Maeda Shin, a renowned Japanese singer, basked in the lilight from the late ’80s to the ’90s.
As the crew prepared for the shoot, the faint buzz of the Japanese staff’s chatter reached my ears.
“That’s Maeda Shin. I think it’s the first ti I’ve seen his face.”
“Maeda Shin? Oh, he’s the one my mother listens to every day. How fascinating.”
Though his musical endeavors have waned recently, his fa still secures him a high recognition among the public.
A middle-aged singer, fiddling with a water bottle, asked the staff,
“Is this just water? Don’t you have tea or sothing?”
“Just a mont, please!”
While the staff searched for another bottle, we glanced at the middle-aged singer seated next to us.
When he removed his hat, his head glead under the lights.
Twinkling.
He had the air of an enlightened sage, with a shaved head like a monk’s and a long mustache.
“…?”
Maeda Shin, wiping the sweat from his brow, caught our gaze.
He spoke with a bold tone,
“Is there sothing you want to say?”
“Ah, I just wanted to wish you well for today’s broadcast, sir.”
Bijoo offered a handkerchief with a kind smile.
“Ah, thanks,” said the middle-aged man, wiping his head, dimming the shine a bit.
Maeda Shin neatly folded the handkerchief and returned it.
“Don’t worry. I won’t be a bother.”
He assured us he’d fulfill his role without causing trouble.
Watching him, mories from a few days ago ca to mind.
The call with Teacher Baeksanggyo, with whom we’d grown close after working on a special album remake.
He called us from the broadcast station’s bakery, where he’d spotted macarons.
“So, your fan club is nad after macarons, right? The bread looked so pretty in the bakery.”
“It’s a soufflé, sir…”
“Oh, is that so? Aren’t macarons more expensive?”
Our lively, context-free conversation seed to lead to a discussion about Japanese YouTube content.
“Don’t you need a Japanese guest?”
“Well, yes, that would be amazing…”
“Just wait a mont.”
And within ten minutes, he texted us, “It’s done,” having completed the booking.
He ntioned a singer from Japan, a peer he addressed as a brother.
He also shared a few cautions.
“He’s a nice guy, but he speaks without thinking.”
“Ah, I see.”
“He might say so offensive things, but don’t take it to heart; he doesn’t an it.”
“Understood. I’ll rember that.”
And he advised us not to ask personal questions.
If family or private life ca up, the singer could beco quite prickly.
“We all choked when he ntioned, ‘He’s been divorced three tis.’”
“Please, let’s not bring up personal life beyond music and singing…”
Maeda Shin’s manager seed to have considered this, as he confird it with the director through an interpreter.
With these precautions in mind…
“…?”
Our eyes t Maeda Shin’s again as he glanced our way. We greeted him with a bright smile.
He flinched.
His guarded gaze watched us closely.
Jiho blinked and silently asked us,
“Does he seem wary?”
“Why would that be?”
His look was akin to how one might view a stranger.
Like sitting on a spacious park bench, and soone, ignoring other empty seats, sits right next to you and unfolds a newspaper.
It was that kind of expression.
Perhaps sensing his shyness, I called out to Maeda Shin with an even brighter smile.
“Sir.”
“…Hmm?”
“You don’t have to do anything special, just be comfortable. We’ll make sure you have a great ti today.”
“…What are you planning?”
With a finger to my lips, I replied,
“That’s a secret~!”
“Why are they on guard even more now?”
It was then that Jiho, with a bright smile, spread his arms wide and exclaid, “Eeppai~!”
“I’ll make sure you have a great ti,” he promised.
“…”
“So much so that you won’t want to leave this place.”
Maeda Shin’s complexion began to pale even further.
These kids are crazy.
That was Maeda Shin’s first impression of NewBlack.
“I guess they’re not exactly normal.”
I couldn’t forget how they sang ‘Welco to NewBlack World’ with a solemn harmony fit for a temple.
It was as if the faces of the five mbers were spinning around in front of , brainwashing like in a cartoon.
I shook my head, trying to erase the sacred opening BGM.
“I’ve heard that young people these days are scary, but…”
During the wait earlier, I saw the scenes they had shot.
Soone was standing on their hands to read an upside-down banner.
Or bursting into loud laughter while slamming a plastic table with their palm, punching a large hole through it.
The scenes were filled with bizarre monts, yet the reactions of the Korean staff were completely different.
“Wow. Our kids are really calm on the broadcast today.”
“Right. It’s so serene and nice.”
What do they an by serene and calm?
Even the manager and stylist of NewBlack, along with the filming staff, just smiled nonchalantly at such scenes.
Out of curiosity, I checked out their Tube channel, but I gave up at the sight of the leader juggling shrimp crackers.
