The unfiltered remarks of Mr. Maeda set off a burst of laughter among the crew and us.
The aftermath of the declaration, “I will get divorced! Definitely!” had just ended.
In the still laughter-filled studio, Maeda Shin sighed deeply.
“Phew.”
The middle-aged singer wiped the sweat from his forehead with a laugh.
“I got excited without realizing it. Anyway, rember my advice.”
“We will, for sure.”
“I want you to take a different path than I did,” he said with sincerity, and we nodded in agreent.
It seed like he was projecting his past onto New Black.
He reminisced about his heyday in Japan, idol-like popularity paired with his handso looks.
He hoped we wouldn’t fall into the sa pattern as him.
“No matter how much you practice singing, you’ll hear whispers, ‘That guy is only popular for his good looks.’”
“Yes, I’ve heard that often.”
“Thinking ‘I’ll win with my talent alone!’ after hearing such talk is foolish.”
Mr. Maeda gave a thumbs up to the cara.
“Looks are the best!”
Amidst the crew’s laughter, we also clapped and laughed along.
The singer spoke earnestly.
“Out of nowhere, you want to be recognized as an artist. Grow your hair long, beard like a cult leader!”
The paused video showed a young Maeda Shin with long hair and a beard, reminiscent of Jesus.
“And suddenly, your music turns niche. Never confuse your fans with a sudden ‘Huh?’”
“Yes, no long hair. No beards…”
“And no motorcycles. Especially not the one from Terminator.”
“Terminator motorcycle…”
We took out our notebooks and jotted down the advice fervently.
It was a heartfelt warning not to stray onto the wrong path in a quest for musical recognition.
Mr. Maeda continued.
“Otherwise, you end up a has-been. Nothing left but a monstrous appearance.”
“Cough! Ack!”
A seed from the fresh fruit juice got stuck in my throat.
Rihyuk, red-faced and choking next to , was patted on the back.
The senior singer always caught us off guard, leaving us flustered.
I sumd it up with a clap.
“So, looks are like the environnt. Once damaged, they don’t return.”
“Exactly. These eyes, nose, and mouth are a precious ecosystem.”
“We will nurture this valuable asset diligently, as you advised.”
“Good.”
Mr. Maeda said.
“If you ever feel like becoming an artist instead of a singer, contact . I’ll show you my face.”
Then he turned to Seok Hwan.
“If that happens, make sure to call the manager too.”
“Thank you.”
Our TF team leader nodded with gratitude.
My siblings and I seed to enjoy receiving advice from the senior singer, our expressions unusually cheerful today.
As the advice session, stained with divorce, scams, and business failures, ca to an end.
We decided to wrap up and move on to the next segnt.
“We’ve taken Mr. Maeda’s wonderful advice to heart. Now, onto the next corner…”
“Ah. One more thing.”
Mr. Maeda raised his index finger.
“Stay away from romantic entanglents.”
“Ugh! Cough!”
“It’s not good for your career…!”
The middle-aged singer shouted with a soulful cry towards the cara.
“Love may end in divorce, but a career lasts forever…!”
As we coughed and then burst into laughter, the production crew and staff clapped like seals, laughing hysterically.
After the blood-spitting advice session.
Maeda Shin scratched his cheek.
“Now that the excitent has died down, I feel embarrassed.”
Talking about music with New Black made him reflect on his past.
Reviewing his once-famous good looks, he noticed the musicians before him.
He ended up revealing his personal life while advising them not to end up like him.
“What should I do with this?”
As I pondered, the story about his musical world was coming to an end. It was the soundtrack of an ani, a piece that flowed from a music video, making the mbers of New Black marvel at the piano sounds. ŕＡꞐồ𝐁Èṣ
“Wow, this is really good. So you composed this, teacher?”
It was the OST of a fairly successful feature-length ani.
The young staff, whispering to each other with expressions of recognition, made feel inexplicably happy.
Jung-hyun scratched his chest and said, “It’s really good. It gives a tickling feeling in the heart.”
“Truly.”
Uju added, “The emotions embedded in the song really resonate. It’s like fireworks are bursting in the sky, but the protagonist stands alone in an empty village.”
“That’s accurate.”
“Did I get it right?”
With each song, Maeda Shin smiled contentedly as they pinpointed the essence so precisely.
To others, it might just be a song that ends with a ‘Wow, that’s exciting.’ But when soone recognizes the hidden intentions and praises them, it couldn’t be more beautiful.
“At first, you started with city pop, and now you’ve shifted to composing OSTs with a new-age style.”
He nodded.
“My throat isn’t what it used to be for singing. I stumbled upon this field while trying to make money.”
