“NewBlack?”

“Why?”

Seok-hwan hyung tilted his head in confusion.

“Is there a problem?”

“No. It’s not that.”

There was no real issue—only the thought that it felt odd to officially name the team after the slogan on my sweatshirt.

“It might seem sudden, but after the year-end evaluation, the CEO visited a fortune teller for the first time in ages.”

“A fortune teller?”

“Yeah. He asked what we should name the new boy group launch, and the fortuneteller said, ‘Just go with NewBlack. It feels right.’”

Who picks a boy-group name at a fortune-teller’s tent? Ridiculous.

Still, the moment Yoon Seok-hwan mentioned the CEO and staff had considered other names, we changed our tune.

“There were several candidates. I’ll ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ read a few. First, Guardians—meaning you protect the fans.”

“....”

“Flying Angels. Abbreviated as FAG.”

“....”

“Hot Voice. They said the key was to leave the last syllable ambiguous—Voice or Boys. Oh wait, that one was vetoed.”

“....”

“Let’s see... Black Hole was on the list. Because once you fall into their charm, you can’t escape—”

Each name he read from his phone made us paler. How had this company not collapsed yet? I should have known Lemon Boys was trouble from the start. When he finished, we forced our voices out.

“I think NewBlack is really great.”

“Yeah.”

“Upon reflection, it’s perfect.”

Yoon Seok-hwan smiled.

“See? NewBlack is the best, right?”

“Yes.”

“You might not love the name, but it doesn’t matter. Even a weird name becomes fine once you’re famous. Look at Americans—they don’t stumble over ‘Dostoevsky’?”

We nodded at his logic. And so NewBlack officially became our debut team name.

Seok-hwan then perked up.

“Did you know? The fortuneteller also said something odd—just for fun, though.”

He grinned. “He said that if you use the name NewBlack, you’ll achieve great success. You’ll probably become the most famous boy group in the world.”

We laughed at the absurdity.

That Sunday.

I dragged my carry-on through the alleys of Gangnam. Soon, my destination appeared: a four-story villa. Unit 301 was our new dorm.

“No elevator in this day and age?”

Every step up the stairs made my muscles ache under the heavy load. I swore, once I made it big, I’d move to a place with a luxury elevator—mark my words.

Finally on the third floor, I punched in the door code. Inside was a surprisingly roomy space.

Not bad.

I smiled, impressed—then realized something was off. Wait. This isn’t spacious...

I looked around, stunned. There was a living room and a bathroom—nothing else. A tiny bedroom held three bunk beds crammed together. I imagined the CEO saying, “Woo-ju, if you want to escape this place, go make it big.”

“...”

Since they’d only installed furniture, sawdust lay scattered on the floor. I lifted my foot: the bottom of my sock was blackened.

“I’ll have to clean.”

I wondered if anyone else could do it—but gave up. It’ll do. I opened my phone and, with the expert framing of many selfies, took a photo from the angle that best showed the living room. Then I texted my grandmother.

Me [Grandma—this is our dorm]

I sent the best shot of the living area to reassure her. A reply came immediately.

KingGodKimDeok-soon [Looks decent]

KingGodKimDeok-soon [But you’ll suffer]

Me [What?]

Me [Since when does Grandma tell her grandson to suffer? Must be a different Grandma]

Me [Give me back my real Grandma, Kim Deok-soon]

Her short reply was savage.

KingGodKimDeok-soon [You lunatic.]

“Wow, that’s harsh.” Was that really my grandmother?

I protested again—no response. A true “read and ignore.” Still, sending a photo would ease her worry; that thought made me feel better.

I switched to our group chat.

【SunWoo-ju and the Lackeys (5)】

Me [Arrived!]

Me [Where is everyone? On your way?]

The little “4” indicators disappeared one by one.

Kim Jung-hyun [I’ll be a bit late]

Seo Ri-hyuk [Ekhung, Ri-hyuk is on his way]

Me [What kind of tone is that?]

Seo Ri-hyuk [Teheh...]

While I blinked in confusion, the chat exploded.

Seo Ri-hyuk [Wang Ji-ho ㅣmanuial]

Seo Ri-hyuk [Not me]

Seo Ri-hyuk [So annoying]

Wang Ji-ho [ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ]

Wang Ji-ho [It was me, hyung]

Wang Ji-ho [We’re on the bus now lol]

Ji-ho had been messing with Ri-hyuk’s phone. Seeing they’d still need thirty or forty minutes, I puzzled over the lone “1” that hadn’t turned gray—Bi-ju usually reads and replies first. Before I could wonder more, I heard the door code enter.

“Uwaa!”

A sweaty face appeared. The boyish scholar figure—Bi-ju—sat down in the entryway, arms full of bags.

“Man, I thought I’d die, hyung.”

His hands were red from hauling groceries.