“Sothing is twisted here…”
I was nervous about what strange thing might happen next.
It was a mistake not to have looked up the content of this Korean idol’s Tube broadcast beforehand.
I wondered if they would suddenly start indoor rock climbing or ask to put my hand in a black box.
As I remained on guard, the main vocalist tilted his head just before the countdown to filming.
“Teacher.”
“…!”
Seori Hyuk whispered softly.
“Everyone here seems strange, don’t they?”
“No, I didn’t think that…”
“It’s true. They’re all abnormal.”
Was that really the case?
Seori Hyuk whispered with a subtle voice.
“So, since everyone is strange, you can just trust .”
“Oh.”
“I’m the most normal one here.”
I felt a chill.
Wasn’t it the main vocalist who sang the NewBlack World song’s chorus with the most vigor?
While I was thinking that I had to survive on my own here.
“Alright, let’s start recording!”
“Fighting!”
With a round of loud applause, the recording began.
“What kind of format will it be?”
As I was feeling tense about the broadcast content.
The fingers of the universe began to dance over the white and black keys of the keyboard.
Softly, softly.
A cute lody that felt like fresh snow piling up crisply.
A glint of fascination appeared in Maeda Shin’s eyes.
“This is an impromptu lody.”
As a singer-songwriter, I recognized the talent of the perforr imdiately.
I was amazed that they could create such a catchy lody on the spot.
To the layman, it might sound like a pleasant jingle for an advertisent, but looking deeper, from the composition to the smallest details, there was an extraordinary energy.
“Is talent also inherited?”
I recalled the famous anecdotes of Seon Myeong-ju’s performances in Japan.
Like the ti he pulled out a violin on the spot to play a special birthday song for a fan celebrating their birthday.
Or when Hashimoto Kenji, with all his might, rearranged a song in just five minutes, elevating it to a higher level.
While I was lost in these thoughts.
“Welco~”
“To the long journey, Maeda Shin.”
Welco to the New Black Cafe!
The mbers greeted with impromptu lyrics and raps, singing a welco song.
The musicians were impressive, but the others were no less extraordinary.
Especially the main vocalist, who had the talent to ask others to sing his own compositions.
“True to their wild nature, they’re brimming with musical talent.”
It was a simple welco, but I felt a sense of kinship as I discerned the various elents within it.
It was like eting fellow musicians, regardless of age.
When Maeda Shin bowed his head slightly in response, as if clapping softly in return.
“Now that the opening is over, please co out with Konobangumiwa!”
“…?”
Maeda Shin was puzzled by the keyword ‘Konobangumiwa.’
A mber with fierce eyebrows and a charismatic look pulled out a giant and mini cheering stick from under the table.
Crossed in an X, he looked like a Pharaoh.
It was a solemn voiceover saying, ‘Konobangumiwa…’
“This broadcast features Wangbongi, Dalbongi, and , Junghyun.”
“Beju!”
“Seori Hyuk. Do we really have to do this?”
“Jiho!”
“Woojoo.”
One by one, they posed in front of the cara with fresh smiles, then turned their gaze to .
The silent pressure.
Without realizing it, I blurted out, ‘Ma, Maeda Shin,’ and they laughed contentedly.
Then they clapped for themselves.
“Good job, Junghyun.”
“Thank you. I’m pleased.”
“We’ve seen this on Japanese broadcasts. We wanted to try it ourselves.”
Maeda Shin replied awkwardly, “Oh, really?”
On one hand, I was relieved.
‘It’s as strange as I thought.’
I almost mistook it for sothing else while listening to the song.
“Now then, Mr. Maeda!”
Woojoo clapped his hands and said,
“We sincerely welco you to the New Black Cafe.”
“That was an impressive greeting. Thank you.”
“Please say hello to the viewers watching this video, our fans, and your fans, Mr. Maeda.”
“Hello, everyone. And to my fans, you’ve been through a lot supporting .”
The New Black mbers burst into laughter at his candid speech.
Maeda Shin was taken aback.
‘…Is this funny?’
The main dancer, Beju, was laughing too hard at a simple greeting.
He was genuinely amused.
I wondered if his threshold for laughter was 1mm, but sohow, I didn’t feel bad, and my cheeks twitched.
“Hahaha!”
Every ti I said sothing, it was hilarious to them, making feel like a funny person.
I felt slightly uplifted.
“But what does the cafe do?”
“The ‘New Black Cafe’ invites singers from various countries to discuss their music.”
“Ho-ho.”
I was very pleased with the content of the segnt.
It seed like New Black was learning about the music of artists from other countries and introducing them.
Each country has its unique musical characteristics.
