The radios crackled alive and the staff went into overdrive.

“Hey! Check every lighting rig! Walk the truss joints end to end!”

“Costumes, checking now!”

Watching the bustle while taking a sip, Junhyun let his shoulders dip a little.

“I feel kind of embarrassed. I said one line and everyone’s sprinting around.”

“There could always be something we don’t know about.”

“I only said I had a good feeling...”

“Junhyun. Remember I-MOVE last year? The day we went to surprise Biju before his first performance.”

That day, Junhyun had said he had a good feeling.

But the moment we hid to jump-scare Biju, a crowd rushed in and we got trapped under a table.

“Cockroach! Aaaaah!”

Thinking of the so-called “New-roach” fiasco, Junhyun nodded.

“I am curious, though. Does this happen because I say it, or do I just happen to have a good nose for trouble?”

“Pretty sure it’s the good nose.”

“Guess so?”

We nodded with warm smiles.

“Let’s charge up on positive energy before we go up.”

“Want to get half-and-half fried chicken after?”

“I’ll take that and jokbal.”

“Add bossam too. You’re not the type to eat jokbal and skip bossam. Right, hyung?”

“Of course.”

We loosened up talking about food, then walked over to the choristers waiting nearby.

“We’ll count on you!”

“Yes!”

The choir, seated on a tiered riser, giggled and greeted us. We’d seen them a few times at rehearsal, but we still felt novel to them.

They were from a well-known city choir.

When Junhyun and I hit the highlight of our rap unit stage, the doors would sweep open and the choir would come in with the chorus.

“Wooju.”

The concert director came over, wiping sweat.

“We’ve checked everything we can check. As of now, I don’t see any major issues.”

“Thank you, director.”

“If Junhyun says it, we check.”

I gave him a thumbs-up and waited under the backstage stairs.

They say animals flee before earthquakes or eruptions; maybe Junhyun’s uncanny second sight is something like that.

Sometimes he’ll sniff and say the stage feels off—turns out the pyro charges are a different load or something. Either way, he’s the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met.

“Hyung, I’ll go up first.”

“I’ll join right in.”

As Junhyun headed for the stage, Biju came down.

We high-fived, both smiling at his sweat-soaked face.

“Nice work.”

“Thanks, hyung. See you in a bit!”

I stretched and loosened up as Biju sprinted off to change.

“Yeah.”

Junhyun’s voice rolled out and Souffles roared.

Our rapper, hood up and cap down in a black hoodie, pushed deeper into his baritone; the cheers swelled with every line.

I craned on my toes for a peek.

“Heh-heh-heh.”

I couldn’t help the proud smile.

“He’s good. Our third.”

It was one of the B-sides.

It’s a track where it’s easy to lose time if you’re not careful—tough live—but he handled it like a pro.

If rap performance were a ball, Junhyun was stretching it and compressing it, flipping shapes at will, tossing it hand to hand and showing off just for fun.

“Wooju, you’re up now.”

“Got it.”

On the staff signal, I stepped onto the lift.

I caught the rhythm to the airy, floating verses, and at the perfect beat the lift rose.

“Waaaaaaaaaa!”

Spotlight heat rained down, Souffles’ roar prickled against my skin.

I spun the mic and dropped into Junhyun’s rap performance.

The song was one he wrote; the title came from the famous “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.”

It’s about asking a “you” living under a cloud to open the door you need to come through—gently knocking. Our trilogy album covers conflict and reconciliation; this album, about reconciliation, fit the track.

And yes, it had a real-life origin.

“Junhyun.”

“Yes, hyung.”

“What are you doing outside Biju’s room.”

“I keep knocking, but no answer... I think Kim Biju’s mad at me. I’m going to sit here till he cools off.”

“Biju’s not home.”

“Oh, really?”

“Wow. Our Junhyun’s in a battle with himself.”

As we traded lines about a door that wouldn’t open—

“Hm...?”

I felt staff rushing at the wing.

Faces tight with alarm.

A staffer with an intercom windmilled his hands, whisper-shouting to his team; the director had that “I’m going to faint” look.

Then the director and I locked eyes.

“Door! Door!”

He mouthed “door,” pointing at it—looked like the doors weren’t working.

Feeling a flicker of panic, I signaled Junhyun.

“...”

We kept rapping, trading a look and a smile.

And then—

We moved at the same time.

While Souffles screamed, the concert staff felt a jolt of dread.

“It should be opening... now!”

The plan was for the doors to slowly part right about now and reveal the choir to sing the chorus with us.

But the doors didn’t go.

To be precise, it felt like they started and caught on something.

“Hey! Can’t we open it manual?”

“Manual override won’t engage! If we force it, we might make it worse!”

As they scrambled—

“This is a nightmare. An absolute nightmare.”

From rehearsal till now the doors had worked dozens of times. Why act up now?

The director swallowed and sprinted.

Step, step.

Still rapping, Wooju and Junhyun walked up, checked the doors, and took either side. They’d started to open and stuck.

