It’s normal to be nervous before going on stage.

“Yeah.”

“Everyone gets nervous right before going up.”

[clatter!]

[tak-tak-tak-tak-tak!]

We were chattering our teeth so hard the sound echoed down the hall.

I closed my eyes, spread my arms, and tipped my head back.

“Whew.”

I tried to steady myself with deep breaths—then big lumps piled into my arms.

[swoop!] [swoop!]

“What are you lumps doing.”

“Lumps? That’s harsh, hyung.”

Biju said that and folded up like a baby penguin. Suddenly we were all in a huddle with our arms slung around each other.

“Why are we suddenly huddling.”

“Didn’t you tell us to? You had your arms open so I thought, okay, shoulder-to-shoulder time....”

“Absolutely not, but sure.”

Whatever. I took a deep breath with my arm around the boys.

The nerves settled a little.

When we first heard in Korea that we’d be on the Billboard stage, we were ecstatic. And we took it a bit lightly.

Like: whatever, it’s just a local U.S. awards show, right? Ahem... national idols NewBlack don’t fall for that kind of cultural cringe!—setting our mindset all cool like that.

But actually standing right before the Billboard stage, all that flimsy self-suggestion flew away.

“This is as nerve-wracking as our very first concert.”

“Same.”

“Still, it’s that important a performance for us.”

Just like other idols invest in the Japanese market, we’re investing hard in North America now.

The market is absurdly huge. If it goes well here, everything changes by orders of magnitude.

And if you succeed in North America, there’s a tendency for South America and Europe to lift you as global stars too. “A star in America is a star worldwide”—that’s common sense in this era.

In that situation, this is our first debut stage in front of North American viewers.

“...”

We pressed our foreheads together for a moment, catching our breath.

I scolded myself for being the one who should anchor us and still getting nervous, then told the boys with a gentle face,

“Just do it the way we practiced. Honestly... thinking objectively, with the hours we put in, it’s hard to mess up.”

“Facts.”

“Just doing what we practiced is a win for us.”

While I reassured them—

“Junhyun.”

“Yeah.”

“Crack open the prophecy book. It’s been a while.”

When you’re too nervous, leaning on superstition is fine.

Junhyun pulled a book from his bag, and we stood in a solemn semicircle like parishioners before a priest with a Bible.

“Hyung.”

Junhyun asked, a little tense,

“What if it says something bad?”

“Then we become NewBlack, who overcame that bad luck and rocked the Billboard stage.”

“As expected, high priest of mental victory....”

“Open the book.”

Junhyun, master of the Jelly Jelly Magic Jelly bit, flicked through the pages and stabbed a page.

“‘Sometimes, failing once isn’t so bad.’”

The new managers gasped; our veteran managers wiggled their fingers.

“Check the note on the reverse.”

“!”

We flipped the book upside down. In tiny 4-point text, it read:

“‘Actually, you won’t fail.’”

The boys and I closed the book with satisfied smiles.

To anyone else, it would look incredibly dumb, but leaning on stuff like this sometimes isn’t bad.

It’s why sports stars have their jinxes—like wearing unwashed underwear on match day, or stepping onto court with the left foot first.

Call it a stress-management hack.

[knock knock]

A blue-haired singer poked her face in.

“Not going?”

“We’re coming.”

“What were you doing in there?”

“...Nothing.”

It’d look bizarre to a foreigner, so I shut the book fast.

As we walked, the boys stuck to me like bodyguards. Hayley shook out her hair and asked,

“How do I look?”

Yellow dress and a headband—an outfit with playful tomboy vibes.

I could feel the desperate eyes of her manager and stylist behind her.

“Please compliment her, dear Koreans. My livelihood depends on this.”

“We are in dire need of your praise.”

Hardened by four years in Korean showbiz, we laid it on thick, and Hayley hm-hm’d with a pleased smile.

I swallowed the line about the outfit being SpongeBob-colored.

I’m the grandson who cracked a Yubaba joke at Mrs. Kim Deoksun and ended up with a handprint like a dinosaur footprint on my back.

Jokes aside, the outfit was genuinely pretty—radiating a lovely mood.

“Your outfits aren’t bad either.”

“Yeah?”

“Kids are going to go nuts.”

We were in old-school looks.

The stylists picked colorful pieces that somehow felt retro and brand-new at once.

Given “Blue Moon” is an R&B song with an ’80s retro vibe, it was the right call.

“Let’s head up.”

We followed Hayley as she stretched; behind us trailed dancers and first-time performers for tonight.

“Woo!” “Wow!” Dancers hyped themselves up with little exclamations, charging the air.

“Up next we’ve got some truly killer artists!”

Presenters’ voices introducing our stage came through.

“Combine these two fanbases... they might be the most-followed artists in the world.”

“Kyaaaaaaaaa!”

A thunderous roar.

One dancer made a wide-eyed face, then gave us a thumbs-up.

Hayley, shaking out her nerves with a little footwork, headed toward the stage hidden by the curtain to get into position.

