“So I looked at them with wide eyes and said, “Was my answer sufficient?” And then they sat down.”
“Oooo!”
“Then the next reporter...”
Inside the car heading toward the showcase venue, Biju—looking exhilarated—was recounting what had happened at the press conference.
To summarize roughly, Biju had won the Q&A battle as if he’d been fighting seventeen to one.
Of course, that seventeen was obviously us.
“I think I used a lot of the skills I learned from hyung.”
“Really?”
I smiled proudly, and Biju nodded vigorously.
“Yes! The skill of gently picking apart soone’s words when you’re at a disadvantage, teasing them with a smile, evading the core issue, pretending not to notice and then pointing out their flaws...”
“...”
“It was so useful!”
As the managers and younger mbers clapped and laughed, I watched the beaming Biju and swallowed my words. He looked like a bright, beautiful boy, but today he seed like a villain-in-training—I don’t know why.
I feigned distraction and said, “Well, from whom exactly did you learn those skills...?”
“U.”
Junghyun pointed at and smiled warmly. “U ans you.”
“Junghyun-ah, don’t explain it. I never fell asleep in first-period English like you did.”
“That’s right!”
Ri-hyuk clapped and pointed at . “Look at that—smiling while delivering a backhanded comnt.”
“Actually, I couldn’t sleep in first period because I dropped out...”
When I gazed off wistfully, Jiho shouted, “Look! Look! He’s bringing up the dark past to shut up!” Mimicking Jiho’s older sister’s expression, I glared at him; the maknae gasped and shrank back. We all chuckled.
anwhile, Ri-hyuk smiled at Biju as if to say well done. “Anyway, good job, hyung.”
“I did well, right?”
“But we already know you’re good at this. We expected it.”
“Hehe.”
Just as Biju’s eyes lit up in delight, the maknae fiddling with his phone hit play. A stiff robotic voice sounded:
[Ri-hyuk Language Interpretation: Biju hyung’s coping ability is real. This is truly amazing, and I’m proud of hyung!]
“Hahaha!” We burst out laughing as Ri-hyuk’s face turned red.
“Hey!” he scolded.
“It’s an app that reads text, but today it’s translating Ri-hyuk hyung’s true feelings.”
“Don’t do things like that.”
“Eek!” Watching Ri-hyuk shake the maknae’s collar, I smiled warmly.
After a brief commotion, Mingi hyung in the passenger seat cracked a joke: “The reporters are idiots. They don’t even know Biju is the real boss of our team.”
“...”
“Why are they reacting like that?”
The mood in the car suddenly turned tense. As Mingi hyung looked at us with a “what’s wrong with them?” expression, I glanced at the younger mbers’ faces.
“They said I’m the real boss!” crowed Junior1.
“Kim Biju is the boss...?”
“Biju hyung is the boss?”
“The boss...?” they blinked.
Wonseok hyung, driving the car, chid in: “Then who did you think the boss was?” Each of them answered in turn.
“Wasn’t it ? I train everyone with gummy bears,” claid Junior2.
“It’s definitely . I’m the only one scheming in this team,” bragged Traitor1.
“Look at my face. I’m silly in front but pulling the strings behind the scenes. Of course the boss is !” piped up Jiho.
“No,” we all said.
Jiho pouted and held out his hand to Junghyun. “Give so gummy bears, hyung.”
“Here you go,” Junghyun sighed, handing them over. Jiho giggled while eating; Junghyun widened his eyes and gave a “boss!” look.
That was the start.
“I hereby request an unlimited debate. The topic: Who truly runs NewBlack?”
“If you t a bear in the mountains, whose face would you look at first?”
“I’d say goodbye to Biju hyung. He’s the slowest runner,” said Jiho.
“Jiho...”
“No. If soone has to be sacrificed, throw in Wang Jiho. Biju hyung can cook.”
“Wow, that attitude—‘I got eaten by a bear by accident’ level.”
“All this I learned from that person.”
As friendships and the group dynamic dissolved in the chaotic ‘boss’ debate, I quietly watched the live hall coming into view. Hearing them shout “I am the boss!” and “Then I’m the boss’s boss!” made smile warmly.
I turned to Wonseok hyung driving. “Wonseok hyung.”
“Yes?”
“Why do they think I’m a scarecrow?”
“...Because you make everyone feel comfortable.”
Mingi hyung added, “That’s right. As the eldest and leader, you put everyone at ease, so the group mood stays bright.”
“Exactly. I agree.”
The two managers exchanged glances. “Feeling better?”
“No.”
“Okay. I’ll keep driving then.”
While Wonseok hyung focused on driving, Mingi hyung smiled gently. “Uju.”
“Yes?”
“A scarecrow is fine. A handso scarecrow.”