“Ah, there’s a deeper aning…”
After explaining the backstory of the latest music, Rihyuk asked, “It would be a sha to let you go without asking, could you teach us one of your songs?”
“My song?”
“Yes.”
Bijoo smiled and added, “You know, there are those songs. The really good ones that the public doesn’t know about, the hidden masterpieces.”
“Ah, of course, there are.”
A song from an album released in the late ’90s ca to mind.
A song he wrote and composed himself.
After recording, the producer offered a handshake, saying, ‘Maeda-kun, this is going to be a hit…!’ But the problem was that the title track flopped, and the album was buried…
“There’s a song called ‘House of the Butterfly.’”
Soon, the production team played the video they found through a search.
A video uploaded by a YouTube user with 362 views.
The singer, who had returned from long hair to short, held a guitar and smiled brightly on the album cover.
As nostalgia for those tis set in, the song began to play.
The voice, once splendid in its early days, now husky from alcohol and cigarettes, ca through.
‘Back then, it was at least worth listening to.’
I thought it was much better than my voice now.
While reminiscing about the album from the end of my heyday, Maeda Shin looked around at the quiet surroundings.
The mbers of New Black were all listening intently with their eyes gently closed.
Heads nodding in rhythm.
After the song ended, the mbers clapped and nodded their heads.
“It’s really a hidden gem.”
“Well, it’s not that much…”
“No, it’s really good.”
Uju, who had been politely agreeing all day, spoke up firmly.
“It’s like finding treasure as a child, eyes sparkling.”
“Is it really a good song, teacher?”
“Is it?”
The other mbers also nodded in agreent.
Encouraged by their reaction, Maeda admitted, “I’ve always thought of it as a masterpiece.”
“Wow!”
Their honest reaction, revealing their inner thoughts, made the mbers point at him with their index fingers, as if to say, ‘We love that mindset!’
Maeda laughed, pointing back in the sa way.
During this, Rihyuk asked, “Could you give us so tips on how to sing this song?”
“Hmm…”
If you want to teach , you have to call first.
Suddenly, I beca acutely aware of the cara lights and the gazes of the staff crowding around .
Maeda felt a sense of embarrassnt.
“That’s…”
“…?”
“My voice is pretty rough right now. It sounds like scraping tal.”
Moreover, it had been a long ti since I last sang.
The New Black mbers humd thoughtfully before turning their eyes to soone.
The leader, deep in thought, seed to flutter his thick, settled eyelashes with every blink.
“How about this?”
A soft voice suggested.
“We could rearrange the song to suit your current voice, Mr. Maeda.”
“Oh, that’s not a bad idea.”
“Please, take a seat at the keyboard, sir.”
I decided to move according to the other’s lead.
“If you play the lody, Mr. Maeda, we’ll try to match it with a song.”
“Sounds good.”
He humd a tune as he played the lody of ‘House of the Butterfly.’
Beside him, Rihyuk whispered sothing into the universe’s ear after hearing Maeda’s voice.
The universe nodded.
“It seems we’ve caught the starting note.”
Imdiately, the mbers gathered around the leader, their heads close together like a group of penguins seriously contemplating their evening al.
The conversation flowed quickly in Korean, perhaps because it was a story difficult to tell in a foreign language.
A flash of surprise crossed Maeda Shin’s eyes.
‘…Can they all compose?’
As the leader scribbled sothing on paper, rapid feedback in Korean followed.
The main dancer, Bijoo, took the pen and wrote on the paper.
The rapper gestured with his palms, discussing the rhythm.
Even the youngest, full of mischief, looked seriously into the leader’s eyes and spoke.
Feedback poured in from all sides.
The leader, listening and synthesizing in the center, turned his head this way and that before neatly wrapping up.
“We’ve finished communicating among ourselves, and now we just need to hear Mr. Maeda’s opinion to make adjustnts.”
“Let’s hear it then.”
The leader’s fingers gently tapped the keyboard.
In that mont…
The thought ‘This is it…!’ flashed through my mind. Suppressing the excitent in my heart, he sang.
‘It fits.’
The voice now was different from before.
Like wearing a tailor-made suit.
Of course, it wasn’t perfect.
No matter how great the tailor, they can’t know the exact size of a custor just by eye.
There were a few things that needed to be adjusted from the wearer’s perspective.
“How about this?”
As Maeda Shin humd a song while playing the altered lody with his right hand, the universe placed its left hand on the keyboard.
The sound changed again to match.
It felt like two lines softly crossing each other.
At so point, without realizing it, the mbers began to hum along to the completed song.
The Japanese lyrics were sowhat muffled.