As a jimmy jib glided over the singer lying atop an umbrella prop, the presenters’ tasty buildup made the cheers swell.

“Our next performance is a phenomenal collaboration! You won’t be able to help falling for it.”

“Graaaaarrrrr!”

“It’s a huge personal joy to introduce them. Up next, Hayley Blue!”

“Waaaaaa!”

“NewBlack!”

“Grrrrrrrrrr!”

“Their joint stage! ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) Give it up!”

The curtain masking the stage began to rise.

Watching from backstage, we got jittery for no reason.

And then—

The moment Hayley started, we widened our eyes together.

“She’s good.”

“She’s really good.”

It was our first time seeing Hayley perform on a stage this massive with our own eyes.

You could feel the bright energy.

Hayley, perched like a fairy atop an umbrella, stepped down as shirtless dancers spun umbrellas and started to dance.

It was a song called “Umbrella.”

A song that turns raindrops into hate comments, and family and friends into umbrellas that shield you. Each time an umbrella snapped open and shook off the water, a clear, refreshing vocal spread in every direction.

“Wow....”

The blue-haired singer beamed as she owned the stage, and the crowd’s cheers rose.

We’d worried the impact might feel weak after that earlier... rocket. We could drop that worry.

With her naturally wide range, Hayley finessed the dynamics and seized the audience.

Jiho breathed out,

“Wow. She’s a completely different person on stage.”

The star whose face only cracks a smile for her husband or her little girl was now full-on joy.

The kind that makes you happy just watching.

Her pale face framed by long blue curls flashed with a rainbow of expressions.

And then our turn crept closer.

“Whew....”

A nearby stagehand counted down on his fingers. We clasped hands and nodded.

“Fighting.”

The fingers ticked down.

The instant the countdown ended, we jogged out together.

Hayley Blue lifted her mic high and belted the chorus, then faded into fog.

With a doom... doom... of drums, the lights shifted to an ominous red and the cheers swelled.

Red-soaked fog spread everywhere.

“Waaaaaa!”

Souffles in the house screamed; celebrities and audience members flinched, then snapped their eyes to the stage.

“Jeez!”

The broadcast cameras caught fans bursting into tears.

As drum hits tangled with eerie BGM, dancers began to stomp in perfect unison.

The set behind rotated, flipping the backdrop.

From a bright park to a spooky graveyard.

“Waaaaaa!”

In an instant, Hayley Blue reappeared in a black dress, and the arena boomed.

Heads tilted.

“But what song is this?”

Music pulsed—like “Umbrella,” but darker.

And then something slowly shifted.

Here and there—almost, almost.

Snatches felt familiar—like “Umbrella,” then not. Teasing, like a push-and-pull with the audience.

The Korean producing team’s all-out intro began to morph, and people went oh!

“This is...!”

Behind Hayley Blue, the drummer played a crisp groove and the melody swung hard.

A flash of the main hook.

An ’80s-tinged retro intro.

Bodies started to sway, heads bobbing to the melody without thinking.

“This is that one! Blue Moon!”

“So it was Blue Moon.”

Viewers at home in the U.S. shouted along, excited.

“First time seeing a Blue Moon stage.”

NewBlack in Korea had been underselling their own success, but in the States this single was a monster hit.

Within two months of release it had landed high on Billboard’s 2016 year-end chart.

It was still charting on the Hot 100, with talk it’d hit this year’s year-end list too.

Its cockroach-like staying power had music magazines and American critics dropping long analyses of its structure.

It charted well around the world, triggering explosive growth in NewBlack fandom across North America and Europe.

But...

“First time seeing the other side, not Hayley Blue.”

Most people just streamed the song; they were hearing it, not seeing the singers’ faces.

Thanks to the Kids’ Choice issue, they vaguely knew NewBlack.

But they hadn’t connected that to NewBlack as the original artist behind “Blue Moon.”

It’s a country so big you need to be president to hit 90% name recognition; people are both very interested and not very interested in celebs.

In short, folks only look up the celebs they care about; not knowing is normal.

At that moment—

On TV, the lighting flipped from red to blue.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Five beautiful young men emerged through the milky fog and the venue shook.

“That crowd is insane.”

Who the hell are these guys to pull that?

We’d been wondering that, and the instant the stage started, fans wailed and the place went wild.

Viewers nudged the volume up.

“They are cute, though.”

Boys in old-school looks each held a standing mic and sang.

After Hayley sang the first line—

A stunner, so handsome your breath leaked out just looking, took the mic.

Neat blond hair tucked under a cap, the straight nose lines, the graceful curve of his lips.

“Sometimes we need a little magic

(We sometimes need a little magic.)

Especially, under this blue moon

(Especially under this blue moon.)”

“Oh?”

Viewers’ eyes widened.

“He’s good.”

The slight breath in the line sounded sweet.

A clean, open voice with instinctive rhythm—remarkable. Smooth vocals that fit R&B perfectly; people murmured in admiration.

