After the music show ended, the impact was so big that screenshots from the K-Net broadcast started circulating online.
[NewBlack’s reign doesn’t have much ti left]
(image.jpg showing Nakhwa, Attention, and Bulkkotnori as the No. 1 nominees, with the artists looking shocked)
“A rookie from two years ago making a coback is chasing them down, and even a group of middle-aged debutants is on their heels ... 😱”
“ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ I thought it was a troll post, but hey, nice and chill.”
“[Breaking] NewBlack reportedly defeated by themselves—shock...”
“NewBlack’s biggest obstacle: themselves.”
“ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ Isn’t Bulkkotnori that song that’s charting again these days? And they still can’t get No. 1, wow.”
“Is that No. 1 lineup for real?”
“NewBlack vs (rookie) NewBlack vs (NewBlack-produced) middle-aged group.”
“The artists’ faces are hilarious ... ‘What on earth am I looking at right now...?’”
“I think I saw a like this last year, but updated version lol.”
“Whatever happens, Ujuseon’s wallet’s getting fatter.”
While netizens traded jokes, others wondered:
“But where’s NewBlack? I don’t see them listed.”
“They’re in the U.S.”
“Probably filming so variety show over there.”
“Expect an ‘I tried Arican burgers!’ post soon.”
“I’d love a chase-down episode again ... It’s hilarious every ti they catch a pirarucu fish.”
Just as with the people they’d t in New York, nobody thought it was for the concert.
“Wow ....”
Arican Soufflé fans visiting the Chelsea popup store in Manhattan gaped in astonishnt.
It felt like stepping into a kingdom made of cookies.
Cozy wood-tone interiors, a waft of chocolate, and sowhere a steam locomotive going “choo-choo” could be heard.
[Welco to NewBlack World !]
The banner in the lobby greeted them.
In the spacious store, a model castle sat in the center, with a toy train chugging around it.
Adorable miniature figures of the NewBlack mbers stood on display.
Each with a price tag marked “$.”
“I’m buying one.”
It was transparent marketing, but those cute mini-figures were irresistible.
Every entrant reflexively tucked a boxed mber model under their arm—until a brown lump suddenly appeared.
“Ahem!”
Startled, people choking on laughter saw the part-ti staff appear.
Korean exchange students wearing headbands topped with antennae labeled “N” and “S” guided them.
“Welco, Princess Soufflé!”
“Pffft—!”
“Welco to NewBlack World~!”
Their bubbly smiles and over-the-top greetings made even unembarrassable Aricans blush or break into sheepish grins.
“...What is this?”
I laughed at this popup concept I’d never seen before.
They handed paper crowns as if welcoming guests to the NewBlack kingdom.
A the park vibe that kids would love.
“What is this cliché concept...?”
Fans strutted around wearing their paper crowns proudly.
As more entered, so pointed at the headbands and asked:
“What’s this? North and South poles?”
“These headbands stand for NewBlack’s N and Soufflé’s S!”
“I see.”
Well, I won’t be buying one of those.
While Lemon Ent.’s CEO-designed disposable headbands were being ignored—
“Whoa ....”
Soufflés who’d just entered the store gasped.
“This is insane!”
It was truly a space made for fans.
There was a photo zone where you could pose with life-size NewBlack images, displays of handwritten mber autographs and morabilia, and even a mini-ga area with prizes.
Best of all, every rch item they’d ever wanted was there.
Every fan wandering the popup store wore joy on their faces.
“When I was a kid, toy stores made feel like this.”
“This is heaven...”
“Look! A black goat T-shirt!”
“Whoa! I’ve wanted that forever...!”
The black-and-white tee featured Junghyun’s face and a black goat’s face looking in opposite directions.
With “The New Black” in graffiti style, it looked like a Detroit rapper’s rch at first glance.
As the store’s BGM changed, mass sing-alongs waxed and waned:
“Nine nine nine~!”
“‘To you~’ hm-hm-hm~”
Arican fans sang the English lyrics confidently, then mumbled through the Korean parts.
Because they loved the sa artist, a festive atmosphere pervaded even as people chatted inside the popup.
[Try dancing Nine’s choreography with NewBlack~!]
The screen showed fans mimicking NewBlack’s chorus dance, and this corner was wildly popular.
“If you get on this video, you might be featured in NewBlack content!”
“Really?”
Hyped by the chance to appear in NewBlack’s official videos, fans clamored to participate.
While the fans enjoyed the popup store—
“Hmm....”
The NewBlack TF team scattered throughout surveyed the scene.
They’d limited each person’s rch purchase, yet reports forecast stock shortages before long.
Amid the busy staff,
“This is beyond my expectations.”
TF team lead Yoon Seok-hwan stepped out briefly to watch the sales pace. Hundreds still queued outside.
