Sun Myeong-ju.

Fifteen years ago, that was the name of a world-famous pianist.

“Ah......!”

Gasps came from various spots in the audience.

That was how famous he was.

Mostly from audience members over their thirties.

Sun Myeong-ju.

Strictly speaking, he wasn’t an ordinary pianist.

His specialty was jazz.

From winning Best Performer at international jazz competitions to being a legend in the jazz world, Sun Myeong-ju had graced the covers of leading music magazines and been named Musician of the Year at countless awards.

His life story was also a hot topic.

An orphan who discovered his talent for piano and rose to global stardom.

He had been unknown while active in Korea, but as he gained immense popularity in the US and Europe, his name became known back home.

Especially during the late 1990s IMF crisis, when people escaped reality by watching baseball and golf, they closely followed his world tour.

When all of Korea was feeling depressed, seeing Sun Myeong-ju play piano on the most dazzling stages of America gave people hope and pride.

But that brilliance didn’t last long.

While abroad for a tour, the plane carrying Sun Myeong-ju and his wife crashed, and they lost their lives.

It was shocking news for those who lived through the late ’90s.

So when Sun Woo-joo revealed his father, it was natural for # Nоvеlight # people to gasp.

Meeting the son of a once-beloved celebrity as an idol.

Of course, not everyone knew Sun Myeong-ju.

At a music café attended by those interested in music, many recognized the name, but young couples who had come for fun found it unfamiliar.

Some secretly took out their phones and typed “Sun Myeong-ju” into the search bar.

Soon, those who checked a wiki-like site widened their eyes.

The people in photos with Sun Myeong-ju were extraordinary.

Presidents of the United States at the time and world-renowned artists.

It was almost unbelievable, as if the images were photoshopped. How his story had resonated with the public back then was beyond imagination.

“Indeed.”

The producer in the control room whistled.

“I told you this would generate buzz.”

My father’s story was not a secret.

I had thought it would come out someday, so although I was surprised when Ha Seung-ju asked, I soon composed myself.

I knew a day like this would come.

It was just a bit sudden.

When the MC Ha Seung-ju of the music café proposed it, I answered that I’d think about it.

Because this wasn’t solely my decision to make.

“......What should we do, Grandma?”

In the waiting-room hallway, I called my grandmother.

Talking about my parents on air wasn’t something I could decide on my own.

My father wasn’t the only victim of that crash.

My grandmother lost her only daughter, my mother, who had been on the plane with my father, and she couldn’t even recover her body. I remember her heartache vividly.

If people brought up my parents, they’d certainly mention that accident, dredging up my grandmother’s old wounds.

After I carefully explained everything, my grandmother answered simply.

-Do as you wish.

“Huh?”

-Do as your heart leads you. It’s all in the past now.

She said it not for my sake, but as if it truly were something long past.

I sensed a flicker of emotion in her voice.

Hesitation, perhaps.

I thought it was longing for her only daughter, but her next words surprised me.

-But will you be okay with that?

“Huh? What do you mean?”

-I mean you, kid. Will you be okay?

She was worried about me.

Of course I didn’t want to bring it up.

But fifteen years had passed since my parents’ death.

Their faces had grown faint over such a long time.

If even half that time hadn’t passed, I couldn’t have spoken of it.

-So amazing that it was Sun Myeong-ju.

Ha Seung-ju, adjusting his glasses, feigned surprise.

I smiled.

Those who work in TV sure know how to act.

-Did the other members know?

All eyes turned to the members. The New Black members calmly nodded at that question.

Before the broadcast, in the waiting room.

I gathered Jang So-won sunbae and the members to explain that this topic would come up on air.

As soon as I finished, Bi-ju spoke up with concern.

“No way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it right to trade a few minutes of airtime for family history? I don’t think this is okay.”

Unlike usual, when he was smooth and soft like water mixed with liquor, his tone was firm.

Watching from the side, Manager Seok-hwan also spoke.

“Appearing today is enough. No need to push it.”

He said it, but I saw conflict in his eyes.

As a close senior, he was worried, but as our manager, this was a golden opportunity.

New idols like us rarely get this much airtime no matter how hard managers lobby, and my father’s story was sure to be a hot topic in a good way.

“I’ll sit this one out.”

Jang So-won stood.

