It was at that moment.

A week ago, on the drive back from Gangwon Province, his expression had been exactly like that.

He’d plugged in earphones that weren’t playing anything and sat there staring out the window in a vacant, gloomy trance.

At the time, I’d shrugged it off as nothing.

He’d soon returned to his usual calm expression.

But now it seemed different.

His face looked far more serious than it had then.

What was wrong with him?

Lost in thought, my eyes fell on Ji-ho and Ri-hyeok’s school uniforms.

Blue blazers with red ties.

Their art high school uniforms—famous for producing idols—looked a bit threadbare today.

Well, I could understand Ji-ho’s uniform getting dusty every day, since our maknae was as rambunctious as a puppy and always tracked in dirt.

But Ri-hyeok’s uniform looked just as shabby.

Why am I mentioning this? Because every school day, our main dancer gets up at dawn to iron everyone’s uniform.

So Bi-joo must’ve skipped ironing today.

At first I thought I’d just woken up too late to notice, but that wasn’t it.

Not only Ji-ho’s but even neat-as-a-pin Ri-hyeok’s uniform was rumpled.

Once I reached that thought, little odd things started standing out.

Lately Bi-joo’s behavior had seemed strange.

When we were all together he was fine, but whenever he had time alone he’d zone out, as if he had something on his mind.

What should I do about him?

With anyone else, I’d just go over, put my arm around them, and joke, “Got worries? I’ll listen,” but with him it felt awkward.

He was too sweet-natured, but his aura wasn’t something you could handle casually.

On top of that, I couldn’t track his emotional line.

Over the past five months since last December, I’d watched them enough to know their rough characters.

Jung-hyun, Ri-hyeok, Ji-ho were easy to read.

But Bi-joo—I still didn’t really know what was going on in that little head of his, since he never said anything.

“Hyung, what are you doing? Aren’t you eating?”

Ri-hyeok across from me looked my way.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I saw everyone else eating.

Bi-joo, as if he’d never had a strange moment, had reverted to his normal self.

He laughed at Ji-ho’s whining, patted him on the shoulder, and offered comfort.

Had I imagined it?

He looked so perfectly fine I wondered if I’d hallucinated, but that wasn’t it.

Nobody else noticed, but Bi-joo was holding his chopsticks backward as he ate.

For someone so precise—who even organizes the refrigerator by lineup—that was definitely not normal.

Well, in any case, let’s eat first.

We still had a long way to go today.

And today we were supposed to decide the direction of our work.

But looking at the meat, the portion was smaller than usual. Since Music Cafe, we’d always gotten one-and-a-half times the normal serving.

I didn’t need to look for the culprit.

The sauce that had dripped off the bulgogi plate was pooling like ants chasing sugar.

“....”

Catching my eye, Ji-ho looked at me and flinched, his cheeks stuffed with food.

Then he unabashedly defended himself.

“I’m still in a growth spurt, hyung. Waaah!”

I grabbed that cheek like it was a piece of cheese.

After eating, we each grabbed an ice cream from the convenience store and walked through the alley watching the sunset.

“Hyung, are you over it now?”

“A little.”

Not a little—completely over it.

While my brothers held cheap ice creams, I held an expensive Häagen-Dazs bar.

I enjoyed the crunchy hazelnut bits as we walked.

Seeing me in better spirits, the maknae, excited like a puppy, stuck close and chattered away.

“I really had it rough, hyung. They kept teasing me, and I just laughed, so they thought it was fine and picked on me all day.”

“Then stop laughing.”

“We’re entertainers now, hyung. We have to manage our image.”

His childlike face with its mature expression made me laugh.

If you’re going to say that, take the popsicle out of your mouth first.

“And that Gil Chae-kyung, pretending to be friendly but slyly dissing me—it’s annoying! She’s so crafty...”

“Gil Chae-kyung?”

It was a name I hadn’t heard in ages.

The maknae of Girls On Top, who’d openly snubbed us when we went to work at Why Entertainment.

Since Ji-ho confessed she’d called him ugly in elementary school, they’d been sworn enemies.

“You two are still at the same school?”

“We’re even in the same class in the vocal department now. Anyway, on Friday morning she led the class chat with screenshots to tease me.”

“In middle school you were at the same school, now you’re in the same class—doesn’t that mean you have to get married?”

“Hyung, are you crazy?”

Ji-ho shook his head.

“Just the thought makes me cringe. I’d rather die.”

“Well, you’d have to if dirt got in your eyes.”

“When it’s dirt it, sure.”

At my words, Jung-hyun set down his red bean ice cream and asked seriously,

“Ji-ho, what if she had a fortune of ten billion won? Would you marry her then?”

“What are you talking about, hyung? My dad’s got that much.”

“Then how about a hundred billion?”