I was astonished as NYPD patrol cars paused nearby to investigate the commotion. When those waiting spotted him, they pointed.
“He’s the math demon!”
“Devil team lead!”
“That’s the guy the universe calls a villain!”
It was a mystery why Arican fans knew his nickna, but it ant the hype was real.
Secretary-like Seomin-gi said,
“At least he’s polite.”
“Why?”
“Try this: ‘Oh ! You are ri‐sa‐jo‐a?’ Your mind goes fuzzy, you want revenge on the mbers.”
“Math demon is better.”
“But isn’t it wild? They even know our faces.”
“Totally surreal.”
Back inside, Yoon Seok-hwan surveyed the smiling faces, the chorus sing-alongs, and the flying rch.
All that activity fed straight into his data.
“This could be a new market.”
As TF team lead, his biggest challenge was overseas expansion.
They’d topped Korea’s charts, rivaling TeenSpirit, and were conquering Asia—Japan, Taiwan—but China and Japan posed political hurdles.
They’d long sought a third market, and today’s popup store gave him a clue.
“This could be our way in ....”
With high purchasing power and a rapidly growing, solid fandom, this market was promising.
He’d suspected it from Mitube and Billboard data, but seeing it firsthand ignited certainty.
“Maybe plan next year’s overseas tour... no.”
He deferred detailed strategy decisions—for NewBlack, plans changed with every album release. Each new success sent company strategy into flux.
Yoon Seok-hwan nodded to himself:
“Let’s just take the temperature for now.”
Like magma bubbling beneath a dormant volcano, he’d monitor the local heat.
Then:
“Mingi.”
“Yes?”
“I need to et the local agency. I’m stepping out for a bit.”
“B-Boss! We’re running low on stock!”
“Mingi, you have to experience dealing with furious custors to grow. Soday you’ll be chief, too.”
“B-Boss...!”
He waved and dashed out of the store—the TF team lead on a mission.
“A-are you okay, hyung?”
“......”
“Mingi-hyung, Wonseok-hyung! Are you okay? You both look half-dead!”
“Ugh...”
The managers staggered. Whatever had happened at the popup was terrifying.
“Your fans are so scary...”
They shivered, and we nodded sympathetically.
“We have tough days, too.”
“That’s why we rock.”
“Soufflé fact: stronger than NewBlack.”
Our joke drew faint smiles from the managers.
“You should’ve seen it. Outside, people were yelling ‘Sold Out!’ and the vibe went shhh in an instant.”
“It reminded of the army. During the obstacle course, after eight PT rounds, you shout the final chant...”
At Wonseok-hyung’s words, I shuddered. I could imagine the mood.
“What’s an obstacle course?”
“You’ll find out soon. They’ll give you clothes and food.”
“Ugh, don’t scare . It sounds awful.”
As we teased them, a voice I never wanted to recall echoed in my mind:
“Sergeant, I accidentally deleted the Excel file. What do I do?”
Suppressing my anger, I refocused. With the concert ahead, I wouldn’t let that lunacy taint my mind.
Today was the day of the K-pop concert—the final New York schedule.
“Hello, New York!”
Just like the Paris show earlier this month, we’d done a Korean culture experience and mini-fan eting, posed at the photo wall, then ward up backstage watching other artists.
Biju looked concerned:
“Hyung, how’s your tongue? Once you bite it, you keep doing it.”
“It’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Rihyuk studied .
“If it’s really bad, tell . Don’t gag-cough and spit blood on stage.”
“I said I’m fine. Want to see?”
“Ah, really? No, don’t!”
“Don’t show nasty pics, hyung!”
“......”
I stuck out my tongue, earning a barrage of mock insults. I shot a side glance and the brothers burst into laughter. Munching a jelly that Junghyun offered, I said:
“Don’t worry. If you bite it again or it gets worse...!”
“Worse...?”
“I’d use it on stage—vampire concept, wiping blood at the corner of your mouth.”
“......”
Rihyuk quipped:
“Sotis you seem truly insane—a madman on stage.”
“If you collapse, you’ll spin in a circle while falling. Biju hyung will catch you dancing next to you.”
“Seriously, be careful. Hospital bills are sky-high here—they even sell tooth-pullers at the supermarket.”
I had no idea what they thought of us. I reassured them I was okay. A bit sore, but no real harm.
“All right, let’s get up.”
Our set was over twenty minutes—practically a mini-concert. As distant cheers ward up our limbs, we gathered around Junghyun-held “magic book” to ease tension.
Biju teased:
“Magic book, can we rock the show today?”
“Hmmm....”
Junghyun closed his eyes, intoned “jelly-jelly magic jelly,” and snapped the book open.
