseng drinks, then handed me several packs. "You worked hard—have as much as you like."

“Thank you.” I drank one immediately. Bitter and healthy. Free is best.

I looked around. “Is this Scarlet’s workroom?”

“Yes.” I envied her. Would we ever have our own workroom?

“Who did the interior design?”

“Who do you think?” She asked expectantly. I feigned ignorance.

“Did you do it, sunbaenim?”

“I did—pretty good, right?” Pink sofa, zebra-print cushions—any interior designer would be jealous.

“Oh, by the way,” Daisy said, closing the fridge. “I heard you’re collaborating with Jang So-won?”

“Yes.”

“It’s the talk of the company—Marketing’s been buzzing about the new trainee pulling it off. The team leader was grinning like an idiot.”

Curious, she asked, “So how’s it going?”

“I’m not sure. They said negotiations with WHY Entertainment are underway.”

Daisy pursed her lips. “Well, I hope it works out.”

“Thank you.” I said my goodbyes. “Time for my lesson—I’d better get going.”

“Wait.” She stopped me and pulled a wallet from her jacket, handing me something.

“What’s this?”

"A token for your trouble—buy some snacks with the kids."

There were two fifty-thousand-won bills. All my fatigue melted away.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Smile and say thanks before I change my mind.”

“Thank you, sunbaenim—I’ll treat the kids to a nice meal.”

“You’re welcome.”

Next would have been, “Call me unni.”

“What?”

“Just call me unni.”

“If you’d like, I can—”

She cocked her head. “What are you talking about? Aren’t you a high schooler?”

“No—I’m twenty-two.”

Her face fell. “...Really?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, you look so young. Good job—see you next time.”

I smiled at Daisy flustered by her own words, bowed, and left. As the door closed, a faint, “So embarrassing!” drifted after me.

I pulled out my phone and searched “Daisy.” Her profile appeared:

– Day-Z (Kim Na-yun)

– Singer

– Born: March 27, 1996

– Group: SCARLET

– Agency: Lemon Entertainment

She was three years younger than me. Why did that feel so good? In my teens, it wouldn’t have mattered—but in my twenties, being called “young” was oddly satisfying. I had to tell the guys.

Lunchtime.

After the morning session, we were at our favorite local spot—a black-pork barbecue restaurant. Cheap, ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) delicious, and packed at noon. As usual, we ordered our bulgogi set, and I recounted my morning adventure.

“So what did you say?”

“When I said I’m twenty-two, her pupils literally shook.”

We burst out laughing—hours in the practice room made even small things hilarious. Bi-ju added:

“I get Na-yun’s reaction.”

“Huh?”

“When I first met hyung, I thought you were younger than me.”

“Me too—I thought you were a high schooler.”

“Yeah. If she hadn’t asked, we all would’ve assumed.”

“Hmm.” What was this satisfying feeling?

“Well, hyung does look...ageless.” 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

“No way, not that much.” Jung-hyun laughed. “The more I look, the more I see old-man flair.”

“Yeah,” Bi-ju agreed. “Like when you go ‘oigo~’ and tap your back.”

Laughter rippled through us. We were so close that blunt jokes flowed without hesitation. I stared at the bubbling duck stew on the gas burner—a special meal bought with the fifty-thousand won thrown at me this morning. Jung-hyun sniffed and said:

“Na-yun must be making a ton. She didn’t even think twice about giving you fifty thousand.”

“Of course—she could easily spend a hundred.” A twinge.

“Scarlet’s a top-tier girl group. Another year or two, and they could buy a building in cash.”

“Really?” I asked, and Ri-hyuk nodded.

“By revenue, there are bigger groups, but our company’s payouts are great.”

“Oh.”

“Woo-ju hyung, you didn’t know?”

The maknae explained: among mid-tier agencies, Lemon Entertainment was one of the few whose artist benefits rivaled the Big Four.

“Wow.” I’d never known that. Then he suddenly changed the subject.

“Hey, did you guys know? Our name popped up in a post recently.”

“What?”

“Hang on.” Everyone swarmed around Ji-ho’s phone: “Did anyone watch the new K-Net reality show?” “I start stan-ning from reality shows.” “Saw Street Boys and...one scene of that evaluation thing was actually fun haha” “I think the Lemon kids are better.” [37 comments] – “I usually don’t stan from reality or variety shows.” – “Reality is boring...only 1 episode so maybe it’ll get better.” – “Who actually enjoys debut reality? You watch for the fresh vibe.” – “Anyone know the brown-haired kid’s name? Urgent!” ┖ “Why urgent lol? They haven’t even debuted.” – “How do you know trainees’ profiles before debut?” – “They did fine in the cameo...actually my eyes are on them.” – “Are those all staff from their agency? Or are they individually hot?” ┖ “So many male stans it’s gross lol”

Suddenly fights broke out in the comments—70 percent of the 40-odd comments were heated arguments.

“What is this?” Ri-hyuk frowned. “That’s it for our reaction?”

“Well, it’s responses about Woo-ju hyung, so technically it’s our reaction.”

“Right, Ri-hyuk.” Bi-ju smiled. “Honestly, just being mentioned feels good.”

They scanned for more mentions—but abruptly fell silent. Then someone clicked a link and played a video, and they all stared at me.

“What’s up?”

“Woo-ju hyung...” Their eyes were full of awe. “You gave up the CSAT to save a grandfather?” They seemed to think I really had.

During break, I returned to the practice room with water, and Ji-ho shouted, “A hero! A hero!” Jokes flew nonstop—they’d gotten a taste for calling me “hero.” Every time I cringed, they tossed another quip. Just then, our manager Yoon Seok-hwan opened the door.

“What, not practicing?”

He always showed up during breaks—like my grandma nagging me to study during exam season—so I jumped ahead.

“What’s going on here?”

“Oh right.” He nodded. “I came to tell you three pieces of good news. Which do you want first?”

“The best one.”

“First: negotiations with WHY Entertainment on revenue sharing just finished. We’ve signed, so your collaboration with Jang So-won starts immediately.”

Finally the schedule was set.

“What’s the next piece of news?”

“Second: your dorm contract is done. You can move in this weekend—adjust your schedules and get settled ASAP.”

We all mouthed “awesome” as we exchanged looks. For the final news, we braced ourselves—then froze.

“Lastly: your group name is confirmed. You’ll go by NewBlack, as you chose.”

...Wait. That name taken from my sweatshirt logo?