The concert opened beneath tens of thousands of starlike lights.

[Woooooah...]

We swept our gaze slowly left and right over a crowd even bigger than the showcase.

Fans in the standing section bounced with flushed faces, and beyond them the second and third tiers were packed as well.

“Honestly, it didn’t feel real that this was a concert until we actually came up on stage. Now it finally does.”

I waved with the mic.

“First floor! Can you see us?”

“Yeeeeeeeees!”

“Second floor! Can you see us?”

“Yeeeeees!”

“And third floor...”

The forlorn cheer from the third tier made everyone crack up.

As with any venue, by the time you’re up on the third level the singer looks like a cotton swab.

With a wistful smile, Biju said:

“During final rehearsal yesterday we walked all through the house. We figured we should learn the sightlines by section. From the third floor we really looked so tiny...”

“I was watching Wooju hyung’s stage from up there and thought I was looking at a cotton swab. A handsome cotton swab.”

Everyone burst into laughter at the maknae’s line.

Then Ri Hyuk grinned and spoke up.

“Might be best to watch with binoculars. On that note, we prepared something!”

Staff bustled up and handed each of us a mini binocular.

We held them up with a flourish and called out:

“There’s a saying: if you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. Feels like Mr. Nietzsche wrote that just for this moment.”

“If you look closely at NewBlack, NewBlack will look closely at you.”

“Please bring up the lights on the third floor a touch!”

While Souffles giggled, we peered at the third tier through the binoculars.

“Waaaaaaaaa!”

Faces came into focus one by one—fans grinning and waving their lightsticks.

We smiled and sent hearts to a person shaking a placard that read [I fucking love NewBlack].

When we lowered the binoculars, the lights refocused on us.

“Yeah. It’s really great to see your faces. Are you feeling good too?”

Fans answered Junhyun with a roar.

I picked up the patter.

“You might be wondering why we suddenly pulled out binoculars—it’s because the venue got bigger. Gocheok Dome is huge, right?”

“Yeeeeeees—!”

“Take a look around the arena.”

We waited a beat while eyes swept the venue, then lifted our mics.

“This—you built this.”

The scream that came back felt like it would blow our ears off.

The reaction was stronger than expected; I almost fumbled the mic, then steadied and continued.

“From the tiny hall with 239 people, to the Handball Gymnasium, to the Gymnastics Arena, and now here at Gocheok Dome... Every year we say the same thing to each other. ‘We’re in trouble. The venue’s bigger than last time!’”

“The bigger the venue, the happier we get—but also the more we worry about meeting your expectations. It’s like... a happy responsibility? Thank you for giving us this happy kind of worry.”

Fans smiled and cheered at Junhyun’s words.

Truthfully, the binoculars bit was planned with that in mind too.

Even if the venue is bigger than before, our message is the same: wherever you are, we’re looking at you.

The maknae grinned and lifted his mic.

“So with a muuuuch bigger venue, we’ve gotta bring way more fun things to see, right?”

“Exactly.”

I clapped once in emphasis.

“For this tour we’re rolling out even more upgraded stages than before, so please look forward to it! A bigger venue means there’s more we can show you.”

“And we’ve got solo stages, too!”

It was one of the plans we made to show that our performance had leveled up since last time.

The idea started from this: one of the clearest ways to show “growth” is to put each member on their own stage.

Judging by the response now, fans were into it.

“Shall we kick into high gear?”

“Yep! Next song, let’s go! This is the track that won us our first Grand Prize...”

“Wanna shout the title together?”

As we drew into the windflower formation, the answer came back from tens of thousands of stars.

After the early portion of the show.

As the intermission VCR rolled, Wang Jiho tilted his head back and drank water backstage.

“Fuu...”

He let out a long breath at the full-length mirror.

His outfit was a striking mix of black and red; tassels fluttered every time he moved.

“Waaaaaaah.”

