Like other parts of Australia, Adelaide’s restaurant strip was booming.

It was thanks to the flood of Koreans who’d normally travel Sydney–Brisbane turning their steps south.

Everywhere was crowded, like a pilgrimage.

“Wow. The view’s great. They say Wooju and Junhyun came to see flowers here. There really are tons in bloom.”

“Let’s take a proof shot here!”

“Whoa. This totally looks like NewBlack could pop up. I feel like Wooju could show up any second with a flower tucked behind his ear.”

Most people had the same impression.

“Good call coming. There’s more to see than I expected.”

For Koreans who’d vaguely only known the Sydney Opera House, this was a honey-spot newly learned.

‘But the video did look prettier.’

Southern Australia, whose natural beauty in the Mytube footage was so vivid it made you want to live there.

The narration felt like something out of a world-travel documentary, and travelers were pulled along as if bewitched.

Meanwhile—

Koreans checking ferry schedules to Kangaroo Island or snapping photos started rubbing their bellies.

“Ah. I’m hungry. Shall we eat?”

“Go, go.”

“If we’re going to eat, shouldn’t we go there?”

Koreans’ destination was largely the same.

Like an army of ants finding sugar, a long line formed on Adelaide’s restaurant street.

The line stood in front of a lane-side spot with a sign that read “Singh’s Thai Food.”

“Welcomeeeeee!”

Every time the chubby Indian owner came rushing out in sock feet to greet customers, the Koreans went wow.

“It’s exactly like in Mytube.”

“The food smell is insane....... No wonder Junhyun cried.”

“Business must be booming. They’re all Korean.”

There were so many Koreans that most of the chatter inside was in Korean.

“Excuse me, could we grab your tissues over there?”

“Ah, sure. Help yourselves.”

It was clearly South Australia, but people at side tables traded tissues in Korean, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

By instinct, some nearly blurted “Boss~” and placed orders in Korean.

Hearing Korean at the next table and the next, the travelers marveled.

‘I thought I was the fastest......’

They’d aimed to claim NewBlack spots faster than anyone, but Koreans were indeed a nation of speed.

“Anyway... look how happy the owner is.”

“Life-changing hit. Seriously.”

Seeing Mr. and Mrs. Singh and their daughter so happy they were practically shrieking brought warm smiles.

It felt like watching storybook characters who’d lived hard finally reach a happy ending.

A good person receiving a blessing.

“Dad! Table 7 just ordered three pad thais!”

“Got it!”

Singh, the owner, felt pure happiness.

‘They really were great friends.’

Until not long ago, he’d contemplated closing.

This strip was brutally competitive, sales were so-so, the location was off the beaten path, and customers were scarce—he’d been considering switching industries.

Then a lifeline descended.

—J-just a minute!

He vividly remembered sprinting over when he saw foreigners carrying cameras.

He’d rushed to them and made an offer, right when ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) they’d been snubbed by neighboring places.

That was the turning point.

‘My goodness......’

Even when they came to film, he’d vaguely thought they must be quite famous.

They were celebrities with impact beyond expectations.

So much so that......

Now his place was bursting at the seams with Korean customers.

“Boss~”

“Ne~!”

“Ne” popped out of his mouth before “No.”

Every time he said “Ne,” Koreans clapped and loved it. He had no idea why Koreans clap whenever they laugh, but......

‘Thank you, NewBlack......’

Smiling under the guitar NewBlack had autographed, Singh watched tourists take proof shots.

Some might say the interest would fade, but a restaurant owner who’d gone through plenty of failure could tell.

This boom would last at least a few years.

Even now, Korean travel agencies kept calling to ask about group reservations.

‘I should learn Korean.’

A smile tugged at the Thai restaurant owner’s lips.

But not everyone was happy.

Hundreds lined up in front of the Thai spot, but neighboring places weren’t seeing any spillover at all.

“......”

“......”

They could only watch, sucking on their fingers.

‘Damn......’

Restaurant owners groaned.

Normally, if one place is that slammed, customers peel off to another. People get tired of waiting and say, let’s just eat somewhere else.

None of that was happening.

Owners stepped outside to cautiously hawk—“Come to our place~”—and got icy looks in return.

With hundreds of Koreans staring coldly, their skin prickled.

‘Damn it. This is all because Freddy did something idiotic......’

It was all thanks to a burger joint called Freddie’s.

The problem started with a video posted last month by some Korean entertainers who’d visited Adelaide.

What NewBlack experienced at Freddie’s went up in a video and blew up.

‘The view count is insane. How many comments is that?’

The restaurant owners staring at their phones felt their stomachs drop.

They couldn’t read Korean or other languages, but they could see the English comments, which made up a huge chunk.

Top comments with thousands of likes, at least.

— 01:57 I’m honestly ashamed. That staffer is making gestures anyone can see are racist.

— What shocked me is the customers egging it on. How can you laugh along in that situation?