“I don’t think it’s my place to speak on this. These matters should be decided by the family.”

Our road manager, Seo Min-gi, standing behind, agreed with So-won’s words. They both left the waiting room, saying they’d step out for a moment.

Left alone with just the members, I looked around.

It felt like they opposed me and I had to persuade them.

“Think about it—it’s a great opportunity. We’re wrapping up activities anyway, so wouldn’t it be better to get more attention? It’s hard for rookies like us to get this much—”

“Hyung, that’s the manager’s perspective.”

Jung Hyun’s weighty voice struck the heart of the matter.

“You’re not our manager; you’re a member.”

“.......”

“Thanks for caring, but we’re not idiots. We know why we’re on Music Café.”

“You do?”

Manager Seok-hwan shrugged.

“The day after you had that talk with the director, the four of them came to see me. They said they wanted to change their image before wrapping up activities. They had the same worries as you, so I told them you’d already come to talk.”

“That’s embarrassing. I thought I was the only one.”

“Everyone thinks alike.”

Lee Hyuk said.

“Do you think we wouldn’t have those thoughts? To be honest, we felt a bit betrayed when you had that meeting behind our backs.”

“Hey. You didn’t tell us, either.”

“We’re different, hyung.”

Bi-ju smiled.

“We didn’t say anything because you looked so busy with interviews and personal schedules. We didn’t want to worry you.”

“I didn’t tell you for the same reason.”

“Symmetric.”

At the maknae’s summary, we all broke into laughter.

That was spot on.

We were all cosplaying good siblings—symmetric indeed.

“Well then, let’s promise to be honest with each other from now on.” 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

The younger members nodded.

“Sorry for not telling you. I got used to looking after trainee juniors at TJ, so I unconsciously saw you as my juniors. We’re all members.”

“Just keep treating me like the baby, please. I’m cute.”

The maknae piped up, and Lee Hyuk playfully punched his arm, “Get the vibe, you.”

I was about to lose my words because of Ji-ho when Jung Hyun spoke.

“I said this already, but there’s no need to fuss over us, hyung.”

“.......”

“Just do whatever you want this time. You wouldn’t be here without us, right?”

“.......”

“Why are you hesitating?”

“It feels a bit new.”

It was strange and fresh to hear such words from Jung Hyun, who usually lazed around like a sloth.

He smiled and said,

“I know you’re not oblivious, hyung.”

I looked around at Bi-ju, Jung Hyun, Lee Hyuk, Ji-ho, Manager Yoon Seok-hwan, and Min-gi. They were faces I saw every day, yet everything felt new.

Maybe I’d treated them as mere supporting characters in my story, reacting to my moves while I led the way.

But thinking it over, they were protagonists in our story, too.

And I was grateful to them.

In entertainment, people exploit every relation for airtime. Others would’ve said, “Do as you want,” while secretly hoping for more footage.

They all worried about me and wanted me to do what I wanted.

“So, what will you do?”

At Lee Hyuk’s question, I hesitated, then answered.

“......I’ll share it.”

If you ask why, I can’t say.

It wasn’t about wanting more screen time as leader or member, nor was it personal attention.

I just had something I wanted to say.

“...He was that famous, right.”

When the introduction about my father ended, I returned to reality.

The atmosphere had shifted.

Those who had earlier frowned and asked, “Who’s Sun Myeong-ju?” now watched with curiosity.

“I was always curious. An idol with talent for composing and instruments—now I see it’s inherited.”

That was true.

My arranging in the year-end evaluation and my sense in composing “Something” were thanks to my father’s musical genes.

“Is your idol dream connected to that?”

At Ha Seung-ju’s question, I nodded.

That was why I wanted to talk about my parents.

To explain why, despite TJ Entertainment suggesting I become an actor or producer, I insisted on being an idol.

“When I was little, every time I saw my father play piano, I loved it. I tried to mimic him, but I was terrible. My little feet couldn’t reach the pedal, and I struggled.”

Imagining my childhood self made the audience smile.

“So I gave up piano.”

“At that age?”

“Yes. I think I was five. Smacking the keys with my tiny hands, I yelled, ‘I’m not doing this!’ Oh, I don’t remember it myself—Grandma told me.”

Ha Seung-ju and the others smiled.