The camera caught celebs like Logan Smith in the seats shimmying shoulders or clapping along.

“Oh?”

Another member’s part followed.

A pretty boy with pink-dyed hair.

With one hand on the standing mic—so slim and delicate you felt an odd protectiveness, like you had to look after him....

“I’ll show you my dance

(I’ve prepared a dance.)”

A ringing projection you wouldn’t expect from such a small frame made viewers smile.

“...Turns out I’m the one who needed protecting.”

The main dancer, sweet-faced and singing R&B powerfully, passed the baton; two more members took their parts.

The exact voices from “Blue Moon” flowed out, unchanged.

A handsome one in old-school fashion with a bandana smiled and snared eyes with his expressions.

A sturdy look in a boxy tee delivered a low-toned sing-rap that drew focus.

And then—

“Huuuuh.”

“Who is he?”

When the pale-faced main vocal gripped the standing mic with both hands, people gasped.

He didn’t even seem to push, but his volume sat two, three notches louder.

Maybe because his voice is so transparent, his blend with Hayley Blue’s clear tone was perfect.

Rich, clean timbre—the viewers looked at each other and went wow.

“He seems like the most popular one, right?”

“Hundred percent.”

“No way someone that good a singer isn’t popular.”

At the same time—

Viewers started to get why fans were losing their minds.

“He’s not getting overshadowed even next to Hayley Blue.”

Who is Hayley Blue?

A singer people drag for her personality but never for skill; her impact was still no joke.

Hayley tore around the stage surrounded by a Dracula, three brides, and what looked like a grotesque old man.

The pale vocal met her eyes with a wink and layered a harmony on her chorus.

“...Oh ho.”

Viewers clutching pillows and remotes widened their eyes.

Honestly, what boy band sings live that well?

And they have every element to be huge as a boy band.

Looks? Handsome.

Vocals? Great.

Song? Good.

“They sing out of their minds.”

It was the moment the chops of idols who’ve survived battles with named Korean singers kicked in.

However—

“Other than singing well, I’m not seeing ‘it.’”

They were showing overwhelming vocals as a boy band, but nothing else jumped out—yet.

Audience members on site felt similar.

“Feels a little plain.”

They were still just holding standing mics, giving a mild bounce to amp the vibe.

Great song; stage felt plain.

Fans were going feral, but casuals weren’t sure what made them special.

...And then—

“Hmm?”

With a twist, the music shifted for a beat.

From the exact center of the five standing mics—

The most handsome one showed a bit of footwork to the drums, then slid off his mic.

And—

“Waaaaaaaaaaaa!”

The lights cut; a spotlight fell onto the darkened stage.

The lead vocal slid across the floor with his feet.

Each clap to the drum and each move sent his hem fluttering.

“Waaaaaa!”

Maybe it was the shadow under his cap’s brim—

The face smiling a moment ago dropped into shadow and the atmosphere flipped in an instant.

Under the spotlight, a cross earring swung and flashed, leaving a cool after-image.

“Grrrrrrrrrrrr!”

Cheers blew for technique solid enough to stand beside proper dancers without looking out of place.

And that wasn’t all.

“Hm?”

As the leader danced, tipping a hat to a famous American artist’s moves, the pretty boy from the back slipped in at his side.

“Woooow....”

The sound just came out.

Call it expression.

He skimmed fingertips through the air, turned loosely around his core—watching it, you just went wow.

It really felt like, under a blue moon, a strange being wandering to find another strange being to soothe its loneliness.

Another dancer joined, and the air on stage shifted hard.

As the pale pretty boy and the handsome youth intertwined in movement, viewers’ eyes went wide.

“The others too?”

At first they thought only the ones who danced well would dance.

But the remaining three members merged smoothly, and viewers blinked.

“They all dance well...?”

“Weird. They don’t have faces that look like dancers.”

A boy band you’d expect to make money going “we’re cute, right? ping-ping-poong!” was dancing like trained dancers.

And with a sense of perfect synchronization.

Centered on the leader, the angle of all five sets of hands matched perfectly.

“...What is this?”

For American audiences, it was pure fascination.

How are their lines that clean.

And how do all five dance that well.

Westerners applauded the “mystery of East Asia,” born of group living and practice loads that verge on overwork.

“Oh....”

The 30-second dance break ended; NewBlack slid back.

The stage brightened in a rush.

Hayley Blue and NewBlack clustered with mics and belted the final line of “Blue Moon.”

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Even as we watched, the heat in the venue didn’t drop.

The dazzling five-man routine still hung in the mind’s eye like an after-image.

Same for TV viewers.

“So that’s why they’re that popular....”

Total buy-in.

The stage ended.

A boy band hardened by K-music-show ending poses heaved rough breaths, and Hayley Blue grinned beside them in a two-shot.

As the arena erupted—

Viewers at home picked up their phones.

[taptaptaptap]

Fingers flew.

[who is the new black?]

On the world’s biggest search site, queries for NewBlack began to spike to an all-time peak.