— Very civilized people, huh.

— By the way, no one’s going to praise NewBlack’s conduct? Even though they had every right to be angry, they handled it with dignity.

— Be ashamed.

— Australia gonna Australia

— Absolute morons. If NewBlack say they’re coming, tourism boards anywhere on earth would roll out the red carpet LOL

The backlash looked serious.

New comments were still pouring in, all slamming Freddy and the surrounding spots.

The vibe was downright menacing.

“Boss, did you hear? About Freddy’s. All the part-timers quit recently.”

“All of them?”

“After the video dropped, they all vanished. They’re not even showing up to work.”

“Good grief.”

All those part-timers who’d sneered openly in the video had fled.

‘Can’t say I don’t get it.’

Even their own faces weren’t clearly shown in the video, yet here they were, stomachs icy and hands shaking.

Neighboring owners rubbed their temples.

‘We’re cooked.’

Business wasn’t dead-dead.

Local customers alone kept them doing fine. Despite all the controversy in the video, locals’ spending wasn’t hit much. Most people just went, so what?

But the key was tourists—especially from Asia.

“Customers aren’t coming. Seriously, they’re not......”

They’d heard that star was insanely popular across Asia.

Maybe that’s why not just Chinese and Japanese tourists, but the Asian customers who’d normally show up in small numbers had stopped entirely.

They were all standing in that Thai place’s line.

“Sigh......”

As the owners’ sighs deepened—

Freddie’s owner, the very cause of this mess, was having the hardest time of all.

Cold sweat trickled down his face.

“Excuse me!”

“Freddy. You know I’ve never complained before. But an hour after ordering and still no food is....”

“J-just a moment......!”

He took orders, went into the kitchen to cook, and worked the floor alone while complaints poured in.

Sales falling off a cliff.

Customers hadn’t changed, but the staff had shrunk.

No—

Strictly speaking, he couldn’t hire new kitchen staff or servers. After that damned video, everyone quit and fled, and even when he tried to hire, there were no applicants.

“......”

Meanwhile, Korean tourists were glancing toward the back with icy eyes as they walked past.

He shrank every time he saw it.

A restaurant owner now feeling the power of a top Asian star, NewBlack.

‘I can’t do this. I need to close for a while.’

Before long, a “Temporarily Closed” placard hung on Freddie’s door.

“Did you see this?”

“What is it?”

“You know that Thai place we went to? They’re totally blowing up—packed with customers.”

“Oooooh!”

On the tablet Ri Hyuk showed us, Mr. Singh sang the kids’ song “Don’t Frown~” while doing a little dance.

“Wow. He’s not rowing when the tide comes in—he’s riding a motorboat.......”

“Practically a speedboat.”

Remembering that kindly face that helped us when we were lost gave us a generous feeling.

Our reality show really was doing well.

It must’ve kept pulling people in word-of-mouth; every new episode was hitting #1 on Mytube’s trending videos.

“I read an article—if they put our reality into TV ratings, it places in the variety rankings.”

At Biju’s words we smiled, satisfied.

“Yesss.”

“Behold the dignity of last year’s #7 in variety.”

“This year we’ve gotta climb higher than 7.”

Just then—

A dying voice called from behind us.

“Kids. You’re singers......”

“Ah.”

We turned with big smiles.

“You’re up, Director.”

“Hrk! Hrrrk!”

“Oh no! Junhyun! Get tissues, quick!”

Junhyun grabbed a fistful of tissues and held them to the director’s mouth.

Director Cho Gyuhwan, who’d hacked like he’d cough up blood for a while, flopped onto the studio sofa.

“Uuugh......”

“Are you okay, Director?”

“Lately I keep thinking it’s a miracle I’m alive.”

As Junhyun massaged him, Director Cho’s HP visibly recovered.

We were in the final stretch of album production.

After the Kids’ Choice trip we’d wrapped the finishing touches; effectively, production was done. Now we were in mixing and mastering, fine-tuning details, and the director was running himself ragged.

“Like I said before, you guys just have to fly. We’ll strap on the wings... hrrrRRRK! Hrrk!”

“Director!”

“Ugh. Must be a cough cold. If I give it to you... hrrrk...!”

“Director, how about going home?”

“Home... hrrk!”

“Yes. I’ll email you; you can work from home. Do remote.”

“......”

Like magic, his coughing stopped.

If Dr. Heo Jun saw this, he’d applaud me as a master physician. Cured a cold with a single sentence.

The director, who’d been hacking like a sick old sitcom dad, returned to his usual handsome self.

“Let’s keep going.”

“Yes.”

The comeback project was sailing smoothly.

The member-by-member games we’d prepped in collab with a game studio were dropping one by one. There was a Galaga-style title. Another had you boing-boing, stomping mushrooms—those were rolling out too.

“This is going to cost a fortune.... If we’re going to produce badge sets to gift Souffles.”

“The CEO will handle it.”