Ri-hyeok hopped in, flicking his ice cream stick into a street-side trash can.

“Jung-hyun hyung, if you had a hundred billion, would you marry someone like Wang Ji-ho? I’d rather go for that uncle over there.”

“Me? You mean Woo-joo hyung?”

“Well, he doesn’t help with chores, but he’s got good looks. It’d be fun to look at his face.”

“That’s true, I have to admit.”

I nodded.

“Okay, Jung-hyun. If it’s a hundred billion, I’ll go.”

Watching my hyungs spout nonsense like a bunch of high schoolers, the maknae’s eyes turned triangular in annoyance.

After snickering for a while, we comforted the pouty maknae.

“You hate being teased that much?”

“I can tease others, but I won’t let others tease me.”

“That’s a messed-up mindset from the root. Admirable, really.”

I patted his shoulder.

And realized once more: the audio was missing again.

When I looked up, Bi-joo was walking alone a little way off.

His gaze was on the distant sky.

On the evening sky glowing red. I thought his brown hair caught in the sunset looked like gold.

Ri-hyeok sidled up to me and asked,

“Why’s he been like that? Holding his chopsticks backward.”

“You saw it too?”

“Of course. I wanted to point it out, but his mood seemed off.”

“Me too. Bi-joo hyung was really odd today. And I ironed my uniform—ah!”

At that moment, eating warm ice cream on the street, I felt like I was getting addicted to the feel of his cheeks.

They were so soft and stretchy, like a rice cake. I pinched and said,

“Grow up, you little brat. Bi-joo’s not your maid.”

Ri-hyeok tilted his head.

“A few days ago Bi-joo hyung even ironed your laundry when you were behind. After work you pretended to be tired and lay down on the couch to sleep, remember?”

“I don’t think I remember that.”

“Seriously?”

“...I always feel sorry toward Bi-joo. That’s why I work so hard.”

I ignored their accusatory stares and changed the subject.

“Jung-hyun.”

“Yes?”

“Do you know anything? You’re closest to Bi-joo.”

“Oh.”

But Jung-hyun’s reaction was odd.

It looked like a computer loading, as if a progress bar would pop up showing how far along he was.

“Well, everyone has problems they can’t share.”

At his sudden remark, Ji-ho, Ri-hyeok, and I exchanged glances.

“Is he sick?”

“No. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Uh....”

One thing was clear.

From now on, if I have any secrets, I’ll never tell Jung-hyun.

How could he not hide his expression like that?

“Uh....”

“Enough, hyung. Let’s leave it at that. Judging by his reaction, it’s not our business.”

“Why not? I’m curious.”

Ri-hyeok shot the clueless maknae a glare and looked to me for guidance.

I nodded.

“Well, let’s ask next time.”

Jung-hyun visibly relaxed at last.

If he’d seemed like hard granite a moment ago, he was now a soft lump of plastic.

“Let’s focus on our work first. That’s more urgent.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.”

Ri-hyeok asked,

“So what method are you going to show us today?”

On the second floor of the company was NewBlack’s studio.

Though we’d had it for only a few weeks, our team’s domestic manager had transformed it neatly with toothbrushes and everyday supplies organized, cabinets tidied—a very modern feel compared to Scarlet’s pink-sofa, patterned-cushion studio next door.

Standing in front of the sofa, Jung-hyun and I were addressed by Ri-hyeok.

“So what are we doing now?”

“Nothing special.”

Reading my glance, Jung-hyun spoke for me.

“We’re going to listen to music. Just listen. No special tasks, just sit quietly and listen.”

“How long?”

“Hyung, how many songs is it?”

I clicked the folder icon on the laptop screen and calculated time at about three minutes per song.

“Well, not much. About five hours.”

“Wait, what? Five hours?”

I smiled at the maknae eyeing the doorway. I used the evil grin our manager taught me.

Then I shut the door firmly and clapped my hands.

“Any more questions?”

I laughed as my brothers closed their eyes, resigned to their fate.

“Knew you would.”

The premise of Jung-hyun’s and my experiment was simple.

Our favorite musical color would be our true color and our identity as a group.

I’d thought of that watching Music Cafe.

Just as my brothers’ faces watching Between showed, there would be music they liked and disliked subconsciously.

If we found the musical color everyone commonly liked, that could be our group’s identity.

Of course everyone’s tastes differ.

But if we find music everyone likes and wants to do, there will be an intersection.

When light passes through a prism it splits into various colors by wavelength.

If light is a genre of song, then upon closer look there must be a song containing all of our colors.

Right now we were passing light through a prism.

Our differences weren’t problems.

Knowing the musical basis, adjusting the rest is easy.

For example, if Jung-hyun likes hip-hop, we make a song centered on him under the direction.

Just add hip-hop elements to the music we like.

