D-2 teaser dropped, and two days passed.

At last, the hour every fan had been waiting for arrived.

“Whew...”

A Souffle sitting in the back seat of a taxi looked out at the Seoul skyline through the window.

‘It’s been a while, Seoul.’

She’d ridden the KTX up from Busan and was now headed to Gocheok Dome, where NewBlack’s concert would be held.

Her heart thumped, puffed up with anticipation. It felt like if someone poked her with a needle, she’d pop. Maybe the driver sensed her nerves and excitement—his eyes curved in the rearview mirror.

“Headed to take an exam, are you?”

“It’s not an exam, I’m going to a concert!”

She smiled at the driver nodding along.

‘Nailed the Seoul-local tone.’

Maybe it was because she’d come up to Seoul a few times for shows by now.

Just like her favorites, she was pleased with herself for speaking in that gentle Seoul lilt.

“Wow, but you came from far away.”

“...”

The Busan Souffle gazed out the window and smiled, eyes dewy.

While she chatted amiably with the kind driver, she could feel they were getting closer and closer to their destination.

‘There it is—Gocheok Dome!’

The silver dome loomed in magnificent form.

She’d been to Sajik Baseball Stadium a few times, so ballparks were familiar, but a domed ballpark was a first—it was exciting.

Her Busan Souffle heart started thumping all over again.

“Uh... driver.”

“Yes?”

“But the cars aren’t moving.”

“You’re right. What’s going on here? The light is clearly green...”

The light changed several times, but nothing on the road budged.

It was so congested that traffic cops had mobilized as a group to direct the scene.

[beep-beep-beep!]

“5287, stop right there! 5287!”

“Hey, hey! He’s running!”

It looked almost like a battlefield as the cars crawled along like inchworms.

The driver, who’d been staring blankly at the chaos, stuck his head out.

“What on earth... This area doesn’t usually jam up like this...”

“There’s a NewBlack concert.”

“Ah...!”

Instant comprehension washed over his face.

If it’s NewBlack, then of course traffic would be like this—he looked convinced, even sympathetic.

The sidewalks teemed with people and the road swarmed with vehicles. Watching the scene and whistling, the driver asked:

“Excuse me... miss.”

“Yes?”

“How do you even get those? NewBlack concert tickets.”

“You buy them online.”

“Online...”

He chuckled.

“Goodness. Guess I’m out of luck. Even when they were selling that bulgogi lunch box last time, competition was so fierce I couldn’t even flash a business card.”

“I couldn’t get the lunch box either.”

“Right? Tough, huh? Well... even if I wanted to see them sing, this isn’t easy. Not with this many people.”

When he added that his favorite in NewBlack was Junhyun, the Souffle smiled.

‘Always changing, huh.’

Maybe it was because she’d kept going to concerts since 2015.

Every time she got in a taxi, the drivers’ talking points felt different.

“NewBlack? Hm... I’ve heard that name somewhere. Aren’t they the ones who sang Noh Jaehyun’s song on Masterpiece Choir?”

Back in the Handball Gymnasium era, they were “those Masterpiece Choir kids.”

“These days they’re on Mister Producer and it’s so funny. Every time I eat at the drivers’ cafeteria, My Hometown comes on and cracks us up... Junhyun, that kid, he’s a hit among drivers. A total hit.”

By the Gymnastics Arena shows, they were breaking more mainstream with “My Hometown Right Now” and Mister Producer.

Now they could even chat about who his bias was.

She was smiling at the thought of how times had changed when—

“Ma’am.”

“Yes.”

“Judging by the road, it might be faster if you hop out here and walk.”

“Oh, I’ll do that.”

She’d been itching to suggest the same. As she paid and stepped out, the driver clenched a fist and chuckled.

“NewBlack fighting.”

“Fighting!”

The Busan Souffle got out with a contented smile.

And then—

“...Huh?”

