Incheon Munhak Stadium Station.

Screeeech—

The subway doors slid open and a crowd of people poured out.

The footsteps climbing the station stairs felt strangely light and energetic.

The Korean Series!

The Korean Series to determine this year’s professional baseball champion.

For fans who had supported their team from opening day until now, it couldn’t help but feel emotional.

For sports fans, the ultimate interest is the championship, isn’t it?

They were people who had cheered fiercely and hurled just as fierce curses.

But separate from that intensity, the Korean Series itself was a festival-like day for baseball fans.

“Wow. There are so many people~”

Clear blue skies.

Colorful vendor tents visible as soon as you exited.

Supporters in each team’s uniforms clustered everywhere.

“Where was it again.”

Fans of the Celtic Unicorns who had traveled from Gwangju for the away game moved with practiced steps.

They walked straight ahead until a fork appeared.

A sign read: Home Team Left, Away Team Right.

The supporters split busily.

“Craaaazy....”

When Munhak Stadium came into view, fans’ lips spread wide in delight.

Buying those tickets was worth it.

Smiling proudly, people stopped by the ticket booth.

“How many tickets?”

“Two.”

“Name and date of birth, please~”

The stiff ticket read: [2017 Korean Series Game 1].

Hearts pounded.

Thump thump.

And when Koreans feel excited, they know exactly what to do.

“Should we get chicken?”

“Let’s order rice balls too.”

“And later let’s get Oreo Ice Cream. They say the Oreo here is good.”

To cheer properly, you had to eat properly.

It was all for the team.

“Shall we go in?”

They stepped into the stadium.

Under the clear sky, the fresh green grass sparkled brilliantly.

The scoreboard blared video and music.

The Korean flag fluttered next to their team’s flag.

Supporters gathered for cheering.

It felt like droplets labeled “Korean Series” were floating in the air.

“Ha...”

“This is the feeling. This air.”

“So this is Korean Series air.”

Even the air felt sweet.

Naturally, the main topic among gathered baseball fans was today’s final.

But here and there, an interesting topic popped up.

“I heard Ri Hyuk is singing the national anthem today?”

“Really? Ri Hyuk’s coming?”

People brightened.

NewBlack’s “weakest member.”

If the weakest of the Four Heavenly Kings came, that meant the Demon King and the other dark generals would probably follow.

“So we’ll see NewBlack too.”

“Lucky us~”

“See the team and see them too. Great day.”

Among giggling college students, someone asked,

“But is Ri Hyuk good at singing?”

The others reacted immediately.

“He’s insanely good.”

“They say he’s the best among idols.”

“Do you not use the internet?”

“Did you live in a cave? Is there cave art in your house?”

The friend who’d asked looked at them incredulously.

Are you NewBlack or something?

Why were they acting like proud relatives?

Still, it wasn’t wrong.

Seo Ri Hyuk had long been known as one of the best singing idols.

Whenever news of a vocal variety show launched, the comments were full of “Hope Seo Ri ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Hyuk appears.”

That was how widely praised NewBlack’s main vocalist was.

But.

Is he that good?

Of course he sings well—he’s a singer.

But maybe I have tin ears.

Even when I watched their Billboard stage, it felt like “He’s good.”

Compared to other NewBlack members, maybe “a bit better.”

Not “a whole different level.”

Well. They must’ve invited him because he’s good.

Still, part of me wondered whether the Korean Series shouldn’t invite top-tier vocal powerhouses.

The thought didn’t last long.

“Coming up shortly...”

The announcement began.

“Ahem, ah... five hundred won, five hundred won...”

Facing the waiting room wall, Ri Hyuk warmed up.

He turned around.

His face was tense.

“Hoo...”

He exhaled deeply, then loosened his facial muscles.

I clapped.

“Good. Now bounce.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Bounce bounce.

Watching him hop in place, I asked,

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

He nodded.

We clapped to cheer him on.

“Hyung, I’m really going to nail this.”

“I know.”

The maknae twisted his mouth.

“Biju.”

“Ri Hyuk. Don’t be too nervous.”

“I’m not nervous. Do I look nervous? Ah, I shouldn’t look nervous...”

“Well...”

“You saying I look nervous makes me nervous.”

Biju froze mid-smile.

At this rate, Ri Hyuk’s rice might have pebbles in it soon.

Junhyun rummaged through his wallet and handed over a ten-thousand-won bill.

“Here.”

Looking at King Sejong on the bill, Ri Hyuk’s expression softened.

