We blinked at the real-ti search term “Tears of Antarctica.”
“Why such a title...?”
Our breaths grew ragged as we gathered around the tablet.
‘Who did this?’
‘What joke is this...?’
‘Which Souffle fan made it? Co out here.’
I was thinking our fans really were unstoppable when Ri-hyuk said, “I think of it as mirror therapy. This is exactly how the Souffle must feel watching us.”
“Ah... you’re right.”
“So this must be how the fans feel.”
We shared a warm laugh, imagining that every ti we popped up on the search charts with so absurd keyword, the fans must have felt the sa. Then we clicked the search result.
A MiTube link jumped up:
[Tears of Antarctica MV]
It opened with stirring BGM.
[One, two, three! Hello! We’re NewBlack!]
[Wow! They’re nominees!]
[Hello! Please treat us well!]
A “Firework” showcase: us overjoyed at becoming nominees on a cable music show; us, dripping sweat in Myeongdong after the performance, bowing as we removed penguin costus.
“Ooo....”
“This isn’t bad, actually.”
As the footage progressed from our rookie days to our mature selves two years later, Jiho quipped, “Woah, Uju hyung has aged like crazy.”
“Jiho, keep that thought to yourself,” we told him. He mock-saluted, we ignored him, and continued watching.
Just as they replayed our heartfelt number-one speeches and the penguin-costud mont, the backing track abruptly shifted.
“Huh...?”
Though the vocals were exactly our encore take from yesterday, the BGM changed to sothing mournful and nostalgic—like a Titanic OST. Wearing the emperor-penguin headband, I raised the mic.
Where could this place be?
A strange sea, strange air.
As my face faded into a wistful blur, footage of emperor penguins rolled in. Penguins scurrying through blizzards. My voice quietly reciting the lyrics in the background.
“Ha ha ha ha!”
I couldn’t help laughing. It was embarrassing—but I couldn’t stop.
Eventually the emperor-penguin clip faded to black, and onstage footage showed Jiho in the baby-penguin headband singing. This ti, a trembling baby penguin was featured.
“...What kind of video is this?”
The editing was flawless. The background shifted to Antarctic CG. Every ti Jung-hyun rapped, the penguins’ main food—fish—leapt onscreen.
The comnts were a riot:
@[email protected]_Korean_Police_Departnt: “Cops, over here! These people are doing drugs.”
“What on earth am I watching?”
“Almost vomited laughing lololol legendary.”
“NewBlackTV editors deserve huge salaries, for real.”
(Though they’re probably already paid top industry rates.)
“Why are people talking about the editors?” I asked.
“Huh... what?”
“Wait, is this official?”
“Official?”
We scrolled up: the account was “NewBlackTV.” Our eyes widened.
“How did they manage this in just a few hours...!”
“They’re absurdly talented, these people.”
“I wish they were less competent sotis.”
It wasn’t fan-made—it was official content. Scanning the top comnts, the K-net official account had pinned one:
K-net Official
[pinned by ∠NewBlackTV]
“As expected of New Boss—great work.”
Seeing other accounts riffing in the replies, we couldn’t help but chuckle. We gave in quickly.
“Well, at least it was funny.”
“Yeah. No matter what we ride, as long as it’s Seoul, we’re fine.”
“It’s heartwarming. I wondered if we’d just been doing our jobs too much.”
Still grinning with the juniors, I tapped “Not interested” on the video to prevent similar recomndations. After watching a few related clips on MiTube, we all rose and headed to the living-room trophy shelf.
From the “Masquerade” first-place trophy through the Mango Chart Awards Rookie Award and Song of the Year, down to “Nakhwa”’s number-one prize.
“Let’s slide them over one slot.”
“Hold on.”
Ri-hyuk asured carefully and cautiously shifted the trophies. In the frontmost space, he placed today’s K-net number-one trophy.
“Ooo...!”
It fit as though it had always belonged there. Like placing the final puzzle piece, everything felt complete. The emotion was oddly indescribable.
After a mont, I turned to the quietly watching juniors and asked, “Wanna take a photo?”