Like magic, the road opened and the cars began to surge forward.

Inside one of them, the driver went “Huh?” too, startled, and their eyes met like a scene out of a drama.

‘Miss?’

‘Driver?’

A look neither of them would forget.

While the Souffle from Busan trekked along with tears in her eyes, the crowd in front of Gocheok Dome swelled larger and larger.

“Oh, it’s lighter than we thought, right?”

“This is clutch.”

Fans who’d gotten off at Guro-gu Office Station cheered about how empty it felt—only to realize they were at the back gate and head for the main entrance, where they saw—

“...”

Packed.

Rowdy.

[boom-boom-boom]

“It’s not light. We just took the wrong way.”

“Is this Haeundae Beach or what—are these numbers real...”

There were more people than at the showcase.

Lemon Entertainment staff selling merch everywhere wore faces full of joy, and the event booths had lines that never seemed to end.

“Think we can grab a shot at the photo zone before the show starts? I can’t even see the end of the line...”

“Nope. Hard pass. From now on it’s all about choices and focus.”

The photo zone, swamped as it was, was a nonstarter.

Hundreds of people laughed watching a fan bow facedown in front of a photo where Biju was smiling sweetly.

The two friends’ eyes drifted elsewhere.

“Wanna try for one of those dolls?”

“Dolls?”

“Yeah, the dancing mini-mes.”

People in mini-NewBlack mascot suits were wiggling around and dancing.

They were adorable, but the dancing wasn’t ordinary.

As phones popped up everywhere to film the cuteness, the Souffles scanned with keen eyes.

‘No way those are our boys... right?’

Common sense said no idol about to perform would be out front in a mascot suit dancing.

But because it was NewBlack, a reasonable doubt was unavoidable.

‘Could it be...’

They approached, half-jokingly wondering if their bias was inside one of the suits—

“Hey, what’s that paper on the costume?”

“Huh?”

A sheet of A4 was taped to the costume.

[We are not NewBlack ㅠㅠ]

Fans burst into laughter.

Maybe more than a few had asked; they’d apparently prepared the sign in advance.

Thinking, “People think alike,” they smiled and took photos with the mascots.

“Can we take a picture?”

The mascots nodded shyly, bob-bob.

A Souffle took a photo with the mini-Ri Hyuk whose expression was giving sass with side-eyes, and she smiled in satisfaction.

‘This is heaven.’

Maybe because it was concert day, everything felt happy.

Planes from nearby Gimpo Airport flew low with a soft whoooong, and even they looked like pretty paper planes.

Trying the ramen machine at the convenience store made them giggle for no reason.

“We’ve got time. Want to hit Anyangcheon? I heard a cover dance team is busking.”

“For real?”

“They’re doing ‘Coin’ right now.”

They slipped over to a fan-sharing table to pick up some freebies, too.

They bought Dalbong Ver 3.0—the centrally controlled version—and tested the brightness.

Time flowed and flowed...

“Doors are open!”

Souffles clutching their concert tickets gulped and hurried up the stairs.

Gradually, they could feel the indoor air.

It carried a season different from the spring outside—the season of the venue.

‘Oh my god. Concert-hall air!’

Some might call it musty, but that distinct scent of a concert hall made hearts race.

Sitting down, the seats were still a little cool from being empty, and that felt good, too.

“Wow...”

On a fully concert-dressed stage, the giant screens glittered as they ran a video test.

It already felt like the show had begun inside their hearts.

While fans thrilled like that—

People still filing in from outside turned their heads.

“Huh...? Looks like they’re wrapping up.”

“Poor things. They worked hard.”

The mini-NewBlack mascots who’d been dancing outside at Gocheok Dome began to slip indoors.

Performer greenroom.

“Ahhhhh! Five hundred won! Five hundred won~ five hundred woooon!”

“Ahhhhh!”

It was a five-hundred-won party everywhere.

