I had a dream last night.

I went up on stage wearing clothes embroidered with flowers, and the blossoms started tumbling off my outfit in a shower.

Then the flowers suddenly giggled like Jiho and began to wriggle and dance.

As if mimicking the old me, the flowers did a goofy freestyle and then—pop!

[beep-bee-bee-bee-beep]

I woke to the alarm.

“......Ah.”

There are mornings when you can tell from the moment you open your eyes that the day won’t be easy.

Today was one of those days.

With the face of someone who couldn’t want to go out less, I brushed my teeth, got dressed, and left the hotel room.

“Hyung.”

Out in the hall, the maknae, masked and shambling, asked weakly,

“You’re not wearing florals.”

“I dreamed about flowers and it felt like a bad sign. I’m keeping it low-key today.”

“A dream? What kind?”

“The flowers teased me and then exploded. No clue what that’s supposed to mean.”

“Means the stage is gonna explode. In a good way.”

We looked at each other and snickered.

“You didn’t sleep either, huh.”

“Not sleeping would be an understatement. Uuuuu......”

Stretching with a long yawning voice, Jiho twisted his back left and right.

“I didn’t sleep a wink. Kept replaying what I messed up at practice, did choreo in the bathroom mirror, drank the herbal tea Ri Hyuk brewed so I’d take care of my throat......”

“And then?”

“I don’t remember. Guess I crashed.”

“You punk.”

Claiming he was exhausted, the maknae oozed over and slumped his head onto my shoulder.

One by one, room doors opened, and hooded goblins filed out.

Everyone’s color was the worst.

We’d sworn to rest well the day before the show to manage our condition, but I guess rest isn’t a cure-all.

Looking at the dark circles under Ri Hyuk’s and Biju’s eyes, I asked,

“You two practiced in your room, didn’t you?”

“Huh? How did you know?”

When I said I did too, Biju laughed. Ri Hyuk didn’t even have the energy to answer; he just plastered himself to the wall.

“And Junhyun......”

“Yes.”

Sparkle, sparkle.

I smiled, admiring his dewy skin and healthy glow like drops of morning sunlight.

“You’re healthy again today, little brother.”

“Gotta be. I’m the pillar that holds up NewBlack.”

“Since when?”

“I just decided—starting now.”

Bending at the waist, Junhyun asked,

“You want a piggyback, hyung? You look tired.”

“Give Biju a ride.”

“Hey, want me to?”

Biju waved it off like even speaking was a hassle.

The maknae scampered over, sprang onto Junhyun’s back, and laughter trickled through the hall.

But it didn’t last.

In the elevator down to the lobby, waving to fans outside as we got in the van, staring at unfamiliar English signs and the clear sky—

We just huddled shoulder to shoulder.

Everyone kept quiet.

Because we knew what kind of day this was.

“Whew......”

Every breath out felt like a sigh breaking loose.

Biju glanced at me.

“Want me to put some music on?”

“Yeah.”

I figured I’d calm down with a track.

The second I thought that, METRO started playing and our bodies began doing the choreo on their own.

“......”

“......”

Staring moist-eyed into space, Biju panicked and shut his phone off.

Blinking, Ri Hyuk asked,

“What was that?”

“Mango Chart 100—it looks like we’re number one.”

“T-that’s... good news......”

It was, but there went my plan to shelf work thoughts for a bit.

Little errors from practice kept flashing up in my head—choreo ticks, pitch, tempo, timing slips.

Ri Hyuk said,

“Want to just talk work then.”

“Let’s.”

We put our heads together and talked calmly through the job.

Maybe because we’ve lived more hours practicing than resting, trying to rest feels more awkward.

After a long stretch about stage blocking, I shifted the topic.

“Ugh, why am I shaking like this.”

“Me too.”

How to describe this mood—

A big exam?

Or an audition to pick the TNT debut lineup?