So Jung-hyun and I scoured the Billboard charts and Korean music sites to curate about 300 songs sorted by genre, mood, and evoked emotion.

Classifying them was a task, so we consulted A&R staff—though they wondered why we were doing this.

But nothing to lose by trying, right?

“All right, let’s begin.”

With one camera set up, we all huddled on the sofa and started playback.

One song, two songs, three songs.

As the songs played, we skipped any track whose intro got a bad reaction—mostly heavy metal that drew “Ugh!” from everyone.

Although we’d planned for five hours, we paused every time Ji-ho complained he heard phantom sounds after two hours and resumed after breaks.

How long did it take?

We finished the experiment and collapsed onto the sofa exhausted.

“...Do you really think this will work?”

“Let’s find out now.”

Listening to Ri-hyeok’s voice weighed down like wet cotton, I heaved my own heavy body up.

Then I asked Bi-joo, sprawled beside me,

“You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine......”

“I didn’t ask, but you’re not fine, are you?”

I felt sorry for my worn-out brothers.

It had been a good idea before, but after doing it it seemed foolish.

We should’ve just discussed and chosen a musical color.

“...I’m sorry, guys.”

Saying that, I sat at the studio table.

Jung-hyun, chewing a banana, rolled his chair over.

“Are we monitoring now?”

“The sooner the better. You’re helping, right?”

“.......”

“Don’t dodge by pretending to eat a banana.”

“Ugh, I’m choking.”

He drank water, and my brothers, glancing between the sofa and me, came over resignedly.

“Go ahead and play it, hyung.”

With that, the analysis began.

At first, Jung-hyun and I sat at the table, swiftly scanning through videos, marking O or X.

This one four liked and one didn’t.

That one two liked and three didn’t.

As we made the checklist, we began noticing patterns.

“Hey, this....”

“Is it working?”

Songs everyone preferred started to emerge—tracks that shared a common emotion, mood, and narrative.

Our shared favorite theme was love.

Not limited to life-or-death romantic love, but a broad humanity love.

Not gender-bound, but love between parent and child, friend and friend—those kinds of affection were our preferred themes.

The mood we liked was warmth.

Even Ri-hyeok, who might be expected to favor something cold, preferred a warm atmosphere.

Not just a bright tune, but a song’s tone—looking at people warmly was our taste.

Songs about expansive love with a warm feel.

Finally, the feeling we liked was joy.

That wasn’t limited to one thing.

We liked exuberant folk-dance–style joy and gentle joy alike.

“I think the outline’s taking shape. Don’t you see it?”

“Yes, me too.”

Jung-hyun nodded repeatedly.

He and I merged our work on Untitled with the analysis results.

Our target concept was a refreshing summer vibe.

Our desired musical direction was a warm, joyful song about encompassing love.

Now the picture was coming into view.

Five boys playing joyfully all day, then at night gathering around a bonfire on the beach, singing and chatting excitedly.

Imagining a vibe like Verne’s The Mysterious Island, we sketched out the stage.

Suddenly everything clicked.

What had been blocked before was now perfectly planned. Before I couldn’t picture us performing this, but now I could even imagine the audience’s expressions.

“Jung-hyun, look at this.”

I grabbed an A4 sheet, opened the composition program, and excitedly drew shapes as I explained.

“We’ll pull this part back, and move this one forward. Extend the solo section longer than it is now.”

“Oh.”

“Then it’ll be perfect, right?”

After ten minutes of brainstorming, Jung-hyun and I stared at the page as if it were treasure.

“Did we do it? Think it worked?”

“I think so.”

We blinked blankly, then looked at each other and grinned.

Jung-hyun’s face looked so lovable to me just now.

About 0.3 Kim Deok-soon level.

With every problem solved, everything around us looked beautiful. Jung-hyun and I were moved.

“What is it? Is everything done?”

I turned to see Bi-joo behind us rubbing his eyes. Ri-hyeok and Ji-ho approached blinking like goldfish awakened from sleep.

Excitedly, Jung-hyun and I explained.

How we’d progressed, where we’d been stuck, and how we’d solved it.

Apparently we’d rambled, because our brothers looked bewildered.

So I calmly explained from the premise of the experiment to our process so far.

And my brothers’ expressions slowly turned strange.

Why?

As I wondered, Ri-hyeok burst into a chuckle that made his facial muscles tremble.

“Hey, hyungs. Instead of doing something like this, you could’ve just asked us to list our favorite music.”

“Huh?”

“Then you’d find the common points from that list, right?”

Jung-hyun and I glanced at each other.

“Oh, true.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Ri-hyeok’s face twisted like a demon.

“Oh, really? You idiots!”

Our joy at finally being able to name Untitled was brief.

That day, Jung-hyun and I were scolded by our brothers for nearly an /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ hour.