“Sure!”
We gathered before the “Firework” trophy and snapped a commorative shot.
Later, when a heartfelt thank-you post went up on NewBlack’s SNS, Souffle—who’d laughed and cried along with the broadcast—were in full-blown celebration mode.
“Tonight’s chicken night...!”
Everyone ordered from Jiho’s dad’s Hoho Chicken and even had “NewBlack bread” for dessert—the full NewBlack course. Souffle across the country danced with joy.
Soon the antis appeared:
“Honestly, NewBlack’s reverse run feels... nothing special.”
“Right. A true reverse run should build steadily, have a story—there’s no narrative.”
“It’s all broadcast hype.”
“This isn’t real reverse run.”
They mocked the lack of “story” in our run, but Souffle rely smiled warmly.
‘Heh heh! Then go try reversing a run yourselves!’
While haters wailed that this wasn’t a real reverse run, Souffle exchanged legendary screenshots and held a playful festival. The haters’ lack of sting ca down to one thing:
‘They can’t attack our skill.’
The song was strong enough to justify its run—no one could dismiss its quality. Our stage performance was superb, especially the main vocalist finally catching up in choreography this ti.
‘They’ve got nothing to criticize.’
So antis resorted to claiming “no narrative.” anwhile, across communities, “Tears of Antarctica” GIFs went viral, and more MiTube videos sprouted:
[“Firework”: Choreography Evolution from ’14 to ’16]
A split-screen showed rookie NewBlack on the left and three-year NewBlack on the right. Comnts:
“But they danced great even at debut!”
“Dancing between Uju and Bi-ju is insane—if I debuted with those two, I’d quit.”
“Jiho: ‘I thought I’d be main dancer because people said I dance well, then weird hyungs showed up.’”
“I thought they were always good, but they’ve clearly improved.”
“Ri-hyuk...ㅠㅠㅠㅠ.”
“Ri-hyuk wasn’t bad from the start—he found his charm over ti.”
“Amazing. If it were , I’d have stayed coasting—vocals recognized even by Cha Woo-hyun.”
Though Ri-hyuk had never once flubbed a move, haters had historically attacked his dancing because of the stellar dancers beside him. But objectively, he’d stepped up dramatically.
‘Ri-hyuk really worked his butt off....’
And with the refreshing concept matching his personal color, all eyes were on him. His wintry features contrasting the maknae’s sumr vibe always felt invigorating, like sparkling soda.
[NewBlack Ri-hyuk Fancam “Firework”]
The official K-net MiTube channel’s individual cam also racked up views.
“Wow....”
People looped the video endlessly:
‘I can’t stop watching.’
Those already favorably inclined toward NewBlack found themselves drawn in by the mbers’ growth. Even those unimpressed by “Nakhwa” were captivated by the evident improvent.
Soon, new fans began arriving in Souffle spaces:
[Hi there! New recruit here~!]
“Heads up, I stan from “Firework”~~!”
Everyone gasped:
“Wait, if you stanned from “Firework,” you’re OG, right?”
“How did such a rare soul end up here?”
“Sister, I respect you!”
“[OP] Not that “Firework”—this one! LOL”
“Hey—”
“Be clear, please. 😒”
“The world’s changed... back in my day newbies only lurked.”
“We need to differentiate 2014-Fireworks and 2016-Fireworks LOL people are mixing them up.”
Thus, Souffle coined “’14놀이” and “’16놀이” to distinguish the two waves of new fans.
Following K-net, we clinched number one on all three major networks’ music shows. Though we couldn’t receive those trophies in person due to schedule conflicts, the achievent ant the world. HBS even sent us a trophy—a gesture of reconciliation, it seed.
– [Pop Culture Column] NewBlack’s “Firework”: “Why the Reverse Run?”
– NewBlack, “Firework” Music-Show No.1: Quad Crown
– “Firework” Reverse Run → Music-Show No.1: “We Love You, Souffle”
As three more trophies joined the shelf, we wrapped up a two-day, 20,000-seat concert in Manila, Philippines. With the LA K-pop joint concert this weekend, the first part of our overseas tour concluded. Part two: a winter tour of Japan.