Hard to pin down exactly. It wasn’t just nerves; part of me was excited too.

We were going to stand on one of America’s biggest award shows, the VMAs, with our own song on a solo stage.

Honestly, I still couldn’t believe it.

If it’s a dream, I don’t want to wake up—it’s that good......

The problem is it makes me that much more jittery. I don’t think I’ve shaken like this in the past year.

“I’m so nervous. Uuugh. What do I do? What do I do?”

“What else.”

I didn’t have a neat answer either.

“We just go do it, that’s what. America’s not some big deal.”

“It is.”

“You thought it was such a big deal you got gastritis. You.”

“Sounds like a big deal to me.”

“‘Big deal’... such a sad phrase.”

I rolled my eyes at the brats sniping away, and they snickered back.

“I really have nothing to say. I’m nervous too.”

“Incompetent!”

“Incompetent!”

“What a waste of a face! Give it to me!”

At that last line, all eyes swung.

Silence.

Ri Hyuk, red as a persimmon, pretended to look away. The minions and I traded glances.

“So you do envy my face.”

“Honestly, we envy it too.”

“Have confidence. You’ve all got precious faces.”

“Thanks.”

Biju handed me a lip gloss.

“Put this on, hyung.”

“Are my lips chapped?”

“No. I just want you to say it after putting something on......”

“Wow.”

What an elegant way to say put some spit on your lips before you talk. I gave a thumbs up; Biju got shy.

To be honest, I don’t even know what we’re talking about now.

Only Minki in the passenger seat kept bursting into laughter. Guess our pitiful state was funny.

After a long stretch of pointless banter, I told the brats,

“I thought about it, and in moments like this—jittery and tense—there’s only one answer.”

“What is it?”

“Superstition.”

“Knew it.”

“Let’s hold hands and pray.”

We all linked hands and closed our eyes.

I opened first.

“I will live righteously from now on.”

“Wow. Starting with a lie.”

Minki’s laugh got louder.

“I will live for my younger brothers.”

“We will live for Wooju.”

“......”

“......”

Silence gathered.

I slit my eyes open and met the minions’ smirking gazes.

“Too much of a lie?”

“Yes.”

“Reset.”

“Okay.”

I closed my eyes and tried to picture the shape of a god.

Out of the dark a brilliant light appeared and the CEO—no, not the CEO—our Kim Deoksun arrived with wings.

Her kimchi vest shone with holy radiance while the citizens of Gunsan, as baby angels, blew trumpets.

Yembyung— sentry—

A chorus ringing in bright D major.

“......”

I couldn’t focus and opened my eyes.

We held hands and mumbled something; truth is, I didn’t want to pray—I just wanted an excuse to hold on.

I didn’t ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) want to sit by the window alone with my headphones on all the way to the venue.

I wanted to feel the warmth of together.

“You know what I think sometimes.”

Maybe that’s why a story I don’t usually tell slipped out.

The kids opened their eyes, calm.

“When I got cut from the TJ debut lineup, my head was full of thoughts. The company gave me three choices: be an actor, move to another label, or get released. But there was one more option, actually.”

“What was it?”

“Debut solo as a singer-songwriter.”

“That one really could’ve happened.”

I nodded at Biju’s ad-lib.

“The TJ producers were high on me then, so if I’d turned my wheel that way, I might’ve made it. I kept imagining it after I left too—like, go to college and debut on a singer audition show.”

“Oh... I could see that.”

I laughed at Junhyun’s line.

“Well, that’s what crossed my mind back then. I even thought about hopping onto a TV audition here and there.”

“So why didn’t you?”

I shrugged at the maknae’s question.

“I don’t know. Just......”

“......?”

“It sounded fun, but it didn’t feel like what I wanted. Hard to explain exactly—felt like to do what I want, I’d end up grinding alone. Maybe my bar for the music I want to do is too high.”

“It is too high. You treat members like sound-making machines.”