“You could’ve called for help.”

“Why? I can manage.”

“You’ve worked hard getting here. Want some water? Oh right—there’s nothing in the fridge.”

“I brought some.”

He rummaged through the bags to pull out bottled water.

“Hold on—I’ll find some cups.”

“I’m good.”

“You brought those too?”

This time, he produced a box of paper cups. I was genuinely impressed.

“You’re super prepared.”

While Bi-ju sipped water, I examined his haul.

“What did you bring all this for?”

“The manager said there’d only be a bed and fridge here, so I stopped by the mart.”

“What’s this?”

“Mold remover.”

“And this?”

“Deodorizer—for the closet and shoe rack.”

He’d even thought ahead to cleaning supplies—I was speechless. He organized everything neatly. Then I remembered the important question.

“How did you pay for all this?”

“With my own money, of course.”

“Show me the receipts.”

“Why?”

“We split it equally—everyone pays their share.”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

He waved me off.

“But it’s stuff we all use.”

“Exactly. So you can’t pay alone.”

“But hyung, is it right to charge everyone when I picked it out?”

“No. It’s not.”

I spoke firmly.

“Give me those receipts.”

“...Alright.”

“If you get used to taking a loss, you’re in trouble.”

I posted the receipt photos and the amount due in the chat. As I lowered my phone, I met Bi-ju’s curious gaze.

“What’s up?”

“Just interesting.”

“What is?”

“My older sister always says that.”

“Really?”

He smiled and I gave him a quick tour of the dorm. When we finished, he commented.

“This reminds me of that movie Jung-hyun and I saw.”

“What movie?”

“The Shawshank Redemption...”

“You mean the one about prison?”

“Yeah...”

We laughed for a long time, until it turned into a strange mix of laughter and tears—funny but sad. Surveying the tiny dorm, we made a cleaning checklist.

“Starting now?”

“No. We gotta wait for the others.”

His calm smile made me smile warmly in return. Right—these things we do together.

As we debated who’d handle what, the rest of the “lackeys” arrived.

“We’re here!”

Our ever-lively maknae bounded in.

“Wow, these stairs—”

Ri-hyuk trudged in, half Asleep, deposited his bags, and collapsed. Bi-ju handed him a water bottle—he guzzled it like life’s elixir—while the maknae took in the dorm’s state.

“Is this it?”

“Yes.”

“...”

“Still, it’s kinda nice once you look around.”

It was the first time he’d been speechless. The maknae looked forlorn, like someone who’d lost their country—I patted him on the back.

“One thing to say...”

“...Let’s succeed.”

Human adaptability is amazing. Although I’d thought I’d never adjust to the NewBlack penitentiary, after a few days it felt like home. Jung-hyun’s snoring matched to a 자진모리 jangdan rhythm as he muttered “I’m going crazy” in his sleep became normal. The maknae’s habit of asking “Hyung, you awake? If you don’t wake up, play with me,” then sleeping like a log himself—also routine. We all settled into dorm life. After a few days, we established a morning routine.

“Yaaaaawn...”

Just before dawn, I’d yawn and leave my room to the sound of clattering in the kitchen. Every morning, Bi-ju would be up first, preparing breakfast.

“Slept well, hyung?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Jung-hyun snored like crazy last night.”

“He really did.”

“I didn’t sleep at all.”

“Me neither.”

“I dreamed I was defusing a bomb and cut the wrong wire. It went off and woke me—only to realize it was Jung-hyun snoring on the second floor.”

Bi-ju chuckled. I peered into the kitchen, where he was in full cooking mode.

“What are you making?”

“Toasts.”

Mostly simple fare, but cooking five servings daily is no small feat.

“Need help?”

“Just set the plates.”

“Okay.”

In the cramped living room, we set the table, and another member would wake up.

“I’m up!”

The maknae, eyes half-open, flopped onto the sofa. Better to stay in bed, really. He nodded off and on—but what got him up was breakfast.

“Ji-ho.”

“Hmm? Yes?”

“Go back to sleep.”

“No!”

“I need a big toast.”

That's dedication. When Bi-ju brought out the pan and distributed the toasts, Ji-ho eyed the largest slice and claimed it.

“Don’t eat yet—wait here. I’ll wake everyone.”

While the maknae and I drooled over the toasts, Bi-ju went to rouse the others.

The order was predictable.

“I’m not eating, hyung.”

Main vocalist Seo mo skipped breakfast and headed for the bathroom. Bi-ju looked disappointed. Then Jung-hyun, now barely awake, joined us—four at the table was our set morning crew.

Drip—crash—

Jung-hyun, staring at the ceiling, noted casually, “Sounds like the upstairs is flushing their toilet.”

“Yeah.”

The dorm’s thin walls meant we heard everything—just part of our routine.

“Ouch, hot!”

Oh, that too.