You’ll be a beautiful butterfly
Butterfly-
The mbers sang together in the chorus, “You’ll be a beautiful butterfly.”
After practice…
The singer, now confident again, sang into the microphone handed to him by the production team.
‘My throat is terribly ruined.’
Honestly, it wasn’t a pleasant voice to hear.
But the mbers of New Black filled the empty sounds nicely, making it pleasant to listen to.
Thanks to that, even the staff nodded their heads and enjoyed the song.
‘That’s why Baeksangkyo hyung told to co out.’
I had heard that it would feel good to make music again after a long ti, and it certainly did.
Feeling refreshed as if I had just gone out after a long ti.
Like erging from the cocoon spoken of in ‘House of the Butterfly.’
After singing up to the third verse while making eye contact with the young singers.
“Wowwwww!”
I laughed as I high-fived the New Black mbers who were asking for a double high-five.
Perhaps it was because of my age, but I didn’t feel the expected surge of emotion. Instead, a pleasant feeling washed over .
After a brief exchange of pleasantries—those empty boasts of ‘you’re better,’ ‘no, you’re better’—the formalities ended.
“Thank you for joining us today, sir,” I said with gratitude.
“Thank you,” he replied simply.
“Now, as we wrap up the broadcast, could you please share your thoughts towards the cara?”
I turned to the cara, its red light blinking, and spoke, “I want to say I had a great ti. And to the fans watching this broadcast…”
“Oh?”
“It’s a bit late, but I’m thankful for those who liked back then. That’s how I feel. I’ve quit now, but I should have moderated my drinking and smoking…”
Then, shifting gears, I added, “A word for the fans of NewBlack.”
“Yes? Our fans?” he asked, surprised.
“I promise to guide your idol, Maeda Shin, on the right path so that he never becos a bald old man like .”
The staff burst into laughter again, and he turned his gaze to the mbers of NewBlack.
“What did I say today?”
“Beauty doesn’t co back…!”
Maeda Shin couldn’t help but laugh at the mbers who mimicked him down to his expression.
After the broadcast ended, perhaps it was the uplifted mood that made ponder.
“Hey, Maeda. When the mood is good, watch out. They’ll try to charm you, but you mustn’t fall for it, got it?”
“Charm ?”
“No matter what they say, just firmly reject them with ‘I dislike you all!’”
Baek Sang-gyo’s advice faded from my mind, replaced by a fondness for the NewBlack mbers, who now seed endearing and lovely through a soft filter.
When the recording ended and it was ti for farewells, one of them approached .
“Sir, if you ever have ti, whether it’s for a movie OST or another project…”
“Ah, it would be nice to work together.”
“Really?”
As I handed over my phone number, the NewBlack mbers bounced around joyfully, and I couldn’t help but smile warmly at them.
Again, was it the uplifted mood that prompted the next question?
“The production team is asking how to edit the personal parts of the interview.”
“Hmm.”
“They said they’d edit out anything like… economic collapse first.”
Had I spoken too much unnecessary information?
“This is troubleso…”
I hoped for the personal details to be edited out, but there was too much to cut without it being excessive.
After a mont of contemplation, I reached a conclusion.
“Tell them they can edit freely as long as it’s entertaining.”
I wondered how entertaining my words would turn out to be.
Maeda Shin thought it would probably just be a short edit.
After finishing the recording with Mr. Maeda, we completed the rest of the TV concept content for the NewBlack World account.
It would likely be released after we arrived in Korea, considering the ti needed for editing.
With that explanation, we continued with our remaining schedule in Tokyo.
“On the count of three!”
“Hello, everyone! We’re delighted to et you! We are NewBlack!”
We visited the NewBlack pop-up store set up by the company for concert promotion, greeted fans, and even held a brief autograph session.
We also did photo shoots and interviews with several magazines that had requested interviews.
And then…
“Wowwwww!”
The last two days were upon us.
We successfully completed the final concerts at Yokohama Arena on February 27th and 28th.
Apart from the spoken parts, the setlist was identical to the one we perford at Kobe World Hall.
But the feeling was different in a new venue.
Being popular enough to perform at Yokohama Arena in Japan ant sothing.
It felt strange yet wonderful to receive such cheers in a foreign country.
Seeing the audience packed with our fans, the ‘Dalbongies,’ while arm-in-arm with my younger mbers, was truly touching.
One cannot understand without experiencing it—the feeling as if all the stars in the world were swirling before my eyes.
“Thank you so much, everyone!”
I gave my final words to the fans who had prepared a ‘We’ll always wait for you’ slogan event.
“They say an end is but a new beginning. Though tonight’s performance has co to a close, we hope it’s not the end for us.”