Since we toured Japan just six months ago in February, we decided not to revisit in sumr.
“Japan’s booking negotiations are underway,” we were told—our fandom there was growing fast, so the company was determining venue scale.
Ti passed, and at last the sitcom Our Family Is an Alien had its script-reading day.
“Do well, hyung.”
“I will~”
Ri-hyuk gave a wake-up call; Bi-ju treated to a lavish breakfast, and Jung-hyun even gave a massage. I was treated like royalty from the morning on.
Jung-hyun handed {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} a long umbrella.
“Take this—looks like rain on the way back.”
“Really? The forecast says clear... but if you say so, I will.”
“I sll rain in the air.”
Bi-ju snapped a photo, exclaiming, “You look so gentlemanly right now, hyung.”
“Really?”
I struck a pose and checked the mirror. A black suit, black tie—like a spy movie agent. Ri-hyuk nodded in approval.
“You should wear that all the ti.”
“Is that so...?”
I liked the cut, but...
“Don’t you think it’s overkill? Who dresses like this for a script reading?”
“Trust , hyung.”
“I saw videos online—everyone dresses casually...”
I’d dressed up today at the maknae’s insistence.
“Trust —first impressions will be amazing in this outfit.”
“Do it, then.”
“Well, that’s more convincing.”
I wasn’t sure dressing for the part would truly help my first impression, but I followed the maknae’s advice—he was earnest about acting.
“Still, it feels weird...”
“Go, hyung.”
“I just want to wear my usual street clothes—”
“Aaaah!”
Our juniors ford a scrum and started pushing out.
“Get going!”
“Now!”
I wondered whether a script reading warranted such formality, but having put it on, there was no turning back.
“All right—see you later~!”
I waved to the juniors and left ho.
The script reading was in the TBC building’s main conference room. Entering the first-floor lobby, café-goers recognized and looked surprised.
“Oh—Sun Woo-ju.”
“Ujuseon...? No, Ujuseon, right?”
“Doesn’t he usually co with a crowd?”
As soone who’d hoped for “Celebrity! So handso!” reactions, I felt a pang of sadness. A security guard in the lobby asked in a friendly drawl, “You’re dressed sharp—what brings you here today?”
“I’m here for the sitcom script reading.”
“Ah, I see. I’ll keep an eye out for you in my hotown broadcast~”
I thanked him, then followed his shortcut to the conference room—turns out it was the variety departnt’s, not drama.
“Sitcoms count as variety, you know—awards co from the entertainnt segnt.”
I nodded at Seok-hwan hyung’s explanation. Spotting the “Conference Room” sign, I cracked the door.
“Huh?”
I made eye contact with soone at the table’s edge: a gentle-looking girl-group mber with long hair. Delighted, I stepped in.
“Ah—Song Ara-nim!”
“Ah—Kim Woo-ju-ssi!”
Scarlet’s leader Ara and her manager rose to greet with a big smile.
“Oh, long ti no see. How’ve you been?”
“I’m good—how about you, nuna?”
We’d usually just bump into each other around the company, but seeing her here felt like a reunion of old friends. She looked equally relieved.
“I was wondering how I’d greet the seniors—so glad you’re here.”
“ too—so nervous this morning....”
“Welco—let’s be nervous together.”
I laughed at Scarlet’s supportive leader—one of the kindest people I know. Her real na’s Oh Ara; our CEO nad the group Scarlet after the lead character of A Wind Like Scarlet. In the sitcom, her character is Song Ara, the wild daughter in an alien family.
Suddenly she burst out laughing, peering at my suit.
“Why the suit?”
“...Jiho recomnded it. He said it’d make a killer first impression—dress for the part.”
“Oh? That makes sense.”
“Doesn’t it feel weird?”
“Not at all. The director and writers will love it.”
Her kindness made smile. While Lemon Ent. staff chatted nearby, Ara and I traded small talk: how much we’d rehearsed, congrats on the “Firework” win, etc. As with older colleagues, the topic quickly turned to our juniors.