“Maybe that’s why I turned to singing. I saw first-generation idols on TV and copied their moves and songs. My parents cheered so much then.”

“So that could be the start of your idol journey.”

“Yes. It’s my first memory.”

My earliest memory was flailing my arms and legs.

My parents clapped and praised me, and I gaped up at them, thinking their expressions were like jewels—so beautiful I wanted to frame them.

I think that’s when I began dreaming of being an idol.

Because I wanted to see those expressions.

I spoke calmly.

“So you’re standing on the stage you once only saw on TV. You’ve achieved the dream you had every day.”

With Ha Seung-ju’s line, the topic of my parents wrapped up.

Only then did my worry surface.

I’d rambled like a drunk, jumping from one thing to another. I hoped it was okay.

But the footage would be edited appropriately.

The talk about New Black ended around then.

There was one more story to cover.

Jang So-won.

I had something to say to her, too.

Once on the verge of national-girl-group fame with Sugarfish, she’d returned to the stage after the group disbanded amid scandals, performing on drama OSTs.

When Jang So-won’s eyes welled up with tears as she recalled her hardships, the audience’s eyes reddened along with hers.

The late-night slot’s emotional pull was likely a factor.

And someone beside me got caught up in it.

“Hic.......”

Suddenly, one of our members burst into tears.

Why are you crying now?

Our emotionally rich maknae was crying.

It wasn’t acting.

The two streams of snot were the true symbol of tears.

His baby-fat, rice-cake–white face crying was somehow cute and funny.

Jang So-won and Ha Seung-ju burst out laughing.

“Ji-ho, are you okay?”

“Um, sorry, but I can’t concentrate because of Ji-ho’s nose. Could one of the staff bring tissues?”

“I’m fine. I’ll wipe with my sleeve.”

“Hey! That’s sponsored!”

“Ji-ho, that’s leaking.”

The audience erupted in laughter at Lee Hyuk’s panicked ad-lib and Bi-ju’s babying of Ji-ho.

When Ji-ho blew his nose, the laughter that had paused roared back.

The honking sound came through the mic.

It was the loudest laugh since I’d been here.

I felt a moment of enlightenment at the maknae’s noisy reveal of the tissue I’d given quietly.

Ji-ho......

We’re recording right now.... Pull yourself together......

I imagined Manager Yoon Seok-hwan clutching the back of his neck backstage.

At least everyone here, including the audience, found the maknae cute.

Right? He’s cute.

So someone please adopt him......

“Ji-ho must be a crybaby.”

“He’s the youngest and more fragile than he looks. He cried the most when he got scolded during recording.”

Jang So-won laughed as she said it.

As she patted his shoulder sisterly, the atmosphere warmed.

Even I, worried about our image, decided to think positively.

Honestly, I enjoyed it.

From the perspective of teasing the member who’d spent a month crying over my “soufflé” slip in the winner’s speech, this was great material.

I wasn’t the only one.

They’d all been waiting for this.

Whether it was the natural monument of mockery or accumulated teasing, the members’ lips twitched.

Even Bi-ju’s broad grin said it all.

Prepare yourself, King Ji-ho.

We’ll tease you for a month.

So far, the Music Café recording had been a success.

If there was one regret, it was that even combining the airtime of the other New Black members barely matched mine.

Though there was my father’s story, the members had fumbled a bit in the talk.

Still, considering it was our first recording, it was excellent.

Rookie idols usually sweat bullets and get nervous even in recorded interviews.

If I had to score today’s broadcast, I’d give it 90 out of 100.

Of course, for the talk segment.

As with written and practical exams, if talk was the written exam, the most important practical exam remained.

The final stage.

Our original purpose was “to showcase New Black’s musicality,” and that stage remained.

“Sadly, it’s time to say goodbye to Jang So-won and New Black. We had a wonderful time today.”

At Ha Seung-ju’s farewell, we each expressed our thanks.

“Now, let’s welcome the final stage.”

Ha Seung-ju stepped aside, and we walked toward the main stage.

We saw the staff bustling about.

The lights dimmed.

Then, as the lighting beamed down like a spotlight, blinding us, So-won and I took our places.

And the music began.

When that prelude, identical to the first stage, echoed through the PBS Public Hall, a murmur rose from the audience.

“......?”

It was understandable.

It was the exact same prelude as the first stage.