『No.』
The text appeared reversed—“No.” A bad sign. We tensed.
Junghyun opened his eyes: “Ah.”
“Sorry, I zoned out. I was thinking about what to eat on the flight to Seoul tomorrow.”
We laughed at his “I should pick a different nu” mont. He tried again:
“jelly-jelly magic jelly.”
『Strangely, today’s fortune is good... – Kim Cheom-ji』
The tsundere icon of modern literature, Kim Cheom-ji, made us smile. Before a show, we felt optimistic.
Prudential Center.
The cheers of 18,000 fans grew deafening. The MCs bead at the audience:
“Our final perforr is waiting—are you ready?”
“Yaay!”
Cheers tore through the venue like banshee wails. It was so loud that other K-pop fans in the crowd stared wide-eyed.
“What is this...?”
Korean Soufflés looked around in amazent. Local fans shouted “NewBlack!” as they bounced in their seats or even stood to warm up. So held “Rihyuk-gongju” signs and sobbed.
“Aren’t these guys supposed to be casual enthusiasts?”
Seeing the familiar scene of Korean fandom replicated abroad was bizarrely thrilling.
The MCs hyping the crowd shouted:
“Everyone, let’s shout together!”
“3 ... 2 ... 1 ... The New Black!”
The arena lights dimd, and the roar exploded:
“Waaaaaah!”
It felt like a solo NewBlack concert had begun. Dark silhouettes of glow-jellyfish-like glowsticks pulsed through the crowd.
Lights flashed—and the VCR began.
Local fans murmured:
“Uh...?”
Because it showed them on screen. Not live footage, but pre-recorded videos of the popup store and Nine dance challenge.
“Hey, that’s it!”
Scenes of fans dancing Nine’s chorus past briefly, then split-screen coverage of Mitube cover dances poured out. First one by one, then in a grid, then zooming out until individual dancers ford a coherent image.
“Oh...!”
The completed image was NewBlack’s back view. What looked like a dot-painting beca a realistic video: Junghyun in the center, hooded like a back-alley fugitive, turning his head with a rebellious glare. As the crowd roared, “Nine” appeared like a film title. And in identical outfits, NewBlack mbers rose on lifts.
“Waaaaaah!”
Amid the cheers, they perford Nine.
“It really is Nine!”
Arican Soufflés bounced as the live cara captured tear-wiping fans, fanning sweaty faces, and trembling bodies. The Prudential Center pulsated like NewBlack’s concert hall.
Every ti the main vocal hit a high note, screams erupted. When the rapper did a solo move, glowsticks rippled like waves. During Junghyun’s hand-kiss ti, Soufflés cheered wildly.
“This is our first show in New York— we were nervous, but thanks to you, we had a blast.”
“Thank you!”
The mbers drenched in sweat guzzled water; Uju dabbed his forehead with his sleeve as Arican fans smiled approvingly.
“We’ve got two songs left. One is a special stage just for our Arican fans.”
At “special stage,” their eyes sparkled. Uju grinned:
“It’ll take a mont to prepare— you can wait for us, right?”
“Yessss!”
“See you soon.”
Whatever it was, the Soufflés bristled with anticipation. Before the heat died down, NewBlack returned.
A lody echoed in the darkened venue. As the beat dropped, Arican fans swayed their shoulders. And then:
“Hey ... this sounds like ATEN’s Attention.”
Just then—
Flash!
Lights on the left side of the main stage brightened. Biju appeared in a white shirt, black suit, and long tie, showing off his long legs.
“Waaaaaah!”
His groove stood out with each smooth step. The choreography resembled ATEN’s, but more complex—Koreans blinked in surprise.
“Is this the original Attention choreography?”
“It’s a completely different dance...?”
“So ATEN weren’t great dancers—they just pretended to be?”
It felt like NewBlack’s reply to ATEN’s Bulkkotnori cover—but their prowess made ATEN look amateurish.
Then—
Flash!
Lights on the right side ca up. The lead dancer, Uju, appeared. From a distance, he matched the main dancer’s moves, spinning his shoulders fluidly like living hinges.
As the two dancers delivered fast moves with crisp angles,
“Where have I seen this...?”
The audience tilted their heads. In black suit and tie, with that familiar choreography, Aricans gasped.
“Oh!”
They recognized the homage. When the rhythmic intro ended, the two dancers on stage sides each pulled out a black fedora.
“...!”
Tipping their hats low, they turned their backs to each other, then glided together as if skating on the moon. With perfect unison, their backs t centerstage, drawing gasps of awe.
After a heartbeat of stillness, every Arican in the house scread:
“Waaaaaah!”
Laughing against their backs, the two dancers stood as the remaining mbers joined them—and the prelude to NewBlack’s version of Attention began.
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