It was an opportunity for both New Black and the artists to broaden their horizons by discussing unfamiliar music.
Jiho gestured a phone with his hand and said,
“Besides Mr. Maeda, who honored us with his presence today, the doors of New Black Cafe are always open, so please get in touch~!”
“Please contact us!”
Beju, standing next to him, sparkled his eyes and raised both fists as if to say, ‘Join us, teacher.’
Maeda Shin joined in and shouted in English too.
‘What’s this?’
It felt embarrassingly childish, yet sohow amusing.
Sothing crossed his mind.
“But why the na cafe…?”
“As you can see, the set is also designed with a cafe ambiance.”
That was true.
The place was decorated like a cafe, conducive to conversation.
Woojoo continued the conversation.
“In fact, we plan to enjoy so desserts, sip on drinks, and chat about music.”
“Ah, so that’s what it was.”
“Now, for today’s dessert! Please co out!”
Imdiately, a cart rolled in, carrying the dessert.
It was a shortcake, studded with tempting strawberries on top of pure white whipped cream.
The mbers exclaid in awe, “Wow!”
“I must win this.”
“We can’t lose. Not this.”
Maeda Shin also agreed, captivated by the visual appeal of the cake.
It looked like a cake worth at least 4,000 yen.
anwhile, the middle-aged singer, saliva pooling at the corner of his mouth, noticed sothing odd in the conversation.
“Wait. Win it?”
“Ah, didn’t you know? Drinks are on the house, but desserts must be won through a ga.”
“…Good heavens. Such a dreadful rule. This is too much.”
“Sorry, we made the rules.”
“Quite a reasonable rule, actually.”
The middle-aged singer quickly regained his composure, and the mbers burst into applause and laughter.
I felt increasingly at ease with the broadcast.
During this ti, the six of us split into three teams to win the cake.
“Let’s give our guest, Mr. Maeda, the first chance. Who would you like to team up with?”
To increase my chances of winning, I should pick the oddest one.
“Uchuu.”
“Excellent choice, Mr. Maeda.”
Maeda Shin smiled as they high-fived.
After splitting into three teams, we decided on team nas.
“We’re Team 2.”
Maeda Shin and Uchuu, belonging to Team 1, raised their hands.
“We’re Team 3!”
Jung-hyun and Bijoo, the sa-age duo of Team 2, raised their hands.
“Ah… Team 1.”
Rihyuk and Jiho, with their reluctant expressions, raised their hands and spoke dejectedly.
Imdiately, an internal dispute broke out.
“Ah, really, if it’s sothing that requires quick reflexes, Rihyuk is terrible. He’s only fast when running away!”
“No, it’s dood if I have to use my brain with this guy. Seriously.”
After so bickering, each team settled down.
The producers and writers, with faces as if an earthquake had struck their pupils, looked confused, asking, “Team 2? Team 3?”
“Ha ha ha!”
Maeda Shin couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
‘This is actually fun.’
Being sandwiched between these five, I felt a sense of delight.
The mbers, not knowing why they were laughing, burst into laughter anyway.
anwhile, the production team finished sorting out the team nas and returned with understanding faces.
“Eh, Team 1?”
“Yes, Team 1!”
Rihyuk and Jiho, from Team 3, raised their hands.
The production team, once again confused, called out, “Team 3!” and Team 2 raised their hands.
“…”
The production team was once again in disarray.
The producer, pressing his forehead, said,
“…Please decide on the team nas again.”
After returning to the original teams, the real ga was introduced.
Three large dice made from boxes and one roulette wheel.
“It’s a very simple ga. The person who rolls the highest number on the dice wins the cake.”
“First, roll the three dice. Then, use the roulette to determine the multiplier for the score. For example, if it lands on the largest mark, X1, it’s multiplied by one. If it lands on the smallest mark, X100, it’s multiplied by a hundred.”
“No way…!”
The main vocalist and the mbers stood up, dumbfounded.
“This isn’t a ga; it’s a trick! Uchuu already declared he’d give it to …!”
“We denounce this illegal gifting!”
“Oooh.”
“This is really not right.”
While the production team looked puzzled, Maeda Shin turned his gaze to the handso man sitting elegantly next to him, his hand covering a smirk.
‘…He’s laughing?’
No matter how I looked at it, it was a ga of chance, yet the mbers were adamantly protesting.
But since the ga was all set up, I decided to go ahead with it.
I, Maeda Shin, noticed sothing strange happening.
“Everyone,” Uju said to the angry faces of the mbers, trying to calm them down, “this ga really is all about luck.”
“Lies…! Pure lies!”
“Bijoo-kun, don’t you trust ?”