My dongsaengs and I, all in stage outfits, were loosening our nerves by warming up our throats.

As I stretched and rolled my neck, something sharp pressed into my shoulder.

“Hyung.”

The maknae rested his chin on my shoulder and whined.

“I don’t want to do the concert. I’m scared... I want to run away...”

“Mr. Wang Jiho.”

“Yup.”

“You are an adult. Please act like one.”

“Wow. Can’t even say stuff like this...!”

He slid his chin off and stuck out his lip, then started stretching.

He talked big about being scared of the concert, but our maknae was already fully ready in every way.

“Ughhh...”

Ri Hyuk kept chugging water while doing the splits. He still wasn’t relaxed, so he hopped like a frog, jittery.

Biju sat with his eyes closed, quietly doing imagery training.

Junhyun cracked his neck and skimmed the lyrics sheet one last time with his earbuds in.

Thirty minutes to showtime.

“Fuuuu...”

I steadied my shaking heart with deep breaths.

It was the biggest solo concert we’d ever done; I couldn’t control the nerves.

“Ah. Is it okay to film us trembling like this?”

Beyond the documentary cameraman, Director Yoo Geon flashed an OK sign.

Glancing at the cue sheet, I spoke to the camera.

“Right before a concert, we always get super nervous. Especially this time—we’ve all got our solo stages, and most importantly, we have to show fans we’ve improved from last time.”

If this show isn’t better than the last, what’s the point of fans coming to see us?

“I want to show the fans who came to the Gymnastics Arena last year something more developed, and we’ll also have fans who are seeing us for the first time, right? Up to now they’ve probably only watched well-edited stage videos...”

We have to show them something even cooler and grander than that.

“Right before a concert, so many thoughts start surging.”

“Wooju always thinks a lot.”

Munching peanuts, Junhyun smiled at the camera.

“So to balance him out, I’m in charge of having no thoughts for the group. A state of perfect emptiness.”

“Brag about it, Kim Junhyun. Sure.”

Biju slapped his back—smack, smack—and Junhyun went “Ugh.”

I high-fived Biju—nice work—and shivered together.

It felt like the break before a big exam or right before a monthly evaluation.

You’ve got five minutes to skim your lyrics or your cram sheet, but nothing will stick and you just want to start already... yet the moment the real thing starts, you wish it wouldn’t.

It’s that moment when the teacher walks in with OMR answer sheets and says, “You guys have this subject now, right?” and the whole class groans in unison.

At times like this, I can’t bring myself to say, “We’re fourth-year singers.”

Thinking that, I smiled—

Float-float.

“Oh!”

Mascots drifted into the greenroom.

Shuffling.

The folks in the grubby mascot suits each raised their hands to grip the mascot heads...

Pop!

Pop!

They pulled off the heads and showed their faces.

“Ha!”

Our company’s baby trainees stood there, faces drenched in sweat, huff-huff—

“S-sunbaenim...!”

“Kids!”

“We’re dizzy...”

They collapsed.

Boksu went down, then Jinhu toppled, and the kids fell like dominoes.

Maybe because of the round mascot suits, they rolled like oil drums and we burst out laughing.

Boksu, cheeks flushed, pushed himself up.

“I’m sorry! We shouldn’t be collapsing like—huff! huff!—when our seniors have a concert!”

“Collapse all you want.”

“We’re supposed to be indomitable trainees—h-haa!—but!”

We couldn’t help laughing.

While Ri Hyuk handed over bottles, the trainees gulped water, steam seeming to rise off their faces.

They were middle schoolers—their flushed cheeks were milky and pink.

“Jiho used to be like that once.”

“Like what.”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

Still in their mascot suits, trainees grabbed water bottles with both hands and chugged. We asked:

“How was it? Fun?”

“Yes! We greeted your fans and shook hands and showed them our dancing!”

“Breaks?”

“We rested in between! We’d pop out for a bit to dance, then come back to rest, then dance again.”