“So instead of saying goodbye, let’s promise to et again.”
“Shall we make that promise?”
“Let’s et again, without fail!”
Over ten thousand light sticks responded in unison.
Together, we sang along to the fireworks display, bringing the Yokohama concert to a grand finale.
Was it the finality of the Japan tour that made it feel so significant?
I was fine when the Kobe concert ended, but wrapping up the entire Japan tour left feeling sowhat empty.
“What’s that thing called again? The one that tricks travelers in the desert.”
“A mirage.”
“It feels like it all disappeared like a mirage.”
I empathized with the youngest mber’s words.
Perhaps it was the emptiness one feels after concluding a long-prepared project.
But fortunately, that void was quickly filled with a new sensation.
“Ah, ti to head ho.”
“Great job, everyone.”
The morning after the concert.
My heart raced during the flight from Tokyo to Incheon.
Jun-hyeon said, “It felt so long, really.”
“Indeed. There’s no place like ho.”
“Once we’re back, let’s start with ran. What was it? Woojoo’s grandmother sent us kimchi too, right?”
“Ran sounds perfect.”
It was the first ti I’d stayed in one place for nearly two weeks.
Being in the sa Asian region, I thought I’d be fine, but after a week, I started to miss ho terribly.
Even in the spacious hotel room, my mind wandered to the ran cooked back at our dorm or the late-night food deliveries.
“Waaaaah!”
Normally, the throng of people rushing towards us would have been overwhelming.
But the mont I breathed in the Korean air upon arriving at Incheon Airport…
I was overwheld with happiness…
“Woaaaah…ack!”
I was abruptly pushed aside.
After quickly adjusting, I dashed straight to the vehicle.
Shaking off the entertainnt reporters who playfully teased, ‘You seem in a good mood today?’
It was only after climbing into the parked vehicle outside Incheon Airport that I could finally catch my breath.
Won-seok hyung said with a smile, “You all worked hard.”
“You too, hyung. Wait… why are you here?”
We all tilted our heads in confusion at the sight of Seokhwan hyung, who rarely joined us in our vehicle.
“I have a place to stop by. Just a quick detour.”
“Where to?”
“It’s a secret.”
I wasn’t particularly curious, so I let it go.
Perhaps it was the tension of the past two weeks, but the fatigue seed to hit all at once.
Jun-hyeon and Jiho were already nodding off, heads together.
Lee-hyuk murmured, “But doesn’t it feel like we’ve forgotten sothing?”
“I was thinking the sa.”
I couldn’t pinpoint why, but it felt like we’d left sothing behind.
Then, a person flashed through my mind.
“…!”
Lee-hyuk and I widened our eyes and turned to the seat beside us.
“There.”
“There it is.”
Bee-joo, who had been knitting gloves, put down her needles and squinted her eyes.
Looking at her slightly twitching nose, it seed she too recalled sothing from Kansai Airport.
I quickly looked away.
“So what could it be…”
Lee-hyuk and I pondered, but no answer ca.
It was like that uncertain feeling of whether we’d drawn the curtains at the dorm or left them open.
Lost in various thoughts while gazing at the West Sea beyond Yeongjong Bridge.
Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep, unaware that the car had stopped.
“…Hey, guys.”
“Hmm?”
“Open your eyes. There’s sothing I want to show you.”
“…What’s going on?”
I was jolted awake by Seokhwan’s voice, along with everyone else, rubbing our eyes in confusion.
This place wasn’t our lodging but sowhere unfamiliar.
As we looked around, trying to grasp our bearings in this strange environnt, we asked, “Where are we?”
“The lodging,” ca the reply.
‘Lodging?’ I wondered what they were talking about.
Just as the thought crossed my mind, a realization dawned on , fresh from sleep.
We all snapped our eyes open and turned around to see our manager smiling and saying, “This is your new lodging.”
Before the words even finished, we were glued to the car window, gazing outside.
And then, we gasped in awe.
The feeling that we had left sothing behind had completely vanished.
Kenji Hashimoto.
A pianist from Japan, once called the rival of Seon Myeong-ju.
Last year, he was the very person a close PD friend tried to invite to a TV show during NewBlack’s visit to Japan.
“…”
Now, he was sipping tea with his son, pianist Kenta Hashimoto, and a broadcast station PD.
“So, NewBlack isn’t coming again this ti?”
“It seems so…”
“How strange. Our presence can’t be that insignificant.”
I was overjoyed upon hearing that NewBlack desperately needed Japanese TV promotion.
Why aren’t they coming?
‘The plan was perfect…’
Just like last year, NewBlack still didn’t show up.
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