“...?”

We traded emotive lines.

A door that won’t open

If you’d open it to me

We ad-libbed our sorrow to the stubborn doors—

The director was about to pivot orders to the choir when, right then—

Junhyun glanced at the seam and gave it a little thunk with his hand.

And—

“Huh?”

The doors began to slide apart.

“Oh.”

“Hey, it’s opening...!”

“It’s opening.”

Whatever had snagged on the floor rail came free; the doors rolled cleanly wide.

The director nearly dropped his radio and blinked. He called to the assistant director who’d come pelting from elsewhere.

“Hey, Jaejun.”

“Yes, director! But how did that just—”

“What did we say one door panel weighed?”

“Not sure. Didn’t it take like ten people to handle one? It was crazy heavy.”

“Junhyun gave it a little shove and it opened.”

“Sir?”

“He opened it. Junhyun.”

“...”

“...”

As the doors stood wide, awe crept into the eyes of director and AD alike.

Fans beamed.

‘This performance is insane...!’

Trading lines, Junhyun and Wooju rapping, was already great.

But the dynamic performance was even better.

The way they stood there with sad faces before the jammed door—it pierced you, like the door itself was truly claustrophobic and maddening.

‘When did their facial acting level up like this?’

Wooju, always strong at acting, was a monster today in the unit stage.

His palm on the unmoving door, a look of real sorrow.

It was like a romance lead in the rain, finger hovering at the doorbell, hesitating.

‘Junhyun too... unreal.’

Maybe it’s just the visuals.

Like a sub-male-lead division head loosening his tie, staring at the door as he goes to see the heroine.

He looked so wound-up—Junhyun knocked the door with heavy eyes, a little thunk.

And at that moment—

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

The doors flew wide and the choir poured out.

As they sang the chorus, color blossomed across the stage.

And on the two members’ lips bloomed soft smiles, like flowers opening in sunlight.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaa—!”

Even after the unit performance ended and the two idols left the stage, the heat lingered.

‘They’ve gone full legend tonight!’

The group stages, needless to say.

And the solo stages had Souffles’ hearts pounding.

Jiho, now fully twenty, showed a passionate, provocative dance—perfect.

Biju, who’d stacked more dance XP on TV programs, showed off his arsenal—perfect.

And now, this—beyond perfect.

“Wow. Unreal.”

“Holy—did you see Junhyun’s face just now? If this weren’t a concert we’d have a billion photos already.”

“This is definitely Gyuho’s scheme to make us buy the DVD.”

Dalbongs swayed in the dark as Souffles chattered, excited.

“When the doors didn’t open just now, I thought it was for real. The immersion is crazy.”

“Seriously.”

Idol fans tend to wear stan-lenses and love whatever their faves do.

But that stage would get raves from any judge you put in front of it.

Because it was full of the real thing.

‘NewBlack’s future is blinding.’

The members who once found solo spots at awards shows daunting now pulled off their own stages like it was natural.

‘I’m happy.’

Souffles smiled, pleased.

“Hahh... oh man.”

I sank onto the greenroom sofa and let out a long breath.

The tension had broken; faces were bright—staff and members alike.

The director swallowed and said:

“Turns out there was foreign matter in the rail. It must’ve been catching on the floor track.”

“It’s fine now?”

“Yeah. Thankfully...”

He apologized as the person in charge, but I waved it off.

“It wasn’t something you could help. Foreign debris getting in is outside our control too.”

“We’ll tighten oversight so it won’t happen again.”

“Yes, please.”

I said we’d revisit it in the post-show feedback meeting and wrapped it there.

There wasn’t really any blame to assign.

Then I looked over at Junhyun, rummaging for gummies like nothing happened.

“Junhyun.”

“Yeah.”

“How did you open it...?”

“It looked like something was catching on the bottom so I tapped it.”

“I mean...”

I wanted the how, but all he gave me was “felt like it” and a smile and nod.

Right.

Because he’s Junhyun.

If there’s ever a natural disaster or something terrifying, I’m evacuating with Grandma to Junhyun’s place.

“Whew... still, we got through it.”

“Thank goodness.”

Maybe because he flagged it early, everyone reacted fast.

Even if the doors hadn’t opened, it wouldn’t have been a catastrophe.

The choir would have just sung from behind the closed doors, Souffles would’ve gone, “Wow, the live sound is insane!” and the choristers would’ve cried.

We’d cry with them.

The fact that didn’t happen was simply good fortune.

“Oof.”

I stood, kneading muscles that ached from nerves.

To watch the stage on the monitor.

Right now, Ri Hyuk was moving across the stage.

“He’s doing well.”

“Ri Hyuk’s come a long way.”

I didn’t mean just vocally.

He keeps improving, but his vocals were nearly complete from the start.

Now he’s just stockpiling finesse and know-how, polishing. Even at year-end shows next to live monsters like Cha Woo-hyun and Jang So-won, our main vocal doesn’t get overshadowed.