Hearing the crowd from beyond the stage, Jiho drank again, tipped his head back, and shut his eyes.

‘I’m gonna die from nerves.’

If the concert setting hadn’t forced him to stay razor-sharp, he would’ve gone blank—Who am I, where am I.

‘I’m just the maknae...’

He had no idea how he’d ended up here.

During talk segments he used to tuck in behind his hyungs, drop a few witty lines, and on stage he just needed to lock in with them.

Now it was time for him alone to walk onto that stage.

He had to carry the fans’ eyes by himself and lead the dancers.

From this moment, everything that happened up there was his responsibility.

‘Wooju hyung’s really been living on hard mode.’

He thought of the leader, who usually handled this kind of weight.

Biju might own team responsibility for pure performance, but any on-stage curveballs—those the leader always handled.

Back when they were rookies, he’d smooth out a tangled traffic flow after someone tossed a water bottle from the crowd.

If the audio went bad, he’d crack a line at the perfect moment and lift the mood even higher.

Sometimes just a glance on stage was enough; they’d get on the same page in an instant.

But now...

There was no one to exchange a glance with.

“Fuuuuuu.”

Jiho heaved a sigh big enough to sink the floor and squatted down.

“I’m out of my mind.”

He’d been the most excited when the solo-stage idea came up.

He’d thought, remembering that joint end-of-year stage in 2016 with other idols, that this would be similar.

A solo in front of nearly thirty thousand fans was a different beast.

“Eh. I’ll just do it. What else can I do.”

Lucky for him, his worries were short-lived; he flashed a grin and pushed to his feet.

As he stretched, waiting for his cue to go up, a familiar voice came from behind.

“Tough, huh?”

He snapped his head around, eyes widening.

There stood the eldest—dripping sweat, in-ears looped around his neck.

“You made such a show of going up alone that I thought I’d stay away, but I still wanted to check your state.”

“Why’d you comeee. I’m not nervous at all.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!”

“Ack! Ack! Ack! Hey!”

Jiho’s spicy little slaps to his sweat-slick back made the eldest yelp.

Then the eldest smirked.

“You’re nervous, right?”

“Nope? Not even a little?”

“C’mon. Be honest. You’re shaking, aren’t you?”

“...”

“If you’re not, I’ll just go.”

“Aaaah! Don’t go!”

His true feelings slipped out, and Wooju burst out laughing.

Jiho grumbled.

“Did you really need to hear me say it?”

“Yup.”

The leader tapped him and smiled gently.

“How do you feel?”

“Thinking that it’s a solo is what’s killing me. It’s scary taking all those eyes alone.”

“You don’t have stage fright. If anything, you’ve got ‘stage swagger syndrome.’”

“You get to thirty thousand and anybody grows a phobia, hyung.”

The other shook his head.

“Jiho.”

“Yup.”

“Why do you think I pushed so hard for solo stages this time?”

“To see you crash and burn without me...?”

“...”

“...”

The maknae glanced up, gauging his reaction; the eldest stared, deadpan; their eyes met, and both burst into cackles.

Wooju sighed.

“Good grief, you rascal.”

“I have no resistance to serious vibes.”

“Fine... anyway, why do you think I said to do solo stages? Because I believe each of you can handle it.”

“Maybe...”

“Jiho.”

“Yes.”

“You’re good. For real.”

He didn’t say more, but the meaning was clear: go up there with confidence.

Trust glinted in his eyes—solid and sure.

Jiho, moved for a second, smiled.

“But hyung.”

“Mm?”

“When you dote on me like I’m the baby and start coaching me... it makes me feel like I’m not a pro.”

“...”

He muttered on:

“I was gonna walk up like a cool artist taking full responsibility, movie-style, but your entrance turned me back into the maknae. Ugh. Now even if I do well it’ll be ‘thanks to hyung’s advice.’”

“Jiho.”

“Yes.”

The leader grinned.

“Blow the stage to smithereens.”

“Bleh-bleh-bleh-bleh~!”