“Your Majesty...”

He murmured.

“Compared to creating Hangul despite opposition, this is nothing.”

“That’s right. Positive mindset.”

“Hoo. I was a bit prickly. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

I hadn’t said anything, but I accepted the apology.

We all knew why we were indulging him today.

“Are your parents and Yein here?”

“They should be.”

“Should?”

“I haven’t checked my phone. I feel like I’ll get more nervous if I do.”

Behind him, Minki silently mouthed, They’re here.

Ri Hyuk’s family had come.

They had planned to attend the encore concert in Seoul but arrived earlier to spend more time.

They’d even said they used to attend games in Incheon when they lived here.

“How many seats does Munhak have?”

“Just over twenty thousand.”

“We performed at Osaka Dome. Twenty thousand is nothing...”

“You want to sing instead?”

“No.”

I’d rather not sing the national anthem a cappella.

If you mess up, comparison videos live forever.

“I’ll just eat chicken legs and watch.”

“......”

“Go, Ri Hyuk~!”

I winked.

He trembled—but looked less tense.

“Are you ready?”

A Daesan Hawks staff member opened the door.

I patted his shoulder.

“Go.”

“I’m going.”

He checked his suit in the mirror and walked out.

Down the corridor.

Toward the field entrance.

He paused and looked back.

“I’ll be back.”

We waved energetically.

At the same time.

Seo Yein looked around.

“Mom, did I come here when I was little?”

“Yes.”

Her mother, wearing sunglasses, nodded.

“You and your brother came holding hands.”

“Did we?”

She didn’t remember.

As she listened to unfamiliar Korean around her—

“Yein.”

“Hm?”

Her father handed her a seat cushion.

“Pass this to your mom.”

“You pass it.”

“....”

Yein sighed and handed it over.

Then her mother pulled out water.

“Yein, give this to your dad.”

“....”

When they were about to speak again—

“Are you two dating?”

“No.”

“No.”

What does that even mean?

Yein puffed her cheeks.

Still.

It wasn’t bad.

They lived separately after divorce.

There hadn’t been major incidents—just personalities that were too alike.

Workaholics. Bad at expressing feelings.

Misunderstandings layered endlessly.

I’ll marry someone with a different personality.

Still, seeing them awkwardly hand things to each other was nice.

It’s thanks to oppa.

After Ri Hyuk debuted, their father had started sending regular emails about him.

Their mother would reply politely.

Thump. Thump.

Someone kicked her seat.

“Seriously.”

She turned.

“That’s the sixteenth time. Please be careful.”

“Oh, sorry...”

Her parents placed hands on her shoulders approvingly.

Yein exhaled.

Gotta control my temper.

She couldn’t act like this in front of her brother.

People think California makes you gentle.

Not always.

She remembered elementary school.

Being asked if she knew martial arts.

Why she couldn’t speak Chinese.

Fighting back verbally against nonsense.

Being told “verbal violence is violence.”

“Yein.”

“Hm?”

“Give this to mom...”

She closed her eyes.

Honest people, please.

Then—

“And next, the national ceremony.”

On the field, soldiers spread a giant Korean flag.

The scoreboard lit up with a familiar face.

Oppa!

Black suit. White shirt. Black tie.

Elegant stride.

The stadium erupted.

“Riiii Hyuuuuuk!”

Even strangers cheered louder than his real family.

Yein stared.

It’s this big?

She had slowly realized NewBlack’s popularity in America.

White classmates asking about them.

Girls debating hairstyles.

But this?

This was madness.

The ceremony began.

Players lined up.

Ri Hyuk closed his eyes.

Swallowed.

And sang.

“Donghae mul and Baekdusan...”

It was magic.

No vibrato.

Just a resonant voice filling the stadium.

“Whoa...”

Even without accompaniment, the stadium felt full.

“Why is he this good?”

The final line.

“Daehan saram Daehan-euro...”

A slight lift. A controlled vibrato.

Goosebumps.

He finished.

Smiled calmly.

The stadium exploded.

At TBC Broadcasting.

Online comments flooded in.

“He’s insane.”

“My PC café stopped.”

“Is that a human voice?”

Even commentators laughed.

“That might be the best anthem I’ve heard at a Korean Series.”

“Ri Hyuk looks different today.”

“He’s taking out his earplugs!”

He smiled faintly after removing them.

People clenched their fists.

Seo Ri Hyuk.

Once again wearing that mischievous smile.