“Kyumen.”

Granted, the CEO’s face was becoming a kyumen mask......

But after hearing the Kids’ Choice reaction, he was shining brighter than usual.

Thanks to that, the budget had grown again.

Renewed merch was rolling out too.

“Next month, we’ve made new light sticks for your Gocheok Dome concert. We’ll sell them with the fanclub 3rd-term enrollment......”

Aka the 3rd-gen Dalbong.

Like the American smartphone that preaches yearly innovation, we added new features every year.

And the new feature this time was enough to wow all of us.

“This is called central control; we put it in the light sticks this time.”

“Central control?”

“Yup.”

Seokhwan and the TF team each held a light stick and turned off the lights.

“Once they’re paired with Bluetooth, the stage crew can control them centrally. Like this.”

“......?”

“Watch.”

Then—

In the dark, the light sticks that had been glowing the same light began to ripple.

They rose in a wave—pick me, pick me—and red light washed left and right like surf.

“Wooooow......”

Every time Seokhwan operated it, the color changed.

The lights came back on. Our team lead grinned at our gaping mouths.

“Imagine seeing this in a venue. Cool, right?”

“It’s insane.”

“So, we’re using this at next month’s concert, right? Wow. The stage is gonna flash like crazy with this......”

I pictured Dalbongs forming star shapes in varied patterns across the arena.

Just imagining it gave me goosebumps.

The maknae swallowed.

“So that means we can control the Souffles?”

“That’s not what this is, Jiho.”

“Oh—control, I mean—slip of the tongue. Like, with a king-wand, can we control the Dalbongs? If I wave the king-wand, the Dalbongs change color.”

Watching the maknae babble with excitement, staff stroked their chins.

“If you wave the king-wand and the Dalbongs respond... we don’t have that, but it’s a pretty good idea.”

“Not bad. We’ll consider it for the next update.”

“Thank you!”

We giggled together, feeling happy.

“And......”

Seokhwan, who’d been updating me—the producer—on ongoing items, brought up something else.

“We’re making peace with HBS.”

“HBS?”

“Yeah. They proactively reached out. The CEO and the director are handling it... but it’s basically a lock.”

“Then we can go on HBS music shows this time.”

Music shows are offline stages with fans in attendance—the more the better.

Even if you shoot your own stage video, it’s hard to match a broadcaster’s equipment quality.

So my curiosity went elsewhere.

“How did it turn into a reconciliation mood?”

“Thanks to Manager Joo Sunwoo.”

“Manager Joo Sunwoo... ah. That’s me.”

Compared to Spaceship, my character was faint, so I blanked for a second.

Ri Hyuk asked,

“Why Manager Joo Sunwoo?”

“At HBS’s public hall, you connected Street Boys with HBS, remember? You pitched the ‘Inc’ writer and linked Sbo.”

“Right.”

“That became the trigger for reconciliation.”

“Huh......?”

We’d heard recently that Street Boys did well on that HBS hit variety.

Ratings were great.

Alongside that news came that Hanjo, who’d appeared in the PBS one-off “Dear My Pet,” was praised for stable acting for a rookie.

Given Hanjo’s daily messages like “Manager Joo Sunwoo Comeback Prayer #Day31,” it seemed to have gone smoothly.

But how did that lead to reconciliation?

“Well... it’s a bit baffling to us too, but HBS thanked us for the reconciliation request.”

“Huh?”

“HBS says they appreciate that we requested reconciliation.”

“What does that even mean.”

“They interpreted connecting Sbo to their hit variety as a reconciliation request.”

“......”

In short, it went like this.

— Lemon, Lemon. You actually sent a reconciliation request! We were waiting!

— Pardon?

— Manager Joo Sunwoo connected them for us—doesn’t that mean you want to make up? Honestly, we wanted to make up too.

— Pardon?

— Now! Let’s reconcile and march into the future together......!

— Pardon?

Apparently that.

“Oh.”

Junhyun summed it up neatly.

“We got reconciled at.”

“We got reconciled......”

We could only laugh at the network acting like “Let’s be friends! Besties!” while pretending nothing had happened.

Well. Not a bad thing.

In effect, it meant we’d won on points.

“So we’ll probably be able to go on that HBS variety too. There’s a trending observational show right now.”

“Oooooh. Nice.”

“We’re currently negotiating that appearance.”

It sounded like invites were coming from a hot observational variety show.

Along with album and concert prep, it felt like big things were lining up one after another.

The choreography video we requested from choreographer Han Ayun arrived.

What remained now were full-album choreography and concert practice, and the music video shoot for “Coin.”

“What about our drunk footage......?”

“L-let’s ignore that.”

It was about time for that to go up, which made me nervous, but we decided to pretend we didn’t remember the embarrassing bit.

Just as we were about to dive into a full-on practice party—

“Hmm......?”

While we were rehearsing the choreography for “Coin,” unexpected good news flew in.