“Bleh-blehb!”

Scowling like they couldn’t stand the sight of each other, the eldest and the maknae traded childish noises and split.

Jiho’s lips curled despite himself as he watched Wooju walk off with a little “ehh” side-eye.

Corny thank-yous didn’t suit him.

“Fuu...”

As the VCR neared its end, dancers in new costumes gathered around him.

“Hyungs, all set?”

“Yes, Jiho.”

“We’ll do it just like rehearsal. When we count from three to two, I’ll go first.”

Exchanging a look with the dancers, Jiho crouched onto the lift.

He checked the fixed mic at his lips.

As his solo track swelled and he counted the timing, Jiho signaled the staff to send him up.

A dark stage.

The lift rose high into a black expanse speckled with stars.

“Fuuuuu...”

With a long breath, Jiho lifted his chin—and the stage began in earnest.

Watching the live feed on the staff monitor, we fussed like parents.

“Waaaaaaa!”

“Ughhh. Why am I nervous. It’s annoying.”

“Oh lord...”

Like moms and dads at a school performance, Seokhwan hyung, Minki hyung, Wonseok hyung and the crew laced their fingers together.

It felt like pushing a fragile child into a coliseum full of lions.

Clutching our jittery hearts, we muttered:

“If we’d known, we should’ve raised him tougher.”

“Right... made him eat more veggies. Been stricter when he joked around...”

“Jiho’s even frailer than me...”

He’d nailed rehearsal, and still we were shaking.

We all leaned closer to the monitors, making a fuss for nothing, when—

“Ooooooh...!”

Our sub-vocal, in that black-and-red outfit, stood atop the high-rising lift.

Lights crisscrossed to the rhythmic intro.

Jiho gave a tiny shake of his hair and rolled into a wave—and Souffles’ screams washed over the venue.

The lift slowly descended again.

“Souffle—! Ready to play with me?”

While a dozen-plus dancers in red moved with him in sync, Jiho strode onto the thrust and began to sing live.

Even with a fairly intense choreo, his pitch never wavered.

Only his breaths here and there testified to the effort.

At Jiho’s face—smiling wide like he couldn’t stand how fun it was—fans screamed, and we exhaled in relief.

Watching calmly, Junhyun said to me:

“So it is possible for Jiho to sing the whole thing alone.”

“Looks like it.”

We high-fived at the sight of the maknae carrying a group number solo.

“I raised him.”

“If we’re talking man-hours, I’ve got more. I knew him when he was even younger. I taught him all his vocals.”

“I cooked for him...”

“I played with him a lot.”

Boasting about our shares, grinning like fools, we changed outfits and moved for our next stage.

The closer we got to backstage, the louder the roar.

In the chorus of a song that had shifted into a more fiery mood, Jiho whipped the red tassels of his outfit and jets of flame burst from the stage.

Souffles bounced, faces blooming with smiles.

“He’s good.”

I nodded at Biju’s comment.

“Told you.”

“We can put him up by himself from now on.”

We were saying that when the maknae came down with the dancers and made us whistle.

Maybe the aura of that charismatic track still clung to him; his looks carried a more adult line.

His eyes, vivid under dark brows, swung toward us—and my henchmen and I smiled.

“How was it?”

Jiho blinked slow once and said:

“Hyungs.”

“Yeah?”

“I am never going solo!”

[crash]

“I was terrified! From now on can’t we just do only group stages without solo ones? Seriously, I... ugh!”

He fussed and flapped, and we smiled, warm.

Well.

Looks like there’s still a way to go. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

A few stages °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° later, it was time for Biju’s solo.

“Ahem.”

Arms folded for effect, Jiho said:

“Let’s evaluate, shall we. Just how good our Biju hyung’s stage is...”

“Wow. The arrogance.”

“Hmm~? Mr. Seo Ri Hyuk? Did you not see my stage?”