I smiled back. “At the showcase, I’ll make everyone chant ‘Lisa-joa.’”
“Oh! I’m sorry!” I replied.
A live hall in Gwangjin District. Under a banner reading [ATEN Fan Showcase], countless wreaths were lined up.
There were ones from the head of PBS network, from the favorite restaurants of the Mister Producer cast, and from actors, codians, singers, and broadcasters—people from all walks of life sending congratulatory ssages.
“This is amazing. There’s one from a National Assembly mber... oh, no, it’s from the National Flower Assembly. They want us to go for a chrysanthemum therapy from senior Choo Ki-seok.”
“This must be from senior Lee Geun-woo, right? Interesting.”
“Wow, all four major agencies sent one each in their CEOs’ nas.”
It was a scene that showed how big a deal the national variety show was. As we admired the garden-like display, our steps stopped at one particularly striking wreath.
“There was no need to start from the outside,” I said.
“This feels nice, right? Ours is in the best spot.”
“Maybe because it’s the biggest,” Jiho guessed.
It was so large it looked like a Christmas tree. I smiled and said, “No, it’s not that big. Take one step back...”
“...”
“Two steps...”
“...”
We backed up about five paces, and I smiled at the full view of the wreath. Five ribbons bore the ssage, “May your lineage prosper forever.” We’d told the florist to send sothing big and impressive—it looked like they’d dug up a flowering tree.
Mingi hyung, eyeing it in mock exasperation, said, “...Think positively: it’ll be a hot photo spot.”
“That’s true,” we all laughed. Wonseok hyung took a five-mber shot from about ten ters back, and then we headed into the artists’ waiting room.
“Hello!” we burst through the door, greeted by chaos: makeup and hair staff buzzing around dozens of people in the waiting room, twice as many in the corridors and rooms, plus the Mister Producer crew. I smiled at the familiar pre-show waiting-room sll.
“Oh my!” ATEN’s eldest, Kim Eui-ji, sprang up from the sofa. “Kids! NewBlack is here!”
“Teachers are here?”
“Waaaa! Our teachers are here!” ATEN rushed over. Model Joo-ho laughed and asked, “How do we look? Like celebrities?”
“Yes, you all look like rookie idols,” I said.
“Well, we do look young...”
“The clothes.”
“Hey! That’s harsh!” they teased, elbowing my side. Smack! Smack!
“Oh my! Uju, you’re especially cute and pretty today!”
“Gasp!” I yelped as they hugged and play-patted enthusiastically. I glared at the chuckling seniors and said, “If I’d known, I’d have made recording tougher on you.”
“But now everything’s ready!” they said, wiggling their fingers and laughing. I smiled—this really was the mont.
We sat around a snack-laden table, smiling with the ATEN mbers. Choo Ki-seok, nostalgic, said, “This day actually ca. It’s finally our debut.”
“I still can’t believe it. Even after the press conference, it felt unreal.”
“Two months ago, it felt like a joke.” We laughed and nodded. When viewers were “Ha ha ha!” we were “Excuse ? You want us to train them?” in disbelief.
Nam Do-hoon said, “We couldn’t have gotten here without you.”
“That’s right.”
“Of course, if not for you... oh, right.” He flexed awkwardly as we teased. My gaze drifted to model Hong Seok, quietly smiling. “How do you feel, Senior Hong Seok?”
“I feel good.” He grinned, brushing back his hair. Seeing him so happy was surprising.
“This project started from my dream. Debuting as idols like this—it’s wonderful. Thank you.”
“You’re welco.”
“When you all have ti, let know. I’ll buy you expensive at.” We smiled and nodded at his sincere thanks.
During our two months of “You did great,” ATEN handed us their debut album: well-designed, enticing. Seeing it, I finally felt, “They’re really debuting.” They signed “To NewBlack,” but their hands shook as they wrote. Daldaldal-daldal...
“Are you nervous?” I asked.
“We are,” admitted ballad singer Ahn Jae-hee. “Singing’s fine but dancing makes shake. I didn’t sleep last night.”
“ too. I thought about today’s show and suddenly it was morning.”
“I stayed up all night.” It’s natural to be nervous before a live showcase of 1,500 people. Practice room mistakes were t with “OK, again!”—today is the real stage.
“During our first showcase, we were so nervous,” ATEN said.
“Right—nobody slept except Ri-hyuk hyung,” they teased as I addressed them: “I thought you seniors would be super nervous, so we prepared ways to calm you.”
“...”
“It’s good. Really good.”
“Junghyun’s not going to crack your neck, is he?”
“No way.” We scratched that idea. “...These are psychological thods to calm the mind.”
“Oooo.”