The bar for the stage I want is always high.

So I needed them.

Friends who sing better than me, or dance better, or rap or act.

People to fill the blanks I can’t fill alone.

But ‘need’ wasn’t only about that.

Staring out the window, Ri Hyuk asked evenly,

“Why bring that up now?”

“If I’d debuted like that, I never would’ve come this far—and even if I had, I’d be riding this car alone.”

“......”

“It’d be really boring.”

I skipped the part about how I’m glad you’re here—too embarrassing—but they got it.

Maybe because we were all holding hands, a soft, warm mood settled.

Not just joy and fun.

There was a small happiness in not having to carry this tension and dread all alone.

Maybe that’s why we’re five.

Because there are things we couldn’t do solo that we can do together.

Because if one stumbles or looks foolish, the other four can ring around and cover it clean.

Watching the clouds drift far off, Junhyun spoke.

“Nice weather.”

“Sure is.”

As we basked in sunlight and photosynthesized, he continued,

“Today I’ve got a feeling......”

“Don’t.”

“Okay.”

The icy blizzard of nerves and dread that had been hounding us had, before we knew it, melted like spring dew.

Today’s destination was a city in California called Inglewood.

Population around a hundred thousand, famous for its massive NFL stadium.

So-called SoFi Stadium.

Huge enough that even seventy thousand fits easy!

Top American acts use it for concerts, too.

But our destination today was the relatively smaller venue right next to that SoFi Stadium we could see.

“The Forum.”

A colosseum-shaped arena with “The Forum” written on it.

Compared to the hulking SoFi it looked small, but it was bigger than a gymnastics arena.

Like... Biju standing next to Junhyun.

Suddenly both venues started to feel petty.

“It’s closer than I thought.”

Shading his eyes with a hand, Ri Hyuk gauged the distance.

“Feels like gymnastics-to-handball distance.”

“Kinda does.”

We stole one last glance at the famous stadium and then looked around us.

Maybe because of the VMAs today—

The asphalt lots around the venue were packed tight, and everything was decked out in blue already.

Guess the theme color’s blue.

And—

“Hyung.”

I pointed for Seokhwan at a new building raised beside the arena.

“What’s that?”

It looked like a space center.

A big white structure with “VMA” in blue letters was stuck up beside the venue like—pop!—and it was enormous.

Seokhwan, staring at a hall that looked sized to hold nearly two thousand, said,

“Red carpet.”

“.......”

“They built it for the red carpet event.”

“Temporary?”

“Yeah. Temporary.”

The kids listened, then stared blankly at the red carpet hall.

For a second the scale felt overwhelming.

I shook my head.

“Hey. Don’t fold.”

“Group up.”

We clustered and puffed ourselves up, resisting the American capital trying to cow us.

Seokhwan burst out laughing and gestured.

“Let’s head in.”

The red carpet didn’t seem open yet; prep was still underway.

Early morning, long before showtime—

Towing our carry-ons, our army of staff and dancers swept proudly into The Forum.

Biju said,

“There are space people photos and dolls everywhere.”

“So many......”

“Hyung, want me to take a picture later? Spaceship next to the astronaut, concept.”

The VMA trophy and emblem—an astronaut in a spacesuit—was plastered like a logo everywhere.

The moon landing broadcast that shook the world in the 60s.

MTV adopted it as a logo to say it would shake the world like that—so Ri Hyuk explained.

But......

“Biju.”

“Yes.”

“Where are we.”

“Uh... I kind of took the lead without thinking......”

We wandered a bit, but made it safely to the green room and unpacked.

Rehearsal went smoothly.

Maybe because of METRO’s success, the vibe was a different kind of friendly from when we did Blue Moon. Like when our Windflower did well and broadcast staff suddenly changed their tone.

Gave me a sense of how well we were doing in the States.

Broadcast staff are like weather vanes in entertainment.

Just like you use a vane to read wind direction, they’re the people most sensitive to popularity metrics.