“Here, check out this photo from our US trip—Ri-hyuk looks so cute, right?”
“Wow, adorable...!”
“He’s always made that pouty face—Mom made him raise his hand when crossing streets.”
She showed a photo of Scarlet’s maknae, Daisy, crossing a crosswalk with her hand raised.
“And here’s Bi-ju getting praised by the clay tile master.”
“Rina dancing before the year-end stage.”
“Bi-ju cooking!”
“Bomi devouring four pieces of at!”
As we held our informal “cutest maknae” contest, the door clicked and a tall beauty in a shirt carrying an Aricano entered. Recognizing her, Ara and I jumped up.
“Hello, sunbae!”
“Hi.”
Actress Seo No-eul smiled calmly and waved. Also under Lemon Ent., she’d co-starred with Jiho in the cao-filled drama Sleep, so we were already acquainted.
‘I’m gonna die....’
I recalled her frailty on set, wrapped in blankets. Since Sleep, she’d led in several dramas—next in prominence behind among the cast. So she’d been cast in Our Family Is an Alien as the de facto alien leader. Seeing , her friendly gaze flicked to my suit and she laughed.
“Hello....”
Noticing peeking, she asked, “What were you doing?”
“Showing each other our kids’ photos.”
“Oh? Those... ah, the kids.”
She tapped her phone and showed photos of a newborn with porcelain skin.
“My niece.”
“So cute!”
“Really pretty.”
As we three boasted like an alumni gathering, another actor entered: a slender late-twenties with delicate features.
“Hello!”
“Hey... haha!”
“Yes, I’m in a suit....”
“Looks perfect! Just like Kim Woo-ju!”
Actor Jung In-woo grinned. He plays the clueless son in the sitcom—a perfect fit. A veteran since child roles in sageuk, he’d most recently starred in the cable drama Hotel Romance.
“You’re handso. I saw the casting news and was looking forward to it.”
“Thank you.”
“You too, nice to et you.”
He waved to Seo No-eul and asked, “What were you two up to?”
“Showing each other photos of our juniors.”
“Ah? Oh—those kids.”
He, too, pulled out his phone and revealed a picture of the cutest cat in the world.
“My daughter.”
“My goodness...!”
“Look at those eyes!”
...Script readings aren’t always like this, but right now the vibe was fantastic. Seasoned actors began to arrive one by one.
“Hello!”
“Oh, long ti no see.”
“...Yes?”
“Well, fancy eting you! Ha ha!”
Veteran actor Song Hoon—cast as the alien family grandfather—took his seat. Then:
“Oh my, it’s really been ages to see you.”
“Hello, teacher.”
We greeted Yang Ok-boon—grandmother in the alien family and fellow Vet’s cast mber. Behind them, the on-screen alien parents, nad supporting townspeople, and governnt agents all gathered.
The buzz quieted as:
“Ahem...”
“A bit parched. Could soone bring tea?”
Directors Hwang Jeong-gu and writer Hwang Jeong-yeon—top brass here—entered, and everyone rose. Director Hwang opened his mouth:
“Is the behind-the-scenes footage playing?”
“Yes, sir.”
He glanced at a tripod-mounted cara, then began:
“All right. Let’s start the script reading—”
His eyes landed on . As writer Hwang burst out laughing, the director joined in:
“Uju, why are you in a suit?”
“I’m playing an agent, sir—so I dressed in a suit.”
Laughter erupted again. I wasn’t sure exactly what was so funny, but the actors were in stitches. Looking at Seok-hwan hyung in the back row, he was grinning as well.
Had that gone well? I couldn’t be sure, but the atmosphere toward was undeniably warr. Then, amid the roaring laughter, Jung In-woo asked:
“But the suit really suits you—what brand is it?”
“Oh, I bought it from an online mall.”
“Really?”
“Yes—I thought it shouldn’t be too expensive.”
“Why not?”
All eyes turned to . I smiled and said:
“I’m playing a public servant.”
The room exploded with laughter once more.
...Do actors always burst into laughter at the strangest lines?
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