“We prepared two things. First, letters from our main vocalist to soothe your hearts!” Ri-hyuk pulled out six envelopes; ATEN clapped. As they reached, he snatched them back. “...Why?”
“I made a mistake. These are for when you’re not that nervous.” He produced Version 2; they laughed. “These are for when you’re very nervous.”
“Ri-hyuk plans everything.”
“He’s thorough—does he have a disaster kit at ho?” He does, a one-person kit.
Our main vocalist cleared his throat and offered the letters. “Here, please accept these.”
“Thank you, Ri-hyuk.” They smiled and said they’d read them later. Then Choo Ki-seok asked, “So what’s the other thing?”
“This is the key,” we said seriously. “We’re ntally fragile—like sugar glass. We get so nervous, we developed the perfect thod over two years.”
“Ooooo.”
“It’s Junghyun hyung’s ‘poop touch!’ thod!” Hong Seok, eating chocolate, froze. We went on: “You know about Junghyun’s touch, right?”
“Of course!”
Choo Ki-seok summarized Junghyun’s famously bad intuition. “Ooooo—so that’s real.”
“He really has a poop sense.”
“It’s poop.” Hong Seok tossed his bar into the trash.
Then Kim Eui-ji said, “Jinx rituals are important—like football players stepping on grass left foot first.”
“So what do we do?” Curious, they watched us ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) pull out a thick encyclopedia-like volu.
“This is it.”
“What is...?”
“Our customized book: ‘Junghyun’s Magic Book.’” Inspired by the magical snail. On the black cover: “JH’s Magic Book.” “You open to any page and read,” we explained.
“All right, I’ll tell you your showcase fortune~” they cheered.
“Wait—let us prepare.” They pretended to take deep breaths for the caras. Under Kim Eui-ji’s lead, we perford purifying breaths. Junghyun closed his eyes, chanted “Jelly, jelly, magic jelly,” and flipped pages. Then he pointed.
“...?” We all stared at the text:
『 Sotis you have to promise another day. – Team Rocket 』
We cried “Amazing!” while ATEN groaned and grabbed the book.
“No! Why this ssage?”
“Seniors.”
“Promise another day....”
“Seniors.”
“Yes?”
I addressed their gazes: “You said ‘poop touch.’” “Oh.” Hong Seok flung his chocolate away.
We explained: “Read it upside down. Look here for the small text.”
『 Indeed. Today is the day. – Sun Woo-ju (1993~) 』
ATEN’s faces lit up. “Ooooo!” “What an auspicious sign!” “So lucky!”
They laughed, relieved. I recalled how we created the book during my forced rest after Japan—its hot reception felt great.
Nam Do-hoon asked, “I’m marrying soon; can I try it?”
“Of course.” Junghyun closed his eyes, murmured “jelly jelly,” and flipped.
He showed: [That place will be your eternal ho.] Nam Do-hoon bead. Then we turned it:
“Oh, upside down.”
『 Imdiately prepare a getaway – Wang Jiho (1998~) 』
Nam Do-hoon blinked “?”—all the married people gasped. “This really is magic!” “No, it’s prophecy!”
He asked again; Junghyun showed [Fate is sothing you carve yourself] with [Not at all. Accept it.] below. Kim Eui-ji and Ahn Jae-hee laughed like children.
We closed the book; I smiled: “This is just for fun. Don’t overthink it.”
“Well...?”
“Anyway, congratulations on your wedding, senior.”
I comforted the crestfallen Nam Do-hoon, promising a congratulatory song later. Then I clapped and addressed everyone:
“In two hours, at six, the showcase starts, right?”
“That’s right.”
“You might be nervous, but I hope you worry less and step on that stage. You practiced this much—if you make a mistake, it can’t be helped.”
Smiling at them, I continued: “You seniors gave your all these past two months. It wasn’t short, but not long either. You’ve worked hard—I hope you feel the reward on stage.”
“...”
“You’ve done so much—today you’ll do great.” The six sent admiring, determined smiles.
Kim Eui-ji joked, “Seeing this, Uju, I see why you’re our leader.”
“Hehe.”
“Of course you hold no real power, but...”
“If you ss up today, I won’t let you get away with it.”
At my warning that I’d watch the stage under a microscope, everyone laughed.
“All right, let’s cheer for ATEN’s successful debut—ready?”
“One, two, three!”
“Fighting!”
Amid laughter, we cheered a successful debut.
At the sa ti, about two hours before doors opened, ticket holders lined up as a tour bus arrived and the staff entrance opened, causing a stir.
“Huh? Who are those people?”
“They look like staff.”
“There’s a familiar face. What was the na of the person who wrote that letter to his mom?”
“Oh...!”
All eyes followed the unmistakable n entering the hall.
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