If I had to nitpick a flaw...

He can set the mood, but he used to be a bit weaker at the big, sunny back-and-forth with fans on stage.

Even that’s past tense now.

“Doesn’t he feel totally different from before?”

“Way brighter.”

In a blingy concert hoodie, Ri Hyuk roamed the stage with his mic stretched out.

“Together!”

He clapped and effortlessly cued fans to respond.

A rosy flush bloomed on his cheeks as he beamed at the crowd.

He tipped his torso and soared into a high note; fans answered with a roar.

He worked the edge of the thrust, pointing at fans one by one and laughing.

“Sometimes I think he’s possessed by a spirit. The real Ri Hyuk is somewhere else shouting for rescue.”

“Maybe not a demon—an angel, hyung.”

“Oh, right.”

He was so bright on stage it made me want to shout, “Angel! Get out of Ri Hyuk’s body right now!”

“We’re back.”

Biju and Jiho came in, kneading their shoulders.

They’d just had sports massage from the trainer for tightness and returned.

“Is Ri Hyuk doing well?”

“Yeah.”

I pointed out a few moments to praise when he came in later.

Then I stood.

“I’m up.”

“Go get ’em, hyung. Be safe.”

“Yeah.”

I waved to the dongsaengs and headed down the hall.

I was shaking.

My breath quivered; my shoulders felt heavy, like someone was sitting on them.

Not muscle knots—nerves.

I’d laughed every time the younger ones went up solo, but now that it was my turn, I shook too.

We’re all the same age group anyway, when you think about it.

“No way! Twenty-five is half-fifty!”

“Half-fifty!”

“What? He said half-fifty.”

[murmur murmur]

I shooed away my dongsaengs’ imaginary spirits swirling in front of me and walked toward backstage.

The staff looked tense too.

“Are we set?”

“Yeah.”

“We have to do this exactly like rehearsal.”

I pressed the point—no mistakes allowed—and the director nodded.

For my solo, we were using a stage device we’d never used before.

If we executed right, it would be spectacular; if we got sloppy, it could be dangerous.

“Fuu...”

While I stretched and waited with the dancers—

I locked eyes with a crimson-haired troublemaker coming off the stage.

“Going up?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll do great. And...”

Seeing how keyed-up I was, Ri Hyuk cleared his throat and rummaged in his pocket.

“What are you doing?”

“Got something to give you before you go up.”

“Mm?”

He rummaged and flicked me a finger heart.

“Found this on the way.”

I laughed without meaning to.

He’s really grown up. Seo Ri Hyuk.

The last solo of the night.

Maybe because Ri Hyuk had just lifted the mood with a sweet, fresh song, happiness glowed on Souffles’ faces.

‘I could live here...!’

Like a kid refusing to leave the store, I wanted to lie down on the Gocheok Dome floor and kick my legs.

At the same time, anticipation peaked.

Because of each member’s color motif, the colorful solos had gone Jiho, Biju, Junhyun, Ri Hyuk.

Now it was time for the final violet.

“Waaaaaaaaaah—!”

While purple and plum lights tangled and scattered, a blond Adonis appeared in the VCR.

Little gasps and a ripple of sympathetic laughter rose here and there.

‘Insane.’

‘If Pygmalion sculpted a male lead, it would be Sun Wooju.’

‘If I had that face, I wouldn’t do comedy.’

In a violet-washed VCR, Sun Wooju gazed into the distance with a languid smile.

The blond hair made him look like a storybook noble.

‘Paradise... this is paradise...’

After a scene of a noble dining alone at a table set like The Last Supper—

The intro to “Raven,” a B-side from our first full album Empire, began to play.

In raven-black regalia, the leader strode out while dancers beside him launched into a feral formation.

“Hoooo...”

A weighty, dignified choreography flowed from Wooju’s hands.

Like a rook ruling over his flock, the lead vocal danced—and Souffles smiled, proud—then cocked their heads.

‘What’s this?’

Dancers clustered to his side and started rigging something.

‘A rope?’

They blinked at what looked like lines.

‘Oh?’

On the hook, Wooju’s body began to rise and stunned screams burst out.

Drawn by the stage rig, the leader took flight, gliding, and fans in the third and fourth tiers swallowed hard.

Wire flying.

“...”

The dot that was our beautiful man grew close in an instant—his face suddenly right there.

Souffles held their breath at their fave, walking the sky.

Eyes met the blond, wind-tossed singer—close enough to shout and actually have a conversation.

‘W-Wooju!’

Fans reached out, torn between the urge to tell him everything and sheer overwhelm.

‘Wooju! ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) You’re gorgeous and unreal, this stage is—’

“U-uh—!”

‘He’s passing! Dammit! That— that—’

So the first thing out of a mouth was:

“Fuck— no! No! Ah!”

Not that!

As their fave glided past with a knowing smile—like he understood it all—fans in the nosebleeds let tears stream down in little rows.