“I trust you, brother, but not this—no way!”
From behind, I watched the scene unfold with my arms crossed.
‘This seems a bit too much.’
It was supposed to be a random ga, yet the mbers were desperately trying to catch the leader.
Just as I was thinking this, Uju casually flicked his wrist as if rolling dice.
‘…Huh?’
I thought the snap sounded incredibly professional.
“No way!”
The dice showed consecutive sixes—6, 6, 6.
As we all squinted at this inexplicable phenonon, Uju lightly spun the roulette wheel, and soon enough, it landed on ‘X100’.
In an instant, he scored the highest points, and I rubbed my eyes once more in disbelief.
“What the… How did you do that?”
Uju flashed a ‘V’ sign.
“This is what you call ‘coincidence’ in Korean, teacher.”
I’ll have to look it up later.
As far as I knew, ‘coincidence’ in Korean didn’t an cheating or foul play.
It felt sowhat unsettling, but since we were on the sa team, I decided to accept it with joy.
While the production crew murmured in confusion, Uju and I savored our desserts with our forks.
“About what you just did…”
“The dice?”
“If this gets out on the broadcast, I wouldn’t be surprised if you get banned from casinos and pachinko parlors…”
“I’m not planning to go, so it’s fine.”
“That’s the spirit.”
With that, our music talk began in earnest.
We listened to my old songs and watched live videos, comnting on them.
A video from the ’80s, my debut era, started playing.
“Wow. You were quite the handso man back then, and still are.”
“You look like an idol.”
Even in the low-resolution video, the handso features were unmistakably mine.
I put down my fork and shrugged my shoulders.
“Well, I haven’t changed much since then.”
The playback stopped, and the screen went black, reflecting a middle-aged man with shining hair.
A solemn atmosphere.
As the New Black mbers hesitated to speak, I simply passed my hand, signaling to move on.
The videos continued.
“Wow, I’ve heard that the peak of city pop was around that ti, and it’s really great. The music steps up like…”
“Oh, your vocals have changed a bit, haven’t they?”
New Black was sharp, catching every detail from stage manners to changes over ti.
It felt good to have a conversation that flowed.
And their serious reactions to whatever I said made it enjoyable to talk.
“This part was a real struggle when composing. After the previous album received an unprecedented response, I wondered how to approach the public…”
“I think I understand what you an. We go through the sa concerns.”
“What do you guys usually worry about?”
As we delved deeper into our musical discussion, the excitent built up.
‘This is nice. I like it.’
I didn’t think I’d want to talk about this stuff.
But once I started, it was like a dam had burst, and the topics just kept flowing.
I realized just how much I’d been thirsting for a conversation about music.
“That was when I had a huge fight with the agency and went independent.”
“Oh. Did it go well?”
“I got scamd and it was a total disaster. The outside world wasn’t a place I could just waltz into.”
I rarely talked about personal matters, but now my original way of speaking ca out naturally.
As we listened to my ’90s tracks, Uju asked,
“When the genre shifted from city pop, what kind of changes did you experience?”
“It’s not that I’ve changed; it’s the tis that have changed,” he said, as the mbers listened intently, sipping their drinks.
“The ’80s were a ti of economic boom when city pop thrived, but then ca the ’90s, and the bubble burst.”
“Ah…”
“The Japanese economy had crashed.”
“Pfft-!”
The New Black mbers choked on their drinks, caught by surprise.
Panic-stricken faces.
And with that, the middle-aged singer regained his original pace, his unstoppable chatter beginning.
Talking about personal matters was strictly off-limits.
Yet, suddenly, an outpouring of personal details from Mr. Maeda began to spill out uncontrollably.
“I thought I’d do well if I left the company and started my own business, but it was a complete miscalculation. I was scamd right away.”
“Cough!”
“Overnight, it all turned to scraps of paper.”
Every ti he spoke, soone would choke, making it difficult to drink.
This must be why Teacher Baeksangkyo warned us to beware of ‘reckless mouths.’
At the sa ti, he must have fully recognized us as juniors, as a storm of advice ensued.
“Don’t take it badly when people judge you by your looks. You shouldn’t end up like those Hollywood actors who ruin their own appearance, thinking, ‘I’ll be judged by my acting.’”
“Uh, yes.”
“Beauty doesn’t co back…!”
A vehent exclamation.
I couldn’t help but burst into laughter, even though I shouldn’t.
“Also, moderate your drinking.”
“Ah, yes.”
“It’s not good for an artist’s life. And to everyone watching this, rember: moderation in alcohol is key.”
Mr. Maeda exclaid with a serious expression.
“You’ll definitely get divorced!”
Everyone on the set flipped over, laughing uncontrollably.
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