He slung an arm around Ri Hyuk’s shoulders as the latter sighed, and bragged:

“I’m a pro now, that’s what I’m saying. Hehehehe!”

“You can’t beat Biju hyung.”

“Maybe not beat, but I think I’m about... almost there? Heheheh! The difference between me and Biju hyung is a hair.”

At his little finger-width gesture, Wooju and Junhyun both shook their heads.

“In moments like this you really feel he’s the maknae.”

“I could beat everyone and still not beat Kim Biju’s stage.”

“...”

Jiho rolled his eyes at the hyungs refusing to take his side and looked away.

Of course he knew. He’d mixed a little truth into the joke, but his hyungs just snickered.

“Hmph,” he said, turning his eyes to the monitor.

“It’s starting.”

Purple and crimson light fanned out—shaa—and the stage brightened.

A crisp, clapping drum pattern.

Biju, resting a hand lightly on a stage prop pole, kicked off the intro with a ringing high note.

It was a pitch most vocalists wouldn’t even attempt.

“....”

His maknae face went glassy in real time, and the hyungs burst out laughing.

As if possessed by a performance god, Biju danced; when he slid the pole free, it revealed itself as a stage cane.

With rosy hair shimmering, Biju flicked his shoulder and sauntered forward, cane in hand.

He even winked one eye mischievously, and I almost clapped and shouted, That’s it!

“How is it?”

The eldest’s teasing voice came.

“Different from rehearsal, right?”

“Why is his vocal like that...”

And the dancing—how had it leveled up like that.

As the music built, dancers grabbed canes and danced like their bodies would break, and Biju belted the hook in head voice.

On another monitor, Souffles hopped with glee.

“That hyung is a person who eats meals and dances for a living.”

“True...”

He was the main dancer, absolutely shredding the stage.

I’d struggled like I was ripping cardboard with my bare hands—he was slicing paper with scissors.

I was thinking I should get extra practice in back at the dorm when—

“Is it my turn next.”

“Junhyun hyung’s going up?”

“Yeah.”

As Junhyun stood, the two younger ones put out their fists.

“Go kill it.”

“Thanks.”

He clasped them lightly with both hands, then stood with Wooju.

“Hyung, let’s go.”

“I’m coming too—”

“Bring it back~”

It was a stage where Junhyun headlined a rap performance and Wooju jumped in mid-way to back him.

“Today feels good.”

“Yeah. Feels good. Junhyun.”

“We’re about to get the best stage.”

As their voices traded lines and faded out, the two maknaes focused on the monitor.

Then—

“Uh...?”

“Uh...?”

They jerked their heads to the closed door.

“Did you just hear that too?”

“Huh...?”

Like a bucket of cold water, the two snapped to and sprinted out of the room.

The members were gone—already out.

New managers tilted their heads at the two scanning around in a panic, and Manager Do Wonseok calmly handed over a walkie.

“Use this. They’ll hear you.”

“Ah! Yes!”

Ri Hyuk grabbed the radio and shouted:

“Can you hear me? Whoever’s close to Sun Wooju, please hand him this radio!”

[shhhiik]

Wooju’s voice followed immediately.

“This is Sun Wooju. What’s up?”

“Junhyun hyung just said he feels good.”

“What?”

[shhhiik]

The comms went instantly, wildly busy.

“Junhyun said he ‘feels good’? What kind of ‘good’?”

“Audio team, check all gear!”

“Everyone, check from your positions now!”

While the production team that had worked with NewBlack for years moved with crisp urgency—

The new managers looked on, baffled.

‘...It wasn’t just a bit. His hunch was real?’

At a single “feels good,” every staffer shifted into serious mode.

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

Wooju sits on a couch in the concert greenroom, exhales, rakes a hand through his hair, and smiles.

Wooju: “We tell first-time staff this: when you work with us, everything else is flexible, but there’s one thing you have to believe. That’s Junhyun’s hunch.”

The cut goes straight to the arena.