“We’re really doing it......!”

“Proud of you, Metro!”

The kids and I traded thick glances and smiles now and then.

Relishing the friendlier staff, we ran the rehearsal a couple of times.

Because there were plenty of set pieces and props.

Per the TF team’s briefing:

The VMAs are more “show” than “awards.” No roots—just go all-in on provocation and buzz! That’s the concept, apparently.

So the stage focus is the highest among the big four shows.

From the old days of snakes and tigers on stage—

To the former child star who stuck out her tongue and twerked and sent America into shock—this was that awards show.

“VMAs are like that.”

When we asked for advice, Haley told us:

“Behold my awesome stage, you wretched humans. That’s the energy to prepare.”

A one-way ticket to disaster.

We prepared a stage for Americans with a humble heart.

And—

The rehearsal response wasn’t bad.

“The front song is Coin, and the one after is the new METRO, right?”

“Yes.”

“It was fantastic.”

A seasoned on-site camera director gave us a thumbs up.

“Best stage I’ve seen today.”

“Really?”

“Really really. Heh-heh.”

Then, as we laughed, we caught sight of the running order sheet.

[#1. The New Black — Coin & METRO]

We were first today.

Our faces, and the kids’, went blank. Following our eyes, the director startled.

“Oh.”

“Ah—this is—so—no......”

“You were just being polite?”

“No! I wasn’t! Let me finish a sentence......!”

“So this is America......”

“I said no!”

With eyes that said Disappointed, America, we drifted off, while the director waved in a near-cry.

We rehearsed, ate our boxed meals, and killed time.

At last, it came.

“Whew......”

Red carpet time.

The looks of the day divide you into best dressed and worst dressed, get you talked about on socials—

We hadn’t cared much before, but today it mattered a lot.

“Every little thing has to become a topic. We need Americans to mention us all day.”

“Right!”

“Let’s make them talk about NewBlack for a week.”

“Fufufufufu.”

“Uhu-hu-hu-hu!”

Watching us cackle as we suited up, Seokhwan and the managers scratched their cheeks.

Staring at our outfits, Seokhwan sighed.

“I think it’s a good idea, but... I wonder if it’s really a good choice.”

“It’s fine. It’s fine.”

I said,

“We need to pull at least this much attention. We can’t suddenly spark a feud rumor, and we can’t just strip on stage. If we want to show Americans something truly curious and fun, this is the way.”

“So it is!”

“Correct!”

Seokhwan started to add something, then closed his mouth and shook his head.

“Fine. If you want to, do it.”

“Come on, hyung. In this nation of gossip, there’s none we can trigger. Who’s going to buy a breakup rumor? We’ve always got breakups.”

“What. Don’t all look at me.”

“Because of Ri Hyuk, even a feud rumor won’t fly.”

Seemed I’d convinced them.

While the white crane quivered, news came that the limo for our red carpet ride had arrived.

We smiled at the stylists too, who wore oddly enlightened smiles.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes.”

In a line at the green-room door, we accepted a helmet each from Minsu, Jongwan, and Jiwoon and stepped out.

“It will surely......”

“Become a topic!”

Tonight we would become legend.

Security stood stone-faced by the limo.

Kailo, the guard waiting to open our door, blinked at something floating up from a distance.

“......Huh?”

He blinked again.

“Am I seeing things?”

Five figures, rising and bobbing toward him.

Kailo’s hand went reflexively to the tool at his belt as he asked a colleague,

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Next group—NewBlack, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Kailo wordlessly pointed.

Bobbing.

Floating.

The five shapes were bounce-bounce—boing—as they closed in. His colleague’s eyes went wide.

“Are those... astronauts?”

“Looks like it......”

“......”

“......”

Float... bob...

A shy giant leap for humankind.

Seeing the five of us drifting along in spacesuits, the security guards couldn’t help it—they burst out laughing.