They were the type to get extremely nervous, so the company must have planned this to give them practical experience.

Once I confirmed the staff had given them proper breaks, I relaxed.

In any agency, when rookie development is left with little oversight, they can easily turn into a culture of power trips or overwork on trainees.

Anyway, our little chicks looked thrilled.

“We’re so excited. Thinking we get to watch our seniors... my heart’s pounding.”

“Nope. It’s because you were locked in the practice room all day and finally got out.”

At our resident sentiment-breaker’s remark, the trainees went “Huh? Is it?” and I jerked my chin at Junhyun.

‘Don’t corrupt the kids. Get rid of him.’

‘Yes, sir.’

We neutralized the subversive main vocal, then patted the trainees and told ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) them good job.

Like watching cute hamsters to calm down, seeing our company’s chicks made my heart settle.

“Wow.”

Jinhu, the eldest among them, spoke with shining eyes.

“You guys don’t look nervous at all even with the concert right in front of you. You look so relaxed.”

“Hmmm.”

“I mean, we are relaxed.”

My dongsaengs, who’d been wailing about how scary concerts are, straightened their shoulders and their spines started smiling.

Jiho patted Jinhu’s shoulder with a senior’s smile.

“Yeah. Watch your big bros’ stage.”

“Pfft.”

“Pff—kek—kek!”

Sorry, but there was no not laughing at that.

While the rest of us goons shook with suppressed laughter, the trainees’ sparkling eyes and the maknae’s sour glare restored our dignity.

“Yeah. I hope you learn a lot from today’s stage.”

“Right.”

“See you later.”

We waved coolly—see you—at the trainees going “Wooow!” and stepped out of the greenroom.

Biju squared his shoulders and took the lead.

“Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh.”

“Heh-heh-heh-heh.”

We were grinning on our way to backstage when security staff called out in a panic.

“Uh... other way!”

“Ah.”

We pivoted with sheepish smiles.

“Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh.”

“Heh-heh-heh-heh.”

Time to give the opening of the concert film and the documentary a perfect flourish.

Netplus launch documentary, “The New Black: Making Waves”

Opening scene.

A quote rises over a dark background.

Truth is like the sun. You can shut it out for a time, but it ain’t goin’ away — Elvis Presley

The line read like a pledge that this documentary prized authenticity.

With a hiss of static, the caption [Netplus Original Series] flashed as footsteps echoed.

The screen was black and white.

Hooo—

Breathing.

Shots of the audience roaring at the stage VCR cut to the five pairs of feet walking the corridor in silence.

The back of NewBlack’s leader—broad shoulders—came into frame.

As he walked down the corridor, he put in his in-ears and drew a deep breath; the members behind him followed suit.

Step.

Step.

The handsome men, walking like a photospread in monochrome, bowed their heads quietly backstage to the faint, far-off roar—

Waaaaaah—!

The crowd’s scream rolled in like slow motion, then the screen dropped back to backstage.

The members bowed their heads with a cool gaze.

While they held still in a pose, the VCR ended out on the stage and the doors began to open.

Flaaaash!

Light poured in from the stage, washing the black-and-white into color.

Starting from the members, the image rippled from monochrome into color.

Color pulsed outward like a wave.

As the intro of “Nine” hit, the members danced in silhouette, the doors eased shut, and the opening logo rose.

= The New Black : Making Waves =

An opening that made overseas viewers gasp—and had Korean viewers saying it was cheating from the jump.

Bathed in the green glow of thousands of Dalbongs to the stage of “Nine,” my dongsaengs and I exchanged bright smiles.

Yes.

This was it.

[fwooo...]

The opening sequence sets ended, and we waved past thirty thousand Dalbongs to the far reaches beyond.

“Souffle!”

“Did you miss us?”

“Waaaaaaah!”

Seoul’s first concert in a year began, as always, in a wave of sheer joy.